Chapter 23
EVERETT
Ihear the sound of footsteps rounding the shed behind me, and I ignore it.
Any of the guys know better than to bother me when I’m like this, and my head is too much of a mess to talk to either Jenny or Mary right now. I bring the ax down hard on the log in front of me and hope that whoever it is will get the hint and leave me the hell alone.
My luck seems to be on a losing streak today.
The shuffling of bare feet over smooth concrete tells me exactly who it is.
Mary is the only person who’d be walking around the ranch without shoes on.
My jaw clenches tighter in frustration, and I knock the split log off to the side so I can replace it with a fresh piece of wood.
I’m not in the mood to be careful with my words, but I don’t want to upset Mary.
My best bet is to just keep my mouth shut and wait until she leaves.
I’m good at making people give up on me. This won’t be any different.
“You didn’t finish your breakfast,” she says from behind me.
I split the log straight down the middle, grunting with exertion.
It’s a hot day, and I’m sweating even in the shade of the trees back here.
The little concrete porch off the shed is in direct sunlight, so it’s probably scorching beneath Mary’s feet.
I can hear her shifting her weight, but she doesn’t make any move to step closer.
I continue on with the log, splitting it into quarters before tossing it off to the side and pulling a new piece up.
She doesn’t say anything else, seemingly happy to have reminded me of my lack of breakfast. The silence stretches on, interrupted only by the crack of my ax against wood. My skin starts to itch under her steady gaze, and I frown, realizing that she’s going to outlast me in this game of patience.
“Lost my appetite,” I grunt, snagging another log.
“I heard,” she says. “Seems like Jenny lost her appetite, too.”
I pause, adjusting my grip on the ax before swinging it again. It’s not a surprise that Jenny’s upset—even I’m not thick enough to miss that—but hearing such blunt confirmation of how badly I fucked up isn’t pleasant.
“I thought you might want to talk about it,” Mary continues.
Her voice is calm and casual, and it only serves to make me feel more guilty.
“Not at all,” I say.
I slam the ax down again, but my aim is off, and I cut the log unevenly.
The sight of it makes my jaw tick in annoyance, and I do my best to refocus my attention on the task at hand.
It’s not like this really needs to get done, but I’m not calm enough to be around anyone right now.
I need to work off this anxious, frustrated energy that’s boiling in my gut, or I’m only going to fuck things up further.
Mary hums thoughtfully from behind me, and I close my eyes, searching for some semblance of control.
I want to shout, and I want to run away from all of this. I want to turn around and wrap Mary up in my arms and promise that I’ll keep trying no matter how many times I ruin things.
They would only be words, though, and words are cheap.
I can say whatever I want, spin her pretty poems and swear to do a million different things, but the truth is that I’m only good at so many things.
Fixing my mistakes isn’t something I’ve ever been good at, but I know if I turn around and see her face, I’ll try until I wreck everything around me.
I don’t want to keep causing damage, but it seems like that’s all that happens when I try to do the right thing.
“You sure?” she asks. “It seems kind of silly to give up at the thought of a conversation. You were so willing to put in effort to change things yesterday. Is the idea of talking to someone all it takes to break that resolve?”
I toss my ax aside with frustration. She’s staring at me, the look on her face so utterly reasonable that it makes my gut twist.
We both know she’s right, but she doesn’t understand what keeps happening every time I try to do something good.
Ever since Laura died, I’ve had a black thumb.
Everything I touch turns to shit—the ranch, my relationship with my kids.
Hell, even Al is sick now, and I can’t help but think it’s somehow because of me.
“Apparently,” I say tightly.
I drop my gaze to the ground, unable to keep up eye contact with her. It feels like she can see every insecurity, every failure. I may not deserve to have her in my life, but I’d like to at least have her think of me as someone strong.
I don’t want her to remember me as the man who was too scared to save his own home.
Shaking my head to clear it of my thoughts, I stalk past her and pull the back door of the shed open. I’m out of wood, but I’m not out of stress.
She watches me as I walk past her, following me into the shed silently.
“Is this really how it’s going to be?” she asks as I start piling wood into my arms.
I don’t answer her.
She lets the silence stretch for a few tense moments before her patience wears thin.
“I’ve changed my mind,” she says.
I feel her hand on my shoulder before I even have a chance to think through her declaration.
She spins me around and knocks the few logs I have bundled in my arms to the side.
They clatter loudly against the concrete, but neither of us pay the noise any mind.
Mary steps up close to me, pressing herself against my chest, and my mind goes blank.
“I’m done with tact.” The words sound almost threatening, but she reaches up to cup my cheeks so gently that it nearly hurts. “I’m going to talk, and you’re going to listen. You’re a stubborn, grumpy old man, and you’re so set in your ways that you don’t even realize you’re lying to yourself.”
I open my mouth to argue, but she talks over me, holding me still.
“You work so hard to keep things going here, and you exhaust yourself every day trying to make sure that your employees aren’t working themselves to the bone like you are.
You’re so hard on yourself, and you blame yourself for everything that goes wrong, but you’re more capable than you realize, Everett.
” Her thumbs brush over my cheeks tenderly, rubbing through the stubble on my cheeks.
“I don’t know anyone else who could manage half of what you do out here. ”
My breath gets shaky, and I’m mortified to realize tears are welling in my eyes. Mary doesn’t pay them any mind as she holds me, and her voice emits the kind of affectionate sternness that I can’t help but listen to.
“You can’t sell,” she tells me firmly. “This land is part of your soul. It’s part of your family. You can’t let something like that go. If you do, you’ll—”
Her words wind up muffled against my lips, my arms winding around her waist in a desperate attempt to answer her.
I can’t offer her words, my tongue thick and clumsy, but like I said, they’re cheap anyway.
I’ve always been better with actions, and right now, I need to show her that I believe her.
I want her to know that I trust her, that I can’t do this without her.
I want her to know that I need her.
She makes a surprised little noise, but melts into the kiss without hesitation. Her hands wind up through my hair, nails scratching pleasantly against my scalp in a way that sends shivers down my spine.
I walk her backwards toward the workbench, my hands moving of their own accord to slip beneath the hem of her shirt.
Her skin is so soft against the roughness of my palms that it almost feels taboo to touch her.
She’s all smooth skin and gentle sighs, and it’s such a juxtaposition of the rough edges that I’m made up of.
Neither of us are idle as we stumble across the workshop, both of us tearing at clothes and tracing over patches of skin hungrily.
It hasn’t been that long since I’ve touched her, but it feels like years.
Every hitched breath that she releases against my mouth makes my cock throb in my jeans.
The little giggle she breathes out when I press her up against the worktable makes my heart stutter in my chest, and I fall to my knees in front of her.
No words pass between us, neither of us able to put together a proper sentence. It wouldn’t mean anything if we did, anyway.
Everything I need to say, I can say with my hands.
I bury my face in her breasts the second her bra is off, groaning at the taste of her. She arches into the touch, hissing when I worry her nipple between my teeth. It’s hard to stay gentle when I’m so hungry for her, but I won’t hurt her, no matter how desperate I am to be inside her again.
I pull back only enough to yank my shirt over my head, my focus immediately shifting to the button of her jeans when my hands are free.
Her hips move with my hands helpfully, and I manage to work her jeans and panties down to her knees before she starts tugging me up.
I follow the pull of her hands in my hair, moaning out a garbled version of her name into her mouth when she kisses me.
“Come on,” she urges me. “I don’t want to wait.”
She spins around, draping herself over the table.
My hands fly to her hips when she ruts back against me, every drop of blood in my brain racing south as my cock twitches painfully in the constraints of my jeans.
I grind forward against her, leaning down to breathe in the scent of her perfume as she matches my every movement.
I’m lightheaded as I fumble my own jeans down, every thought centered on getting inside her.
She keeps her body pressed against mine as I work to free my cock.
Only moments after I get my boxers down, I hear the sound of her spitting into her hand.
I look up from where my attention was focused on her ass rocking back against me just in time to see her spit-slick hand reaching toward me.
She tosses a grin over her shoulder, and she gives me a slow, easy stroke to lube me up.
“Impatient,” I tease breathlessly, my voice thick with need.
“Told you I didn’t want to wait,” she says. “Please, Everett.”
And who the hell am I to deny her anything when she asks like that?
I bite my lip in a paltry attempt at distraction as I reach down to guide my cock into her. My breath shudders out of me as the head sinks in, her body a hot, wet clutch of need. She whines out her pleasure and pushes back against me, taking me in deeper.
The slide of her cunt around me makes my heart pound in my chest, and I fold myself over her as I sink the last few inches of my cock deep inside of her.
We stay like that for a while, both of us panting and overwhelmed with pleasure. I wrap my hands around her hips, brushing my thumbs over smooth skin and enjoying the feeling over her trembling around me. Part of me wants to go slow, draw it out and savor every moment.
All thoughts of patience flee my mind when she shifts her hips back against mine, clenching down over me.
I lose myself in her, rutting forward and burying myself deep with every thrust. She reaches back to hold onto my neck, propping herself up on the workbench and letting the sweetest sounds slip between her lips.
Neither of us manage any semblance of control.
We move desperately against one another, sinking into the pleasure of each other’s bodies and chasing pleasure mindlessly.
It feels both like it lasts hours and mere seconds before she gasps out my name and scrapes her nails across my skin to warn me of her approaching orgasm.
I double down, slamming straight forward into the spot that has her wailing in pleasure. She nearly collapses against the table as her climax slams into her, shaking and heaving in breaths. I’m helpless to do anything but follow, my own orgasm tearing out of me like a riptide.
It’s damn near painful in its intensity, and it leaves me trembling where I’m bent over her.
I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her closer against me and paying no attention to the overstimulation the movement causes. I need her as close as I can get her.
I need her here, right against me, and I need her to know that I never want her to leave.
I need her to know that I love her.
I bury my face into her shoulder, pressing my mouth tight to her skin to prevent myself from saying the words that are bouncing around in my head. Now isn’t the time, and she won’t believe me if this is how she hears them.
She’s right, and she’s been right this whole time. I need to come to terms with the fact that it’s time to put some real effort into everything, no matter how scary it is.
I want to do things right, if only to make Mary happy.
I pull back enough to press a line of kisses over her shoulder, lazy and slow. The scent of sex and sawdust is heavy in the air, and it feels like the start of something not quite new, but… maybe the start of something good.
I like the sound of that.