Chapter Fifteen
Maddie
As we continue around the paddocks, Caesar holds my hand, our fingers interlinked.
I feel a little dizzy. Something happened back there, I don’t know what, but my heart is racing, and for the first time I feel a glimmer of hope that there might be a future for us.
Maybe there’s a way we can work together without Ashford being engulfed… Could that be true?
I rein in my enthusiasm, though. There are so many factors involved, professionally and personally.
I’m not going to get carried away with fantasies of me in a white wedding dress, and Caesar proudly holding his child in his arms. Something tells me a future like that doesn’t lie on my horizon.
He’s excited about his idea regarding the business, whatever it is, and he’s enjoying my company, but that doesn’t mean it’ll all work out.
He still doesn’t know about Little Raspberry. And I’m not going to tell him, not until I can be sure his reaction will be positive.
Carpe diem, Maddie, I tell myself, and I lift my face to the morning sun as he starts talking about his childhood on the Ashford family farm in Cambridge.
When he talks like this, about his family and his past, his cynicism and moodiness take a backseat.
His face lights up, and he laughs a lot.
I ask him questions about Marcus and Aurelia and his parents, and he opens up a little, telling me a few stories about when they were young.
I’ve been lucky so far and haven’t felt sick yet this morning, but a little wave of nausea hits me, and I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. He notices and says, “I forgot… how’s the headache.”
“Hovering.” I don’t like lying to him, but it’s the best excuse I can think of to cover my morning sickness. “I’m okay. Oral sex counters it beautifully.”
I smile and stop to check a solar panel, willing the nausea to go.
“Did you have a happy childhood?” he asks.
I think about it as I reset the sensor and double check the reading on the app on my phone.
Then I slide my phone back into my pocket, and we continue on.
“Mostly,” I admit. “Brielle and I have always got on well. She enjoyed her older sister role, and she’s always looked after me.
Sometimes it’s a bit…” I struggle to find the right word.
“Stifling?” he suggests.
I nod slowly. “Yeah. I feel bad saying that, because she’s always been good to me.”
“No, I get it. I’ve watched some of her videos. She has a lot of confidence. She’s very likeable, and I’m sure she does a great job promoting the Rutherford Group. But I can imagine how she’d overshadow everyone around her.”
“Yes, that’s exactly it. I’ve always been in her shadow. I don’t blame her for that. She’s naturally effervescent. But it’s hard to shine when you’re so close to the sun.” I glance at him. “You like her?”
He looks back at me and then stops walking again. He pushes me up against the fence, moves up close to me, and nuzzles my neck. “Are you jealous, Cupcake?”
“No…” I shiver with delight.
He kisses up to my ear. “Really?”
“No…”
He nips my earlobe. “Honestly?”
“Ow. A little bit.” The thought of him liking my sister actually fills me with a bright green mist.
He chuckles and kisses around my jaw to my mouth. “No need to be. You’re the only one I’m obsessed with.” He touches his tongue to my bottom lip, and when I sigh and open my mouth, he slides his tongue against mine.
We indulge in a long, luscious kiss, only parting as we become aware of the chatter of a bird right next to us. A fantail has alighted on the fence just feet away, and it’s watching us, apparently amused by our embrace.
“It’s celebrating Valentine’s Day,” I comment.
His eyebrows rise. “Oh of course. I’d forgotten.”
“So romantic,” I tease.
“Old and cynical,” he reminds me. His gaze caresses my face. “But I should have remembered. Happy Valentine’s Day, Mon Petit Gateau.” He says it softly, then bends and kisses me again before taking my hand. “Come on. I can hear the shower calling.”
My heart immediately speeds up as we begin the journey back to the cottage. I’m not going to think about what happens after we get back to Auckland. I’m lucky to have all day and all night with him, and I’m going to make the most of the time that I have, and worry about the future tomorrow.
Playing ostrich again? I try to ignore the voice in my head. I know I often bury my head in the sand and let Future Maddie take care of problems when I feel overwhelmed. But what option do I have right now?
I push all thoughts out of my head as we leave the paddocks behind us and cross toward the cottage…
and then let out a squeal as my boot sinks into a very deep, soft, squelchy piece of mud.
My boot sticks there, but I was walking fast, and my foot slides out of it before it registers that I’m stuck.
I stop and flail, one leg in the air, trying desperately to keep my balance, and Caesar turns and his eyebrows rise in alarm as he reaches out for me, but he’s not quick enough.
I fall back and lower my sock-covered foot to catch me, which slips immediately…
and within seconds I’m on my butt in the mud, completely covered in muddy droplets.
“Shit,” he says, “are you okay?” He walks carefully over to me, pulls my boot out of the mud, then extends a hand.
I let him pull me up and stand there, dripping.
He tries to hide a smile, and fails, and soon we’re both rolled up with laughter.
“Oh my God.” I try to wipe my face, but all I end up doing is smearing the mud all over it. “I am so fucking clumsy.”
“You are absolutely delightful.” He picks a bit of mud out of my hair. “You really need a shower now.”
Before he can move back, I capture his face between my muddy hands and plant a kiss on his lips. When I move back, he gives me a wry look from his now-mud-caked face.
“Minx,” he says.
“Just to make sure you take a shower, too,” I state as we trudge toward the cottage.
“Oh, there’s no way I’m letting you get in there without me.” As we reach the door, he levers off one boot with the toe of the other. “I need to supervise to make sure you’re completely clean.”
“Thank God, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to cope on my own.”
He gives a wicked chuckle, pulls me into his arms, and kisses me, wrapping his arms around me. I lift my arms around his neck, and soon we’re both completely mud-smeared.
I feel completely, overwhelmingly happy at that moment, and cling to the lift of my heart desperately, wanting it to stay.
I want to hang onto him, to tell him everything, and trust that he’ll understand and open up to me and tell me it’s going to be okay…
but I can’t, I know I can’t. All I can do is exist in the moment, and so I focus on his mouth on mine, and the urgency of his fingers as he undoes the zipper of my jacket, and his murmured words as he kisses me, telling me I’m beautiful, perfect, and the most gorgeous woman he’s ever seen.
Tears prick my eyes—damn baby hormones—but I push them away and kiss his face, his jaw, and his cheeks, which are now covered with day-old stubble that prickles my lips.
“I’ll shave,” he promises, kissing my ear and down my neck. “I don’t want to leave bristle-burn on your thighs.”
Ohhh… the thought of his hot mouth between my legs again makes me almost dizzy. “I love your tongue,” I whisper, and he laughs, taking off his own jacket.
“We should leave these outside,” he says, and I hook mine next to his on the nearby fence, and we place our boots by them.
Taking my hand, he leads me into the cottage and locks the door behind us. Then, standing in the small entrance way, we begin to strip, dropping our wet, muddy clothing on the tiles.
His hot gaze fastens on me as I peel up my tee and slide off my jeans, gradually revealing my pale skin.
Likewise, I can’t tear my gaze from him as he grabs a handful of his tee at the back of his neck and tugs it over his head, then pushes his jeans down his thighs.
Wow, the man has a hot body, taut and tanned, and it doesn’t hurt that his boxers are bulging impressively.
Unashamed of his arousal, he takes my hand and leads me through to the bathroom. Once we’re inside, he opens the cubicle and turns the shower on, then, while the cranky system kicks into gear and the water heats, he turns back to me and kisses me again.
The sun is rising above the fields, and its lemon-colored rays slant through the window, warming us while we kiss.
I never had this with Peter. I never realized, but my relationship with him was practical and unromantic, as if we were roommates who occasionally hooked up once a week because there was nothing better to do.
He never kissed me like this, as if he couldn’t bear to tear his lips away from me.
Never looked at me as if I was something precious.
Never handled me like a delicate artifact, as if he was afraid of damaging me.
Caesar opens the door and tests the water, then gestures for me to go into the cubicle.
Ohhh… I hadn’t realized how tiny it was.
I squeeze up against the tiles, squealing because they’re cold.
He gets in and closes the door behind him, and we both laugh as we find ourselves pressed up against one another, with barely room to turn around.
“Cozy,” he says, moving me so I’m under the hot water. “Let’s do you first.”
“The system can be temperamental,” I warn him, tipping back my head. “Be warned.”
He chuckles, then squeezes some shampoo onto his hand and begins washing my hair. His fingers glide through the strands, gentle and firm, and I shudder.
“I didn’t realize my scalp was an erogenous zone,” I whisper. It doesn’t help that his chest hair is teasing the ends of my nipples, either.
“Promise me you won’t dye it.” He washes the suds free, then adds some conditioner. “It’s so beautiful.”
“I promise,” I say, a little shyly.