28. Violet
twenty-eight
Violet
DAY 26 AT SILVER LEAF... ONLY 60 TO GO
Two days later, I wake up with Chord curled around my body and the morning sun streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling glass that makes up the entire east-facing wall of his bedroom.
I say bedroom , but it’s not like any bedroom I’ve ever seen. It’s more of a suite. His oak-framed king-size bed is dwarfed by the size of the room. Layered rugs top the clean white carpet that stretches into an adjoining sitting area with a television and fireplace. A personal study hides behind tall double doors to the right. A complete ensuite with a double shower and oversized bath is to the left. And the generous timber-decked balcony that stretches the length of the east side and overlooks the ranch has comfy outdoor sofas arranged around a fire pit. It’s stunning and indulgent but also warm and comfortable. It’s Chord.
Chord’s chest moves against my back, rising and falling with the deep, even breaths of sleep. His hard, heavy arm traps me against him in the best way possible, his hand cups my breast even in sleep, and I smile as I think about where I am and who I’m with. I’m in Chord Davenport’s house. In his bed. In his arms. How is this my life?
I try to lay still because I never want this moment to end, but Chord must sense the change in my muscles because he nuzzles the back of my neck with the quiet moan of someone surfacing from sleep.
His pelvis shifts, and the hard length of his erection presses against my ass. My breath catches as I remember the feel of him in my hand, slipping through my fist while watching him unravel at my touch. I’ve never felt so powerful or in control—or so turned on.
“Good morning,” he mumbles against my hair, not bothering to hide the way he breathes in the scent of my shampoo. His arm tightens around my middle as he pulls me harder against him. “Sleep well?”
“So good. And you?”
“The best.” He drags the collar of the jersey I’m wearing to one side so he can line my shoulder with kisses. “And that means I’m ready for our date today.”
My heart leaps, and I spin to look at his face. “Our what?”
Chord grins. “Our date. Are you free?”
I smile wide enough to sprain a cheek. “I’m free.”
“Good.” He lightly spanks my butt, then throws back the covers. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover, so let’s get started.”
“Where are we going?” I sit up and watch as he walks from the bed to the bathroom in nothing but his underwear. Not only do I get a good look at his million-dollar ass, but his hard-on is obvious through the dark cotton, so it’s hard not to stare.
“Eyes up, Wallflower,” he murmurs, smirking when my face floods with heat. He pauses on this side of the ensuite door. “I thought I’d take you on a tour of Aster Springs. We’ve spent nearly every minute this summer here on the ranch, but there’s a lot more to this place than the Silver Leaf grapevines. What do you think?”
“I think that sounds fantastic.”
“Good.” He flicks on the bathroom light. “Think you can be ready in half an hour?”
“Absolutely.”
I jump from the bed and hurry to my room with Chord’s light, amused chuckle following me down the hallway.
Forty-five minutes later, we’re driving toward the main street of Aster Springs with Chord behind the wheel of his truck. I’ve got butterflies in my stomach, and I stick my hands between my knees to stop my legs bouncing, but there’s not much I can do about the smiling.
I haven’t felt this way in years—maybe ever. My body buzzes with excitement and anticipation. This is Chord’s hometown, and spending a day together like this feels a lot like getting a glimpse into his past—and his heart.
It only takes ten minutes driving through wine country to reach the town proper, marked by a sign that says Aster Springs: Population 1209 . We pass The Slippery Tipple, closed and quiet, on the right before Chord pulls into an empty space outside a bustling little cafe on the left. It’s got cute red and white striped awnings out front, the menu painted on a sidewalk signboard, and a line out the door, so we join the queue for takeout French pastries and sweet, milky coffees.
It doesn’t take long for the people around us to notice that Chord Davenport is here, but when they do, the whispering takes off like wildfire. Chord ignores the murmuring and long, obvious looks, but he holds my hand like he knows I need reassurance. I hang on tight, practically glued to his side, as we approach the counter.
Chord pulls out his wallet and nods to the woman at the register. “Morning, Sophie.”
Sophie’s hair is more gray than dark, and the deep lines around her eyes and mouth hint at a life spent laughing. “ Bonjour , Chord,” she says with a warm smile and a gorgeous French accent. “It has been too long since I saw you last.”
“My fault,” he agrees easily. “But I missed you.”
Sophie laughs. “You missed my kouign-amann .” She retrieves a paper bag from under the counter and uses a pair of tongs to transfer a pastry before she glances at me. “Would you like one also, or perhaps you want to try something else?”
I scan the glass case with shelf upon shelf of mouthwatering pastries, and though I linger a little longer on a plate of sugar-coated beignets , everything looks so good that I can’t decide. “I’ll have the same,” I say. “Thank you.”
“Plus two cafe au laits, please, Sophie,” Chord adds. “And half a dozen beignets .”
I narrow my eyes at him, but he just bites back a smile and gives me a wink.
We return to the car with our simple breakfast, the hushed commentary of other patrons chasing us out the door.
“That wasn’t too bad, was it?” Chord asks. His tone is light, but his dark brows are pinched.
I don’t mean to hesitate. Chord warned me that he came with a spotlight, and I meant it when I said I could stand in it too if he was by my side, but I’ve never liked the attention. I think about my new social media followers and how the boost to my numbers makes me equal parts hopeful and terrified. It’s my instinct to hide, but I don’t want that to always be the case. I drink in the smooth, straight lines of Chord’s gorgeous face and remind myself how lucky I am to be here right now.
I don’t want to be scared all my life.
I take his hand and kiss the back of it. “I’m having French doughnuts for breakfast, so I’d say this date is off to the perfect start.”
The relief on his face warms my heart, and the day only gets better. We leave the main thoroughfare of Aster Springs and drive a little way out to a small local art gallery. We walk out with an abstract canvas I adored at first sight, then stop at the village market for lunch supplies.
Chord drives us to a nearby park with stunning historic ruins and enchanting tumbled-down stone walls overrun with flowering vines. He retrieves a soft plaid blanket from his truck, and we find a shady spot looking out over the valley to share our generous haul of local produce—olives and bread, heirloom tomatoes, sweet and juicy stone fruits—expertly matched with a dry white wine that Chord picked himself. We’ve got no glasses, so we trade sips straight from the bottle, and that somehow makes the whole thing more romantic.
When we’re done, I recline on the blanket and stare up at the sunlight filtering through the leaves above. Chord stretches out beside me, propped up on his elbow and watching me with soft blue eyes and a gentle tilt to his mouth.
“What?” I ask, swiping at my face to remove any crumbs that might be stuck to my skin. “What are you looking at?”
“Just how flawless you are,” he murmurs.
My cheeks warm, and Chord grins as he slips his hand behind my neck and leans down to kiss me.
“I’ve had the best day,” I murmur. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he replies, “but it’s not over yet.”
My heart skips. “It’s not?”
“Nope.” Chord sweeps a strand of hair from my face, dragging it from my neck where my hairline has grown damp from the heat of the day. “I’ve done my duty as a good Aster Springs boy and shown you all the tourist traps, but there’s one more place I’d like you to see—somewhere only the locals know, so you have to promise to keep it a secret.”
I sit up and cross my fluttering heart. “I promise.”
Chord gives me a megawatt grin that makes my pulse race faster. “Let’s go.”
The route to Chord’s secret location takes us back down Aster Springs’ main street, past acres of vineyards and farmland, then down a rough dirt road that barely warrants the name. He drives confidently through terrain that only a truck could handle, down a narrow path that gets rougher and more remote as the trees around us grow thicker and bright yellow and purple wildflowers begin bursting through the underbrush. Though it feels like forever, it only takes another few minutes for Chord to pull to the side of an unmarked road and cut the engine.
I look around, searching for a sign or something—anything—to indicate we aren’t in the middle of nowhere, but there’s no such thing.
“We’re here,” he announces.
“Um.” I squint out at the wall of nature outside my window. “Okay?”
Chord grins harder, reminding me of a kid with a secret, and climbs out of the car. I’m still worrying about how I’m supposed to hike in my bare legs and sneakers when he opens my door.
“It’s not far,” he reassures me when I hesitate.
I don’t think I could deny this man anything, so when he slips his hands under my arms to lift me out and set me on the ground, I go with it.
Chord takes my hand and leads me around the car, stopping to take out the blanket, and now I can see there’s a beaten track through the forest that’s only visible on foot. We follow it down a gradual decline until the trees give way and a wide blue-green lake comes into view. It’s still and stunning, with the light of the sun skipping along its surface and the blue sky stretching on forever overhead.
“Oh, my,” I whisper as Chord draws me closer to the water’s edge. “This is incredible.”
“I think so too.” Chord drops the blanket on the soft grass at our feet and squints out over the water. The shore on the opposite side is far enough away that I couldn’t swim the distance, and he points to what looks like the end of a long wharf jutting out into the water. “You can’t see it from here, but there’s a little beach around that corner. That’s where most people go to swim, and where local kids go to get drunk and make out. You can drive right up to the water on that side, so it’s easier to get to, and it’s a good spot for parties and bonfires.”
I can picture it now, and although it makes me want to smile, I’m sad that my childhood was nothing like that. I spent all my free time at home. “Sounds like fun.”
Chord shrugs with a reflective, almost wistful, twist to his mouth. “I was too busy and too serious about playing hockey to spend much time out here, but I sneaked out a few times before I was drafted to Tampa.”
“Were you bad?” I tease.
He loops his arms around my waist and holds me close. “The baddest.”
I bite my lip to stop a giggle. “I find that hard to believe… Chord Fergus Davenport.”
Chord’s eyebrows lift before his ears burn red, and he chuckles lightly. “You’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to throw that out, haven’t you?”
“About a month, give or take a few days.” I laugh and trace the shell of his ear with a fingertip. “It’s only fair I see you blush for once. Don’t you think?”
He growls and kisses me hard, and I laugh against his mouth.
“So, why are we here instead of over there?” I ghost my palms over the carved lines of his upper arms and ignore the adorable flush creeping up his neck. “It sounds like the beach over there is a lot more convenient.”
Chord narrows his eyes as a mischievous smile passes his lips. “Because this side is a lot more private.”
He lifts the hem of my tee high enough to expose my belly, then stops with a question on his scarred eyebrow. My heart races as I raise my arms so he can slip the tee off my body. He lets it fall to the ground, and his throat bobs in a deep swallow as I do the same for him, dragging his shirt up over his torso and as high as I can up his arms before he has to finish the job.
We stand there, me in a lacy white bra and shorts, Chord bare-chested, his fingers twisted loosely in mine, and our bodies brushing with every breath.
“Do you want to go swimming?” he asks in a low rumble.
I’m so lost in his blue eyes that I nod without even worrying about what’s going to happen next.
Chord drops to his knees and unlaces my shoes before lifting one foot, then the other, to slip them off. He looks up at me as he unbuttons my shorts, and I shiver in the full heat of the sun as he drags them down my legs. I step out of them, and he skims his hands up my legs, and when he traces the line of the little white thong I’m wearing, I close my eyes with a whimper.
Chord stands and pulls off his own shorts, and when we’re both in nothing but our underwear, my nipples hard underneath the lace of my bra and Chord’s erection obvious behind the fabric of his underwear, I bite my lip and fight the temptation to remove my bra and panties. I want to be naked with him. Still, I’m too scared to be that bold. Chord hesitates like he’s thinking about it too, but then he removes my glasses and sets them carefully atop my clothes, takes my hand, and leads me into the water.
Although the water is cooler than the air around us, it’s surprisingly warm, and we wade far enough in for the depth to reach my shoulders.
Chord sinks beneath the surface first, rising like an Adonis with trails of water dripping from his dark hair and over his temples, down his smooth cheeks, his collarbone, his muscular chest. I follow, dipping quickly into the water, then rising back up, pushing my hair off my face.
When I open my eyes, Chord’s watching me with the kind of expression that triggers a wet, achy pulse between my thighs.
“Come here,” Chord says, his voice husky, reaching out and dragging me to him.
I glide through the water and latch onto his hard, wide shoulders as he kisses me. Our wet lips slip against each other in a way that’s new and sensual, but his tongue is familiar, and I wrap my legs around him with the need to be closer. His fingers briefly dig into my ass before finding their way up to my waist, and although I can feel his arousal between my legs, his kisses are slow and reverent. And perfect.
“Can I ask you something?” I murmur against Chord’s ear as I cling to him in the water.
His palms sweep over my back, my ass, my thighs, as he nuzzles my shoulder. “Anything.”
“I know we agreed it was too early to put a label on… on… this … but…” My voice grows smaller as I grasp my hopes and fears tight against my chest. “What are we doing?”
Chord presses his lips to my shoulder, pausing there like he’s thinking about the answer, and my stomach tightens. Each day I spend with Chord leaves me feeling safer than the day before. I’ve let down my guard, and finally, for the first time in my life, I feel like it’s okay to be the real me. But maybe… maybe it’s too much to want to ask how he feels. The wrong answer would wreck me.
But then Chord draws back and looks at me with so much heart shining in his cobalt eyes that I can barely breathe.
“I don’t know about you, Wallflower,” he whispers, “but I’m falling for you. Hard.”
Light. Butterflies. Everywhere. I tighten around him—arms, legs, soul—and burrow into the crook of his neck. Chord’s arms grow snug, his lips go to my hair, and his heart beats fast against mine as I murmur my reply against his wet skin.
“I’m falling hard for you too.”