36. Chapter 36
Chapter 36
Sutton
I ’m not sure what to expect when we arrive at Maci’s apartment. She hasn’t been messy to live with, but maybe she’s still getting comfortable. Her aesthetic could also be completely opposite to mine. Modern, sleek. Then again, I’ve witnessed her love for woodwork and the way she’s designed her rustic backdrops.
It’s in a typical cream building with dark faux shutters and about twenty buildings stacked on top of each other, situated on a major intersection in Austin. The noise alone is enough to drive someone insane.
She directs me to a building near the front and seems excited that “her” spot is open, but seems to forget that my truck is wider than her Jeep, so I’m more thankful that the second spot is also open. She claims there isn’t much for furniture, but just in case, I spin the truck around and back in.
She lets us in, and I take in the space. I’ve seen her photos on occasion, when she’s editing, but the prints she has on the living room wall are far beyond what I expected. They aren’t her family, which is kind of ironic, and they aren’t even the same family across the set. Yet, somehow the grouping is cohesive. It’s like experiencing the moment with them, while also feeling like they’re in their own world.
When Sammi and I were younger, Mama used to make us sit for family photos. Mostly studio ones that came out cheesy and awkward. They hung in the hallway to her and Dad’s room. These are nothing like that. They’re in living rooms, bedrooms, and green spaces. The people are moving and laughing, interacting in fun and natural ways. A couple have a backdrop, and even though I know she enjoys planning and making them, the ones without are my favorite.
I have a new appreciation for her work and the way she sees things.
“You gonna stand there all day, or you gonna come in?” Maci stands in the middle of the living room with a hand on her hip.
I rub my lips together, suppressing a smirk. “Lead the way, Firecracker.”
She gives me an incredibly brief tour of the tiny space. Nothing stands out besides her hung photos. All of the furniture is basic, well-loved, traditional craftsmanship.
“It’s cute,” I tell her in reference to the apartment, as she scoops some decorations off a side table. “But I don’t know how you stand all the noise.”
She grins widely. “I’m used to it. Well…I was used to it. Now, it feels a little oppressive.” Her brows scrunch as if she’s remembered something.
“What?”
“I was just thinking how I used to find small-town life oppressive.” Her eyes slide over me. “Maybe it’s not so bad.”
Surprisingly, there’s more photography equipment in her closet. Unsurprisingly, she loads that first. Otherwise, it takes us little time to pack up a few boxes of things she wants to keep, as well as the few items left in her closet and bathroom.
The whole scenario has me itching to get our house built like never before. It’s like until I had someone to share it with, it didn’t matter. Now, I want Maci and I to be comfortable and settled. I want us to start building our new normal, our own little habits and traditions.
“So you just want to get rid of all of this furniture?” There’s nothing especially wrong with the pieces, even if they are mismatched.
She shrugs. “I don’t have any sentimental reason to hold onto them, and it’s not like there’s anywhere to put them at Nana’s. Or at your house.”
“Well, we will have more than a bedroom and office to fill in a few months.”
She studies me plainly. “I don’t think they fit.”
Only about three feet separates us in the living room as we take final stock, but it’s too much. I grab a belt loop in each pointer finger and tug her toward me. “And what fits?”
Her grin is salacious. “Are you referring to furniture?” she replies, her voice low.
I chuckle. “I am. Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“No fun.” Her fingers toy with the hem of my tee. “I guess I thought it would look a lot like what’s at your place. Beautiful woodwork, dark leathers, rustic, and…sexy.”
My eyebrows jump. “Sexy? Explain.”
“Okayyy…” She draws out the word, a blush coating her cheeks as she averts her eyes. “Like the bed, for example. Imagining your hands working to create it—whew!” She fans her face playfully.
A laugh bursts out of me, and I grip her pants tighter as it consumes me. “So I need to make everything for our house?”
“Could you do that?” she asks eagerly.
“The whole house?” I laugh again. “Sure, but it may take a few years considering my lack of free time.”
“Ok, so not everything. But at least a few things.”
“Yes. I’ll make whatever you want.” She practically glows in my arms and fuck if I don’t fall in love all over again. I capture her mouth in gentle kiss. Her hands slip under my tee.
“Should we give it a send-off?” she asks, returning to her low, seductive tone.
I kiss her again. “You’re insatiable.”
“I don’t think anyone who knows you would blame me.” My cheeks burn and her eyes widen again. “Oh my God! You’re blushing. Well, shit, that’s adorable. I’m definitely letting you fuck me on the couch now.”
“Letting me?” I ask, to distract from the rare reaction.
She hikes an eyebrow at me.
It’s not like I’ll turn her down. The couch isn’t the best I’ve encountered, but having my way with her on it is still enjoyable. Plus, she’s loud enough that I’m pretty sure the neighbors get a proper send-off, too.
The drive from Austin is relatively quiet for the first half. Then Maci adjusts in her seat and studies me carefully.
“What is it, Firecracker?” I say through my smirk, squeezing her knee where my hand rests.
“I need to tell you something.”
Some men might get nervous over words like that, but I don’t. I trust Maci completely. Whatever she’s about to tell me isn’t going to be a bomb on us; it’s just important to her and she’s trying to warn me and gauge my response.
I hate that she thinks people won’t support her when she shares something big. I try to rectify that every day. It’s just going to take time.
“I’ve been trying exposure therapy on myself.”
When she says it that way, it sounds like a trial drug she found on the black market, not a way to heal her mental state. I wonder if she thinks because I’m a rancher that I’ll have something against therapy.
“How’s it going?”
She picks at her jeans with one hand while tangling her fingers in mine with the other. “Slow.” She stares out the windshield.
Maci hasn’t been to Ruthie’s since the incident with Colt. I’ve been thinking on how to help, and I have a few ideas. Some are bound to be a little more uncomfortable than others.
“You haven’t been to Ruthie’s yet,” I conclude.
“I sat in the cul-de-sac. I’d like to go onto the property; I just haven’t made it that far.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” I keep my tone light, even though I only half-expect her to accept my offer.
She chews her lip. “I’m not sure. At some point, probably.”
“I already told you, you don’t have to do this on your own. And it doesn’t have to be me, Firecracker. I know you’re trying to protect everyone around you, but you have a lot of people around that want to help.”
She nods but doesn’t respond, still contemplating as she stares out the window. Admitting her actions to me was probably hard enough. I don’t know how hard to push sometimes. Maybe I need the opposite of exposure therapy. What kind of guidance is there for a partner of someone who went through something traumatic?
When we get back to the ranch, I tell Maci to head inside while I store everything in my shop.
She eyes me from the passenger seat. “Are you sure?”
“Would I have asked if I wasn’t?”
“Ok, one, it didn’t sound like a question.” She turns the sass on full volume. “And two, it’s my stuff, so I just want to make sure I’m not dumping it on you.”
“It’s not dumping it on me if I offer. Now get out of here before I give you a spanking for being sassy.”
She grins. “Maybe I won’t.” But she climbs down anyway, giving me one last glance over her shoulder as she rounds the house.
I spend a few minutes clearing space in the shop for Maci’s boxes and photography equipment. The shelving in here is plenty for both of us, but I know this will only be a temporary solution. Once Maci is comfortable at Ruthie’s again, I’ll help her get the garage studio set just how she likes.
On my second trip to unload the truck, Maci rocks in one of the chairs on the front porch, talking on the phone. Her wave is distracted. Instinct has me wanting to jump in, but I give her the space to finish her conversation while I make two more trips.
“Hey, Cowboy,” she says coyly, waiting outside the shop as I exit the final time.
“You waiting on something?”
“Someone. I was naughty earlier, and I think I’m supposed to get a spanking.”
“If you don’t learn your lesson, you may need to experience a whip. We have a couple in the stables.” I slide my hands around her waist with a grin.
“Ok, well before you whip out the big guns, I got an odd call while you were gone.”
“I’m listening.” I grab her around the thighs and throw her over my shoulder. Maci squeals and smacks me on the back.
“I’m serious,” she laughs.
“It doesn’t sound like it.” I’m nearly to the hallway door before she composes herself.
“Stephanie called.”
That’ll do it. I set her on her feet in front of the door.
“Oh good, you’re listening.” She grins. “She’s leaving Nana’s.”
“She just got there,” I say in confusion.
“Yeah. I know. And she didn’t really give me a lot to go on about leaving.”
Something seems off. Maci and I stare at each other as if the other holds the answer. “Do you think she’s going back to Alan?”
“I don’t think so. She seems a little more peaceful away from him. She just said she’d be out of Nana’s soon and she wanted me to know.”
“Well, that’s good, right?”
Maci reaches behind herself for the door handle. “Should be. Just feels weird.”
“I know what doesn’t feel weird.” I crowd her against the door. She releases the handle, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as the door falls inward. “About those spankings.”