Chapter 5 #2
“—and he’s totally your type. And yes, I agree that it’s a little… something… that he’s your contractor. But he’s not your employee. There’s not a consent issue?—”
“Isn’t there?” I said weakly.
“And if the two of you were getting along, I’d probably say to wait until the job is done to do the jumping, but since you’ve also said your attraction is making it hard for you to work and hard for you to communicate about the house?—”
It was making many things hard.
“I don’t think I actually said?—”
“Why not get it out of your system so you can move on? Seems like if you want to get busy on that article, you and Brew need to get busy first.” She bounced her eyebrows. “He’s got some serious toppy energy. You’re into that, right?”
I stared at Tam and then at the baby in horror. “Tamsen Marie Monroe. I will not discuss my sex life with my sister. Especially not while you’re holding that precious, innocent?—”
“Pfft. Tierney can’t understand a word we’re saying?—”
“Nope.” I shook my head. “Not happening. La la la la la. I refuse.”
“Delaney—”
“Je refuse. Ich weigere mich,” I insisted, pulling out every language I spoke even a little. “No acepto.”
Tam laughed. “No fair. You know I only speak English!”
“I have Google Translate on my phone, too,” I reminded her. “I can do this all night.”
“Fine. If you won’t talk to me about this, at least talk to Jasper. You guys are friends, right?”
“Of course. I like Jasper a lot.” I grinned, remembering Jasper’s text that afternoon, which had been a picture of Janice Plum’s cornucopia bonnet, a bunch of laugh-cry emojis, and the words, “Delaney, what have you done?”
My smile faded quickly. “Jasper’s busy, though. With Watt. Doing their couple stuff. I’m not bothering him with this nonsense.” I gave her a stony glare. “Especially when it’s a nonissue.”
Something in my tone must have given me away because Tam’s expression went all soft and sympathetic again. “You know you could have ‘couple stuff,’ too, right? If you’d let yourself.”
“Oh, dear God. Can we go back to discussing my shitty cabinet choices? Please?” I demanded.
Tam rolled her eyes, but before she could speak, there was a soft knock at the front door, followed by my brother-in-law’s voice. “Tam? Delaney?”
“In here!” I called. I grinned at Tam. “Saved.”
“For now,” she agreed reluctantly. “But I’ll get you next time, my pretty.”
“Phew.” Lucas brushed snow off his coat and hat. “It’s really coming down out there. We should probably get going?—”
“Lucas!” I jumped up and gave him an effusive hug, heedless of the damp snow patches on his coat and hat. “You know, Tam and I were just talking about how you’re my favorite family member and how I probably shouldn’t spend any time alone with Tam anymore since she’s so much nicer when you’re around?—”
“Ignore him, babe.” Tam lifted her face so Lucas could drop a kiss on her lips. “Laney’s trying to distract you from his latest renovation drama.”
Lucas’s eyes widened, and he looked around as if searching for visible signs of destruction before turning to me. “Delaney, man, tell me you didn’t try to move another outlet?—”
“No,” I said stiffly as Tam cackled. “Nothing like that.”
My traitorous sister stood, setting the baby on her shoulder, and motioned Lucas toward the kitchen. “See for yourself.”
“Oh, new cabinets.” Lucas stared at them and nodded diplomatically, exactly as Tam had done. “They’re very… ah. Very statement-making. Very you.”
Tam and I exchanged a look, and she burst out laughing. “That’s almost exactly what I said, babe.” She kissed Lucas’s cheek. “Married-people mind-meld nearly complete!”
Lucas gave her a look of warm amusement that said he didn’t mind one bit.
“It’s fine,” I told him. “I’ve already admitted they’re terrible. I just… don’t know what to do about it, exactly. And your annoying wife was not helping.”
“I think you do know what to do about it,” Tam countered, bundling the baby into her car seat while Lucas collected the baby luggage they seemed to carry everywhere. “Think about what I said. About evvvverything.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “And you’ll figure it out.”
“Stick to fire-building,” I advised. I kissed her cheek and then leaned down to kiss Tierney’s forehead. “And be safe.”
“We will.” She frowned as Lucas said goodbye and hauled the baby out to his car. “Is Brewer coming back tonight? Remember, we’re just down the street if you need?—”
“I’m fine.” I waved a hand. “They’re only predicting flurries.”
I stood in the entryway until the taillights of their car disappeared down the driveway, then walked back to the living room. The refinished hardwood floors Brewer had insisted on gleamed in the firelight, but the recently repaired ceiling still needed paint. The bookcases were mostly filled with books and other treasures I’d collected, but the walls were bare. Half-finished, like everything else in my life.
With Tam gone, the house felt chillier, and the silence I usually craved rang through the space and beat against my eardrums. A strange, hollow feeling expanded in my chest—not loneliness, definitely not, but… possibly something adjacent to it. For someone who treasured solitude, I was suddenly, acutely aware of being alone in this big, half-finished house.
Outside, snow was falling heavily, thick flakes visible even in the darkness. I checked the weather app on my phone, but it still assured me there’d be no accumulation.
I checked my texts. There was nothing from Brewer—which was fine. I mean, I wasn’t sitting at home waiting for him… even if I happened to be sitting at home waiting for him. But I’d missed a message from Marjorie.
Marjorie
Counterpoints is ready to commit if you can give me a firm deadline! Call me ASAP to coordinate.
My stomach knotted. I was no closer to finishing than I’d been when we’d last talked.
I closed her message and headed upstairs to change into pajamas… then I headed to the laundry room for a fresh bottle of sauv blanc.
As I opened the wine, I spotted Brewer’s sweatshirt folded neatly on top of the dryer. I hesitated, running my fingers over the soft, worn fabric. Then, darting a glance around just to make sure no one was there to see, I brought it to my nose.
Under the clean laundry detergent fragrance was the distinct scent of sawdust and Brewer, a warm, masculine musk that made my pulse quicken. My mouth actually watered as I inhaled again, which was at least as ridiculous and embarrassing as my Pavlovian Dick Response. But just smelling Brewer’s scent, even when he wasn’t around—especially because he wasn’t around—made my cheeks go hot.
I wanted more of it.
I darted another guilty glance toward the laundry room door, but I knew I’d have plenty of warning when Brewer came home—the rumble of his truck engine, the clomp of his boots. Besides, my short pajamas were the height of comfort but not the height of warmth, and with the snow falling, the temperature had dropped…
“Fuck it,” I muttered, pulling the sweatshirt over my head.
It enveloped me completely, the sleeves extending past my fingers, the hem nearly to my thighs. It was the closest I’d let myself come to admitting what I really wanted—to be wrapped in Brewer’s arms, surrounded by all that strength and warmth.
The thought was both terrifying and intoxicating, and my skin prickled with goose bumps that had nothing to do with cold or drafts.
I pushed the sleeves up to my elbows and grabbed the wine bottle.
I shut off all the lights and settled on the floor in front of the fire, leaning against the couch. The flames cast dancing shadows, and outside the window, the snow created a curtain of white against the black night.
Despite the house’s emptiness, I wasn’t truly alone. Brewer’s presence lingered everywhere—in the tools spread around the kitchen, in the half-finished projects throughout the house, in the sweatshirt wrapped around me like a confession. Everything Tam had said echoed in my mind, impossible to dismiss when I was alone with my thoughts.
Maybe I was being stubborn about the wrong things.
Maybe there were things I wanted more than being right.
Maybe I should try jumping Br?—
No . Nope.
I pulled out my Kindle, determined to distract myself with the hot alien romance I’d been reading, but even that betrayed me.
“The warrior’s massive hands could span his captive’s entire waist…” My skin flushed hot as I imagined Brewer’s hands on a cabinet, adjusting a level.
“His rumbling voice sent shivers down Matteo’s spine…” A corresponding shiver ran down my own spine, remembering Brewer’s low growl of frustration when something wouldn’t fit right.
I gave up and set the Kindle aside. I refilled my glass, let the wine settle warmly in my veins, and watched the snow as my thoughts drifted hazily.
The memory of that morning came back to me—because of course it did—with sudden, unwanted clarity.
I’d been half-awake, reaching for my glasses, when I’d heard a low creaking from the other side of the wall. At first, I’d thought Brewer was just shifting on his mattress or, I don’t know, maybe doing push-ups.
But then a soft groan had escaped him—a sound so primal and unguarded it had sent electricity straight to my core—and I’d frozen in place, suddenly wide, wide awake.
His mattress had made soft, rhythmic shushing noises against the floor that came faster and more urgently. He’d let out a few stuttered breaths— huh, huh, huh . And I hadn’t been able to stop myself from picturing Brewer—his powerful body tense, his head thrown back, that fucking jaw locked, one hand wrapped around himself, working urgently.
I’d had no idea if my imaginings were accurate, obvs, but let me tell you, no alien warrior could compare.
I’d covered my head with a pillow like a scandalized Victorian maiden, but it had been too late. My ears had already become totally attuned to his sounds and sought them out, even through the dense memory foam.
When he’d finally come with a muffled groan, I hadn’t just heard it; it had vibrated through the wall and directly into my own balls. My body had thrummed with sympathetic arousal, my cock painfully hard under the sheets.
I hadn’t been able to look Brewer in the eye all day, afraid he’d somehow know I’d heard him. Afraid he’d see how it had affected me. Afraid he’d know it was still affecting me now, hours later, the memory making my skin flush and my?—
“Gahhhh!” I screamed—actually screamed—as something cold and wet pressed against my forearm.
I grabbed my phone and scrambled up onto the couch, wine flying from my glass and splashing across the floor. My heart hammered against my ribs, adrenaline surging through my body.
For one absurd, alcohol-fueled moment, I thought: Alien abduction. This is how I die .
But when my eyes finally focused through the darkness, the reality was ten times worse.
Brewer’s enormous dog stood a foot away, her massive form outlined by the firelight. She watched me with her head tilted and her tail slowly wagging, like I was amusing.
I scrambled up onto the sofa, my heart slamming against my ribs. “Holy fuck! What are you doing down here?” I demanded.
She stood perfectly still, watching me for a long moment, then padded forward with the doll Tierney had been playing with earlier dangling from her mouth. Her massive paws made no sound on the hardwood. In the firelight, her dark eyes reflected golden sparks.
I pressed back into the cushions. “That’s far enough!” I said firmly. “S-stop right there! No jumping.”
Surprisingly, she listened. She took the doll and settled onto the hearth several feet away, still watching me.
“I forgot about your door-opening trick,” I muttered. “How the fuck did I forget that?”
The fire crackled between us, and despite the distance I was maintaining, this was still the closest I’d been to a dog in years without panicking.
“Look,” I said after our stare-down had gone on for a moment, “you seem… friendly. But the last dog I got friendly with seemed that way too.” I rubbed absently at my forearm, where faint scars remained. “Until he bit me.”
Teeny tilted her head, as if she was actually listening.
“And Tam might say what happened afterward wasn’t my fault, but we all know it was, okay? It’s Monroe family lore. I’m the reason we didn’t have any more pets.” I took another sip of wine. “See that? I can admit when I’m wrong. Just not to certain large, sexy, know-it-all contractors.”
Teeny made a small whuffling sound.
“Yeah, you know exactly who I’m talking about.” I laughed, the wine making everything seem funnier than it was. “He drives me crazy.” I lowered my voice. “In all the ways.”
Teeny shifted, stretching out on the hearth.
“Tam thinks I should jump him. Get it out of my system.” I rolled my eyes. “Like the Pavlovian Dick Response isn’t bad enough already, let’s just make it worse! Can you imagine?”
The dog made a soft noise that almost sounded sympathetic.
“It’s not like me,” I confessed. “I mean, yes, my dick generally points the way to destruction. But, like, only temporarily, like a compass in a weird magnetic field. Take the last guy I dated…” I burped gently. “Big guy. Met him at the gym when he corrected my form. Muscles on muscles, you know the type?”
Teeny licked her lips.
I snorted. “You get me. For, like, a whole week last summer, I listened to Jared tell me about his macros and how, ‘if it’s not lifting, it’s not a real workout.’ I listened to him not listening to a fucking thing I said about my work or my opinions or my interests. But then reason and logic asserted themselves.” I took a sip of wine and pointed my glass at her. “I remembered I’m a higher life form, not an amoeba with a dick. I remembered I deserve respect. And I kicked Jared to the curb, just like that.”
Teeny lifted her head and growled low.
“Thank you. Yes, it was empowering. But now, with Brewer… Fuck, I don’t even know. It feels like it’s part of a—” I hiccuped. “—a larger problem. I had a whole life in New York before I moved here,” I informed the dog. “An apartment, a favorite coffee place, a… a gym membership. And yeah, I didn’t have tons of friends because I traveled so much, but I didn’t care.”
Teeny buried her head in her paws.
“Okay, maybe I cared somewhat. But it was my choice, and I knew why I was making it. Here in Copper County…” I sighed and shook my head, then whispered my deepest, darkest secret. “I don’t know who I am here. I don’t know what I’m doing. And I fucking hate that. Hate it,” I repeated with drunken solemnity so the dog would know I meant it. “I feel like I’m standing on a prissy… a pressy… a precipice, and the ground might fall away. I don’t know how to get back to where I was. To who I am.”
Teeny slow-blinked as my admission hung in the air between us. It was heavier than I’d expected, but it was the most honest thing I’d said out loud in months… even to myself.
In the city, I’d been Delaney Monroe, award-winning journalist. Here, I was Tam’s brother, the one who’d burned down a camper, couldn’t build a fire, and fought with his contractor over cabinets that looked like shit and wouldn’t fucking stay closed.
The identity I’d built my entire life around was slipping through my fingers like sand.
Outside, the wind howled, making the windows rattle. Both Teeny and I cocked our heads toward the sound.
“Just the storm,” I assured her, though my pulse quickened. “Anyway, ’nough of that, huh?”
Draining the last of my wine, I set the glass aside and, to my own surprise, slid down to lie on my stomach on the floor. Still a safe distance from Teeny, but no longer cowering against the cushions.
“You’re not s’posed to be down here,” I said softly, watching the firelight play across her fur. “But I won’t tell Brewer if you don’t.”
She looked at me with eyes that seemed to see right through me and gave her doll—I mean, my doll—a lick.
I chuckled lightly. “Hey, I don’t recall giving you permission to touch that,” I said, nodding at it. “But God, you’ve got pretty eyes, don’t you?”
The more I looked at her, the less overtly threatening she seemed.
“You’re actually kind of beautiful,” I admitted, my voice dropping to nearly a whisper. “Terrifyingly beautiful. I wish you and I could be… friends.”
We couldn’t, of course. This whole situation would be very different if I was thinking clearly. But for now?—
Boots clomped heavily down the hall, and a body came skittering around the corner.
“Delaney,” a familiar voice growled.
I twisted and sat up, almost knocking over the half-empty wine bottle in the process.
Brewer filled the doorway so completely his shoulders nearly touched both sides. Melting snowflakes sparkled in his dark hair and clung to the scruff along his jaw. His eyes were shiny and a little unfocused, his cheeks pink.
Even from across the room, I could see the way his chest rose and fell as his breath came faster than normal, like he’d rushed to get here. But his urgency seemed to have vanished because his whole body locked as he stared at the scene before him—me sprawled on the floor in his sweatshirt and my pajama shorts, his dog on the hearth.
“Hey. Hi. Hello. I, uh… I didn’t know you were coming home so early.” My voice was embarrassingly high, and I was pretty sure I was blushing, though hopefully he couldn’t see it.
How much had he overheard? What would he think about the sweatshirt? Distract, distract, distract.
I cleared my throat. “Your… your dog opened the kitchen door and broke into the house,” I accused, feeling only a little bit guilty for throwing Teeny under the bus. “A-and stole my doll. And I…”
I trailed off in confusion as Brewer took a step closer, his eyes never leaving my face.
I’d been expecting him to get annoyed. I didn’t want to provoke him, exactly, but our confrontations were familiar. Solid ground I could stand on.
The look in his eyes wasn’t anger, though.
It was intent, yes. And it was hot—hot like boiling lava, hot enough to burn right through me—but it didn’t look like Brewer wanted to fight. It almost looked like he wanted to… to…
I swallowed hard, nearly choking on my own saliva.
Shit. I’d had too much to drink, hadn’t I?
I had. I must have.
I was incredibly, ridiculously drunk on a bottle of wine, and I’d been reading that romance novel, and I was having some sort of waking dream. Something like a fantasy but more.
That would explain why it looked like Brewer’s glittering eyes had fallen to half-mast and why he appeared to be moving across the living room toward me with that focused, lazy grace— stalking , my brain supplied, he’s stalking .
It would also explain why, despite my heart going a million miles an hour, I didn’t jump to my feet to present a bigger target—rookie self-defense—but stayed exactly where I was.
Teeny got to her feet as if to greet Brewer, then quickly sat back on her haunches, but I was only vaguely aware of her movements because the dog was no longer the biggest predator in the room.
Brewer was the one I was focused on. The one I found myself tilting my head back to look at.
Good Lord, he was big.
Good fucking Lord, he was sexy.
My breath caught. My stomach swooped. My body hummed with awareness. I felt the urge to casually pinch myself, but… fuck, did I really want to wake up when Brewer was looking at me like this? Like he… wanted me?
“Delaney,” Brewer growled again, right in front of me now. The word was a question.
I licked my lips. “Y-yes?”
He bent down, grabbed my hand, and pulled me to my feet.
My toes curled into the hardwood floor, and I sucked in an unsteady breath of Brewer, laced with the tangy scent of beer. Suddenly, the precipice I’d feared was right there , so much closer than I’d realized. And as Brewer pulled me against him, I felt the very ground beneath me start to crumble.
But did I run? Or fight? Did I move a fucking muscle or say a word to save myself? Nope.
I leaned against his warm chest and gave myself over to it.
And, I realized, this— this —was exactly what I’d been afraid of. Not that I’d fall, but that, like an idiot, I would jump.
But in that moment, with Brewer’s eyes holding mine, I couldn’t remember a single reason why I shouldn’t.