Chapter 17
J ericho
A squeaking sound under my hands makes me take a deep breath and relax my muscles before I break my steering wheel.
When I saw that motherfucker’s hands on Nora, something wild woke up in me, and I went right back to that place I can’t seem to escape. She looked so fucking small next to him, so vulnerable, that all I wanted to do was smash my fist into his face. Repeatedly.
I was driving home from the meeting with the lumberman which ran a little later than I expected, when something pulled me toward the diner. Maybe it was a desire to check on her since she seemed so rattled before. I have no damn idea.
Rounding the corner and seeing her casually walking toward her car almost made me turn back. Almost. Then I noticed a figure next to her Toyota—someone was leaning on its driver’s side, and this is where I knew that my instincts brought me here .
The asshole scared her. I saw that. She was frozen. Always snarky Nora was frozen in place, unable to move. That woke another desire—to wipe the asphalt with his face. And I would have if she didn’t stop me.
Another squeak makes me take another breath. Damn predator. Preying on someone physically smaller. I hate this type of person, always have. I wish I’d delivered at least one punch. Just one good punch, and I wouldn’t be feeling this anger burning my insides to ash.
Seeing her taillights makes my heart rhythm somewhat steady.
I sometimes imagine one of the women from my family in a situation when they’re overpowered by someone bigger, and it makes me see red.
But witnessing it actually happening to Nora did something odd to my brain.
It altered the way I see her now. Before this evening, she was my annoying but admittedly slightly entertaining neighbor, and now she’s someone I feel responsible for.
Connected. Something I didn’t want nor need.
When we turn down our street, I half expect the dickhead to be waiting for her there. I wish for it.
But he’s not.
Nora parks in her driveway, and I pull into mine. She hesitates to leave her Toyota, so I speed walk over to her and pull her door open. Not to be a fuckin’ gentleman, but to offer support. She smiles without saying a word and steps out.
We walk to her house in complete silence. Even though I want to ask questions. Many questions.
“Do you want to stay for some cocoa?” Her voice is small, almost fragile. It doesn’t suit her, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be around her in my current state of mind. I’m too amped up. Too rough around the edges, and I might say something I’ll regret.
“I don’t think it’s a?—”
“Can you please stay for some cocoa?” It’s even smaller now, practically a whisper, and I bite my tongue.
There’s a vulnerability there I haven’t seen before.
It’s messing with me, making things complicated.
I thought I had her all figured out—independent, self-sufficient, wanting nothing from anyone—but now she’s asking me to stay.
She’s reaching out, and I don’t understand why.
Or maybe I do, and that scares the shit out of me. Nodding my agreement, I place my ass on her porch steps.
“I’ll be right back.”
As she disappears inside the house, I take a deep breath and let the evening air calm me down.
It doesn’t feel real, what just happened.
I didn’t expect to find myself here, sitting on her steps, waiting like a dog who’s just grateful it got some attention.
I run a hand through my hair, trying to piece it all together.
There’s too much going on inside me, too much I can’t explain.
What I do know is that I’m not used to this.
Someone asking me to stay. It’s unsettling, and I hate not being in control.
But here I am. Staying. Waiting. Like some damn teenager hoping to get one more moment with a girl he can’t stop thinking about.
A few minutes later, she comes out. The door creaks as she opens it, and I glance over to see her holding two steaming mismatched mugs, both of them looking like they’re seconds from spilling over.
She’s still wearing her jacket, buttoned up to her chin in a way that makes her look even smaller.
Weaker. A reminder of how fragile things can be.
She passes both mugs to me. It’s a little awkward, but I manage to take them without spilling anything on myself.
“Can you hold it for a second?”
She disappears inside and comes back carrying two giant, fluffy throw blankets.
Dropping one on the steps, she stands behind me—something I fuckin’ hate but can’t tell her—and wraps one of the blankets around my shoulders.
All disdain and momentary aggravation are gone in an instant.
She pulls one side of the blanket and buries my neck in it, and the other side she secures around my shoulders and throws it to my front while I’m holding both mugs without breathing.
“Here you go.” She sits next to me and pulls the other blanket over her shoulders. “It’s cold here.”
It is. I pass her one of the mugs, remembering that I’m still not wearing a jacket, so her blanket is a very sound idea. Especially when it smells so good. Like cinnamon, vanilla, and something spicy. Something almost exotic but very familiar.
“Thank you,” she says quietly after a few minutes pass in silence, the calm broken only by the sound of a distant train whistle. Her voice is as soft as the blanket around her shoulders, and I’m trying really hard to not care about the gratitude in it.
Her words hang between us in the chilly night air like lingering foggy mist, and I don’t like it at all.
I grunt in response, hoping it sends a clear message that I didn’t want any thanks.
She keeps on talking. “For Dick and for staying here with me.”
Carefully side-eyeing her, I wonder how I could have refused when she asked me like I was her last hope.
“I’m sure you have other things to do, but I’m just?—”
I start talking before she starts apologizing for something that wasn’t her fault.
“I wanna be here. Move on from that, Nora. I am where I want to be. Is that clear?” It’s probably not the best approach, but this is the only one I know.
And I don’t want her to feel obligated or guilty, I just want her to…
To what exactly? To relax? To forget about the douchebag who grabbed her? To just feel safe in my presence?
“Yes, Jericho.” Her face brightens with a true smile. “It’s very clear.”
The soft sound of little bells coming from the right makes me turn to look up. “Do they help?”
She follows my eyes. “With what? ”
“The nightmares.”
“You remember that,” she says softly.
“I do.” Since I learned she has nightmares, I started paying more attention to the dreamcatchers around her house. I always make sure to untangle them if they get caught around nearby trees. “So, do they? Help?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Shifting her attention from me to the skies where the moon is bright, she notes, “It’s a full moon soon.”
“Again?”
“Yes,” she giggles, making my dumb heart skip a stupid beat for no reason at all. “It happens every month.” She points her finger at the sky and makes a circle. “It all comes around.”
I know she’s talking about the moon, but for the love of everything, I can’t focus on anything else but her face.
The moon is really bright, illuminating tiny freckles on her nose.
Her hair seems even redder under the moonlight.
She takes a sip from her cup, and that little tongue pops out for a second to lick a drop of chocolate from her bottom lip.
And that lick goes straight to my groin.
I pull the sides of the blanket over my lap, pretending to be cold when in reality I need to hide a very inappropriate reaction to someone who just had a traumatic experience. My head is totally fucked up.
“Should I expect you in my backyard?” My voice sounds tight.
She turns her face toward me with a mischievous smile. “Why? Do you want to join?”
“Not really.” I let out a forced laugh. “I don’t want to run around in this cold dangling my balls; they might freeze off.” Sounding cheesy even to myself, I take a sip from the cup, even though I don’t like cocoa.
“Such a pity,” she tsks. “I bet it would have been something to see. Or not. ”
And this is when I choke on that sip. Nora moves a little closer and starts patting my back. “Oopsie. Didn’t mean to spook you.”
I raise my hand in front of me, trying to stop coughing, but she just keeps talking. “I’m sure your balls are magnificent. Just like the moon itself. Right?” She hits my back particularly hard when I almost stop coughing. “Bright and shiny. And very round. Very.”
“Nora,” I wheeze out. “Just stop.”
“Okay,” she replies, barely able to contain laughter. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself. But to answer your question, no, I won’t be coming tomorrow.”
“Why not?”
“Is that disappointment I hear?” She laughs again.
This evening can’t go any weirder, so I decide to tell the truth. “Maybe.”
She bites her lower lip, trying to hide her smile. “It’s cold. Even witches can get frostbite. Plus, your light,” she points her finger toward my backyard, “is broken. And I need the right ambience.”
“I’ll fix it,” I blurt out, wondering how she knew about the witch thing since I’ve never called her witch to her face.
“We’ll talk about that when it’s done.” She winks and goes back to staring at the moon.
Her profile draws my gaze to it and holds it hostage.
It’s quite frustrating, and I have zero idea what’s happening, but I can’t stop staring at her.
The tip of her nose is pink from the late frost in the air, her cheeks match its color.
And I get an instant craving. A craving to taste her.
At any capacity I can. This random desire doesn’t subside when the tip of her nose turns bright red, and she wipes it with her sleeve.
It gives quite the opposite effect. I want, no, need , to warm her up.
I need those cheeks and nose to be pink from warmth and not from the biting Maine cold.
“Do you like it here?” She suddenly whips her head toward me, and her hair flies around her shoulders. “Where did you come from by the way?” she asks with furrowed brows. “We haven’t even talked about anything other than local stuff.”
I clear my throat before speaking. “All over the place. I work as a contractor, and I travel around a lot with my crew.”
“And now you decided to put roots down?”
“Something like that.” Turning away from her, I stare at the sky too, contemplating if I should keep talking.
I’m not the one to share shit about myself—I’ve never felt safe doing so—but now I want to.
Even though I’m not sure if I want to talk to her or just share something with someone so all these things are not as bottled up as they are.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.” Her voice is quiet, and when I turn to her I don’t find the offensive posture I expect to see. Because this is what people usually feel when they say things like that, that’s what I feel. Instead, she looks genuine. Fucking supportive .
“I just—” I clear my throat again before talking because I sound too forced even to myself. “I’ve always been sort of between places or on the road. Never owned something to call my own other than my work trailer.”
“A trailer is a good home,” she says carefully.
“I know plenty of people who live in trailers, and they’re much cozier than any mansion would be.
It’s just up to you to make it home, you know.
” Fixing a lock of hair behind her ear, she smiles shyly.
“I know you are a big boy to know all of that yourself, but home is not just a building.”
Swallowing a hard lump in my throat, I croak, “I’m beginning to understand that.”
“I hope you like it here.” She sighs, wiping her nose again. “It’s a good place to build a home.”
“I do,” comes out as whisper.
“What?” She turns to me with a smile.
“Like it here. ”
I don’t know what comes over me, but I move forward and place my lips on hers. More like smack since my movements are awkward and she’s totally unprepared. Our noses bump, teeth clank, and the whole thing turns into an embarrassing moment of a first high school kiss.
When her lips freeze under mine, a wave of embarrassment washes over me, making me pull back instantly. If I thought kissing her was awkward, it had nothing on the moment when I see her shocked face with a slightly open mouth. Her whole demeanor screams what the fuck .
I move to get on my feet and run away to hide somewhere in the mountains when her hand shoots up and grabs my jeans. With a mighty force I don’t expect from her, she jerks my pants, and me along with them, making me land hard on my ass right next to her.
Then her hands land on my shoulders as she pulls me into her, smashing her lips on mine. The awkwardness of the first landing is about the same, but the impact is harder. This time I know she is into it too. So I meet with the same force.
My tongue instantly searches for the entrance, and she’s not stopping it.
She meets it with a force of her own, making my eyes nearly roll to the back of my head.
I don’t recall being so fucking excited just from a five-second kiss, but I’m ready to throw her on this porch and rip her clothes off. Right here, in the frigid cold.
I don’t notice how my hand goes between the edges of her blanket to her front, and she gasps when it lands on her chest. I deepen the kiss while her fingers dig into my shoulders. I’m ready to grab h?—
The sound of a car engine stops me from doing something I wouldn’t have a way back from. We jump from each other like we’ve been electrocuted.
With wild eyes, Nora starts pulling the edges of her blanket back, so she’s completely hidden from me. I rise to my feet, trying to discreetly adjust my cock because it’s bent under such an uncomfortable angle that I don’t think I can make it home without breaking it.
“It’s Cheryl’s cruiser.” Her voice sounds coarse, making the ache between my legs intensify. She sounds like that because of me. How coarse can she get when she screams my name? Fuck. That was a very wrong thing to imagine.
“I’m gonna go.” I jerk my thumb behind my back, not knowing what else to say and mentally admitting that I don’t sound much better.
“Yeah.” She nods and rushes back inside the house.
As the cruiser pulls to a stop, I give it a wide berth and make my way quickly to my front door, not daring to look inside. I go straight to the shower where I can let my imagination go.