Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Kate
“Where’re you two headed?” Gus asks as we make it back to the house. Vaughn heads toward the driver’s door of the truck and then begins backing up to hitch the trailer.
The confidence he embodies as he handles these simple tasks is sexy as hell. Who knew competency was my kink?
“He said something about going to get Yankee,” I reply, still mesmerized by the way his grandson is manhandling the trailer.
Gus gives a nod, and the next thing I know, he’s ambling back out across the front porch to the truck.
“Wait, you’re going with?” I ask. “I was going to ride with him to help.”
I don’t want to discourage any time these two spend together, because lord knows their relationship has been rocky. But if I’m honest, I was looking forward to spending some time alone with Vaughn.
It’s taken the self-control of a saint to pass by his open door every night and not stand there like a freaking peeping tom.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s doing it on purpose, the door cracked enough that I can see him lying in bed, bare chest on display, shadows highlighting the dips and curves of his torso in spectacular perfection.
Every night, I’ve allowed myself that visual to fall asleep to, which makes me a wreck in class. Especially after I discovered he was slipping breakfast and extra protein bars into my backpack with the rest of the lunch he’s made.
This may have started as me helping Gus, but in the course of a week, it’s been more about Vaughn taking care of me. I don’t know where it’s coming from, but the thoughtfulness is touching in such a way that I’m afraid I’ll catch feelings just because he’s being nice.
“There’s room for us all to go,” Vaughn says, holding the driver’s door open, ushering me into the front seat between the two of them.
The whole ride, I’m hyperaware of the way my tight leggings are pressed to the denim covering his thick thighs. Of the veins in his forearms peeking from the rolled sleeve of his flannel shirt. Of the big hands that grip the steering wheel or change the radio station.
I let myself explore the fantasy of those thighs entwined with mine and those hands doing the most erotic things to me.
And then Gus coughs, snatching me right back into a reality where I’m nestled between two grumpy men. Although maybe I’m starting to see their marshmallow insides.
Gus jumps down from the truck with surprising deftness and spends most of the time visiting with Glori and the kids. Vaughn directs me on how to best help him and Glori’s husband as they load the senior horse.
Basically, stand aside and stay out of the way.
Once we get back to the farm, Gus goes inside, declaring it’s time for his afternoon nap. Vaughn and I are left to do the work of getting the lame horse into the stall. We make a good team and fall into the work seamlessly, almost like a dance.
His tone is calm when he talks to Yankee, and even though he says it’s been forever since he’s handled a horse, he moves with surety and confidence.
“You’re like a real cowboy, manhandling that horse,” I say, taking him so completely by surprise that he barks a laugh. Deep and rich and toe curling. He’s got a great laugh.
“No, sweetheart. I’m no cowboy. I’m just a regular guy who knows a little about a lot,” he declares, but his color is high, and it makes me want to poke the bear even more.
“I know.” I give him wide eyes. “You’ve got this whole competence-porn thing going for you.”
He chokes on air, and a deep sense of satisfaction rolls through me.
“So. What’s next on the agenda?” I ask with hands on hips, once Vaughn is satisfied with Yankee being in the newly cleaned stall.
He’s still chuckling every once in a while and shaking his head at me when he catches my eye.
Making him smile and laugh is the highlight of my day.
“I was thinking we’d head down and look at the beehives. That’s the next thing I’ll check off the list of shit Gus has neglected,” he says, swatting some dust off his denim-clad thigh. The move is futile because he’s dirty as can be.
There’s something about seeing a man working hard and being all dirty and mussed up. And then what he’s said registers. “Beehives?”
Uh, no thank you.
“Yeah, Gran used to pull honey. Guess it was her side hustle. She always said her bees brought her peace, helped settle her mind. There’s no telling what kind of shape they are in now.”
“I think I’ll let you handle the bees,” I say flatly.
“Come on, Kate. You’re planning to run into burning buildings. Don’t tell me little honeybees scare you.” He’s joking, but he doesn’t know how much truth is behind that statement. Instead, he shoots me a flirty wink as he continues, “They’re more scared of you than you are of them.”
I turn so he can’t see the fear written on my face. I can’t hide it. Too much trauma packed into the memory that threatens to surface. But… “Are you gonna go down there by yourself if I don’t go with you?”
Please let him say no.
“Job’s gotta get done,” he says, and heads into a closet, returning with two suits.
He takes extra care to make sure we’re both suited and covered neck to ankle. And then we head down to the hives.
I spend the walk trying not to hyperventilate as I consider how every single second of this adventure could go wrong.
I fail miserably.
“I have qualms about flying things that can sting. I don’t like them, and they don’t like me,” I blurt as we draw near.
Vaughn doesn’t miss a beat. “It’ll be fine. These bees were always nice.”
I scoff. “How in the hell are bees nice?”
He lifts a shoulder as he turns and faces me. “They just are. Put this on, and you’ll be completely covered. It’ll be fine.” He hands me a head covering that I spend several moments struggling to get into.
“Kate.” Big hands wrap around my wrists, stilling my jerky movements. “Deep breaths. Let me help.”
The backs of his fingers caress my cheek as he pulls the netting into place.
This close, he is all I can see. I focus on his parted full lips, quelling the urge to close the distance and see if they’re as soft as they look.
My eyes find his and lock in. Something in the depths draws me in, begging me to trust him.
Quieting my rampant thoughts until I settle.
Time seems to stand still as I drown in that deep brown gaze.
There’s a connection here. One I can’t ignore.
I’m so tethered to him that I match my breaths to his.
Slowly, he takes a step back, breaking the spell cast over us, and dons his headgear.
“So, what’s the first step?” Of course I can’t keep my mouth shut and just be in the moment with him. It was too intense.
He goes on about all the things we’re going to do, and I half listen, watching diligently for one of those little bastards to fly out. A few are buzzing around, and it takes every ounce of self-control I possess to not swat them away as he removes the lid.
“Fuck.” His big body goes rigid. “We’ve got a problem.”
“No. No no no. Bees are peaceful. You said this would be a calming thing. There can’t be any problems.” My voice pitches high at the thought of stingers and problems.
He is utterly still beside me, but there’s a distinct buzzing. And a wasp lands on his back. Icy-cold dread floods my system, freezing me in place despite my hammering heart. “Don’t. Move,” I warn.
“What’s wrong?”
“There’s a wasp on you.” I take a step back, trying my best to keep my movements slow and controlled, when all I want to do is turn and run and drag Vaughn with me.
More fly around and land on his back while he’s bent over the hive. This is not safe. He’s going to get stung, and then his throat is going to swell shut, and he won’t be able to breathe. We’re too far away from the house. I’ll never make it back to him in time.
“He’s not gonna do anything,” Vaughn says, still with his back to me.
“No, Vaughn, there’s more than one wasp on you.”
The tension in my voice must finally register with him because he looks over his shoulder at me.
He backs away, taking one of the honey collectors with him. And things go sideways as a swarm of wasps fly out of the hive.
“Fuck,” he yelps, backing up right into me.
I swat at his back, trying to get the flying jalapenos off him.
“Kate, it’s fine.”
“You’re going to fuck around and get one of us stung,” I yelp, my voice so high pitched and hysterical I don’t even recognize myself.
“Shit,” he growls as more land on his suit. Oh my god, they’re following us.
I slap at the wasp. Tugging Vaughn with me, I put some distance between us and the hive.
“Jesus Christ, Vaughn, what the hell is going on?”
“We’ve disrupted a wasp nest,” he states calmly, like this isn’t some kind of life-threatening situation.
“What are they doing in there?”
“Robbing the honey. Gus hasn’t been out here taking care of things.”
Oh my god, there are a dozen wasps on him, and now he’s going to die. I swat at the little winged devil that lands on my arm while I try to get Vaughn to move faster.
It flies up and buzzes my face as I backpedal, trying to get away from it before it does the unthinkable.
“Kate, calm down,” Vaughn commands. The quiet, low tenor of his voice finally breaks through my hysteria, and I realize we are a good ways away from the hives, and there are no more flying death traps around us.
He approaches me slowly, like one would approach a feral animal, and pulls the netting off my head. Somewhere along the way, he’s removed his gloves.
“Vaughn.” It comes out like a hiccup. “Keep that on. We don’t know where they went.”
Concerned brown eyes roam my face as he rubs a thumb over my cheek.
And that’s when I realize I’m crying.