Chapter 24
If I’d thought Joe bringing me coffee in the mornings was wonderful it was nothing compared to what he did next. After we’d left the break room, redressed and looking presentable, he spent his time in the back stacking up his apples on the fruit stand.
I’d told him he could head home, that I’d handle it—poor baby was…very sticky. But he’d insisted. Apparently, he trusted me to touch his dick but not to put his apples on display. Which I couldn’t help but find adorable.
Peeking at him from my register—as a means to distract myself from Madison and her all-knowing eyes.
I was a little embarrassed—considering the fact I had no doubt she knew exactly what we’d been up to in there.
Like I’d promised, before we left I’d disinfected the couch.
Left no evidence behind. Made sure the space was as sacred and clean as we’d found it.
I’d also liberally washed my hands and mouth, because as much as I liked Joe—and I did—I was still working.
Madison had yet to acknowledge me.
No customers had come in while we’d been…you know…and she was on her phone. Any second now, she’d say something biting. I just knew it. I fiddled with my holiday-help list, trying to play it cool, waiting for the emotional blow that was sure to come.
Only…it didn’t.
Madison did talk.
But it wasn’t to admonish me.
She set her phone down and turned to look at me. For a beat, we just stared at each other, a silent showdown.
And then she surprised me.
“I’m happy for you,” she said. “Joe’s…hot.
Nice too. I think.” She slurped at her straw, and I glanced up at her, a little shocked that she wasn’t roasting me.
“As long as I’ve known you you’ve never had…
ah…” She glanced toward the back to where Joe was very seriously placing every single apple he’d brought the exact “right” way.
“A partner, or whatever. So…you know. Congrats.”
Joe walked by when I was hugging the living hell out of her. You know, after I’d leapt over the counter like a clumsy, creaky-kneed gazelle and yanked her into my embrace.
He didn’t even blink.
Just ducked his head, cheeks pink, and hurried toward the door. He paused at my register for a second, but only a second, then he was on his way again.
“Get offfff—” Madison beat at me with her free hand as I picked her off the ground and gave her a shake.
“You love meeee—” I sang. “I knew it. I knew you love me.”
“Stooooppp.” She was giggling, but I still put her down. The moment her feet were on the ground, she scowled at me. “Why’d you stop?”
“My bad.” I swept her up again, shaking her till her giggles turned to wheezes. “We need a safe word.”
“Shut up.”
“You say that too much for it to be effective—” I’d assumed Joe had left.
He usually did. But when I turned, he was still there, hovering at the door, watching us.
I beamed at him. “She loves me, Joe!” I told him as Madison made grumbly grumpy noises even though she was the one that had wanted back up.
“You’re very lovable,” Joe said in reply.
My whole face burned. My breath hitched. Suddenly, there was screeching in my ears—and my heart was squeezing, and I just—
Madison hugged me back. Somehow sensing my joy—like a rocket about to take off. Joy so immense it felt like distress.
Joe cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed, though he stood by what he’d said, if the way he continued to meet my gaze could be believed. He didn’t regret it. Didn’t regret calling me…calling me lovable, of all things.
“See you,” Joe said, waiting a beat, his eyes still on me. “Tonight. At your house.”
“Tonight at my house?” I echoed. This was the first I’d heard of that. “But I—”
Then he was out the door.
It wasn’t until later that I realized my list was missing.
And by then, it was too late to stop the next chain of events.
It didn’t take long to figure out that something was amiss. I’d texted Joe to ask him when he was stopping by, and he’d said nine—a bit late, but hey, that meant that I had a good few hours to kill after my shift. Hours that I’d figured I’d fill by knocking a few things off my holiday-help agenda.
It was getting long enough by that point that I figured putting in extra hours would only be beneficial.
Marty B. was the easiest, and the freshest on my mind. I already knew who I could borrow a ladder from, and I figured he wouldn’t be upset if I showed up a bit earlier than I’d said I would.
Trent Montgomery was in his driveway when I pulled up.
He was the slightly shorter—if you could call a mountain of a man like him, short—darker-haired, more friendly version of his brother, Paxton.
Which was why I’d gone to him first. I’d been unsurprised, but pleased, when he’d answered my phone call and my request to borrow his ladder with genuine enthusiasm.
He helped me get it into the back of my truck, grinning my way.
“Can’t linger, sorry,” Trent apologized as we slammed the gate on the truck bed shut. “Miles made dinner. Meat loaf.”
Ah, to have a husband that cooked.
Lucky fucker.
Joe and I would need to take cooking classes—Jason. Bad Jason.
No.
It was bad enough fantasizing about fucking him. Adding in married fantasies? Jesus. I was in way over my head.
“No worries,” I waved Trent off. He flashed me a charming grin as he headed toward the front.
“Good luck!” he called.
“I’ll bring it back later,” I promised.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got another at the farm.” The way Trent was looking at me made me think he knew something I didn’t. I pushed the thought aside, smiling and waving as the front door opened and Miles, Trent’s even taller husband, popped his head out to check on him.
The look they gave each other was sappy as hell.
I didn’t look away, even though the kiss they shared was obviously private.
It just looked so…easy.
They made it look so easy.
Trent disappeared inside, and I headed down the road to Marty B.’s place, ruminating.
Only…when I arrived, there were already lights strung across the front of his garage door, exactly where he’d been hoping. They were hanging around his windows too, and laced around the large maple tree in his front yard. Twinkling. Bright. Perfectly spaced.
I frowned, confused.
Having probably seen my headlights coming, Marty was out on the steps before I could even exit the truck. He waved at me with a big smile. There was a plate of lasagna in his arms. I could smell it as I drew closer, scenting the air like a goddamn dog.
“Thanks for your help,” Marty said, offering me the plate. “The missus wanted me to make sure we got you fed in exchange.”
“My…help?” Questions were spinning around inside my head.
For a moment, I worried I’d blacked out. I’d come here already—done all of this—and couldn’t remember for some ungodly reason. Had I hit my head? But no. No. Because the lights were neat. Neat. And if I’d been the one to do it, they certainly would not have been.
“Thank you.” I took the plate, stomach growling. “But…I didn’t do this.”
“I know,” Marty grinned. “But you got it done. Same thing. Have a nice night!” And with that, he turned around and headed back up the steps. It’d been kind of an abrupt end to the conversation. Practiced almost.
I was tempted to follow him up the steps and demand answers, but I figured…I’d find out soon enough.
I was right.
When I went hunting through my pockets for my list, I couldn’t find it. I panicked for all of ten seconds before I realized I’d left it on the counter at work.
Oh well.
With the lasagna sitting sentinel in the passenger seat, I went through my mental list instead. What’d been next…hm. Ah, yes. Sadie Collins. Her husband was out of town and she’d asked me to stop by to help her get rid of the boxes she had leftover from the Christmas presents she’d bought her sons.
She was pregnant again, and even though cardboard was cardboard, and she had a lot of boys to help—including her oldest, Jordan, recently back from college—I’d figured another set of hands, and a truck, would come in handy.
When I showed up, however, the boxes were gone.
They were supposed to be on the curb.
They weren’t.
In their place was a plate covered in warm gingerbread cookies. So warm the plastic wrap was steaming. There was a note. It simply read, Thank you, Jason.
What…the hell was going on?
I had an inkling, but…I dunno. Maybe it was that pesky denial creeping up on me again that kept me in the dark as I headed back into town to the B&B to accomplish my next task. It’d barely been half an hour and I’d done nothing, but gotten all the credit.
That and a lot of food.
When I arrived, parking in my usual spot beside the white picket fence, I gave myself a few seconds to brace for what was coming. Gift-wrapping with the Smut Club was always fun but hectic. They liked the company, even if I wasn’t nearly as good at it as they were. They didn’t seem to mind though.
And there were a lot of presents.
Each one of them had at least four grandkids. Which equated to a lot of fucking gifts. It usually took a solid few hours, even with all of us working together to accomplish things. I figured I wouldn’t finish, just…you know…make as big of a dent as I could till I went home to await Joe’s arrival.
When the B&B door swung open, I was surprised to find not only Matilda Deed, sitting behind the counter like usual, a book in hand—but a frankly massive pile of presents sitting in the corner. Wrapped.
“Hi, beautiful,” I hummed, sliding up to her desk, a question perched on the tip of my tongue.
“Don’t ask, Nosy Nancy.” She turned a page in her book. “It isn’t my place to say.”
Nosy Nancy?
“Right.” I blinked, swiveling to look at the pile of presents again. “Is that—”
“That’s all of them. Grandkids gifts. Holi-date with a book. Secret Santa. It’s all done.” She turned another page. No way in hell she was reading that fast, so I could only assume she was stalling.
“The club decided to wrap without me?” I inquired, ignoring her command not to ask.
“More or less.”