15. JoJo
CHAPTER 15
JoJo
I t's been three days, three damn days since Colton drove me home, and I slammed the door in his face. Was the move immature? Yes. It was not one of my best moments, but I couldn't help myself. The tension in the house has been intense since he decided to visit my brother for the holidays. I've been avoiding him like the plague until I simply couldn't. In the bathroom, he expertly pushed every one of my buttons. I tried to chalk up his momentary loss in judgment to the severity of his rash. He'd been suggestive, but asking for a kiss was next level. I thought my rejection slapped some sort of reality back into his ask. I fully expected to wake up the following day and return to orbiting each other in silence, knowing who I am and who he is will never change.
However, that didn't happen. If anything, he woke with a renewed call to fan the flames, and when I doused them once more, he came looking for me. It took every ounce of self-preservation I had not to cave and let him kiss me at Holly's Tavern. Colton has always been stupidly attractive. He's the typical American preppy boy: popular, likable jock, rocking a high and tight fade, and coal-dark eyes that stop you in your tracks every time they connect with yours. The boy may have traded his boat shoes and polos for suits and ties, but my favorite is the one who walked into the bar three nights ago. The man who picked me up wearing worn boots, denim, and flannel. That's my type. So, when he started saying all the right things, leaving with him wasn't a question, but I had to make him work for it. I couldn't risk showing all my cards, not when it comes to him. There are too many landmines, and our history is too sordid.
That history is why I agreed to get in the truck with him. I thought we'd start working through that past and discuss where that leaves us now. He seemed so sure of things he wanted to say, so I waited. I waited so long that I fell asleep. I blame him. Had he not fucked with my head in the bathroom the night before, making sleep nearly impossible after I left him on the couch, then maybe, the warmth from the heat coupled with his cologne wouldn't have lulled me into a slumber. If I hadn't fallen asleep, perhaps I wouldn't be in the barn at midnight, icing away my feelings into Santa hats, snowflakes, and Christmas trees.
I knead the bag of icing in my hands a little harder. "It's always his fault," I say aloud out of frustration. "Great, not only am I baking cookies at midnight, but now I'm talking to myself." Grabbing a pair of scissors, I cut the tip of the icing bag. "Only four dozen to go," I drone with a sigh just as the door to the barn opens. My eyes immediately connect with the ones I've been trying to avoid. I don't bother to roll them or acknowledge his presence before continuing my task. He has himself to thank for that. He told me not to lie to Archer, but when I asked him if I should give him the truth. Silence.
"So it's going to be like that huh?" I hear the door close before his boots on the wood floor echo closer. "I know why you slammed the door in my face. I guess I deserved it, but?—"
"Just save it, Colton. I’m starting to sound like a broken record, but apparently, it needs repeating. I don't need your apologies or your buts. If you can't tell, it's late. I have cookies to ice, and I don't care to talk."
He's quiet, and because I don't dare risk looking at him again and falling under his spell, I have no idea what he's thinking, but I should've known thwarting him wouldn't be easy. Rather than turn on his heel and leave as requested, he joins me on my side of the table, and I mentally curse myself for thinking I could sneak out here in the middle of the night unnoticed. I'm wearing my old farm boots, an oversized farm logo tee, and sleep shorts I should have thrown away five years ago. I look like a mess, which seems only fitting considering that I am one mentally.
"Fine, we won't talk. At least let me help you with this. I know tomorrow's a big day." I don't stop decorating my cookie or acknowledge his request to help. I want to kick him out as much as I want him to stay. Tomorrow is the Friendsgiving party I'm hosting at the barn. It's a photo shoot for the farm and our new line of winter brews, but it's also doubling as a mixer of sorts for Jacob and Avery, not to mention catching up with old friends. I want tomorrow to be perfect; it needs to be perfect, and I could use the help. But his help is not the good kind. "Which ones should I start with?" I slide a pan of snowflake cookies in front of him. They're the easiest cookies to decorate, seeing as they are already in perfectly formed shapes. All he has to do is add white icing and sprinkles. I put a bag of white icing next to the pan and reach across the table for one of the snowflakes I decorated earlier for reference. "White icing, white sprinkles. I will try and not be offended that you believe this is all I can handle." I chuckle on the inside, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of making me laugh.
We've been icing cookies for nearly fifteen minutes when we both reach for the skip button on my phone when the song "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" comes on. Our fingers touch, and I hate the way we both linger, but worse than that, I'm mortified at the response the exposed hairs on my arm reveal. My skin is pebbled, and each strand of hair feels practically as tall as the Rockefeller Christmas tree. I know he sees them too. I don't miss how his eyes subtly trail my arm before he says, "Worst Christmas song of all time."
I might not be able to control how my body reacts, but I can control my phone. "First of all, you are wrong. 'Grandma Got Ran Over By A Reindeer' is the worst Christmas song ever, and second, don't touch my phone."
"Are you going to talk to me now?"
"Are you still my brother's best friend?" I ask as I toss my empty icing bag in the trash.
"Yes," he turns to me as if my question was unfounded.
I suck the icing off my thumb. "And I'm still his sister. Therefore, we're still not talking."
His hand darts out and grabs my wrist then pulls my hand to his mouth. He licks the dried icing from the back of my forefinger, and my entire body hums. "Just to clarify, if you weren't his sister and I wasn't his best friend, you would talk to me?"
My mouth goes dry, and I struggle for a response as he sucks the tip of my finger into his mouth. The way he's pursuing this makes me feel like the words he said when he thought I was sleeping were real. The truck coming to a halt at the stoplight, coupled with the way he stroked a stray hair off my face, stirred me awake. Those words melted me. My entire body tingled from head to toe with excitement I've never felt. It was a huge revelation. I meant something to him, not just the girl I am today, but the one I was back then. However, what I'm starting to realize is that his words are only good for the moment. Just like the other night when they ended the second we pulled into the driveway, they'll end tonight, which is why they don't need to be said at all.
I pull my hand back. "Stop asking me questions that don't matter because they don't change anything."
"But what if I want them to change something? Why can't you see I want more? Damn it, Posey, I'm asking for more."
Our eyes stay locked, his chest is heaving, and those dark eyes I've stumbled over from day one are telling no lies. He wants me, and now I have to make a choice. I drop his gaze and hand him a new bag of icing. "You still have one tray left to frost," I say as I return to the cookies. I need a minute to think this through.
He lets out a groan of irritation as he picks up the icing bag to wordlessly do as I asked, but when he squeezes it onto one of the cookies, the tip blows out from his force, and icing lands directly on my thigh. I gasp and reach for a towel, but he stops me.
"I'll get it."
"No, it's on my thigh?—"
"I know exactly where it is," he says, already on his knees. I speechlessly hand him a towel as my heart starts to gallop. He hasn't touched me, but the way he's looking at me says he wants to. "I don't need that." He doesn't give me a chance to argue before his hot tongue is on my skin, sending a small trill through my body. My entire body instantly feels like Jello, and I grip the counter to keep my nerves from getting the best of me as his hand glides slowly up the back of my thigh. He sucks and licks his way up the milky white smear, the icing disappearing long before I'm ready for it to. When the last of it is gone, his hand grips the top of my thigh, and his eyes connect with mine. "You won't let me kiss that pretty mouth…" His lips trail up my leg a little farther. "What about if I kiss you here?" he asks as his forefinger drags down my center, and my brain struggles to find an objection. He patiently waits, stroking me slowly through my shorts, and I'm already utterly lost to the sensation, so much so that I don't speak. I can't.
I close my eyes and tilt my head back; he feels good... we feel good, but one truth remains. "I don't believe you. I don't believe that you want more," I squeak out before my eyes drop back to his. It's on the tip of my tongue to say, "I want to," but I don't.
"That's fair." His hand that was right where I wanted it falls away and glides up my other thigh, the callouses from helping around the farm the past few weeks sending a shiver down my spine. "I've given you years of reasons not to." His hand stops just below the weight of my cheek, before both hands slowly start to knead the muscle. Why does that feel so good? "But you don't have to believe me for this. I see how you look at me; I felt your heart stumble, and right now, your body is humming under my touch." He places his chin on my pubic bone as his eyes lock onto mine. "So what's it going to be, Posey? Are you going to let me make you forget?" I don't know what this is, but I know I don't want it to stop, so I make a bold move and throw my leg over his shoulder in invitation. "Fuck yeah," he groans. Wasting no time, he loops his finger through the crotch of my sleep shorts, pulls them to the side, and licks me straight up my center.
"God, yes," I moan as I throw my head back. His tongue finds my entrance, and he lets out a euphoric groan that vibrates through my core as he squeezes my ass hard. The amount of ecstasy in the less than thirty seconds he's had his mouth on me is hypnotic. This might only be sex, but the way his hands are squeezing me, and the sounds he's making feel like more. Right now, he desires me. He sucks my clit into his mouth and I'm suddenly hurdling toward an end I don't want to see. The one leg I'm standing on trembles as pleasure rips through my body.
"Shit, Posey."
I'm lifted onto the countertop. "The cookies," I yelp.
Only to be silenced as he pulls my ass to the ledge and spreads my legs wide. "So fucking sweet," his tongue spears my pussy, and any shits I gave about the damn cookies are gone. I lean back on my arms, and my hand lands on a tray of snowflake cookies, but the new angle allows him to go deeper.
"Don't stop,” I breathlessly pant.
His hand abandons my thigh, and a thick digit slips inside of me, and I clench hard. It's been too long since it's been filled with anything. "I've never been so jealous of my hand in my life." He slips another finger in. "So fucking tight." He pumps me in long, slow strokes, watching his fingers disappear inside of me before his mouth finds my clit. The combination of the man between my legs, his mouth, and his hand is lethal. Colton Callahan, my foe, tormentor, and brother's best friend, is about to make me come all over his fingers. It feels wrong and right all at once. My walls start to clamp down, and there's no stopping the wave that's about to wash over me.
"That's it, Posey. Come on my fingers, baby." His use of the word baby in reference to me sends me spiraling, and I come hard. My hand grips his hair as I hold him right where I want him and he licks me through the aftershocks of what feels like the best orgasm of my life. His fingers slip out, only to be replaced by his tongue, and I shudder at his aftercare when I feel his lips sweetly kiss each one of my thighs. I release his hair as he rises to stand between my legs, and I can't help but smile before letting out a small laugh when I see what I did. The hand that landed in the iced snowflake cookies is the same one that ran through his dark chocolate hair. His eyes narrow, and he purses his lips. "My partners have always walked away with a smile, but laughing is a first."
I hold up my icing-coated hand. "I used this hand to pull your hair."
There's a small smile before he bites his plump bottom lip and leans into the crook of my neck. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to take me up on that shower you offered."
"What if I am?" My hand glides over the outside of his sweatpants. He's hard as hell. I know he wants more. I give his length a stroke, and he groans as his teeth graze the skin on my neck. "I want you inside of me."
"And I want more." His warmth is instantly gone as he pulls away; taking a step back, he runs both hands through his messy hair.
"I don't understand. I just said you could have it."
"I don't want it." I close my legs and re-adjust my position, somewhat self-conscious. I just offered to put out, and he said no. "That's not what I mean, Josephine, and you know it. Don't twist my words into something they're not. When I came in here tonight, you didn't trust me and still don't. I'm aware of my reputation…" His eyes leave mine and his brow furrows as though whatever thought is on his tongue makes him anxious. "But you should know that guy doesn't exist when he looks at you. You consume me. You always have. If you want to know why I didn't want you to say anything about us to Archer the other night, it's not because I want to keep up this lie. I don't, but I don't care to tell him about a girl I don't have. When I have you," he runs his thumb over his lip and drops his head. "Or rather, if you let me have you, if you let me in, then I'll go to your brother. I'll be the one to have the conversation." His eyes come back to mine, and my heart skips a beat. I see his honesty; he's stripped down and exposed for me right now, and I'm utterly speechless. "I would never want you to jeopardize your relationship with him. Family is important. At the end of the day, when you have nothing, you have them." He steps forward and catches my chin between his thumb and forefinger, and his obsidian gaze, which always felt impenetrable, softens. "I'd very much like to do this again." His hand leaves my face and he backs away. "You're worth the wait, Posey."
"What if I never know what I want?" It's a real possibility I may not be America's most eligible bachelor like he is, but I am single, and I've never had a serious relationship. That says something.
"As long as it takes." He bites his lips and takes one last long look at me before adding, "Goodnight, Josephine."
I can't believe I thought getting snowed in with Colton Callahan was the worst thing to happen. I couldn't have been more wrong. Catching feelings for him is way worse. Luckily, I did get some sleep last night. It doesn't matter that it was on the hay bales I had staged in the corner of the barn with the Christmas trees. I got a solid four hours before my alarm went off, and I've been putting the finishing touches on the event space and running around the property with the camera crew all morning. He's been around. I've caught glances of him off in the distance, helping Archer with chores and trees. Christmas tree lots officially open this weekend, and Archer is glad to have the extra set of hands, but I'm not sure how he'd feel if he knew where those hands were last night, or hell, even his mouth. My core clenches at the mere thought of how good he felt. He was right to walk away last night. I didn't trust him, but I do now, and now I don't have time.
"Miss Estes, guests have started arriving. I'd like to get footage of cars driving down the gravel road for the commercial,” the photographer I hired to film today’s event pulls me from my thoughts.
"Please, call me JoJo," I say as I straighten one of the place settings on the table. "That sounds great. After dinner, I would like to get shots of the tree lot. We will have a hot chocolate bar set up, fire pots, and music. I think you could get some truly magical footage during that."
"Of course, and for the record, you don't need to worry about the footage. Your family farm is breathtaking. I don't think I've taken a bad shot yet." He caps his lens and chucks his thumb over his shoulder. "I'll be back shortly."
As he exits the barn, my eyes scan the room. He's right. It's beautiful. I forgot how much I love doing this type of work. Being home has given me pause on what life looks like after the holidays. I got my degree in communications with an emphasis on media studies to help grow the Estes name, and while I've done that behind the scenes, it's different from living it. Archer has been the one manning the ship and pulling his weight while I've been off pulling other companies out of dark waters, lying to myself and calling it experience when the truth is I needed an adventure. I wanted to live the city life, or I thought I did. It turns out that being able to walk to restaurants, bars, and shops isn't all it's cracked up to be, especially if you don't have money and you're not a social butterfly. I'm not a pauper. Technically, I get paid monthly as an owner of Estes Ranch, but Archer doesn't know that I've been putting all that money back into the shared account. I haven't felt right taking it, knowing I wasn't pulling my share.
"This place looks amazing, JoJo," Archer says as he enters the barn, and I couldn't agree more. The place looks like something ripped out of a Hallmark movie set. "You may have missed your calling. Interior design and party planning, this is you. You've always been able to see things differently."
"It turned out alright…" I drag out as I bump his shoulder with a big smile.
"Hey," we both say in unison.
"You go first," I rush out, still uncertain about my thoughts.
"No, it doesn't work that way, JoJo. Ladies first."
I twiddle my fingers, suddenly nervous. "How would you feel if I moved back to the farm? I don't want to be in the way of your dating life, and it wouldn't be forever?—"
"Stop," he grabs my shoulder. "This place is ours, JoJo. It's not mine alone. I'm not seeing anyone, and if that changes for either of us, we can figure it out then, but your moving home would be huge. Mom and Dad would be thrilled…" he draws off as another thought occurs. "Wait, you're moving home for this right?" He throws his arms out and gestures around the barn. "You're going to work full-time for the farm now?"
"Yeah," I nod in confirmation, and he swoops me up and spins me around.
"What's all the excitement about?" Colton asks, his voice instantly stealing my joy and replacing it with sweating palms and a racing heart.
"JoJo's moving back to the farm," Archie answers as he sets me down.
I run my hands down my jeans and risk glancing at Colton. It's not that I don't want to look at him. I do, that's the problem. I feel like I will give everything away the second our eyes connect.
"She is?" His eyes do a quick perusal down my body as he slides his hands into his pockets before meeting my gaze. The way they lock with mine knots my stomach. I rock back on my heels and try not to linger on the quizzical intrigue I hear in his tone. Instead, I move the conversation away from me.
"Archie, you had something to tell me?" I punch his shoulder.
"Watch it, tiger. I need my shoulder," he jests. "I'll tell you tomorrow. Tonight we celebrate the farm, our friends, and you moving back home."
"Is it bad?" I can't help but ask. Why would he want to wait?
"No, it's not bad. I promise." My eyes study his, and I believe him. He's been making big moves with the business lately. The profit sheet we reviewed the other day supported converting one of the tree fields to hops. Movement over his shoulder catches my eyes, and I see Jacob.
"This conversation is paused, not over. I need to say hi to my friend." I squeeze his arm and excuse myself, not bothering to acknowledge Colton. I'm sure he's memorized Jacob's face, and we never discussed who he is, but now isn't the time for that, though I'm less concerned about him making a scene here than the bar in town. Here he has a set of eyes watching his every move that he didn't there.
"Hey, Jacob. Where's Avery?" I peek over his shoulder toward the parking area. "I assumed you knew extending an invitation to a girl meant you knew you were supposed to pick her up and bring her to said event. I feel like I've already failed you."
He chuckles. "No, you didn't fail me. She said she'd meet me here. Apparently, she lives close. Sorry for interrupting. I just wanted to get here early to calm my nerves."
"At the bar the other night, we never got into the details of your anxiety when it comes to talking to Avery, but if I'm being honest, I'm very curious to see you in action. I don't feel like you have any problems talking to me. It's hard to imagine you getting cold feet."
His lips curl to one side in a small smile. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. I've had girlfriends before but looking back now I feel like I was wasting my time and I just didn't know it. That’s why talking was easy. I didn’t feel anything, or at least not the things I should have felt.”
I smile. "Classic case of Insta-love, and here I thought that was some made-up fictional bullshit." I have never felt it, but that doesn't mean it's not real.
"I didn't say I love her," he laughs, "But she feels different. I know that sounds crazy, considering we haven't been on one date, but I don't want to mess it up."
"Yeah, you may have mentioned that a time or two." I cross my arms and mindlessly look back into the barn, only for my eyes to collide with Colton's. The playful mischief from earlier is long gone, replaced with fury. Tongue in cheek, he shakes his head, but it's not until he drops his gaze that I realize what I saw wasn't fury but hurt. He starts toward the exit at the opposite end of the barn, and I want to go after him, but I can't. Guests are arriving, and while he may not know it, Jacob is a paying client.
I pull my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans and consider sending a text, but as my fingers hover over his contact, Jacob says, "She's here." He clenches his fists and pulls in a heady breath. "Is there a bar? I feel like I need a drink for this."
"Which car is hers?"
"That's her, getting out of the white Camry."
I squint to get my eyes to focus, but there's no need when I see the bright red hair that exits. Suddenly, Jacob isn't the only one who needs a stiff drink. I smack his arm. "You didn't tell me your Avery was Avery Crank, the pastor's daughter."
"Does that make a difference?"
"Yes," I hiss. "It makes a difference. No wonder you're nervous." His eyes widen, and I realize how unprofessional I must sound right now, but hell, it's not every day the client you take on wants to defile the preacher's daughter. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. Not out loud anyway." I put my hands on my hips. "Look, at the end of the day, wooing is wooing. The girl on the other end shouldn't make a difference, but there are things to consider. I don't know her personally, but?—"
"I know where you're going, and trust me, I've thought about all of that, and it's another reason I'm nervous, just not for the reasons you think. I don't mind waiting for my girl if she's forever, but what if I'm not even on her radar because of my past?"
I squeeze his forearm. "Then she's not your girl." I nod toward our approaching guest. "But how about we start with a conversation?" He was right, her face lights up when she sees him. I nudge his side. "The way she's looking at you now tells me your past is exactly that, the past." Avery looks between us, and I extend my hand. "Hi, I'm JoJo. You must be Avery. Jacob mentioned inviting a friend tonight."
"Oh, I know exactly who you are," she says, giving my hand a gentle shake.
"Of course you do. I forget my family has donated trees to the church for the Christmas show for decades now."
"Yes, there's that, but I'm talking about your books. I'm a huge fan."
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise not only because of my unfounded assumptions but because I don't share my face on social media. Or, I hadn't anyway until the girls and I came up with the idea to start the BBB. I don't get recognized, so this is a first. I never asked Jacob what kind of books Avery was reading, but the fact that she's reading spicy ones is a good sign that she won't judge Jacob for having a past that includes pre-marital sex, drinking, and maybe even the occasional recreational toke.
"I love that, really I do," I place my hand on her arm and lean in. "But if you don't mind, I'd like to keep that little detail of my life just between us," I say as I lead her into the venue. "Would you guys like to join me for a drink?"
"A drink sounds great. Please tell me you have themed cocktails; this place looks too picturesque not to have one."
"As a matter of fact, I do. I have a cider bourbon with a maple syrup rim dipped in cinnamon that will warm you from the inside out."
"Let's do it," she says and clasps her hands together before making her way to the bar flanked by Christmas trees and hay bales.
"I thought I'm supposed to be the one doing the talking," Jacob whispers as we follow on her heels.
"One of my cider thermos cocktails and you'll be Mr. Personality. Also, forget everything I said earlier. She's awesome. Whatever nerves you have are most likely unfounded based on preconceived notions of what we believe a girl with her upbringing would have, but that doesn't equal reality." I loop my arm through his. "We got this. Follow my lead, and by the end of the night, it will be hard to see you as anything other than a fictional man who walked straight out of the pages of the last book she read."