Chapter 26
THE BIG, EXUBERANT SPOON
BANKS
Mmm, this is nice. Soft, warm skin. Sheets of silky hair. The first rays of sunlight drifting over our bodies. The last remnants of sleep fading away. Before I open my eyes, I drink in this floaty moment one more time. I breathe in—long and leisurely.
Yeah, this is better than nice. She smells like lavender and vanilla, and fresh laundry, and all my dirty dreams. There were a lot of them. A round-the-clock movie house playing in my brain all night long as she snuggled up against me. Wedged her body to mine. Murmured in the dark.
I burrow my face in the crook of her neck and wrap my arms a little tighter around her. This lovely, sexy, feisty woman is in my bed, out here in a cottage, far away from everyone else. Just us.
Except…whoa.
There’s a tongue on my face.
Lapping me from chin to cheekbone. Then a rattle of tags, and a needy whimper. A thumping tail, a rustle of sheets, then a quiet, “Good morning.”
My eyes fly open.
Fuckity, fuck, fuck, double fuck! I wrench away from Ripley and Hudson. Goddamn bed, goddamn dreams, goddamn hazy morning with this woman too close to me.
“I’ll take the dog out,” I blurt, then bolt out of bed in my boxer briefs and T-shirt and hustle to the door, the dog at my side, and my…
Great. Just great.
My morning wood is pointing the way.
Ripley chuckles from the bed. “Have fun walking him like that.”
“It’s fine,” I mumble, then spin around and head to my suitcase to grab a pair of workout shorts. I tug them on at the speed of sound as Ripley pushes herself up to her elbows, eyeing me with too much amusement.
“You sure it won’t be too hard?” she deadpans. “Walking him and all, I mean?”
“Won’t be,” I say but my dick is a traitor. He won’t stand down. Rude.
“True. If you get lost, though, just use your internal compass. Looks like it’ll point you back.”
I grit my teeth. “Built-in GPS.”
“Handy,” she says with a smile like she’s eating this up. “Just don’t bump into anything. You might break it.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“You do that. Flagpoles can be seriously dangerous.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
I grab the leash from the floor, then open the door. Hudson bounds ahead of me. As he waters a nearby patch of grass, I close my eyes, pretend I’m in yoga class, and find a mantra to deal with this situation.
I am letting go of the things that don’t serve me.
Like this annoying erection. Which, finally, after a few deep breaths, settles the fuck down.
With that matter settled, I leash up the dog and take him for a walk around the property, passing the maze that looks perfect for kids to play in. “You like that maze?”
He pants.
“Bet you know it perfectly,” I say.
As we walk, I flash back to last night in bed with Ripley.
Sometime in the middle of the night, I must have curled up next to her.
Tugged her close. Held her tight. An image flickers before my eyes.
Me roping an arm around her stomach. Her wriggling near to me, her sweet ass pressed against my dick.
I groan audibly as I replay the moment. We can’t keep cuddling each other in our sleep. Cuddling leads to morning wood that needs to be talked down.
I’ll apologize to Ripley when I return, and we’ll agree to move on. I’ll do better tonight. Hell, that shed sounds good right about now.
I reach for my phone to turn on some Brahms to distract me but come up empty in my pocket. Right. I’m the idiot who ran out the door without a phone, without even brushing my teeth.
Gross. Morning breath sucks. I hope I don’t run into anyone I need to talk to.
Like I’ve summoned her, there’s Tabitha coming my way wearing a baseball cap, a tank top, and a pair of running shorts.
She’s racing toward me, arms tucked by her sides in a runner’s stride, legs moving fast. When she nears me, she slows and pops out an earbud.
“How’s it going, Banks? Did you sleep well? ”
Like I was in an OnlyFans waiting room all night long. “Great,” I say, making sure I don’t expose my dragon breath to her.
With a deep sigh, she glances around, gesturing to the long country road stretching in front of her, then to the violet blooms forming a blanket across the property beside me.
“I haven’t slept that well in ages. It must be the quiet out here in a small town.
Not a single siren, or argument on the street, or even traffic at three in the morning.
You know how it is in Los Angeles. There’s always traffic. ”
“Sure is,” I say.
She points toward the fields just past me. “That’s pretty, whatever it is.”
“Grosso,” I say immediately.
She shoots me a quizzical look. “You know the kind of lavender?”
“Well, I’ve been here a few days,” I say, nonchalant. “I picked up a few things.”
Which is true, but I also researched varieties of lavender after Ripley said these were one of her customers’ favorites. I was curious. Or, okay, fine. Maybe I wanted to know more about Ripley and her business. “It’s used for drying and in cooking,” I add.
An eyebrow arches. “Well, if a scene calls for a lavender expert and I can’t find Ripley, I’ll look for you.”
Note to self: shut the fuck up. I don’t want to let on to the producer that I’m too interested in all things related to my client.
“I was just…curious,” I add. I can’t follow my own orders this morning. Jesus, if sleeping next to a beautiful woman turns me into a blabbermouth, that shed is looking better by the minute. “Anyway,” I say, suddenly at a loss for words.
Tabitha’s wristwatch beeps a warning, and she snaps her gaze to it, then closes the alert.
“I’d ask about the other varieties, but I’ll lose my cardio bennies if I don’t take off,” she says, tapping her device.
“Don’t want to lose those bennies. Have a good run,” I say.
She gives a wave, then trots off.
Relieved to see her go, I circle the farm, giving the dog a chance to stretch his morning legs and myself some space from an unexpectedly spoon-y kind of night.
Fifteen or so minutes later, I return to the cottage, the dog bounding to the door.
As I follow, I review the plan. I’ll apologize for my overexuberant spooning, and then we’ll move on.
At least I have the day off, since Marcus, one of my backups, will look out for Ripley.
The space will be good. Hell, it’s necessary.
I jerk open the door and Hudson rushes inside, racing to his favorite person, who’s coming around the corner from the bathroom.
She’s wearing only a towel cinched around her breasts and coming down to her mid-thighs. Her wet hair is sleek against her shoulders, and a drop of water slides down her chest between the valley of her breasts.
So much for the disappearance of my hard-on.
“Oh. I just got out of the shower,” she says, a little flustered.
“I figured as much,” I say dryly. Mostly to cover up the heat flaring in my bones.
“I’ll get out of your way.” She gestures to the bathroom.
I shake my head, waving to the door I just walked through. “No, I’ll get out of your way.”
“Banks, I really don’t want to put you out. You’re my guest. Let me grab my clothes and I’ll change in there.” She scurries over to her suitcase, and I stand stock-still by the door. If I leave, I’ll look like I can’t handle this close proximity.
If I can’t handle this, I can’t handle the job. I’m only three days in. I’ve got to get a handle on this…lust.
“Yeah, no problem,” I say, all cool and casual as I finally move, heading to the couch, looking elsewhere. Looking anywhere but at Ripley. Even when she walks past me again, clutching some clothes to her chest. Those lucky clothes.
Fine, I looked.
Once she’s snicked the door shut to the bathroom, I sink down on the couch, drop my head in my hands, and sigh heavily. “How the hell am I going to make it through the next few weeks?”
The universe doesn’t answer. Nor do I.
A couple minutes later, she emerges, fresh-faced and dressed in a…kill me now.
She’s wearing a sundress.
Also known as the world’s most appealing item of clothing a woman can wear. It’s peach and it swishes against her tanned legs, with little straps that hug her bare shoulders.
“Thanks for taking out the dog,” she says, then heads to the coffeepot, waggling it. “Want coffee?”
“Always,” I say, and as she brews it, I dart into the bathroom to brush my teeth.
As I brush, I check out the vanity. She’s set a few items on it—a vanilla and lavender body mist, a lotion that purportedly smells like satsuma oranges, a small makeup bag with cartoon dogs on it and the words Sorry I’m late, I saw a dog, then a toothbrush.
She’s placed them all neatly on the counter next to my aftershave and deodorant. Their organization is a contrast to how she had them arranged on her own bathroom counter yesterday when she scooped them all up and stuffed them into her overnight bag.
In the shower, she’s set down lavender shampoo. Ah, that explains her twin scents—the lavender is in her hair. The citrus on her body.
When I finish brushing and return to the tiny space we’re sharing, my gaze lands on the coffee table. She’s set a small vase of lavender there, next to the origami bird and fox. There are stacks of brown paper next to it, along with some ribbon. But the flowers catch my eye the most.
“Is that Provence?” I ask as she hands me a mug of hot coffee.
A smile spreads like pure delight on her face. “How did you know?”
“I looked up lavender the other night,” I admit, taking a drink of the morning brew. She does the same with her coffee. When I set down the cup, I lift the vase and sniff the flowers.
“I just grabbed some this morning when you were out. And—spoiler alert: I’m turning this cottage into a workshop today.
I need to prep some big bundles of flowers for an event at the art museum this afternoon.
But don’t worry. Your replacement will take me, and I’ll clean up everything here in the room before I go.
I just thought a vase would be nice in here. ”
They’re a homey touch. A thoughtful one. Like her.
“They are,” I say, inhaling the perfume-y scent, then meeting her eyes and taking a beat before I say, “They’re quite pretty.”
She holds my gaze for a few seconds, then looks down at the flowers. “I love this one,” she says with a contented sigh.
“Is it your favorite?”
She shakes her head. “No, Melissa is.”
That name tickles my brain. “Your password?”
“Yes.”
“I thought it was your mom’s name,” I say, intrigued.
“Her name was Sydney. My dad’s name was Henry. I just always liked Melissa the best. My mom used to cut bouquets of it and put them in my room, and Haven’s,” she says as she takes another inhale, closing her eyes, looking a little lost in a memory. A fond one it seems, but a sad one too.
I want to hug her, but I’m not sure it would lead anywhere good. When she opens her eyes, I say, “I’m sorry about this morning.”
“What do you mean?”
I scrub a hand along my neck. “I got a little too cuddly in bed.”
She rolls her eyes. “We survived.”
Barely. At least, I barely survived. “True,” I say, then take another drink of the coffee as I swing my gaze to her bare arms. I can’t help myself.
With my free hand, I run my fingers down her sparrows, watching as goosebumps rise.
“Why do you have a flock of birds on your arm and Haven has only one?”
“We got them together. Here in town. When we turned eighteen. We both really wanted tattoos, but she wanted to be an actress too, so she didn’t want too many.
As for me, I wanted something that represented freedom and a happy life,” she says, a little sad, but a little hopeful too.
“It was my greatest dream after my parents died. Especially since it was even harder for Haven.”
“Their death?”
“Yes,” she says.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Some people just grieve differently.
So I tried to help her through the dark days.
She had a lot of them, and I tried to take care of her.
” Some people do grieve differently, but I suspect Ripley was resilient in ways she had to be.
“And Haven wanted something that matched mine, so she got one,” she adds.
“They’re beautiful,” I say, my voice a little hoarse as I stare too long at the lovely ink on her arm.
“Thanks,” she says, then nods to my tattoos—the visible ones, at least. Geometric circles and shapes along my right biceps. “And yours?”
It’s natural she’d ask. And while I don’t often share personal stuff, we’re not going to sleep together.
I’m not going to touch her again. I swear I’m not.
The least I can do is be friendly with my client.
Be open. She deserves it, and hell, it’ll make it easier for us to work together.
So as she runs her finger over the lines on my arm, I answer her, meeting her blue eyes.
“The triangles are for ambition, growth, and moving on. Like we all—my mom, sister, and I—had to move on when my parents split up.”
She nods, her gaze thoughtful, open. “I can see that.”
I point to the squares they intersect with. “Those are for a new foundation.”
“After that?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say, then take her hand and set it on a hexagon. “This is for balance.”
She spreads her palm, warm and steady, over it, curling it around my arm. “They’re beautiful too. I love that they mean something important to you.”
“They do,” I say, voice strained, heart beating faster, enjoying her touch too much. “Like I said, it was a real mess when my dad left. We couldn’t stay in town.” My gut twists. That’s enough. I take a steadying breath. “Since I have the day off, I’m going to see my mom and Emily for lunch.”
“Nice,” she says, and I’m almost tempted to invite her.
I nod toward the bathroom instead. “I get a little wound up about things being neat. I’ll try not to be an ass about it though.”
“I can be neat,” she says.
“I saw that you were. And I appreciate it.” I hesitate, not wanting to break the moment. But I should. “I need to…shower.”
“Oh. Of course. Let me just grab my makeup bag.”
“Sure.”
She rushes into the bathroom, and I quickly straighten up the table. When she comes out, her gaze strays to it. “Banks. You didn’t have to.”
I shrug. “I know. I wanted to help.”
“Thank you.”
Then, so I don’t take her into my arms and kiss her like it’s all I’m thinking about, I head to the shower.
I take a speedy one and head off, needing the space so I can make it through another night with her in the same bed.