20. Sylvie
TWENTY
SYLVIE
I slept like the dead.
You would think that getting caught by a man while calling out his name and then finishing while he stroked himself behind the bedroom door would have you lying awake contemplating your life’s decisions for hours, but nope .
After I had cleaned myself up, I snuggled back into Duke’s bed and had the best night of sleep I’d had in months.
If the harsh light streaming through the window was any indication, I’d even slept in too.
Don’t stop.
The memory of Duke’s strained, gravelly voice as we both touched ourselves rattled through me. I grabbed a pillow and pressed it into my face as I screamed and kicked my feet. Just thinking about it had my blood pumping and my body gearing up for round two.
Oh my god. How was I ever going to face him?
Was I supposed to walk right up to him and extend my hand and come up with something to say?
Oh. Why yes, hello. Good morning, sir. You did in fact catch me masturbating and crying out your name when I thought I was home alone.
And instead of being mortified, you joined in and came right alongside me. Have a good day.
I swung my legs off the bed and stood, then walked to the window. I peeked out from the curtain and, if I leaned far enough to the right, could just barely make out the corner of the barn. A large door to the barn was open, and I sat back on my heels with a sigh.
Does that man ever not work?
Relieved I would have at least a few minutes to gather myself, I scrubbed both hands over my face.
An image of last night flashed through my mind. How tight and desperate Duke’s voice was. How the hard edge of his whisper was what had sent me hurtling over the edge.
I took my time getting ready for the day, even dabbing on a little bit of makeup now that my underlying color wasn’t a permanent shade of pukey green.
At seventeen weeks, I was no longer in regular pants.
But I couldn’t deny it—the stretchy waistband of maternity pants was pretty damn comfortable.
A flowy top still hid my bump, but lately I’d given up on hiding.
Now that it was more than just a burrito baby, I thought the bump looked pretty cute on my frame.
Maybe this is what the internet meant by the second-trimester glow.
I tiptoed down the creaky stairs. In fact, it was those stairs that helped me notice Duke had come home last night. I’d heard his heavy footfalls on the old wood, and when I saw his shadow stop at my door and didn’t leave, I knew he was there.
I could have stopped or been quiet, but I didn’t. I couldn’t .
The farmhouse kitchen was quiet, and I smiled as soon as I saw the coffee mug and tea along with a note from Duke. It had become an unspoken morning ritual that I looked forward to every day.
I turned on the stove, and while the teakettle heated up, I opened the fridge to peek at the leftovers Duke had brought me.
Four Styrofoam to-go containers were stacked to the height of the fridge shelf.
Inside was a plethora of roasted turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, sweet potatoes, green beans, and two different kinds of stuffing.
In the last container I hit the jackpot: pie.
So. Much. Pie.
Deciding pie for breakfast wasn’t all that different from stuffing my face with Huck’s pastries, I grabbed a fork and took a huge bite of cold apple pie directly from the container.
I was not proud.
“Mmm,” I hummed in delight. Sometimes cold leftover pie straight from the fridge was almost as good as an orgasm.
Almost.
The kettle whistled, and I poured the hot water into the Sullivan Farms mug and began to steep the tea. I took one last sneaky bite of pie before holding the warm cup between my hands.
From the window I could see the late-November weather was having an identity crisis. The grass glittered with frost as the harsh morning sun slanted across the lawn. Last week’s snow had already thawed, but I was no fool.
Knowing the air would be crisp as I took my tea on the porch, I pulled on my winter coat, plopped a knit hat over my bed head, and slipped on a pair of fingerless gloves.
I frowned down at my winter boots. Bending over to lace them up had started to become a little uncomfortable, and I only wanted to be out for a few minutes to soak up some vitamin D while I sipped on my morning tea.
If I was lucky, I could hide behind the mug and sneak a glance at Duke as he worked on the farm. With a resolute nod, I slipped my feet into a pair of Duke’s old worn work boots.
His huge heavy boots were clunky as I charged out the door and onto the porch. I had slowly started decorating it for fall and was pleased when Duke didn’t seem to mind the subtle, feminine changes to his very bachelor-like home.
The sturdy mums were still holding up, but the stocks of dried corn had seen better days. With yesterday’s Thanksgiving obligations over, I was taking that as my sign to start decorating for Christmas.
I wondered how Duke felt about Christmas lights. Did he prefer colored ones or white? I laughed. The grumpy farmer probably enjoyed a no-frills, no-lights Christmas.
Well, not this year, Oates.
I stood on the top step, looking out onto Sullivan Farms, one hand shielding my eyes from the bright morning sun.
My heart clunked when I saw him. From his heavy boots to the way his thick thighs tested the limits of his denim to the thick canvas jacket he wore unzipped despite the wintry chill, Duke Sullivan was all man.
His strides ate up the distance between us as I lifted my hand in a shy wave.
He was coming after me, and fast.
I attempted a friendly smile. “Morning, I?—”
In three strides he was up the porch steps, and his mouth crashed to mine. One hand gripped the mug while the other balanced myself on his rock-hard bicep. Even under his clothes and winter layers, he was hard and demanding.
My bones went liquid. His teeth teased my lip, and as I gasped, his tongue swept over mine. I gripped him harder, leaning into the kiss. I wanted more—more of him, more of this, more of everything.
He was panting as he broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to mine. “Good morning.”
His deep voice sent shivers down my back. “I’ll say.”
A bubbling erupted just below my belly button. I pulled back, my eyes wide. Duke’s eyebrows cinched down the middle as my hand flew to my lower belly.
“I think...” I felt around, hoping to experience the fizzy sensation again. “I think the baby just moved.”
His eyes flew to my stomach and back to my eyes. His hand flexed as he tentatively reached out. “Can I?”
I swallowed hard but nodded.
Duke’s wide palm covered nearly the entirety of my lower belly, and I covered my hand with his.
“I’m not sure. It’s not the first time I felt something like that, but this was.
.. more.” I lifted my shoulders. “Different. The books I’m reading say it will probably be a few more weeks before anyone else can feel it too. ”
“That’s okay.” His voice was barely above a whisper, awe laced through his words.
I let the warmth of his hand seep into me and prayed to feel it again. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I wasn’t really sure if it was the baby or a bubble of gas. I sagged into him, trying to keep my tea from spilling over the rim, and Duke’s arms wrapped around me.
“You shouldn’t stay out here too long. It’s too chilly this morning.”
I moved the open zipper on his coat up and down. “What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me.” Duke released me, and I smiled up at that beautiful man. “Did you eat?”
My smile turned shy. “I had pie for breakfast.”
He laughed, and it cracked in his throat like it was rusty from neglect. I fell in love with the rich, warm sound.
“That tracks.” He winked as his chuckle faded away. His hand moved from my shoulder down to my elbow before capturing my wrist. “Have dinner with me. I have work to get through today, but I would love to have dinner with you tonight.”
Giddiness danced through me, but I shrugged. “It’s a date.”
I had turned to walk back inside to escape the cold that had started to creep in when he landed a swift smack to my ass. I yelped and whipped my head around to catch his playful grin.
I watched Duke as he walked with long strides across the lawn and back to the barn. The bubbles in my stomach fizzled again, and I pressed a shaky hand to my belly. “I know, baby. I know.”
John Oates
Finishing up here. I’d still like to take you out. Can you be ready by six?
For our date, I chose a soft knitted dress in a delicate cream.
The sweater dress was roomy enough to accommodate my belly, and the belt accentuated my growing bump.
The dress was short, hitting just above my knees, and I paired it with tall leather boots with a flat heel.
It was comfy, but also cute. Nervous for our date, I even took extra time to dab on a little makeup and curl my hair into soft waves.
I walked down the stairs and rounded the corner to the kitchen to find Duke standing, his hand clamped on the back of a chair, and I paused.
Still in boots and jeans, he had swapped his typical T-shirt for a knitted navy pullover sweater.
The two tortoiseshell buttons were undone, giving me the tiniest peek at his collarbone.
The sweater stretched across his muscular chest and clung to his biceps.
His denim was clean, and he wore a brown leather belt.
My mouth went dry at the sight of him.
Duke took me in and sighed, rubbing his hands together as though he felt just as nervous as I did. “You’re stunning, Sylvie.”
I smiled and my eyes fell to the floor. “You clean up pretty good yourself.”
He helped me into my coat, and as we walked toward his truck, he opened the car door for me, making sure I was tucked inside before he closed the door. I tracked his graceful movements as he rounded the hood and then climbed in.
“I thought we could go to Rivale... unless you had a taste for something different.”