Chapter 7
Davis
I avoided the house and Sophie as long as humanly possible. Did the month’s invoices need filing right then? Nope. But I needed a fucking break.
Carrying her to the house was a mistake. I couldn't get the mental image of her pressed against me, her legs wrapped around my waist, out of my head. I’d wanted nothing more than to scoot her around until we were groin-to-groin, then let nature take its course. Instead, I did paperwork.
Jo was going to be shocked when she got home to find me caught up on all of the farm bills and filing.
I snorted, shaking my head. Scratch that – she'd know for sure something was up.
The last thing I needed was my perceptive sister catching on to my feelings for Sophie.
I'd worked too hard to keep them under wraps to give up now.
She thought I didn't know about her side hustle with the book club.
But I listened. Heard things. It was no mystery why she disappeared once a month with a book in hand.
If the rumors were true, talking about books wasn't the only thing that group did.
If you caught the right whispers and approached the right people, you could wager on your neighbors.
Jo had flushed guiltily when I questioned where she got the cash for the new wort chiller. It just so happened to coincide with Shawna from the clinic and Tanner announcing their engagement.
Warm light filtered from the kitchen window as I made my way to the back door in the deepening dusk. I could barely see Sophie's silhouette in the window. It looked like she was dancing, bopping her head. Did the woman do everything with a smile? I'd never met someone so happy.
I stomped my feet on the mat, as much to announce my presence as to clean my shoes. I left my jacket and boots at the back door.
Soft music spilled from the kitchen, and I drifted closer, inexorably drawn by Sophie's soft voice humming along. Even slightly off-key, she mesmerized me.
She glanced up with a smile, all rosy cheeks and good humor as I paused in the kitchen door, raising my arms in a stretch to work out the kinks in my spine. Was it my imagination that Sophie's eyes drifted to my waist, maybe lower?
My voice was rougher than I intended when I grumbled, "What smells good?"
"I'd like to say me, but I probably smell like barn," Sophie admitted with a grin. "I made spaghetti. I hope you like it."
"Thanks."
I debated skipping the dinner table and taking my plate to my room, but one look at Sophie's hopeful face and that plan died. I couldn’t bear to be the reason that light snuffed from her eyes. Jo would also never forgive me if I were rude to Sophie. Or at least ruder than normal.
I hooked a chair with my foot, pulling it out as I maneuvered my plate to the table one-handed. I'd shoveled in my first five bites before realizing Sophie hadn't touched her dinner.
"Everything okay?" I asked.
Sophie poked at her noodles. "Do you ever get the Sunday Scaries?"
I blinked.
"It's when you get anxious about going into work on Monday." She smiled wryly. "What am I saying? You work on your own farm. It's clearly your passion." She flipped her hand. "You probably have no idea what I'm talking about."
Something about the vulnerability in her expression called to me. I couldn’t leave her hanging, feeling all alone. "I know." My voice sounded rusty to my own ears, and I cleared my throat before continuing, "I didn't always work on the farm."
"You didn't?"
I shook my head. "And, honestly, there are days there's nothing I'd rather do than pretend the farm weren't my responsibility. Anything in particular that's got you dreading Monday, or just the usual?"
She lifted a shoulder, the move drawing my attention to the bright pink bra strap peeking from the neckline of her sweatshirt.
I hid my smile. Trust Sophie to forgo white or nude.
Checking out her underwear had been an education.
I'd been around enough to know that women had a whole rainbow of options, but I'd never seen quite the variety that Sophie kept in her wardrobe.
Everything from the softest shell pink to a bawdy black that made me blush.
"Mostly the usual, but with a dash of extra apprehension about corralling my students with a sore ankle. And what's this about you not always working on the farm?" She settled her chin in her hands, expression rapt. "Do tell."
"I, uh, used to be a vet tech before my dad decided he wanted to retire from Pruitt Farms."
A broad grin broke over her face, delight making her deep brown eyes sparkle.
"Is that why you foster the kittens? Did Dr. Ma put you up to it?"
I shrugged, reluctant to give her more ammo to tease me with. "Lewis and I are friends from way back."
"He's such a nice guy. You're lucky I'm allergic to horses, or I would have snapped up his auction package in a heartbeat."
"Sure. Lucky," I mumbled.
She'd have to bust out the pliers and car battery with nipple clamps to get me to admit that my words were a thousand percent true.
I was lucky she'd bid on me in the town's bachelor auction.
Spending an afternoon with Sophie and my kitten crew had been no hardship.
I still hadn't quite forgiven Jo for putting me in the bachelor auction to begin with.
Only Sophie bidding and winning had made it bearable.
"So, your dad decided to retire, and that's what brought you back into the brewery fold?" Sophie probed.
"Yes."
"Hm… you've made me curious. What about working as a vet tech gave a big, strong man like you the Sunday Scaries?"
I sighed, taking another bite and chewing slowly before I answered, "Anger, sadness, depression.
They used to be my norm on Sundays. Some of my medical cases were rough.
" I shook my head, trying to dispel the memories.
"People can be cruel. I had one kitten who had been deliberately dunked in scalding water with second-degree burns over much of her body. " I unclenched my jaw. "Monsters."
Sophie extended a hand, her pinky nudging mine. "I hate it when the helpless are abused. I've had more than one CPS referral in my career, and I agonize over each one, wondering if I’m doing the right thing or not."
An aura of gloom settled over the table. I regretted sharing so much. I doubted I'd made Sophie feel any better about going to work tomorrow. Instead, I'd dredged up bad memories for both of us. We finished dinner in silence.
"Go relax," I urged. "I'll clean up in here. You cooked."
"If you insist," Sophie said with a grin.
When I'd finished putting our dishes in the dishwasher and wiping down the counters, I grabbed a fresh ice pack from the freezer. "Here," I said as I dropped down on the couch.
She smiled her thanks, and the impact of that simple twist of her lips nearly sent me scurrying from the room like a coward.
Because I was.
Every minute I spent with Sophie drew me in deeper. She could easily reach inside me and rip my heart out. Probably with her trademark grin intact.
She looked pleased that I’d joined her, and I tried not to let that matter. I should have escaped to my room, or maybe back to my office. But Sophie was impossible to ignore. Keeping my distance grew harder and harder every minute, even if it seemed essential to my survival.
She'd ditched her sweatshirt and jeans, changing into soft sweatpants and a flannel open over one of those camisole-top things Jo liked. She looked both cuddly and comfortable.
"We can watch something else if you want," Sophie offered, gesturing to her show, which seemed to feature a good-looking couple in intense conversation.
I grunted. No way I was going to be able to focus with her so close anyway.
She wrinkled her nose. "Is it a good or bad thing that I think I'm learning to decipher your grunts? Use your words, Davis."
"This is fine."
Her brows arched. "Are you sure you don’t want me to change it? It's about to get interesting…"
"How?"
She shimmied her shoulders. "They're going to do the hippity-dippity."
I shifted on the couch, instantly regretting the move when Sophie sank further into the cushions.
Into me. She snuggled into my shoulder with a quick glance from beneath her lashes, a secretive smile on her lips, as if encouraging her to cuddle had been my motive all along.
It was enough to make me forget her words.
I turned back to the screen to see the male lead ruck up his co-star's skirt.
He dropped to his knees in front of her, stroking slowly up her ankles.
The camera caught his rakish grin as his fingers wrapped around the woman's buttocks, pulling her toward his mouth.
Panties kept her decent, but the way the camera caught her expression of bliss, it left watchers with a clear impression of how her partner was pleasuring her.
Sophie's hand slipped to my knee, gripping tightly as the couple on screen enjoyed themselves.
"What are we watching?" I forced out.
"I warned you," Sophie murmured, eyes glued to the screen. "What did you think the hippity-dippity was?"
"A dance," I admitted, mouth dry as the lovers moved from passionate kissing to undressing further.
"Well, I guess it is. The oldest one."
"This is uh, how you spend your Sunday nights?
" I asked, desperate to quit imagining the actors replaced with us.
The female lead leaned over the couch, peachy ass upturned for her partner's penetration.
A bead of sweat formed on my temple, and I surreptitiously wiped it away, hoping Sophie wouldn't notice. She sat next to me, innocent as pie. Like watching hot sex together was just another Sunday. Like she didn’t care a whit that I was right next to her, unable to imagine anyone but her wet and waiting.