Chapter 5 - Eleanor
It’s been a week of me flirting occasionally and Wade letting me get away with it. He doesn’t tell me to stop and sometimes he teases me back, but in more innocent ways. I know I should be focused on getting to know Clair. She and I have spent some time together putting together flowers, trying on her wedding dress, doing general things, but I live for my stolen moments with Wade.
“Oh, honey, anyone can be good in a kitchen,” Clair insists when I tell her I’m a terrible chef.
“She’d be very good at taking orders, but nowhere near the food,” Wade says.
I gape at him. “That’s rude! I’ve made cinnamon buns before.”
“You forgot them in the oven and nearly started a fire,” he reminds. His gaze lands to my thighs. I curl my toes and stretch my legs. His blue eyes meet mine and I see something dark playing there. “You’re lucky I needed to talk to your dad that day and I came back.”
“The frosting was still edible,” I defend. “And anyway in the city, I could order perfectly cooked cinnamon rolls and put extra frosting on.”
Clair giggles. “I’m sure I could lay out a recipe for you.”
“Didn’t you say I’m good at following orders, Wade?” I ask playfully. “If you’re right, then I can manage a recipe just fine. It’s a whole list of orders.”
“We can hope. I’ll check the fire extinguisher’s date and make sure oven mitts are where you’ll see them,” he says.
But when Clair starts asking for his opinion on something, his eyes flick to me again. A silent question there. I’m not sure what it is, but judging by the sexy smirk on his lips, it’s certainly not an order to stop teasing him. And I don’t want to. I’m not sure I could, even if he asked. He haunts my thoughts, fills my time right before bed. I see him in every naughty book I read, touch myself thinking of his hands and mouth. I dream about him telling me he wants me too.
In no time we’re back in wedding planning mode and it’s clear Wade’s nearly obsessive about his to-do list. He’s still working on getting the stumps cut and the arch my dad bought set up. The second he pulls out his axe or tools, I have to force myself to focus on my own projects to avoid drooling over him. He’s so focused on his work over the next two days that I barely get more than a few glances. I should probably cool off my lust anyway, I don’t want to overwhelm him.
Not that it matters. Wherever he is – that’s where my eyes go. When he focuses more on sanding wood into the shape he wants, I’m almost jealous of it. It’s stupid and backwards and makes no sense. But I’m almost addicted to the way my heart races when he gives me his attention. I feel more confident and myself when I’m teasing him and earning smirks and playful banter back.
I work on clearing some weeds from the garden until I hear a slow exhale behind me. I sit back on my heels and glance over my shoulder at Wade. I blink at him innocently. “I thought you were getting your tux fitted today.”
“My last one still fits well,” he murmurs.
“Sometimes people like the feeling of something new. A new tux, a new button up ... I’ve heard new is always better,” I comment.
“Reliable and comfortable is better than new,” he says, his eyes burning my logic, one second at a time.
“What about new experiences?” I ask before tightening my pony.
Wade watches my long ponytail as it waves over my back.
“If I like something, I do it. If I like it enough, I’ll keep doing it,” he murmurs.
I shudder as my thighs squeeze. “That’s a good philosophy. Must explain why you still love spending time in the outdoors.”
“I love being a lumberjack but I’m more than just that. Over the years, I’ve developed some specific skills that can be useful in many ways,” he comments.
“Oh, I know. I saw how you use your hands. A capable man through and through,” I say, bending back over and lifting my ass just a bit higher.
I don’t want to be ridiculous. I’m not going to come onto him aggressively, but I want him to know I’m interested. I want to know if he is. I pull a few more weeds, toss them in the bucket and rub my forearm over my forehead as I sit back down. I use my shirt to wipe my cheeks.
“I can handle that, Ellie,” Wade says, his voice a low growl. “You should be enjoying a vacation.”
“And I can handle plenty too, Wade,” I say as I take my full bucket and stand. “I’m doing what I want to do ... mostly.”
I don’t look away from him, or I try not to, but I chew the inside of my cheek. Something about him puts me on edge and keeps me there. I feel like I’m walking a tight rope, waiting to fall and hoping he’ll catch me. In those gorgeous, thick arms, preferably with the same smile I earn when I tease him just right.
If I just knew how he felt about me ... no. That wouldn’t matter unless he wanted to act on it too. So I suck my bottom lip and smile gently, trying to hide all my other comments, all the ways I want to push his buttons until he snaps and gives us both what we want.
“I’ll spare you lunch,” I promise. “I think I’ve gotten enough sun today.”
“Yes, your ... You’re looking a little red,” he comments. “There are aloe leaves inside.”
When I head inside, I strip down and look at myself in the mirror. A little strip on my lower back is red. And the idea of that being Wade’s focus has me spiraling into plenty of naughty thoughts. I split the aloe leaf in half and rub the gooey side all over my red skin.
Since the aloe is too much for just that spot, I decide to give my legs some extra attention, even though I wore jeans today. I tell myself it’s for my skin, but deep down, I know it’s not. Not when I’m pretty sure Wade can see me layering it on as I sit on the couch, right in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. I occasionally catch glimpses of him shirtless from my room, so it feels only fair that he gets a guilt-free view too.
If neither of us are ready to pull the trigger, we can at least enjoy some teasing with whatever plausible deniability Wade thinks he’ll need with my dad.