Chapter 14
Davis
My erection made slipping out of my jeans tricky, but I didn't regret it, not one damn bit.
Sophie seemed determined to make my life as complicated as possible, but I didn't have it in me to be upset. Not when it was clear she wanted me as much as I wanted her.
I was already in too deep.
Maybe it'd be a flash in the pan, my draw diminishing quickly once we'd hooked up. But something about Sophie made me think we’d be well-matched beyond the bedroom.
Imagining her naked had taken up enough time to make my farm manager weep over my distraction, but it also inspired me to finish my tasks faster so I could see her. Be with her. Even when I was in a filthy mood.
She could read me. Tease me. Tempt me. Get me talking. Opening up with her didn’t feel like losing myself – it felt like finding a kindred spirit. I needed a woman who’d go toe-to-toe with me—shake me out of my own head. And no one made me lose my mind quite like Sophie.
And, really, would it be possible to hold on to a bad mood around my Belle? I snorted, enjoying my private nickname for her. The woman even smelled like a Disney princess, a mix of sweet spun sugar and books. It was addictive as hell.
Thinking about Sophie didn't help my groin situation any, and I glanced at my closed bedroom door, debating my options.
How shitty of a brother would I be if I sent Jo a text instead of talking to her before dating one of her best friends?
She was a good sister. She'd understand.
Maybe too well. Like history repeating itself.
Shaking off the memories of another woman, another quicksilver relationship that crashed and burned with casualties, I frowned.
Taking my time had merit. Talking with Jo, trying to clear it with her first, was the responsible, older-brotherly thing to do. Even if my body begged to knock on Sophie's door and take what was on offer, I knew better.
Easy didn't last.
Celibacy was character-building.
I snorted.
Right. 'Cause that was what I had an overabundance of: character.
My choice couldn’t be attributed to stubbornness, or fear of being vulnerable to a woman who might up and leave with no notice.
I had character. That was my story, and I was fucking sticking to it.
It had nothing to do with wanting to take my time and reassure myself that Sophie had plans to stay in Campfire long-term, that she wasn't secretly searching for her ticket out of town. Just because my mother had been unhappy with small-town life, didn't mean every woman was.
***
Sophie smiled brightly when I joined her in the kitchen. I grunted my good morning, irritated that she'd obviously slept better than I had. Not that I truly begrudged her rest, but I'd tossed and turned thinking of her only a few feet away, the temptation nearly unbearable.
I poured myself a cup of coffee, doctoring it to my liking, before turning back to Sophie. She sat at the kitchen table, the dregs of her own coffee cup in front of her.
"Morning, Davis. Hey, I wanted to follow up. Our farming unit is coming up in science next week. I'd really love for you to join me in the classroom and tell my students about the farm. Are you still game?"
"Sure." I forced the word out through clenched teeth, relaxing at the delight on Sophie's face.
"I'll make it painless, Davis, I promise."
I couldn't hold back my snort, but she smiled indulgently.
"Does Tuesday work for you?"
Resigned, I nodded. I'd make it work.
She clapped her hands together and pushed back from the kitchen table. "Great! Now that that's settled, I've got to be off. I appreciate you putting up with me, Davis."
She said it so guilelessly, like I hadn't been trying to get her into my bed just last night. Only the light of mischief in her brown eyes indicated the subtext.
Telling her I was going to miss her around the house was tempting, but I resisted.
"Do you want a ride to work?" I asked gruffly instead.
She shook her head. "Nah. Now that I'm feeling better, I'm going to load my bag up and drive myself. I appreciate everything you've done for me this week, but it’s time for me to go home.”
“I didn’t do much.”
The protest came immediately to my lips, almost as fast as the flash of dismay that she was leaving.
No more soft laughter in front of the TV.
No more companionable mornings together.
I’d grown used to her bubbly chatter, to teasing her about coffee, or fake swears, or whatever struck me.
Something about Sophie brought out my playful side.
I’d forgotten that I could be funny. Fun.
"You tried to protect me during the crash. Let me stay here to rest up. Even got me to school and fed me." Her smile was wry as she listed my supposed accomplishments. "I was meant to help you by staying here, but I'm pretty sure I benefitted most. Speaking of injuries, how's the arm?"
Honesty would send her scampering off to school. Ensure she left me. But I couldn't lie to Sophie.
"Fine." I leaned back against the stove, arms crossed over my chest, feet crossed at the ankles.
She rolled her eyes. "Fine covers a lot of territory with you, Davis."
She’d asked about my arm, not my heart. I’d miss her, but I had to make good on my promise to talk to Jo before I could claim her for real.
"This time I mean it, Bee."
Her eyes warmed at the nickname, and she took a step closer. I widened my stance, dropping my arms. She swayed toward me, and the temptation was too much.
I trailed my fingers over her hips, urging her nearer. Her bright green jeans were soft under my hands. The matching patterned top would be an eyesore on anyone else, but on Sophie, it worked. I leaned down to capture her lips in a kiss, unable to resist what was on offer.
I wanted nothing more than to keep taking. It wasn’t just her wit I was going to miss – it was her touch. The quick brush ended in a yelp as Sophie pinched my ass.
“What was that for?” I wondered if she’d been able to divine my thoughts and wanted to punish me for them.
"Happy St. Patrick's Day!" She grinned up at me.
"What are you, twelve?" I rubbed my left cheek.
The woman had fingers of steel, but the pinch made it easier for me to remember that I had to let her go. For now.
"You kissed me, so I figured we were celebrating. And you're not wearing green," she pointed out.
"Next, you're going to tell me you believe in leprechauns," I muttered.
She patted my cheek gently. "Come on, Davis. Life is better when you enjoy the little things."
She looked adorably mussed, standing barefoot in my kitchen, clad in head-to-toe green. She'd even painted her toenails a garish shade. It was fucking cute, the way she went all-in. Desire sent a surge of adrenaline through me.
"What if I said I had a big thing for you to enjoy?" I asked.
Sophie narrowed her eyes. I could almost see the wheels turning, as she debated glancing below my waist—where I was most definitely hard for her.
Two could play the teasing game.
She swallowed, appearing less certain. I kept my smile enigmatic, letting the silence draw out between us.
"How about I take you out for a big dinner after I talk to Jo?"
Sophie's laughter tinkled over me like wind chimes, and I grinned in return.
"I like this playful side of you," she said. "And I'd love a real big dinner date."
Satisfied, I dropped a quick kiss on her lips, sliding away before I could be tempted to take more. The hum of anticipation kept me going long after Sophie had left for work.
***
Jo pulled into our driveway as I got dinner started.
"Hey," she said, dragging her suitcase behind her through the back door.
I grunted my hello, keeping my focus on the beef I was browning for pasta sauce as my Wednesday Wish meal.
A few minutes later, Jo returned to the kitchen, dropping into a chair, lines of exhaustion on her face.
Jo wasn't exactly a girly-girl. She usually wore work pants and a t-shirt or Pinkney Brewing-branded stuff.
For the flight home, she'd dressed up in jeans and a pink sweater.
The color made me think of Sophie, and what I needed to ask Jo.
Missing Sophie made it easier to initiate the conversation with my sister.
"How was your trip?" I asked, stalling for time. Jumping right in to ask if she had a problem with me dating Sophie seemed like a bad move. She’d know something was up simply because I spoke first.
Jo and I were used to each other, comfortable together in a way that only siblings could be.
We'd agreed to co-run Pinkney and the farm once our dad announced his intentions to retire, and, for the most part, we got along well.
We were more alike than we were different, so we made business decisions without much friction.
Our personal lives were another matter. Jo could be considered the outgoing one. Or the secret squirrel one, depending on your point of view. Regardless, she didn't bring men home, and I hadn’t really dated in ages. Injecting Sophie into our home life was something I needed to discuss with her.
"It was a good conference," Jo said, "but now I want to buy new equipment. Our fermenter needs an upgrade."
I winced. We'd sunk most of our money into Pinkney Brewing, trying to expand. Slowly, we were building up an emergency fund to replace our aging fermenter, but we weren't there yet.
Was it better to talk to her about Sophie before or after she convinced me the expense was worth it?
Jo made her case for the fermenter, and, grudgingly, I agreed to dip into our savings. When it came to business, Jo had a good head on her shoulders.
"Hey," I said when I couldn't delay any longer. "Would it be okay with you if Sophie and I started dating?"
Jo frowned, and I amended my request to a statement. "Scratch that. What I'm saying is that I've asked Sophie out. I wanted to give you a heads-up so you didn't find out from someone else."
"Gee, thanks."
Jo's tone was dry as dust, and I shifted, uncomfortable with the implied censure. She was the one person I never wanted to disappoint.
"Relax, Davis. The writing has been on the wall since she bid on you at the bachelor auction."
"Really?"
Jo nodded. "I'm only surprised it took her this long to win you over."
"How do you know I didn't do the winning?" I asked.
Jo pursed her lips, staring me down.
"Fine," I huffed, secretly pleased by her approval, even if she attributed most of the work to Sophie.
At least now I could pursue Sophie with a clear conscience.
There was nothing standing in our way.