Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
The first thing I register is warmth. Then, the subtle ache in my thighs and places unused for too long confirms last night wasn’t a dream. Peeling my eyelids open, I registered the massive hand, splayed across my lower belly, pinning me to him. There’s no tinge of regret or embarrassment.
Snuggling into his sturdy frame, I study the room we’d stumbled into late last night.
The cedar planks are stunning in the sunlight flooding through the blinds.
Knotty pieces add depth and hominess. Sparsely decorated, the room houses a desk and chair in the corner with our clothes strewn over them, a dresser, and not much else.
The green banker’s lamp makes me smile. My parents have the same style at home.
A dark brown bottle of cologne, a stick of amber cedarwood deodorant, a comb, and a brush rest on the top of his dresser.
I want to add more vibrancy to his life.
It doesn’t match his world with color and comfort.
A patchwork quilt lies across the hope chest at the end of the bed.
“Morning, Pepper.”
I place my hand over his and tilt my head back to meet his sleep-heavy eyes.
“Morning, Sunshine. How are you feeling?”
His rich chuckle vibrates through my chest. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
“Happily used, thanks for asking.”
“Always with the spice.” He kisses me softly. I deepen the lip lock, humming. Sighing contentedly, I nuzzle my nose against his.
“No regrets?”
I hate the hesitancy that lingers in his words.
“Only that we waited so long.” I nip his bottom lip.
“Better make up for that.” He rolls me over. My laughter quickly turns to moans as he kisses his way down my body.
“I didn’t get to do this last night.” Pushing my thighs apart, he buries his face in my core. Gripping the sheets over my head, I come off the bed. He presses down on my stomach. I wrap my legs around his head.
Pulled down into pleasure, I lose myself in his thorough tongue treatment.
Hoarse, I come apart. He joins us, prolonging the explosion.
Resting his forehead against mine, he moves gently.
The first time was a blazing fire. This is a cozy hearth flame that touches my soul. Sloppily kissing, we climb.
“It’s never been so good.” I rasp, digging my nails into his back.
“You were made for me, Philomena.”
I don’t mind my given name coming from him.
Drowning in his green gaze as I find release, I feel the center of my universe recalibrate. I want more of this.
Panting, we try to catch our breath.
“I got you dirty, so I need to clean you up.” Slipping free, he tosses off the covers and scoops me up into his arms. Squealing, I wrap my arms around his neck. Resting my head on his shoulder, I bask in the intimacy we’ve created. Reality will reappear soon enough.
Sitting me on the counter of the sink, he starts up the shower. Admiring his build, I finger-comb my hair. Wrestling the thick locks into a braid, I put it into a messy bun.
“It’s ready.” Stepping into the shower, he blocks the spray with his broad back and holds out his hand. I am in so much trouble. Korren is a once-in-a-lifetime kind of man. I don’t want to lose him. This is more than attraction or bidding time. It has the feel of permanence.
Taking his hand, I join him, admiring the red streaks I left behind.
“Marking your territory, Pepper,” he teases.
“Same as you.” I trace the bruise blooming between my neck and shoulder.
“Yes.” His eyes darken with possessiveness. The visible sign of being wanted is incredible. Confirmation I didn’t realize I needed. Grabbing a bar of soap that smells like him, he lathers up. Exploring each other, we rinse off the previous day, learning every curve, dip, and muscle.
When the water runs cold, we exit, drying off and dressing, wrapped in one of his long-sleeve shirts and plaid sleep pants, I’m content. My stomach growls.
“I should feed you, huh?”
“It would be nice.”
Taking my hand, he leads me to the kitchen. Small and tidy with an island for two, it’s the place a bachelor would live in. A long end table arranges a navy-blue couch and two black leather couches in the center.
“Bacon, eggs, and toast?” he asks, rummaging through the fridge.
“Perfect. Let me help?”
He hands me the carton of eggs. “Bowls are on the shelf over the sink.”
Pulling down the classic yellow-and-white Pyrex bowl, I crack five eggs and find a whisk in a drawer. He pulls down pans, and we work side by side as if it’s a thing we’ve done daily.
Eating at the counter with our legs touching, I let myself imagine this being normal. A knock at the door pulls me from my musings.
“Are you expecting someone?”
“No.” Frowning, he pushes away from the island. “Let me see who it is.” I watch him walk to the door and open it.
“Mom?”
“Surprise. We came to celebrate Thanksgiving with you guys. Dad’s bringing in the groceries from the car.” She steps in and freezes. “Oh, I didn’t know you had company.”
I place my fork onto the plate and wipe my fingers on a napkin. Rising, I glance at Korren, unsure of what to do. There’s no handbook to tell you how to handle this situation.
“Mom.” He peers from me to her. “This is my friend, Phil Joiner. Phil, this is my mom, Renee.”
A petite woman with a short, pale blonde pixie cut, worn jeans, and a t-shirt with a lavender button-down fixes her sharp gaze on me. Straightening to my full height, I walk over with confidence. I’ve faced down CEO’s. I can handle a surprise visit from parents, right?
“Hi, Mrs. Stormbourne.”
“Oh, please call me, Renee. You’re Bill Joiner’s daughter, right?” We clasp hands and shake.
I smile. The beauty of small towns. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I thought so. You favor both your parents. How are they?” Her kind words grease the squeaky wheels, and I relax.
“Good. Dad’s semi-retired.” We’re both dedicated to handling this like adults.
She laughs. “It’s always easier to do in theory than in practice.”
“Exactly,” I agree.
A tall man with the build of a linebacker comes in a few moments later, carrying a collection of plastic bags. His hair is a few shades darker than Korren, but they share the same mouth and coloring. Grim, he looks like he swallowed something bitter as he struggles with an arm full of bags.
The energy in the room takes a nosedive. Korren balls his hands into fists. Back ramrod straight, his expression becomes closed off.
Shocked, I watch him with wide eyes. I turn to his mother for an explanation. She shrugs, just as lost as I am.
“It was you,” Korren whispers. The rings of his irises shrink as he stares at the man he closely resembles.
“What?” His father shoots him a confused look before stepping around him to dump the bags on the kitchen counter.
“You gave my address to Jared.” The accusation is an atom bomb, decimating the tentative peace in the room.
His mother gasps. “You didn’t.” She covers her mouth.
My stomach drops. His father's act of betrayal is unthinkable.
His father turns. “Oh, he finally wrote to you? Good, it’s time you had closure.”
His nonchalance triggers instant dislike and anger. I step forward. His mother grabs my elbow and shakes her head. “This needs to happen.”
“Why would you do that?” Korren’s voice cracks.
I grip the hem of my t-shirt to keep from going to him.
“It was just your work address. I’d never give him the location of the house.”
“If I wanted anyone to know where I lived or worked, I would’ve told them personally,” Korren growled.
“Because being a hermit in the woods is healthy?” His father turns to face him. A foot away, they’re squared off like enemies set to engage in combat.
“I am not.” Korren clenches his jaw. Muscles flexed, he looks up at the ceiling. Probably counting to ten.
Exhaling, Korren looks back at the red-faced man in front of him. “When are you going to accept that I’ve decided on a different direction for my life? I’m not going back to air traffic control.”
“That was your dream since high school.” His father sounds forlorn.
“Was. I lived that life long enough. I’m done. Either respect my choices moving forward or no longer be an active part of my life.”
“That’s extreme, don’t you think?” His father scoffs.
“No. This is the boundary I’m setting. Because I’m finished playing nice.
It took months to drag myself out of the hell the crash plunged me into.
I won’t go back there. Yes, I loved my career, but there is too much trauma attached to what I endured to go back.
I don’t want to be responsible for others’ lives all day, and I don’t want a job that requires my soul and most of my time to do it. ”
I applaud him for standing his ground. Moving around his mother, I place a hand on the small of his back, letting him know I’m here.
His father seems to see me for the first time. Turning away from Korren, he clears his throat. “This is a conversation for the family.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I don’t believe it is. Because I’m sure I told you where I stood. I’m going to take Phil home now. Think about what I said.” He spins. “I’m sorry you had to see that. Let’s get your things.” He directs his next words to his mother. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”
We cross the room to the hallway, and he opens the door to his bedroom. The moment we step inside, I grab his hands in mine. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I can’t believe he’d do that after everything.”
Me either. I wait, letting him speak.
“He was shocked that I was upset about it. Why does he think some half-cocked letter will heal everything?”
“I don’t know, Sunshine.”
Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair. “Let’s get you out of my family drama.”
I think of the tension in the house between my father and me. “Trust me, we all have our moments.”
“I don’t even want to open the damn letter.”
“Then don’t. Until you’re ready.”
He sighs. “This is going to come up in my therapy session.”
“I like a man who takes care of his mental health.”
He smiles. “I try.”
“You do.” I correct him, brushing his hair back into place.
“Let’s get out of here.”
Slipping my feet back into my boots, I gather my clothes and purse. Nothing like doing the night after walk in front of your partner’s parents to make a stellar first impression. Stiff, I follow him back out the room, trying not to make eye contact with the parents staring at us.
Exiting the hallway, we spot his parents talking through the kitchen window.
With their mood obliterated, we leave without telling them goodbye.
I try to gauge his emotions as we move to his jeep.
Opening my door helps me get inside and buckled me in.
His caring actions are breadcrumbs I gobble up greedily.
I never saw myself liking the princess treatment.
But it comes from such a genuine place with him, I crave it.
The trip to my car, which is still parked on Main Street, is subdued.
He parks beside my car. “I’m sorry things ended on such a sour note.”
“Life’s messy. Don’t worry about it. I enjoyed everything that came before.”
He grins, perking up. “Good.” He kisses me. “Text me when you get home?”
“Of course.”
“I’m not sure what Thanksgiving is going to look like now,” he says apologetically.
“If it gets to be too much, or you want to avoid it altogether, the door is open at my place.”
“Yeah?” He smiles at me.
“Yes, Mr. Sunshine. My parents love you. They’d welcome another visitor, especially my poor father, who’ll be surrounded by estrogen yet again.”
He laughs.
“There’s that smile. I’m here if you need me.
” I open the door before I say more than I’m ready to.
Emotions are high, and this man is feeling a little too much like he belongs to me when he doesn’t.
He could be yours. Ignoring the little voice in my head, I exit the jeep, refusing to look back, because I’m not sure what I would do if I did.