Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
I crowd into the theater’s tiny entryway, my arm linked with Maryanne’s. It smells of buttered popcorn and musty velvet and it’s busy with chatty moviegoers, but it’s cozy. When was the last time I saw a movie in a real theater? Is it weird that it seems special?
“They’re here,” Maryanne whisper-shouts in my ear just as CJ and Bear slip through the glass doors.
Bear’s bearded face splits into a grin when he sees us, and Maryanne rushes to hug him. Then CJ’s eyes find mine, and my heart does a pirouette inside my chest.
He’s dressed in a black wool peacoat and a forest-green scarf, jeans, and square-toed cowboy boots. With his scruff and the mop of curls, he could be the poster child for Cowboy Hunk. I exhale a steadying breath as he steps over, his hands tucked into his pockets.
“Hey.” His smile brings a mischievous glint to his eyes that shoots a staticky wave of electricity under my skin.
“What are we thinking?” Bear asks over his shoulder while leading Maryanne to the ticket counter, his giant palm splayed on her lower back. “The spy movie or the beaver robot one?”
“Wait, there’s a robot?” Maryanne asks with a laugh.
CJ hasn’t taken his eyes off me. “Whatever the ladies want.”
I smile. “The beaver one sounds cute.”
Maryanne shoots me a thoughtful glance. “And I double checked. Not one cartoon beaver gets harmed.”
CJ’s brows knit together in question.
“Don’t laugh, okay?” I protest. “It started with Bambi.”
“Why would I laugh? I hated Bambi.”
“You did?”
“I lost my parents when I was ten.”
“Oh, CJ.” I had my suspicions based on what he shared that night over chili with Dad, but hearing it out loud is like a punch to the stomach. I stroke the side of his face, his scruff surprisingly soft against my palm. “I’m sorry.”
He gives me an easy shrug. “It was a long time ago.”
After the guys buy our tickets and two buckets of buttery popcorn, we queue up with the mix of families toting young children and the adults headed for the spy movie. A group of guys crowd in behind us, chomping on their popcorn. I give them a quick glance, and my throat clamps shut.
It’s Rafe, Kelly, and Benson. Guys I’ve barely seen since high school.
Rafe’s eyes flash. “You bring your Xanax, Lyle? I hear the beaver gets a papercut.”
Quickly, I look away but CJ spins around, his body tense. “What did you just say?”
I glare at Rafe, then try to catch CJ’s eye. “It’s fine,” I mutter.
“It’s totally not fine,” CJ replies with a scowl. “Apologize to—”
A man in an ill-fitting maroon uniform appears, his eyes boring into CJ’s.
Before he can open his mouth, I pull CJ to where the clerk is waiting to scan our tickets, his eyes apprehensive.
The manager hovers in silence, making the mood even more tense, but the guys behind us behave. I keep hold of CJ’s hand and guide him toward Theater B.
“What was that all about?” His eyes cut to the guys about to enter Theater A.
“I knew them in school. They’re pricks.”
“And nobody’s put them in their place?”
As if he’s felt us looking, Rafe gives us a sideways glance.
“He’s not worth it, okay?” I say with a huff. “They’ve called me Lyle since fourth grade when I tried to join the Boy Scouts. It’s seriously not a big deal.”
CJ and Rafe have one last stare down before Rafe follows his friends inside Theater A.
“They need to grow the fuck up,” CJ says in a low tone, then pulls open the heavy door of our theater for me.
“Meanwhile, we’re going to have a good time.” We round the bank of seats and I scan for Maryanne and Bear.
“Why the Boy Scouts?”
Maryanne waves from the middle row, and I start climbing. “It sounded better than selling cookies and earning friendship badges.”
“Was it?”
I laugh. “I quit after they cancelled our one overnight because it rained.”
“You were too good for them.” CJ squeezes my hand. “That’s why they try to cut you down.”
I let him leave it there because I’m not spending any more energy on stupid Rafe Iverson.
The movie is cute and sharing popcorn with CJ while we both laugh at the same moments is probably my favorite part. Could our easy camaraderie be genuine? I don’t realize that Bear and Maryanne have started making out until the credits start rolling.
When we file out of the theater, CJ waits for me at the end of the row. Even in the dim theater lighting, there’s an earnest gleam in his eyes. He offers me his hand, and I take it. His palm is warm against mine, his calluses adding a hint of friction that sends my pulse skipping.
This isn’t supposed to happen to me. Meeting someone like him. Not now. Not when I’m supposed to be figuring out my life and how to fit in while also standing on my own two feet.
Outside, big, fat snowflakes are drifting down, and everything is coated with a layer of white. Maryanne and Bear are standing close, talking, both of them smiling.
“Where to now?” CJ asks. “We could grab a bite? Maybe play some pool?”
My metabolism is finally slowing down thanks to my new lifestyle so I’m not hungry exactly, but my stomach aches a little from eating popcorn on an empty stomach. “Food sounds good, but the only place to play pool is the Knotty Pine.”
CJ’s eyebrows arch up. “The what?”
Maryanne shivers, and Bear pulls her to him, wrapping his giant arms around her and rubbing her back. They already look like a couple. I’m thrilled for my friend, and Bear seems like a good guy. Could it be easy like that for me too?
“Get your mind outta the gutter,” Bear scolds. “It’s a kind of tree. Wait, shouldn’t you know that?”
CJ laughs. He reaches for my hands and steps closer, his grey eyes alight with curiosity. “What’s wrong with the Knotty Pine?”
“The food sucks,” Maryanne says just as I add, “It’ll be crowded.” Rafe and his friends might be there. Not that I care, but a brawl isn’t how I want this night to end.
“Crowded didn’t stop us before,” CJ says in a low tone.
Heat shoots up my face, and I look away, biting my lip. But the heat spreads in a tight wave down my back and hooks into my core.
“I fixed my hot tub this week,” Bear says. “Let’s get pizza and hang at my place.”
Maryanne grins up at Bear. “Nothing beats hot tubbing in a snowstorm.” Their eyes meet, and the air molecules between them practically burst into flames.
“How about we get the pizza,” CJ says. “You guys get drinks? We’ll meet at the cabin.”
“Perfect!” Maryanne eyes me. “You good with that, Linn?”
Flutters tickle up my chest. That night in the bar, I was feeling bold and a little reckless.
And it felt good. Safe, even, which was nice for a change.
Then I find out CJ’s not just a sexy stranger who got me off with dirty praises and some well-aimed friction.
He’s humble, kind, hardworking, and based on that exchange with Rafe earlier, maybe even protective.
My commitment to staying single is crumbling by the minute.
“Yeah,” I say but it comes out breathy.
We part ways, and CJ leads me down the sidewalk, our boots squeaking on the new snow.
“What’s your favorite pizza?” he asks.
“Veggie or margherita.”
“Are you a vegetarian?”
“I tried to be, but it got to be kind of an obsession, and…” Why am I talking about this? “It was better for me to stay flexible. I eat the meat Dad hunts, and when I was in the field I tried not to be picky since there weren’t alternatives.”
“I get that. Peanut butter can only get you so far.”
I laugh. “Speaking from experience?”
We turn the corner, and the hum of passing cars on the snowy road fades. “When your body is depleted from physical labor like field work or firefighting, you need dense calories, and a lot of ’em.”
It’s easy to imagine him in the yellow Nomex uniform fighting fire, his face so dark with soot the whites of his eyes are blinding. He’s breathing hard and sweaty from the exertion and the heat but determined.
Why is that hot?
He slips a set of keys from his pocket and unlocks his Dodge. I catch sight of a gold medallion on his keychain. I can’t be sure, but Jesse owns something similar. So does Morgan.
Now his comment about always being the DD fits.
He opens the door and offers his hand to help me into the cab. Those flutters rip loose inside my chest again.
I gaze into his stormy gray eyes, my heartbeat throbbing lower with each thump. The snowflakes in his hair and the warmth of his expression make me want to wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him. If you ever want to not be careful again, do it with me.
It’s like he can read my thoughts, because he reaches up to caress my cheek ever so gently with his knuckles.
I slide my arms around his waist. His body is that same combination of strong and lean that I remember from the Sweetwater, making me want more, but it’s still confusing.
Am I ready for more? My body is screaming hell yes, but my heart is tentative, and for good reason.
Yet hasn’t CJ proven himself already? What if he really is one of the good guys?
A snowflake lands on my lashes, making me blink.
“Let me,” CJ whispers, and presses his lips to my cheek.
His kiss is warm and soft on my skin, but the contact sends a shock of need straight to the hollow between my thighs.
I hold him a little tighter, and he brushes his lips against my temple, then to my jaw.
“You smell so good. Like apples, tart and sweet. It makes me wanna gobble you up.”
I release a sigh, but thanks to my galloping heart, it comes out shaky. My thoughts spin faster inside my head. I know I should say something sexy or witty, but I’m too tuned in to the feel of his body and his soft lips on my skin. Like he’s a spell I’m afraid to break.
He kisses the slope of my neck below my ear, releasing a sigh that sends another wave of pleasure rippling beneath my skin.
I grip his waist tighter and tilt my head just a little, a shameless invitation for more because who doesn’t love a man willing to kiss them out in the open like this while the silent snow drifts down and cars whoosh past?
His lips wrap around the edge of my earlobe, slippery and warm, and then his tongue flicks over the sensitive place behind it, making me jolt.
It’s then I feel the hard ridge of his erection against me.
That he’s already turned on, from just a few kisses, makes me feel wanted, and it’s almost as delicious as the way his lips and tongue are teasing my skin.
Nathan made me feel that his lack of interest in sex was my fault. It was all part of his manipulation, but I’m still ashamed of how hard I worked to please him.
Right now, I’m not working at all, I’m just feeling, letting this moment play into the next, and the next, and it’s…good. A little scary, but if I really dig deep, it feels…easy. Solid. True.
Like I can just be myself. Like I’m enough.
Not that I need a man to prove that to me, but experiencing it in real time feels pretty fucking awesome.
CJ’s nose slides into my hair while he kisses up my neck.
A whimper escapes my lips, and I tug him closer. I can’t help it. I want more of this feeling, of shelter and wildness all bundled into one. Of safety and desire entwining, interlocking.
Yet the voice in the back of my mind is starting to chirp—warning me not to get too wrapped in someone else, not to lose myself again.
This is what people mean when they say like a moth to the flame.
I know I should keep a safe distance, but the delicious pull to get just a little bit closer is impossible to resist.
CJ flicks his tongue on my neck then sucks just enough with his lips that my thighs tense, which just rubs his erection harder against me.
It’s just like that night in the Sweetwater. My body tense with longing, with need.
“No rushing this time,” he says, nipping at the edge of my jaw. “I want to kiss and suck as slow as I please.”
“Oh,” I say in a breathy exhale. I realize how badly I want him to mean it. I want to be desired like that. And I want to be free to reciprocate. To explore. To savor.
Has there ever been a more delicious promise?
He combs through my hair, slowly, his eyes earnest, almost serious. “I need to know you want that too.”
I’m sure I look like lust on a stick right now. I’m panting, my heartbeat creating a tightening ache between my thighs, my body pressed to his, seeking that friction I know he can give me.
“Yes.” I close my eyes and kiss him. His lips are warm and tender as they press back into mine.
I tug on his lower lip a little, and he groans, his fingers tightening in my hair.
Our tongues meet, just a barely-there caress, and then he’s kissing me again.
It’s hungrier this time, deeper. Another shiver rattles down my body.
He leans back, concern shining in his eyes. “Cold?”
“A little.” My toes have lost their feeling. Unlike the rest of me, which is feeling very much alive.
“Then let’s get you warm.” He turns for the truck, and this time, I let him help me inside. A layer of snow coats the windshield, creating a diffuse, dim ambiance inside the chilly space.
CJ climbs behind the wheel, snowflakes stuck to his hair and shoulders. He turns the engine and cranks up the heat. “You want to call in our order while I take care of the snow?” He slips his wallet from his back pocket and thumbs a red credit card from one of the sleeves.
I blink at the card for an instant before taking it. He trusts me with this? “Sure.”
He leans over and plants a kiss on my forehead, flipping my heart end over end like a tumbleweed. While I try to find my composure, he makes quick work of clearing the windows, each brush of his sleeve letting in stripes of light from the street.
When I pull out my phone, a text from Dad catches my eye:
They’re closing Lost River Road due to avalanche danger
I’m nowhere near Lost River but I give his message a thumbs up so he knows I’m safe.
CJ climbs back in the truck, his gaze flicking to my screen. “Everything okay?”
I’m not ready to broach the topic of my dad, so I just nod and search up Mountain Pie.
On the drive there, while I place our order, CJ offers his hand across the console. I take it, the comfort of his touch soothing my skittish thoughts.
I feel like I can trust CJ, but can I trust myself?