Chapter Six #2
“I love the smell of popcorn cooking. It comes close behind a house filled with the aroma of bread or cookies fresh out of the oven.”
She made sure her robe didn’t fall open when she sat down on the other end of the sofa and propped her feet on the tote.
“I agree. I’m so glad you made a fire. I had turned on the ceiling fan before we left on our hike because the cabin was getting stuffy.
I didn’t think it would ever get so cold in such a short time.
” Talking about the weather did not help her with her hormones or keep her from sneaking sideways peeks at him while she sipped her hot chocolate.
The popping of the corn stopped, and the bell sounded. Wyatt set his mug on the tote and stood up. “You served the chocolate. I’ll do the popcorn.”
That simple gesture spoke to Jillian. The male role model in the foster houses where she stayed did not help with anything in the house.
She had discovered tradwives on YouTube long after she had an apartment of her own, and looking back, even then, that seemed to be the norm in the places where she had landed.
Anything the husband did ended when he walked through the door in the evenings.
The wife and kids waited on him hand and foot from then until he left the next morning.
Heaven forbid if any one of the fosters ever spoke a word against the way things were.
Wyatt brought back a soup pot filled with hot, steaming popcorn. “I found this first and didn’t know if you had a bowl big enough to hold it.”
“This works fine. I don’t have a mixing bowl.”
Molly hopped up into Wyatt’s lap, turned around a couple of times, and settled down to sleep. “Is this her blanket or something?” he asked.
Jillian scooped up a handful of popcorn and let it warm her hands before she ate a kernel. “She’s not particular, long as it’s fluffy. Normally, she’s as much of a hermit as I am.”
“I guess she’s seen me enough on your porch to know that I’m not a serial killer. If we were at your apartment or mine, what would we watch on television while we waited out the storm?”
That seemed like a strange question to Jillian since she seldom turned on the TV.
“I have to admit that I would have no idea. The promo for this place said to step away from the world and enjoy nature with no television, but that didn’t make me rent this cabin.
It was the idea of it being quiet and secluded that sold me. What would you be watching?”
“This evening, it would be the weather station, but any other time with popcorn, hot chocolate, and a beautiful woman sitting beside me, I wouldn’t even turn it on.”
“Don’t forget Molly in your lap,” Jillian teased.
“Never!” Wyatt stroked the cat’s fur, and a shot of jealousy blasted through Jillian’s heart. She would gladly put Molly in her cat carrier and sit on his lap for him to touch her body with his big hands.
The pesky voice in her head warned her against such thoughts. Sure, she owned her sexuality, but she’d never had a friend like Wyatt before. She could not ruin what they had for one night of wild, passionate sex.
What makes you think it would be that good? the devil on her shoulder asked.
She dismissed the demon by visibly brushing him away.
Other than the crackle of the firewood, the place was so quiet that it was almost deafening.
“What happened?” she asked.
“The storm has passed. That means I should be going to see if Rascal is alright.” He picked up the cat and put her on the floor. “Would it be okay if I borrow these two blankets? I’d hate to put those wet clothes back on.”
“Sure thing. I’ve got to do laundry next time we … I mean I …”
Wyatt smiled and stood up. “Next time we go to town, I’ll put them in with my stuff and return them to you clean. Sunday afternoon work for you?”
I don’t want you to go. The words played through her mind on a loop, but she couldn’t spit them out.
“Yes, and thanks.”
“For what?”
“Everything. Dinner is on me when we go to town.”
Wyatt shook his head. “I would have to suffer the wrath of my mama if I let a lady pay for dinner. She would haunt me for sure, and I wouldn’t want that to happen.” He bent and kissed her on the cheek. “Goodnight, Jillian.”
“Nite,” she whispered.
“See you tomorrow morning.”
A rush of fresh air entered between the time he opened the door and closed it again.
Jillian finished off her hot chocolate and took the rest of the popcorn outside to dump on the ground for the wild animals.
She inhaled several times, drawing in the clean, fresh rain-scented air into her lungs, hoping that it would wash away all the heated desire she’d fought earlier.
It did not work.
She carried the empty pot back inside and set it in the sink. “Molly, did you really like Wyatt or were you looking for security from the storm, and you thought the blanket would bring it?”
The cat wove in and out around her legs and then tackled the belt hanging below the hem.
“Now that the danger is over, you want to play?”
Molly stuck her nose in the air and crossed the room to the bed where she curled up on a pillow and went to sleep.
“I’m having a trust issue.” Jillian kept talking out loud even though her buddy was asleep. “What if we have a fling, and I fall in love with him? Then we go our separate ways, and I never hear from him again?”
’Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
“And now I have Alfred, Lord Tennyson in my head,” she moaned.
She stomped her bare foot on the wood floor, but it didn’t give her any satisfaction. “I don’t have to trust him if it’s just a fling. I can go into it with my eyes wide open, have a good time, and walk away with no regrets. I’ve proven that I can do that.”
She didn’t believe a single word of what she said, but desire overrode any semblance of common sense. The next time the opportunity presented itself, she would take the initiative and go for it.
She visualized a scenario where she tugged at one side of that blanket and gently pulled it off his body.
She shook the image from her head and stood at the window above the bed.
The only light showing in the darkness was what came from Wyatt’s cabin.
She went outside to get a better view, and that damned ray of light drew her like a moth to a flame.
She might get burned, but she’d proven in the past that she could rise from ashes.
She followed her heart, padded barefoot across the cold, wet grass with hailstones still scattered everywhere, and knocked on his door. He opened it, still wearing the blanket around his waist, but the shawl had disappeared.
“Come in. Come in. Is something wrong?”
“I do not want to be kissing friends. I want more,” she answered as she untied the belt and dropped her robe on the floor.
He opened his arms, and she walked into them.