Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Zander
Monday evening, two days after Adelaide left Beaver Creek out of pure frustration, we work side by side at my sad, grey desk.
Lucy lies at our feet, oblivious to the shitstorm of the outside world.
Not for the first time in my life, I kind of wish I was her.
Being the anxiety dog for the guy who’s made a lot of mistakes seems like a much better deal than being the guy who made them.
My fingers pause over my keyboard. My thoughts keep derailing off the train tracks. I stare at Addie’s profile. Her brows are furrowed behind her adorable glasses as she smashes the backspace button. I accidentally let out a snicker.
“What?” She turns my way. “Why’re you staring at me?”
“I wasn’t expecting to get caught,” I admit. Her lips quirk. She takes off her glasses and digs her palms into her eyes. “I can’t think.”
“Well, that’s probably the most relatable thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“I saw that keyboard slam.”
“Why are the words not coming?”
I groan. “Probably the same reason they aren’t for me, combined with you being in my sad grey apartment.”
“Your apartment isn’t that sad,” she says reluctantly.
“Not with you in it.”
“Flattery will not finish this book for me.”
“Mmm, no, it won’t.” I rove my eyes over her body, cloaked in another one of my shirts. She came here with only the kilt and sleeveless blouse for an outfit. A steady diet of my boring shirts are her only option. “Maybe I have another idea.”
I pull my chair out and lower myself to the floor. Lucy hops up, huffs, and scurries away to her dog bed.
“You’ve displaced your dog.”
“My dog is positively sick of us,” I say, shifting underneath the table and over to her chair.
“She isn’t the only one,” Addie mutters.
Her dad has called at least twenty times since she left. I respect it, but I also know he’s a small part in a larger group of people against me. I rest my head against her knee and attempt to recentre myself. Addie runs a hand through my hair, massaging my scalp.
“What’s the plan, Mr. Browning?” she asks.
I take her hand and place it between her legs. Another benefit of her leaving with only the clothes on her back: no extra underwear. “This.”
“Oh.” She gasps. I swap her hand with mine. “I should have expected that. Words, not coming. Me, definitely.”
“That’s the goal,” I say, bunching up the shirt so I get a full view of that pretty pussy. “Though, I did think it would be fun to do both. Let me have my way with you down here and you can keep writing up there.”
She laughs like I can’t be serious. I grab the backs of her thighs and scoot her lower, spread her legs wide just for me.
“See how long you can keep writing for.”
“You know my brain turns to mush the second you touch me.”
“Which is why I’m offering you this challenge. I know how much you like those, too.”
She’s quiet for a moment, then, “You suck.” I hear her pick up her glasses and resume typing. “Proceed.”
I smirk. There are so many things I want to do to her. I start slow, running my hands over every square inch of visible skin. Goosebumps rise on her thighs. Her beautiful clit bounces as her pussy twitches. She glistens.
“How are you already this wet for me?” I whisper, more to myself than anything.
“I think we’ve established I’m always wet for you.”
Her hips buck when I run a finger down her middle.
She breathes deeply as I tease her, tracing her lips with my fingers, but never dipping in, never directly on her swollen clit.
Little frustrated noises escape her. I don’t stop.
I squeeze her clit, trapping it between two fingers that I extend toward her entrance.
She gasps sharply, lets out a feral whine that makes my cock ache.
“Are you begging for more?” I ask.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she manages between gasps as I continue working her clit. “I’m just writing.”
“Your pussy must be confused then,” I say, giving it a little smack.
Her entire body reacts. Her head tips back and she moans, neck taut, as her legs bunch up. Her cunt is soaked, dripping onto the wood of my desk chair.
I desperately want to lap it all up.
“Again. Do it again.”
“What’s the word?“ I ask, taking my hands off her.
“Please, Zander. Please.”
“I thought you were just writing.”
“I was. But then you did that and I lost the ability to think. Do it again.”
I don’t. Instead, I circle her clit slowly, with light pressure. I know what gets her off fast. And I’m not letting it happen that easily.
“Fuck. You’re torturing me.”
I slip two fingers into her. “Better?”
“Oh. Oh no,” she says and I freeze. Her body’s gone rigid and it has nothing to do with me. “Crap.”
The jump back into serious Adelaide does me in. I remove myself and instantly feel stupid for sitting on the ground, underneath a table.
“What is it?” I ask. I’m not proud of the hesitation in my voice.
“Can you get out from under there, please?”
I feel like such an ass as I crawl out from under the table. I straighten up slowly and stand behind her chair, placing my hand on the back. She adjusts herself, pulling my shirt back in place, before looking up at me.
“It’s not good,” she says. I massage her shoulders in some desperate attempt to make everything okay. It doesn’t help. I can barely breathe. “Do you remember how the town council works in Beaver Creek?”
The intricacies of Beaver Creek lore are lost on me. Somewhere in the recesses of my brain, I remember my dad complaining about the town council overstepping and violating residents’ boundaries. I’m not sure if this was another of his needless rants or…
“They do all the normal town council stuff, but they also take themselves way too seriously. They hold meetings every month where people can come and talk about what the town needs. It’s, like, some Gilmore Girls level bullshit, if you’ve ever watched that.
” I shake my head. Her eyes widen before she launches into what the council’s doing.
“We’ll watch it together, don’t worry. One day you’ll understand this metaphor, but basically, I’m Rory and you’re Jess.
And, man, that town had a problem with Jess. ”
“Okay, so what I’m getting is that…the town is officially against me.”
“They’re idiots and I hate them.” She pauses and swallows. I massage her shoulders. “There’s lots of very nice people in town. Ones who know who you are. But, yes, there are council members actively working against you.”
“Good to know.”
“I just got an email about the next council meeting, which is four days from now.
One of the topics on the agenda is, ‘A Town Discussion on Violent Crime.’ The brief breakdown suggests that someone with a former connection to our community and a criminal history is thinking of moving to Beaver Creek, and the council wants the town's opinion on whether he should be allowed.”
I deflate. I pull the chair next to Addie’s and sit, because there’s nothing I can do now. I drop my head in my hands. This is where we end, isn’t it? If she chooses me, she loses everything back home and grows to resent me. If she chooses the town, I lose the sunshine in my life.
Addie reaches out, untangles my hands from my hair. “Hey,” she says and waits until I meet her eyes. I vigorously blink away the tears blurring my vision. “Hey, we’re fighting this.”
“Addie, it’s useless. They’re never going to change their minds and they’re going to make it hard for you if you try to integrate me in town. It’s better if we just end it here.”
Her fingers flex around mine, and then, “No. Screw that. I’ve had enough of people dictating my life. We’re not ending anything.”
“But I’m still that guy with a criminal history. I can’t help that people can’t see past that, and I get why that might make them uncomfortable.”
“Okay, I need to be very clear about something right now,” she says, her lips pursed in determination. “You are not breaking up with me.”
“Yeah, okay.”
She pulls me in for the briefest brush of her lips. Still holding my face, she says, “We’re going to fight the council. And we’re going to win.”
I’m not a man who blindly believes what people say. I’m not a man of luck or fortune. But somehow, through Addie’s indescribable magic, I don’t even question the how or the why.
We’re going to win.