Chapter 16 #2
A laugh sputtered out of him. His smile was tight, but that could be more from the way his cock was demanding his blood supply.
A girl could get used to that reaction from a guy she was into. My hair was a mess, I hadn’t brushed my teeth yet, and I needed a shower after our sexcapades, but he was hard from the idea of having me again.
He shook his head, then lifted his chin to the bathroom door. “Go on, then. I don’t have all day.”
“You do too.” I scurried into the bathroom and closed the door behind me. I planned to rush through cleaning up, but I paused when I caught myself in the mirror.
My hair was a rat’s nest. Red scruff marks etched my chest. Jonah liked my breasts. My eyes were twinkling and my grin was wider than I’d ever seen it.
I was happy. In this little cabin in the middle of a storm, I was more content than ever.
When the last flake fell, I wasn’t sure what would happen. Jonah wanted to keep us a secret for a little while. My smile dimmed. No. I grabbed my toothbrush. I wasn’t going to let worries of the future ruin a perfectly nice sexfest.
Jonah
She’d done exactly what she’d said she would.
She’d fucking timed me going down the stairs.
I’d gripped the railing with an iron fist, but despite all the acrobatics from the night before, my hip and knee were moving fine.
Since I hadn’t spent more than that first time standing, my foot wasn’t even complaining.
Chalk it up to lingering adrenaline, I didn’t care.
I hadn’t tumbled down the stairs and taken her out like she was a bowling pin, and that was good enough for me.
Once my feet had hit the bottom, she’d pushed me back until I was sitting on the third step up and dragged my sweats down. Best reverse cowgirl ever.
Orgasms before breakfast were nice, but I could get addicted to a flushed Summer across the table from me, shoving the last piece of bacon in her mouth. She’d shamelessly stolen it and taken her time chewing. I’d almost spread her out over the table.
Now, we were playing Connect 4 just like she’d told Wynter. A box of checkers was sitting on the edge of the table.
I slid my winning tile into place. “Connect four.”
Her pretty pink lips parted. “No way!” She peered closer at our game. “I didn’t even notice you had three lined up.”
I dumped the game pieces into the box. “I hated playing board games with Mom and Dad.”
“You did a lot of that?” she asked, taking out the checkers.
“I used to hate staying inside.”
“Do you now?”
Did I? I used to work through all the storms, as long as I could get through the drifts in my yard to the shop.
I preferred being home rather than wandering through town.
“No. Being stuck in the house for days was never fun. Having Mom and Dad pretend we were having fun when they were so worried about me or missing Eli sucked. But this . . . is nice.”
A faint smile played over her lips. “It is.” She pushed the black checker pieces toward me. “I’ll have you know, I grew up playing with my ruthless brothers. They didn’t believe in letting their sisters win.”
“I’ll have you know, I suck at Monopoly, so don’t get your hopes up that I’m going to put on a suit and dominate you.”
“Fuck that game.” She pointed a finger at me. “I knew you were listening.”
“Not intentionally.” I’d been incapacitated, wondering if she’d talk about what we’d done.
How would I have felt if she had? I’d been panicking, but also .
. . really fucking proud. Summer Kerrigan was in my bed.
Summer Kerrigan, the girl I’d denied myself for so long because at every point in our lives, it’d been wrong.
“Why do you have all these games, then?” She set her red game pieces on the board.
I did the same, glad to have something for my hands to do. “They’re still here from when I built the place.”
“For when you’re snowed in?”
I lifted a shoulder. “Just to have.” I couldn’t tell her this cabin was supposed to have been a family home on the lower fringes of the mountains, not a lonely palace.
She made a noncommittal noise and moved a game piece.
Fifteen minutes later, I was taking out the last red tile on the board.
“Winner picks up.” She pushed back. “You’re such a liar. You’d probably throttle me in a game of Monopoly too.”
I leered. “I have a game you can win.”
Her scandalized gasp made me chuckle. “Just for that—I’m going to find the girliest chick flick possible. One that makes me cry—and you’re going to watch it with me.”
She grinned and went into the living room. I picked up the games and left them stacked on the table. I was looking forward to a movie, and I didn’t care if it was the scariest horror film or the sappiest love story. Hanging out with Summer was becoming one of my favorite activities.
I peered out the window. A drift had built up in front of the shop door. I would have to shovel my way in, but once I reached the skid steer, the rest of the snow removal would be easy enough. I wasn’t out shoveling to avoid Summer anymore.
My phone vibrated. Mom was calling.
“Hey,” I answered. “You guys doing okay?” I should’ve checked on them earlier. Usually, they were the ones tracking me down, but I could call first. They were aging, and Dad was paring down his ranch duties, taking on fewer heads of cattle for a semiretirement.
“We’re good,” Mom crooned and my tension eased. I really should’ve checked in with them. “I’ve been checking the power outage notices, but they’re pretty minimal, thankfully. You’re doing well, then? Not getting too lonely all holed up?”
I lifted my gaze to Summer. She’d clicked the TV on and turned to see who I was talking to. Now she was scrolling through listings. “No, not lonely.”
“Oh?” Interest painted Mom’s voice. Who would she think I was with?
“I’m watching movies. Taking a break from building.”
“Oh.” Disappointment this time. “Right. I’m glad you’re not tromping back and forth in this weather.”
“I’m careful.”
“I know, but anyone can get hurt being careful and with it just being you out there, well. I worry.”
“I know you do.” If there was a “shitty son” award, I was in the running.
I’d been all about myself and how Summer made me feel.
I hadn’t thought of my isolated parents alone in a blizzard.
Sure, they’d been dealing with this weather their entire life, but they were also worrying about me and I hadn’t had the courtesy to be concerned about them.
“I have my phone on me all the time, but I’m staying in for a while.
Tell Dad to keep his ass planted on the couch. ”
She chuckled. “I can try, but you get your stubbornness from somewhere.” There was a hitch in her breath. “You’re doing good, though? You have enough food, water, and entertainment?”
“I’m not going to get scurvy anytime soon.”
She laughed again, and it was good to hear the sound from her. “Aye, matey. Goodness, wait until I tell your father. Hey—did I tell you that your aunt Shawna showed one of your tables to her boss and he wants to buy a couple?”
Shawna lived in Idaho. “Give him my info.”
“Oh, he snatched it up.” Mom’s tone was impressed awe. “He looked up your site right away and scribbled notes.”
“Even better.” Mom’s sister Shawna got the friends and family discount—free—but if her boss was on my site, he’d seen examples of my prices.
“You sure you’re doing okay? I know you’re always making and shipping tables and stools and whatnot, but are you okay . . . financially?”
I could’ve laughed, but I hadn’t realized until this moment I didn’t discuss finances with my parents.
I made good money. The tools and materials could be expensive, but after so many years, I had all the big equipment bought and paid for and I maintained it well.
My time and expertise cost the most. I charged for packaging and delivery and my fees gave me a comfortable living.
I had built the shop within three years of starting custom furniture.
“I make over six figures a year, Mom. I’m fine. ”
“Oh. Oh. Well. Your expenses are probably—”
“I still make over six figures. I’m not a cheap hire.”
“Well. Isn’t that just . . . Mind if I tell your dad?”
I roamed the living room. I wasn’t used to Mom being stunned in a good way. She could be taken aback by my curtness, and she fretted over my isolation, but proud? When was the last time she’d been proud?
When I’d walked out of the hospital, infection-free and full of resentment?
No, she’d been relieved and thankful. When I’d built the shop?
She’d thought I might be a prepper and start stockpiling more supplies so I’d never have to go to town.
I hadn’t given her any other indication, steeped in my bitterness and disappointed that she lacked faith in me.
Had she been proud at any time in my adult life?
I hadn’t gone to college like a lot of kids.
I’d planned to ranch like Dad, but it’d been an obligation and not a calling.
Then I’d been one fall off a horse away from never walking again and I’d needed too many pain meds after bumping through the pastures on a four-wheeler.
I’d started selling furniture over a year after that last hospital stay. For over thirteen years, I’d been building my own business and becoming an in-demand custom table maker. Had I never shared my success with my parents?
“Go ahead and tell Dad. I’ll update the gallery on my website so you guys can see more of my work. I’ve got a good thing going and I enjoy what I do.”
“You never talk about it.”
I didn’t. Even the drivers that delivered old barrels or the delivery guys that brought supplies and shipped my furniture knew I wasn’t a talker.
I kept to myself, not wanting to prove shit to anybody.
And I’d just stayed that way. “There were a lot of opinions about what I could and couldn’t do after the accident. ”
I tried hard not to sound accusatory, but her breath hitched again. “I understand.”