Chapter Six
Wyatt
There’s nothing like a hard day’s work to get a man out of his head, or at least out of the house. I guess that’s the magic of work. You can lose yourself in the details of something completely outside of yourself.
Stressed about family? Measuring for new windows will take your mind off it.
Frustrated that it’s been snowing obsessively for days? The smooth edge of a freshly cut board will do the trick.
Can’t pay the bills? What better place to go to than work?
I measure out the space and head out back where the saw is set up to cut myself a few pieces of pine for the floor. I’m not sure who was working out here before me, but they were doing a shit job getting all the boards lined up correctly.
Pine is hard to work with. It’s a softwood that dents easily and can’t be exposed to harsh elements without a change in color or warping.
A lot of the boards already laid show signs of both.
I pulled them up first thing and ordered a fresh pallet to be sent up here this afternoon.
If Wade has an issue with it, he can take it out of my check.
I want this project to be stamped with my craftsmanship, not the guy before me.
In the meantime, there were a few pallets in the back that were stored in the old shed. I can use those in the bedroom while I wait on the delivery.
The sun is up and snow drips from the eaves as I rip a few boards through the table saw then stack them up onto my shoulder and head back into the old mill house.
I never spent much time up here, so I can’t say what the inside of the place looked like back in the day, but given the dilapidated mess the outside was, I gather there have been huge improvements made.
There are granite countertops, expensive appliances, a stone fireplace, crown molding, and massive windows that overlook the valley. I’d bet you could even see the wild horses from here. They love to congregate in this part of the valley this time of year to eat on the bark of the cottonwood trees.
I lay the pine boards down in the back bedroom, pausing for a moment when I hear footsteps in the front of the house.
“Hello?”
“Hello!” Alice’s voice echoes, and for a second, I think I might be hearing things. “Wyatt?”
I turn the corner into the room with the large picture windows and there she stands in tight blue jeans and that red winter coat.
What the hell is going on? Have I lost my fucking mind? Am I seeing things now? I have buddies with PTSD that see things. Please don’t tell me I’m fucking seeing things.
“You did something to your hair,” I say, walking toward her for a hug.
She tips up onto her toes and wraps her arms around my shoulders as I breathe in the scent of berries in her hair.
If I’m seeing things, I’m really fucking good at it.
“Just a trim. Felt good, though. I haven’t found anyone I trust yet out in San Francisco.” She pulls away from the hug and steps back, inspecting the space. “I never thought they’d do anything with this old place. Whoever’s inheriting it is going to get a load of ghosts.”
“Ghosts?”
She smiles and my chest tightens a little. “Yeah, there’s this book down at the library I checked out once that goes into detail about the hauntings of Rugged Mountain. This place was highlighted as one of the most haunted.”
There are a million questions I have right now, but I stay on topic. “Who’s haunting it?”
“No one knows,” she shrugs, “but apparently if you’re here after dark you can hear all these voices. I bet they’re even angrier now that the place got torn apart.”
“Guess you’ll have to stay close while you’re here then.” I cross my arms over my chest and stare at her. “What are you doin’ here, peach?”
She glances down at the floor, her long blonde hair falling off her shoulder before she glances up and speaks. “You’re not happy to see me?”
“I’m really happy to see you. Just confused considering you ran out the diner like you were on fire yesterday.”
“I did do that.” She nods and grins sweetly as her cheeks turn pink. “Not my finest moment, but… I had a reason.”
Now I’m really curious. “Okay… guess I’ll bite. Why did you run out of the diner yesterday?”
She looks at me for a long moment, tears welling in her eyes as my mind bounces all over the place.
Is that asshole in California hurting her? Is she in some kind of trouble? Is something wrong medically?
Wiping away a tear, she unzips her jacket and steps toward me, letting the heavy red fabric fall to the floor.
This delusion is getting good. This is my fantasy come to life. She’s here to seduce me.
There’s an inch or two between us when she reaches for my hand and lands it on her stomach. Slowly, her gaze draws up to mine.
“Wyatt, I’m four months pregnant.”
My mind goes blank. “What?”
She nods and holds her hand over mine. “I found out right after I got to San Francisco. I didn’t know what to do.
You were spinning out, and I didn’t want to make things worse.
Then, I went through my own panic, but when I saw you at the diner,” she glances down then up again, “every mistake we’d ever made melted away, and all I wanted was you. It scared the hell out of me.”
“We’re having a baby?” I say, almost as though I’m confirming what my brain thinks I’ve heard.
“Yeah,” she nods slowly as tears well in her bright blue eyes, “we’re having a baby.”
Jesus! We’re having a baby!
Oh my God… we’re having a baby!
My head spins as my chest tightens. “Fuck, peach!” I lift my girl and spin her in circles, then hold her close and kiss the top of her head. “We’re having a baby!”
For a moment we stay like this, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s arms while the mid-afternoon sun spills in from the massive picture window.
“I don’t want you to leave.” I hold her tighter, speaking before thinking through the words. “I know I made mistakes, but you belong here, or I belong there. Whichever, but we belong together.”
She steps back and stares up at me, the light reflecting the specks of color in her eyes. “I want to come home. I want to raise the baby here, on the mountain, the same way we were raised. I want you, I want us, and I want everything we dreamed about, Wyatt, but I’m scared.”
I brush the hair back from her vision and lift her up from the ground, setting her on the kitchen counter. “What are you scared of?”
“I’m scared that I’m being impulsive, that I’m driven by hormones, that I want your hands on my body so badly that I’m making a bad decision to get them there.”
I grin slowly, knowing full well there’s no way in hell I’m letting her leave. “Let’s fix that then.”
Her brows narrow. “How do we fix that?”
“I reckon the only way is to let me touch you.”
A bright smile lifts onto her face. “Of course you’d think that was the best fix.”
“You got another idea?”
Her tongue wets her lips as her eyes stay locked on mine. “Not really.”
“Okay then.” I land my hand on the side of her soft face and lean in. It’s been months since I’ve kissed her, but when my lips meet hers, muscle memory returns and it’s like she never left.
She melts into my touch with a sweet sigh as I suck on her bottom lip and let my hand wander down over her curves and onto her waist.
If she hadn’t told me she was pregnant I wouldn’t have noticed, though now that I know, I can feel the small bump where our baby grows.
Fuck.
Our baby.
Our baby is growing inside of her.
I kiss her harder and pull her down off the kitchen counter and into my arms.
Her nipples have pebbled against her thin pink sweater and her full pink lips part.
This is a construction site. There’s no soft bed to lay her down on, no pretty little spot to get her comfortable. I have a kitchen counter, a window seat, and a half-finished pine floor.
I dig my hands into her silky hair and tug lightly. “I’m about to disrespect you, peach.”
“Yeah?” she pants and squeezes her thighs together as she stares up at me. “How so?”
I lift her sweater up off her curved frame and lean into her neck, kissing and biting my way down over her shoulder as I say, “I’m going to press you up against that cold window and fuck your little pussy until you’re begging me to stop.”
“So do it.”
“Sure, right after you slide your hand in your panties and show me how wet you are.”
The tiniest of whimpers leaves her throat as she unbuckles her jeans and slides them to the floor.
Fuck.
She stands in front of me, thick and delicious. Her lacy pink panties slide over as her fingers tuck inside, my mouth agape as I watch her every move.
The slight jump her body makes as she brushes her clit. The tiny little breath she catches as she pushes inside. The way her eyes have darkened.
“Good girl. Now show me. Show me how wet you are.”
Slowly, she pulls out and presents two slick fingers.
“Now put them on my tongue. I need to taste you.”
Stepping forward, she looks up at me, sweet and innocent, as I take her tiny wrist into my hand and land her fingers on my tongue.
My eyes close and I suck, lick, and taste the girl I’ve missed for far too fucking long.
Her hand grazes the bulge in my jeans as I lick her fingers clean.
Fuck… I need her. I need that tight little pussy and I need it now!
“You taste so fucking good, peach.” I kiss her hand over and over before leaning into her lips for more. I can’t get enough. I want all of her, everywhere, all at once.
She’s so fucking beautiful. Golden blonde hair, bright blue eyes, a tiny little scar on her left cheek from a cat scratch she got when she was young.
I remember her telling me the story one night in bed.
It’s from an orange tabby that she was trying to keep away from her timid cocker spaniel.
I miss nights like that. Nights when we laid on our backs and told stories without realizing half the night had slipped away.
Mornings when I wake up exhausted because we stayed up all night screwing around.
I lift her up into my arms, holding her ass as she wraps her legs around my waist.
There’s a benefit in taking our time, an emotion in going slow, but my patience is gone.
I’m claiming my little peach, and I’m claiming her right now.