Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Durban
We decide to eat on my porch. The cozy setting evokes a lot of expectations I had for this house, and it’s tying my insides into a pretzel.
It’s only a meal, I remind myself for the hundredth time. As I grill us some rib eyes, she sips on ice water and I nurse a whiskey neat while we chat about the crochet club, my house, and the origins of the gold mine and how it landed in Hennessy hands.
“Your family has deep ties to the land,” she says as I set down our plates of steaming meat.
I nod. “Dad was really proud his family was able to buy it from the mining company. He always said our roots don’t run deep; they make up the earth.”
“The whole town is glad it stayed in Hennessy hands.”
“That’s good to hear.” Smiling, I tuck into my food. We finish our meal in companionable silence. Two hungry people who seem to enjoy each other’s company.
My throat thickens each time I think about how much I’m enjoying myself. How often I wish it would happen again and again.
I push my plate away and keep my attention focused on the trees making up my backyard.
“Everything okay?” she asks quietly. She’s just finished her meal, and I haven’t said a word for several minutes.
“It’s just hitting me,” I answer honestly. I’d never talk about this, but for some reason, the words rush off my tongue. “When I built this house, it was for friends and family. But other than my brothers, you’re the first visitor I’ve had.”
Her lips part. “Wasn’t Natalie—”
“No.” Not for lack of an invite. I could figure out logistics, but she never did.
“I always went there. She hasn’t been back since this was getting built.
Haven and I flipped a house to help us with income until the renovations were done and the ranch was fully operational.
I haven’t even been in this place three years.
Haven and I are usually at Iverson’s, since that’s where the shop and everything is for the ranch.
So we gather there, and I get to hang out with Kacey. ”
“You wish it was different?”
“I feel like I’m borrowing someone’s happiness.” I can’t believe I said that. She’s going to think I’m pathetic, getting nothing but some frequent-flyer miles out of a four-year relationship.
“I know what you mean,” she says quietly. “This wedding is hard because it’s what I wanted, but also because it means it’s just going to take longer for me to get there. I want a family, but I also want my person. Someone who’s just for me.”
A cavern in my chest echoes her sentiment. I thought Natalie was that person, but my life is no different without her. “Do you feel like you wasted those years?”
She chews on the inside of her cheek as she thinks. “I didn’t then. Now, it feels like it.” She rises and gathers our plates. “Stanford’s taken up too much of my thoughts lately. I’m going to clean up since you cooked.”
My kitchen is just off of the porch, but it feels like she’s running away. I grab our glasses and silverware and follow her inside. “Grilling is nothing. It’s a treat to do it for more than one person.”
“I appreciate it.” She loads my dishwasher and I hand her what’s in my arms. Straightening, she peers out the window over the sink that looks onto the deck. Her full lower lip sticks out. “Did you grab everything?”
“Yeah?” Why would that upset her?
“I was going to do it. Like I said, you cooked.”
“I don’t mind,” I say carefully as the crease between her brows deepens.
“Or you don’t think I’ll get back to the rest. I do . . . eventually.” She hip-checks the door closed.
“I believe it.” Most of the time, my house doesn’t feel lived in. Seeing signs of her doesn’t bother me, but she’s worried it will. Has someone made her feel bad about it?
Wasn’t I that guy? Holding her time blindness over her when she’s trying to do better—ignoring that there may be legitimate reasons for her tardiness. I’m not doing that to her again. It’s just a little clutter.
This thing between us is about helping us through tough times, but I can build her up too, just like she did for me with Rafting and Tasting. “So you need to believe me when I say it’s fine. Is there something else bothering you?”
She barks out a laugh and heads out to the deck.
“Until the wedding is over, that answer will always be yes. I have the cake tasting with Elodie on Wednesday. It’s going to be a whole spectacle.
They want a cupcake tower, a cookie cascade, and then a five-tier cake—with each tier being a different flavor.
” Throwing her hands up in the air, outrage furrows her brow.
I want to smooth out the lines only because I know she’s bothered.
“There aren’t going to be that many guests. Five tiers?”
“Each a different flavor,” I echo.
“I’m trying to give them realistic expectations.
They think because Elodie runs a small bakery, she has nothing better to do but make cupcake towers and play with flavors.
And because Elodie’s Elodie, she’s going to do it.
It’s going to be the best, but I’m going to be so upset for her because the couple isn’t going to treat her like she deserves.
They aren’t treating anyone like they deserve. And they get away with it!”
Her chest is rising and falling and color leeches up her neck. She weathers how the couple and their family treat her without complaint, but the way they might treat Elodie has her incensed.
I slide my hand around her neck. “They won’t walk all over Elodie. Know why?”
She gazes up at me with those wide gray eyes. I have her pinned between the table and me. “Why?”
“Because you’re going to talk circles around them until they feel like dumbasses for disagreeing. Just like you did with Chester. Like you did at the tasting room. You’re good at your job.”
“You mean that?”
I stroke my thumb up and down her neck, her warm, soft skin sliding under my touch. “You’re excellent at what you do, and you need to start calling them out on their bullshit instead of absorbing the blame.”
“I’m paid to tolerate their blame.”
“It’s not right.” I tip my head closer to hers.
“You’re in customer service.” Her voice drops lower. “You should know about pleasing the customer.”
“I don’t give a fuck about pleasing anyone.” I skim my lips over hers. “Just you.”
“This isn’t . . .” She swallows and I keep a good inch between us. “This isn’t part of our agreement.”
“You’re stressed.”
She nods, and her eyes shimmer. “I got myself all worked up.”
Fuck me. She’s worked up in all the wrong ways, but I know all the right ones. I tsk. “There you go. Seems you need some relief.”
“Durban?”
The nervous thread in my name gives me pause. “Yeah?”
“Is it only our agreement? Like . . . friends with benefits?”
The corner of my mouth tips up. “Are we friends, Belle?”
Her breath gusts across my chin. “Something like that.”
I had a benefits-only relationship for the last four years, even if I didn’t know it at the time.
I should run. I want more. But I want Campbell, and without this wedding or the pressure it’s causing, there wouldn’t be an us.
I wrap my other hand around her waist. “Do you want me to relieve your stress?”
“I want . . .” Her heavy-lidded gaze strokes over my face. A light breeze ruffles her hair. “You.”
She’s bold, honest, and vulnerable when she says that.
It’s my undoing. I lift her to the counter and position myself between her legs.
“I want you spread out beneath me and at my mercy.” Her lips puff apart and I claim them, sweeping my tongue inside.
She doesn’t taste like whiskey tonight. Crisp water and my cooking.
A possessive part of me rears up. Damn right her flavor comes from me caring for her.
I break the kiss to lift the shirt over her head.
I push her back until she’s sprawled on the tabletop so she’s ready.
My next favorite meal. I bunch it up and slide it under her head.
“Does that flush when you get angry cover your whole chest when you come?” I trail my fingers down her neck and over her sternum, stopping at the lace border of her bra.
Birds sing in the distance. It’s wide open out here, yet we’re more isolated than we’ve ever been. I finally have her all to myself.
She bites her lip. “Only when I come really hard.”
“Is that a challenge, Belle?” I slide the cups of her bra down until her rosy pink nipples pop free. A groan rips from me and I cup one breast, rolling her tight peak under my fingertips.
“Just an FYI. I’m ready to come really hard.” She sounds breathless, and she arches into my touch.
“You can be nice and loud here.” I unhook her bra and drape it over the chair. Thank fuck her pants are easy enough to slide off. She lifts her legs for me.
If I stopped to appreciate the beauty of her spread on the table with her hair fanning around her, I’d be captivated. Enthralled. My very own whiskey siren, tempting me away from the careful plans that keep me isolated and alone.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” I lean down and put my mouth right where the wet spot on her underwear is. I lick out and taste her through the fabric.
“God, Durban.” She groans and rolls her hips into me.
“I’m only getting started.” I peel her underwear down. She plants her heels on the edge of the table and I push her knees apart. She gets fucking wetter the more I look. I drag a finger through it and her whole body trembles. “This pretty pink pussy of yours is all I can think about.”
She tenses like she’s going to get self-conscious and close her legs. I don’t bother sitting. I stoop down, bracing a leg behind me, and lick through her soaked seam.
“Oh God!”
“Be fucking loud,” I say over her swollen clit before I claim it as my own.
Her moans ring through the trees and she buries her hand in my hair. She tugs at my scalp as I feast. I push her legs up farther, opening her completely to me. I want her powerful orgasm. I want to see her flush. I want to sink into her when she’s spent and ready for me.