Chapter 36 Willow
thirty-six
Willow
We don’t get much sleep, and it’s the best night of my life. Noah wraps me in his fold, holding me against his chest, peppering kisses on my forehead until we doze off.
The next day, he wakes me with a coffee on my nightstand, but this time, instead of scampering out of the bedroom, he sits on the bed, nursing his own cup.
He’s quite a sight with his messy hair, his glasses on, his morning stubble, and his ripped bare chest with just the right amount of hair.
“What you got going today?” he asks, dimples forming on his cheeks as his eyes dance on me.
My center tingles alarmingly, so I pull the sheet up to cover my breasts and take a grounding sip of coffee. “New window displays. I’m switching out the Father’s Day stuff and going full summer mode.”
He pulls the sheet off my breasts, runs the pad of his thumb on my perk nipples. “You’re going to paper the windows again first?” A crease appears between his eyebrows.
I bristle under his touch and his gaze. “Didn’t you like it last time?”
His gaze goes back up to my face, stopping on my mouth. “Loved it.”
“Oh! This time I’m adding Magic in progress at the very top. Is that too much?”
“No, that’s good. That’s great.” He takes my cup from my hands and sets it down. “There’s no rush,” he whispers against my bare skin. He shucks his sweatpants, revealing that he was going commando and has a massive erection—how did I miss that? “Now say a proper good morning to your husband.”
He clasps my nape in his hand, pulling me possessively in for a kiss. Soon the sheet is gone and his other hand is between my thighs.
Before I can process, he flips me around, demanding—just the right amount of rough and impatient.
“You like it like that, don’t you?” he groans against my ear when he has me on my knees, against the headboard.
“Gotta tell you som’thin’,” he says as his cock fills me, and I barely register; my knees are already giving in.
“Got all the time in the world to figure out what you like. Yeah?”
Does he think I can talk with his cock hitting just the right spot, his fingers playing with my nipples? Even his breath down my neck makes me wet. As he sucks on my shoulder, the roughness of his stubble against my bare skin might be what takes me over the edge.
“But right now I gotta say, this is how I wanna take my wife, and I’m not gonna last long with that tight wet pussy o’yours and those boobs and your ass, fucking hell your ass—”
I come undone under him, his corded arms flexing around my middle to hold me up. “Noah,” I exhale, and he follows in powerful strokes, kneading my breasts. “Your fucking tits, babe,” he groans. “And your ass. Ah, fucking hell, your ass.”
We collapse on the bed, catching our breaths, then he shakes softly with quiet laughter.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing. Happy. Come here.” He pulls me to his chest, and I wrap my leg across his thigh. “I need to shower and shave,” he grumbles.
I run a hand on his jawline. “I kinda like it like that. Keep it for a couple of days?”
He looks down at me. “Anything for my wife.”
We shower together and get to the store on the late side but in the best mood. I text Mom on the way, and she answers with a thumbs up emoji.
Swing by the store today? I offer, not getting my hopes up.
I get straight to work, first papering the windows. I have the system down from last time, so it doesn’t take me long. Then, crouched inside the windows, I focus on creating a display of summer essentials.
In one window, two beach chairs anchor the decor, with heart-shaped sunglasses, sunscreen, and striped beach towels in tones of lime, orange, and white. Neon colored frisbees lean on sleek coolers on each side of the chairs.
I haul wicker shelves from upstairs, nudge them in, and add colorful tumblers, different brands of sunscreen, and battery-operated fans. A straw hat with flowery fabric tied around it goes in the upper corner of the bookcase, giving the whole display a feminine charm.
I open a deck of playing cards and set it on the floor as if four players had just left their game, cards face down, and were returning any minute. Paddle board sets complete the fun vibe. I pin colorful T-shirts to the side wall facing the bookcase and declare myself satisfied. For now.
Pulling out the notes app on my phone, I type.
Emerald Creek T-shirts
T Shirts with fun stuff: too hot to handle, stay cool at the Creek, etc. (Ask N.)
Branded tumblers
Dog things
Next, I tackle the other window. This one’s theme is porch nightlife.
A rocking chair and a side table with a citronella candle and a romance book.
Different size lanterns on the floor. A light flannel throw in blue and pink plaid for those cool nights.
An old-fashioned cookie box and Mason jar tumblers. A shaker.
All I need now are the final touches—string lights and a trio of electric candles flickering.
I’m ready for my coffee break with Noah when a familiar voice sounds through the store.
“Ms. Willow!” I look up to see my favorite adaptive ski student wheel himself at high speed through the narrow alleys of the store.
“Hey, Zach! What’s up?”
“Mister C said the vacuum cleaners were delivered?”
“Right over here,” Noah says, exiting his office. He pecks my lips and places his hand on the small of my back as we go to the delivery dock. Three white boxes are neatly stacked next to a pallet of leaf blowers.
Zach examines a box, leaning over on his wheelchair, then his fingers fly across his phone screen. “You sure that’s what you want?” he asks Noah as he shows him his phone.
Noah ignores the phone and scratches the back of his neck. “You know me, Zach. Don’t have to repeat myself to you. But uh… Mrs. Callaway thought it’d be a good idea. Lilyvale isn’t exactly a two-minute job.”
“Setting up the vacuum cleaners could be my project,” he tells Noah.
“Any twelve-year old can do that.”
Zach nods. “Oh, hundred percent. Now, hear me out…” he says as Noah shakes his head.
I chuckle quietly. I don’t know what Zach has in mind, but I know his tells.
I saw him convince the program director at the adaptive sports school to let him try his self-made contraption at the park—and by park, I mean the ski slope equipped with ramps and jumps for daredevils—using valid arguments such as his lower center of gravity and four points of friction on the surface.
What we failed to notice was the thing had hydraulic springs that propelled him higher than anyone had ever been.
Of course Zach being Zach had equipped his machine with a camera streaming in real time, so when he face-planted, the entire world went through it live with him.
And when I say the entire world, I mean his parents enjoying a quiet day at the office, who’d gotten a notification on their respective phones, and went through the stomach-churning experience of increasing speed, multiple sightings of the sky, his “fuck-fuck-fuck” mutters, and then a light-gray screen and nothing for agonizingly long seconds.
Then, “I’m aliiiiiive,” something that sounded like laughter and crying, a gloved finger scraping snow off the screen, and Zach’s distorted face saying into the camera, “That was epic. Dad, did you see that? Mom?”
His mom deleted the app from her phone for a little while, and his dad thanked the program director.
So that’s Zach.
“Come on, Mister C. You know what I’m talking about.
These can—and when I say can, that means they absolutely do—send mapping information to the cloud.
Servers that anyone can break into.” He glances at me, hoping I’m as terrified as he makes it out to be.
“Plus the information of other connected household objects. Like, when you turn off your coffee machine and remote-start your car to warm it up from the app on your phone—it can definitely make sense of the information that you’re getting ready to leave the house and it sends it to the cloud which is a very shady place.
And don’t get me started on baby monitors. ”
Noah pushes his glasses up. “I know all that. Now tell me what you have in mind. With all the details this time, please.” Something passes between the two that tells me Zach is just as rogue at the computer as he is on the slopes. I can’t wait to see what he makes of his life.
“We replace the firmware and chips with our own code. I can talk to Mister K about getting their discarded Raspberry Pis or ESP32 boards.” Mister K, aka Ethan, started a cybersecurity firm with some of his fellow ex-Air Force friends and other computer geeks.
He helped with a breach at the high school last year and has been helping mentor the coding club along with Noah.
Noah slaps Zach’s shoulder to signify his agreement. “I’ll need a full project description by tonight. And not just the technical details. But cost and timeline, too, as well as who’ll be on your team.”
Zach starts to protest, but Noah cuts him off.
“This isn’t a one-person job, even though you could probably do it on your own.
But I need this quick, and you have to build your leadership skills if you want to move onto larger projects.
Ask Ethan—Mister K. He’ll tell you all about it.
Actually, see if he’d be your advisor for this project. ”
Zach extends his hand, shaking Noah’s profusely. “Thanks.” Then he turns to me. “You guys are the coolest. We’ll get you the best vacuum cleaners there is.”
We watch him leave, then I say, “Thank you. For Zach, I mean. This is great.”
“He’s a good kid. Gonna drive Ethan crazy,” he says, laughing.
Footsteps on the floorboards bring our attention back to the store.
“Oh hey, Marcy,” Noah says, his tone softer with a hint of hesitation.
“Mom! You came.” Somehow I’m insanely happy about it. Reading my mood, Noah says, “Coffee for you ladies? It’s actually good now.”
Noah pours us fresh coffee and helps Mom with creamers and sweeteners.