Chapter 8
Before going to the movies with Joe, I’d been feeling puzzled, to say the least. Annoyed too, because what Mary had said stuck even worse in my head than Madison’s accusation about my feelings. Mary knew me better than anyone. She was my best friend.
If she thought I had a crush, that probably meant I did.
But I hadn’t been ready to admit it.
Because I didn’t know what that would mean for me.
It didn’t matter if Mary said my alleged crush was “normal” or that it wasn’t “inappropriate”, or that “humans were ever evolving” and it wasn’t “weird” to grow.
Until the end of the night, when Joe had looked to me with eyes like oceans, fairy lights painting him a jolly gold, I’d been firmly in denial.
The last time I’d loved someone—Mary—I’d found out too late that the love I felt was platonic. I’d hurt her. Let her down. I couldn’t be what she needed me to be. And a decade after the split, I still felt the pain of failing her.
I didn’t want to do that to another person.
Least of all Joe.
But after spending more time with him, after seeing him vulnerable.
Gathering “intel” the way I’d been told.
Seeing him docile. Needy. After discovering what it felt like for him to rely on me, to need me.
Just a glimpse of the man beneath the grouchy exterior—there was no denying that I’d lost that battle with myself long ago.
I had a crush.
A pretty big, massive crush.
On a pretty, big, massive man.
And I needed to accept that, especially if I was going to continue being friends with him.
It didn’t have to mean anything. Didn’t have to change anything. I knew that. Feelings did not equal a relationship. And besides, it wasn’t like they were mutual.
I didn’t even want them to be.
Just the thought made me want to run. Terrified of being put in a position to potentially disappoint someone again.
My thoughts were eating me up as I headed to the bank the next morning to pick up the check for Joe. As I drove through Belleville, waving at the friendly townies I passed by, my thoughts were far, far away.
Across town.
On that apple orchard, the white farmhouse at its border, and the man who resided inside it.
I still couldn’t believe Joe had accepted my offer.
Yes, it was only money. I understood that.
It wasn’t like he’d invited me inside his home and made me the first to ever enter it.
Wasn’t like he’d allow me to actually help with what needed to be done.
I wasn’t naive enough to think by accepting the money he was letting me in all the way—but my toe was in the door now, and that was heady.
Joe was the most guarded person I’d ever met.
Multi-faceted.
I’d seen more sides to him now than probably anyone else who lived in Belleville.
Which was most definitely stroking my ego, not going to lie.
Between how gentle he was with animals, how gruff he could be with people, how shy he became when confronted with social interactions he wasn’t prepared for—and that smile.
God.
That big, sunny, beautiful smile he’d given Marybeth when she’d taken his apple.
I could assume I’d been made privy to parts of Joe that he kept under lock and key.
That was a lot of pressure.
Pressure I would’ve buckled under if I hadn’t been bound and determined not to cave. I refused to let another person I cared about down. And I did care about Joe. If I took romantic interest out of it, that care still remained.
The more time I spent with him, the more I wanted to make his life better. I didn’t need anything from him in return. Hell, he’d already given me more than I ever would’ve expected, accepting my offer of friendship like that.
Eyes sparkling.
Dark with the same loneliness I felt.
Maybe caring for Joe the way he needed meant that I’d never expose my true feelings or how deep they ran. Maybe that meant I’d quietly grow to love him. Cultivate a friendship that truly blossomed without anything to complicate it.
Who cared if I’d never been more enamored with a person in my entire life? It didn’t matter. It didn’t fucking matter.
What he needed, what he wanted, were what was important to me. Not my own feelings regarding the matter, or my own desires.
Besides…as I pulled out of the parking lot at the bank, money secured, feeling more settled than I had since Madison had called me out, I realized Mary had been right. She often was, so this was no surprise.
Regardless of how I chose to deal with my feelings toward Joe, one thing was for certain. I couldn’t let my experiences with Mary, my perceived “failures,” ruin what could be a perfectly good friendship. I needed to learn to let go of the past. At least, if I wanted a chance to have a happy future.
Joe had been awake long before I arrived, despite the early hour. A fact that was made obvious by the noise that was echoing down the driveway as I drove toward the same farmhouse I’d been thinking about all morning.
Thud, thunk.
The “Santa Fund” check was sitting sentinel on the passenger seat. Dappled light bounced through the windows, painting the cushion and envelope in a colorful blur, as I dodged potholes, and gravel crunched beneath my tires.
Thud, thunk.
Thud, thunk.
The closer I came to the house, the more obvious it became what Joe was doing. There was no doubt he was chopping more firewood. I’d never done that myself, but I’d witnessed it enough times to recognize it for what it was, even before I saw him.
His truck bed was empty, the brambles I’d seen the other day missing. Unsurprising. They hadn’t been there last night either, now that I thought about it.
I pulled up beside his truck and put the car in park by jamming my foot on the peddle. It wasn’t a very graceful stop. Because—woah. Suddenly, I could see Joe, and I was just—wow. Heat coursed through me, settling between my legs. All I could do was take in the view.
Despite the chill in the air, Joe was shirtless.
Naked from the waist up.
Shirtless.
Naked from the—
Oh god.
Golden skin with obvious tan lines glistened with sweat as Joe hacked log after log after log.
There was a rhythm to it. Like he’d done this a thousand times.
A million times. The splay of his muscles danced as he moved, powerful and precise.
The kind of strength that came from hard labor and repetition.
Once again, I couldn’t help but mentally compare him to a panther. A big golden, sweaty panther.
He could be dangerous if he wanted to be. And instead…he chose to be gentle.
There was so much to see.
So much to appreciate.
The glint of a gold chain around his neck.
The sweat-damp hair at his nape.
The ripple of muscle as he brought his arms over his head, his lats flexed, and the axe came right back down with a loud thud.
“I am going to Hell,” I muttered as my eyes lingered on the dimples above the waistband of his jeans, and I tried not to choke on my own drool. Maybe Mary and I had that in common. Not going to Hell. I mean, the sexual…ah appetite when we liked someone.
I’d never felt that about her.
But I certainly felt that now.
For Joe.
For Joe and his biceps. The way he twisted when he grabbed a new log to halve. And the smattering of hair that led from his belly button all the way beneath his Levi’s. For the way those big pecs almost bounced with each labored breath, pink nipples perky because of the chill.
Joe hadn’t noticed me.
I got out of the truck and headed toward him.
The check crinkled a bit in my grip, and I almost laughed. The lack of control I currently had was astounding. It felt like the universe was playing a joke on me. I’d literally just accepted I had feelings for him, and here I was, showing up to see farm-boy-Magic-Mike.
I forced my grip to relax, keeping a respectful and safe distance as I circled around to Joe’s front. The last thing I wanted to do was startle him while he was wielding a fucking axe, thank you very much.
The moment Joe saw me, he tensed.
His eyes went wide.
He slammed the axe into the empty stump he’d been using to anchor the other logs. Faster than I could blink, he had his earbuds out. He stared at me for a beat. I stared back, gauging his mood, his reaction to me, with fascination.
The guardedness was still there, of course. I hadn’t expected it to go away after one spectacular holiday movie—Home Alone always managed to hit me right where I was weakest—and a plate of lasagna. I wasn’t naive. But he was…decidedly less prickly than before.
Ah.
The power of friendship.
“Morning, big guy!” The term of endearment slipped out before I could stop it. Joe blinked in reaction. Otherwise, he didn’t look offended or pleased. Neutral. “I have your check right here as promised.” I tapped the envelope.
Joe’s eyes slipped to the paper.
I held it toward him.
His lips pressed into a tight line.
Warily, like he was accepting a bag full of razors, he reached out to take the check from my hand. The bully in me wanted to keep holding on for as long as possible. Maybe give it a little tug and spook him. But I refrained.
Moving forward, and all that.
I let it go the moment Joe had it safely in his grip.
I could tell he wanted to open it. That he was curious, and maybe anxious to see if he now had enough to cover what needed to be done on the house. I hadn’t actually told him how much the charity would provide, so it made sense that he’d feel that way.
Truthfully, I was pretty stoked to see his face when he opened it.
That was the nice part about being both the provider of the funds and the delivery boy.
I got the best of both worlds as both secret Santa and not-so-secret Elf.
“Open it up,” I urged, eager to see the look on his face. “C’mon. I wanna see your face.”
Joe’s brow pinched. He was fighting with the part of himself that probably thought doing that was rude. But…I mean, if I wanted him to do it, was it rude? No.