CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT Van
“Damn!” Chip exclaimed, coming up behind me and resting his chin on my shoulder. “And he cooks too, folks,” he added, pinching my ass.
“Not well,” I admitted.
“Smells frickin’ amazing, baby.”
He spun me around and pulled me close. The two of us were in no hurry to break the connection. These excuses to touch and hold each other were common between us. No words had to be spoken while we absorbed whatever we needed from the other. I’d told him yesterday he was my recharging station.
Chip’s body language never intimated that I was crowding him. He didn’t seem to find me needy the way I’d felt with Evan. I’d come to learn the signals with my ex, and slowly but surely, I found myself withdrawn from intimacy with Evan.
I hated to break away, but dinner was calling. “Let me check the beef’s tenderness.”
“Last time I checked the freezer, we were out of beef. Where’d you find any?”
“Bertie brought some in today. I promised her a bowl or two.”
He moved alongside me, peered inside the huge pot, watching as I stirred the stew. “What time is the entire town arriving for dinner?”
I pivoted my hip into his, bumping him out of my way when I reached for the garlic salt. These moments of us sharing a home life were few and far between because of his obligations to his business, but I carved out time to spoil him.
In the past, dreaming about a man like Chip occupied my fantasies. And now, he was real. I intended to show my appreciation. The best part was that he knew how to be thankful and reinforce my actions with his own appreciation.
“Stop teasing about the portion,” I scolded. “I know we’re busy at the store, so I’m cooking tons. We can eat this until Christmas. Plus, we’ll have lunches.” I held the garlic salt toward him. “A lot, or a little?”
“Of you or the salt?”
“I’m after dinner,” I teased, placing my hand to the front of his boxers, his expanding cock showcasing dessert.
“Promise?”
“If you want, I’ll drop this spoon right now, mister.”
Chip slid his hand under the waistband of my boxers and took turns holding each butt cheek, bouncing them like a boy with a new toy.
Actually, I wore his boxers. I’d stopped wearing my Calvin’s after finding out how comfy boxers were.
That, and he looked so damn sexy in his.
I hoped he found me half as attractive as I found him.
Oddly, at that very moment, I was horny, happy, melancholy, and worried.
All those conflicting emotions hit at once.
As much as I’d spent the past two weeks focused on living in the moment, I was becoming attached to everything about him and Missile.
The tiny community felt like home, and I was afraid the rug would be yanked out from under me.
Nights like tonight filled me with emotion.
Christmas music played from a portable speaker on the fridge.
Pooch was curled up near the fire, occasionally moving to a cooler space when he got too warm.
The aroma of stew filled the cabin with a homey feel I suddenly found tugging at my heart.
All of that, plus Chip, made me feel like I resided in a postcard.
An image of domestic bliss with a heap of belonging.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Chip asked, touching my arm. “Why the misty eyes?”
I swallowed the desire to weep. “This,” I murmured, gesturing around the cabin’s interior. “I really love all of this, Chip. I love Pooch. The cabin. The Christmas tree. Being here with you.”
He held the sides of my face, and we exchanged a light kiss. “And I love having you here. You make the cabin feel like a home again.”
“You’re so fortunate to have this slice of heaven.”
He nuzzled my neck and whispered in my ear. “This can be your home too.”
I pulled back, reaching for his hands. “Don’t say that.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Why?”
“Because I want that. But…” I hurriedly looked away.
He moved slightly to his right so he could see my eyes. “Hey,” he soothed, tugging on my chin. “I want that too. More than anything.”
His words added security, but even after all the wonderful things happening for me, I had unexplained worries. I spoke out loud what I figured most people thought. “We’ve only known each other for two weeks, though.”
I couldn’t speak for Chip, but those two weeks had solidified what I’d felt a day after meeting him. We shared an instant connection even though both of us were coming out of a difficult year. I felt that the similar experiences we shared contributed to the bond forming between us.
He focused on me, perhaps trying to decipher if I truly believed two weeks was too brief an amount of time. “You think we’re rushing. You, the king of positivity and hopefulness? Is that what I’m hearing?”
“Are we?” I asked, turning the question on him.
He walked to the fireplace and tossed a log onto the embers. He didn’t immediately turn around, so I worried he also thought we were rushing. He turned around and began shaking his head.
“No. No, I don’t think we’re rushing,” he stated.
“I truly believe we’ve been given the gift of each other.
How else can you explain the way you’ve brought me back to life?
” He moved to a barstool and sat down. “Explain how all those strange coincidences had to happen for you to end up in Missile. Why this town? Why me?”
“I don’t have those answers,” I replied.
“But I will tell you my visit to Missile was intentional. A driving force I’ve never sensed encouraged me to take that exit off I-90.
Everything I did to get here was deliberate.
Sure, I was driving past on my way to Denver, but I was curious about this town. ”
“Did you know I was here?”
“Of course not,” I defended, feeling hurt he might think that. “Do you think…”
He jumped off the stool, startling me, and hurried to my place by the stove. “No, I don’t think you specifically knew I was here. But you told me John revealed he was from here and had an ex here.”
“And that is the truth.” I crossed my arms defensively. “But I didn’t know his ex was you.”
“We’ve discussed this before, baby. And I believe you,” he acknowledged, reaching for my hands and uncrossing my arms. “And I don’t care whether you knew or didn’t know who I was.
The only thing that matters to me is that you did meet me.
I’m in love with you, Van! Two minutes or two weeks.
I don’t give a shit about the length of time.
I want you by my side, and I don’t care where we live. ”
I burst into tears because I’m a baby when someone professes their love for me. No one had ever professed their love for me, but still.
“I want to be right here. With you,” I cried, once again hiccupping like a toddler.
He wrapped me in his arms, kissing my face, nose, top of my head, wherever he could prove his love. “Then stay. Make this home your home. Make me your husband.”
Despite my tears, I giggled, slapping at him. “You remembered that?” I sniffled, still finding the humor in his memory.
“Trust me, handsome. When you mentioned your journey to find a husband the night I met you, I auditioned on the spot.”
“Most guys would’ve run.”
“Not me, baby. Not me.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“We’re gonna work on that insecurity a tiny bit,” he pointed out. “And you can help me heal my wounds,” he said. “I need you to trust me, Van. I know we’re both allowed trust issues after what happened in our past relationships, but how about we choose trust as we set this one up?”
“Okay.”
We gazed into each other’s eyes and kissed softly. A gentle kiss to seal the deal. I had a new home. A place to build a better life. A chance at true love. We separated, still holding hands, and huddled near the stove.
“Can you stir that?” I asked, reaching for the large ceramic bowls he had stacked on an open shelf. There was a knock at the door. We quickly exchanged glances. “Keep stirring, mister. I’ll grab the door. I told Bertie I was making stew, so I bet it’s her.”
Tossing the dishcloth I had over my shoulder toward him, I headed for the front door. Pooch beat me there but didn’t bark after Chip gave him a stern look.
I walked through the open doorway to the mudroom and opened the exterior door, expecting Bertie. She wasn’t the guest standing in front of me, and I’m certain I failed at hiding my shock.
“Hello, Vance.”
“John?”