Chapter 13
DECLAN
Looking down at the wine bottle in one hand and a baguette in the other, I smile to myself.
This day may go down in the record books for being notable.
I sure as hell didn’t plan on asking Violet to join me on my real estate appointment, but logic seems to go out the window when she’s near.
It was fun having her with me, even if she pointed out the obvious, that the house is fit for a family, not exactly something I’m planning on.
I was going to follow her in my car to her house, but I wanted to stop at the store to pick up some wine, and she asked if I could grab some fresh bread from the bakery section.
The door opens, and she has a lopsided smile and has changed into yoga pants and a t-shirt. “Welcome to my humble abode.” She steps to the side to allow me to enter her house. It’s small but has curb appeal.
I lean in to kiss her cheek, and I’m a guy that is throwing out moves that are not my usual, as proven by the fact that she makes a sound of surprise.
My eyes assess the living room, and it’s not bad at all. It seems quite updated, and there is plenty of space considering she lives here alone. The design is simple, and I’m surprised that there aren’t more flowers. In fact, all I see is a cactus when it comes to plants.
“I don’t understand, where is your vase of flowers?” I say as I follow her to the kitchen, and my nose enjoys the smell of a home cooked meal.
“I’ve barely been home this week, that’s why.”
She gets to work on cutting the bread, and that’s when I notice the parrot-shaped cookie jar. “For someone who told me that they hate birds, you’ve only been proving me wrong.”
Violet quickly checks what I’m looking at and smiles softly. “Ford found it at an antique market with Brielle and thought it would be great for me. I hated it at first, but it’s a damn good cookie jar, and I tend to bake cookies once a week.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Uh-huh.” Violet quickly looks over the pot with tomato sauce. “I don’t really cook much, unless you count snacks as a meal, but you can’t really go wrong with spaghetti.”
“Sounds great.”
She grabs a bowl for the bread. “So, are you going to put in an offer for the house?”
“Not sure yet. You may have had a point about the size.”
Violet looks up at me with an arched brow. “You mean that the house is for a family, with a dog and maybe even chickens?”
Taking the bottle opener that was resting on the counter, I work the cork out. “Something like that. I have my place in the city, and that’s admittedly a bachelor pad, but at some point, it would be nice to have a house with a yard.”
“You mean a home?” She offers me two empty glasses.
“I guess.”
“I know what you mean. I’m at Ford and Brielle’s far too much, but I like sitting amongst their chaos and admiring their home life. One day I hope to have that, complete with kids and a dog.”
Right, because she is the relationship type, once she’s ready to head back to the market after she’s over her break.
“My parents gave me a good life, and let’s be honest, hockey isn’t a cheap sport, but growing up, the house and all of that always felt… superficial.”
“No treehouse either.”
My cheeks tighten. “That too. Anyway, I’ll think about the house. Tomorrow is my last day with the kids at camp.”
Our eyes connect as we both suddenly remember our deadline. The sound of the pots simmering on the stove fills the void of our words.
“Better make tonight count then,” she mentions softly.
“I’ll stay another night tomorrow but then head back to the city on Saturday morning.
One of the team sponsors wants to have dinner this weekend, and I can’t really say no to that.
” I hand her a wine glass. “Hope you don’t mind, but I intend to finish this bottle with you, which means I’m staying over.
I would hate for the sheriff to go on a power trip and pull me over. ”
Her response is to laugh, and that makes me happy.
Maybe the sheriff is potential for her, but this week, Violet is mine, and I don’t tolerate any other man attempting to take what currently belongs to me.
In hockey, your mission is to protect the puck, never let it out of your sight. That’s Violet in this moment.
Violet walks into my arms and takes hold of one wine glass. “I would say we should toast, but this day is already one bizarre situation after another, so my money would be on that this would be an awkward toast.” She sips from her glass.
I enjoy her straightforwardness. “Maybe.” I take a sip of my own wine, bitter with a hint of berry.
“I think if the house will make you happy then go for it. Life is one big adventure, isn’t it?”
God, I admire her positive outlook on life. She’s just a good energy to be around. I need more people like that in my circle.
I set my wine glass down because I want both my arms around her; if our week is almost up, then I will glue myself to her tonight. She looks up at me and must sense that I have a lot on my mind.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks.
“Hockey,” I lie. “This week, I got to physically do something, but now my association with hockey turns to corporate meetings.”
“You’ll get used to it. I guess your social calendar will open up too, so go check out some concerts or take a vacation. Decompress.” She’s listing ideas, but they’re all enjoyed better if joined by someone who makes it more fun.
I don’t like myself softening. It’s happening. I feel it.
The water boils over on the spaghetti pot, and Violet is quick to take action, stepping out of my hold and giving us the space that we probably need. “Look at me, about to kill our meatless dinner. This is why Ford doesn’t trust me with dinner duty.”
Ford. The gentle reminder that Violet and I are supposed to be off-limits to one another.
Then again, not many people share the details on who their current friend with benefits is.
We also have to question if the thrill of him finding out plays a role in this attraction between Violet and me, because our chemistry is high and seamless, maybe even uncontrollable.
“Are you frowning? For a man about to eat the best sauce from a jar, you seem kind of down,” she comments.
“I’m just lost in a lot of thoughts, and starving.
I guess I didn’t eat lunch today. There is this boy who wouldn’t stop talking about his favorite player, and I got excited and listened, assuming it was me.
Turns out his favorite player is Erikson, who is a forward.
A shot to my ego, but I couldn’t stop smiling.
The kid has his whole future ahead of him and so much optimism. I’m kind of jealous.”
Violet tips her hip out and gives me a knowing look.
“Your problem is that you only look at the near future and not the far future, and your far future may just hold the dream that makes you optimistic again. Use that logic when you make your house decision… and ask for proof that the counters are quartz.” She winks.
Of course she would be supportive, she’s a team player. Except I think we tossed out the rulebook a few days ago, and I’m no longer sure what game we’re playing.
Skating backwards, I do my best to steal the puck from Connor, but the guy is fast and sharp. We decided to play a little one-on-one since it’s my last day volunteering at the summer program, and the kids are eating their lunch before we do a round of working on coordination with a partner.
“Come on, old man, give me a challenge,” Connor snickers.
In a flash, I overreach my arm to grab the puck with my stick, and although successful, I feel an old injury in my shoulder flare from the effort.
“Respect your elders,” I chide through labored breath as I begin to circle my arm.
Connor gets the clue that we need to take a break, and we both pause near the crease.
“If it’s any consolation, you’re better than my dad on the ice.”
I look up from leaning over with my hands on my thighs. “Thanks.” I think.
“You look kind of tired, to be honest.”
That’s because I spent last night with your aunt.
After dinner, we attempted to watch a movie, then ditched that idea and headed straight to her room where we had a round before sleeping until early hours. Violet had to get to her store at seven because she had to prepare flowers for a wedding.
“I’m not tired,” I lie. “I’m distracted.” The moment it slips off my lips, I realize my error.
Connor shifts his stick to his other hand. “Why?”
“Nothing in particular.”
“Well, figure it out, because your focus on the game sucks.”
My eyes pop out at his boldness. “I’m not playing anymore; I don’t need to have my head in the game.”
“Yeah, you just own the team now, so I’m pretty positive you need to focus on that.”
My head wobbles side to side, as the guy is right and I need solid concentration.
“You know that if you’re distracted in Lake Spark then something is seriously screwed up. My dad says if you can’t clear your head and enjoy your family in this town, then no magical place will save you.” I hear his sarcasm.
“I will take that into consideration when I figure out if I’m fixable or not,” I respond dryly.
“Won’t you be back more often? You better figure it out fast.”
Again, this sixteen-year-old is on point today, because the reality is that I will be back more regularly, and I’m not entirely sure where Violet fits in on the distraction front. I asked for a week, and our timer is up, but she won’t be out of my life.
And that very much weighs on my mind for the rest of the day.
It’s eight in the evening, and tomorrow, I check out from the Dizzy Duck Inn.
Violet had to stay late at The Flower Jar, so we skipped dinner together.
But the moment she walks through the door and sets the do-not-disturb sign on the handle, my hands frame her face to kiss her hard, as if I need to seal the imprint of her lips on mine.
She murmurs a sweet sound which is a contrast to my low, rumbled groan.
Pulling away, I cup her jaw with my hands, and she peers up at me, her eyes sparkly in this dimly lit room. “That’s one way to welcome me,” she rasps.
“No reason to hold back tonight.”
She nods gently while our eyes lock, and this woman has me completely mesmerized.
“How do we end this week of fun?” Violet is searching for a clue of how tonight may go. Slow or fast? I don’t have an answer.
Walking us back to the bed, I debate within myself how I like to take her the most… but I like every way.
But it’s probably safer if we stick to our adventurous side.
“All fours, Vi. Show me that ass of yours.”
A devious smirk appears on her lips before she complies, even going so far as making a show of lifting her skirt to indicate that she took off her panties at some point between her car and my room.
I go nearly feral and spank her with the palm of my hand, and her yelp turns into a whimper because I dive right in to lick her slit, nor do I begin with gentle strokes. Her body falls forward and her fingers claw the duvet. This is the way I like her.
At my mercy, knowing I will reward her.
Violet knows how to take, but she much prefers following my cues.
“I swear you taste like pure maple syrup.” I rise up on my knees and run my finger along the corner of my mouth.
She glances over her shoulder with a mischievous look. “You hate maple syrup.”
“Not if it’s on you.” I rub a circle on her ass, and I get another idea. “Can I take a photo of you like this? A little keepsake.”
Violet flops like a pancake to her back and rests against her propped arms, her foot drawing a line up her leg, stopping mid-thigh. “Yes, but I thought for sure you would much prefer one with me touching myself.”
I blow out a breath. “You are a wild little thing.”
I’m hovering over her in a flash, and I decide the photo will have to wait; being buried deep inside of her takes priority.
All night becomes one long event of sex, rest, and sex again.
Sometime around one in the morning, we finally zoned out for the night, but by six in the morning, I woke to find her peacefully sleeping.
I couldn’t help myself and decided to wake her up the one way we both enjoy.
We go slow until I’m thrusting into her, because I won’t let her leave this morning without a proper goodbye.
“I can’t,” she breathes out as I spoon around her from behind. That drowsy smile gracing her lips is beautiful when she turns to look back at me.
“You will come again, Vi. On my cock. Now be a good girl and squeeze.” I push in deeper, with her arm looped back around my neck, while my other hand holds her hip in place.
“Dec, I’m going...” Her eyes hood closed while her pussy tightens around me.
The sound of her long moan is broken by my lips crashing down on hers as I feel her spasm.
My own release isn’t far behind, and then we lie there in an entwined mess, making no effort to part, because this embrace with my dick relaxing inside of her feels too damn perfect.
It should send me running when Violet lets go of my neck to link our hands together, but I only pull her closer to me.
We dozed off again, until I woke the moment that Violet slid out of bed.
Nature is playing a joke on us; bright sun and blue skies. That’s not exactly how I feel, but then again, rain every day for the last week was as if nature were encouraging us to stay inside and do what we’ve done.
Violet emerges from the bathroom, pulling on her dress. I can tell she’s avoiding me, or at least keeps her eyes angled away from my direction, even when she sits on the side of the bed.
“Were you going to sneak out?” The corner of my mouth stretches.
“Maybe. It’s easier.”
I touch her arm and invite her to look at me. “I guess this is…”
“Mm-hm.” It’s a long moment of holding one another through a gaze. “I’ll be in Chicago next weekend to meet a friend,” she nearly spits out.
“Will you?” Excitement underlines in my tone.
“We could meet for a coffee if you want? During the day. Public place. As friends do.” She nibbles her bottom lip, but her face remains impartial, rather unsure.
Adjusting my body, I lean to kiss her shoulder and flash her my eyes that have won me fans. “I’ll be seeing you for a coffee then.”
A coffee meeting is one ambiguous setting because it could mean so many things. But at least I’ll get to see her again, because going cold turkey on this woman seems too difficult to fathom, and at least this buys us a little more time.