Chapter 10
Hattie
I told Rowan he needed to focus on the brewery, but I'd grown used to his evening visits. He'd hang out inside the truck, talking or helping me clean up. I enjoyed his company.
Now he was working longer hours, and I rarely saw him. During the day, the guys were getting the space ready to open, and in the evening, he met with Beck to review projections and the plans for the grand opening.
I wasn't involved in any of it, and I felt lonely. I was getting to know him, but now I was by myself. He wasn't home to cook dinner, so I'd tried to take over that role, preparing a covered dish for him and keeping it in the fridge with a Post-it just like he'd done for me on many occasions.
Every morning, the plate was in the dishwasher. But there wasn't a corresponding note of thanks. I missed him, which was ridiculous because the whole purpose of pushing him away was to spend less time with him.
I'd wanted him to take a step back from our fake relationship, but now I regretted that decision. When the brewery opened, we'd stage our breakup and go our separate ways. There wouldn't be any more making meals together or late-night talks about our dreams.
Business was picking up between the holiday shopping season and the opening date for the brewery quickly approaching.
I wanted him to focus on the brewery. Malcolm didn't want Rowan hanging out with me, and I didn't want to come between him and his family. So I shouldn't even be thinking how it felt to be in his cabin without him.
His life seemed perfect. He had the support of his family while he opened his dream business. Whereas I couldn't even live in my apartment, and my only mode of transportation was a food truck.
My family had fallen apart, and no matter how much I tried to keep things together, it hadn't worked. My mom was depressed and couldn't move on. I was worried that my business wouldn’t be successful.
Every time I fell into bed, I thought about the store I wanted to open.
A storefront with the sign on the window, Hattie's Hot Cocoa.
I could see the twinkling lights on the awning, the gleaming wood countertops and inviting tables and chairs in the dining room.
People would be excited to stop in for one of my sweet drinks.
Then my mind drifted to Rowan and how it felt when he kissed me in my truck. How I'd felt like a desirable woman. He held me with such care, and he devoted his entire being to making me feel good. I wanted more of that singular focus, but I had no right to ask for it.
This arrangement was temporary. I wasn't supposed to ask my fake fiancé to kiss me again for real.
Every night, I went to bed feeling restless. I wanted Rowan to touch me again.
Tonight, there was supposed to be a big storm, so I knew I'd wake up to the sound of Rowan's plow clearing the snow for my truck. That had to be enough.
The wind gusted against the windows, and I snuggled deeper into the blankets. I listened for the sound of Rowan coming home, but I must have fallen asleep. The next thing I knew, the house was dark and quiet.
The wind still howled outside, rattling the windowpanes, but inside, it was eerily silent. I heard footsteps in the hallway and tensed.
It had to be Rowan. I didn't have anything to be scared of. I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and swung my legs out of bed. I tiptoed across the hardwood floor and stood by the door.
When it creaked open, I moved my hand in front of my mouth so I wouldn't scream.
"Hattie?" Rowan whispered.
Relief flooded through my body, and I launched myself at him. I couldn't see him, other than a dark shadow in the doorway, but I knew he'd catch me.
His arms came around me as he held me tight. His mouth close to my ear, he said, "The power is out. I don't have a generator. I should have gotten one, but with everything going on at the brewery, I haven't had time to worry about the cabin."
"It's okay." He was holding me against his body, and my head was tucked under his chin. This is what I'd been dreaming about every night since I'd moved in.
"You want to sleep downstairs in front of the fire?"
I didn't want him to let me go or move away, but I forced myself to back up. "Okay."
"I'll meet you downstairs. Use the flashlight on your phone and holler if you need me."
I wanted to tell him to stay, but that wasn't me. I was independent. I didn't need to rely on anyone else.
I had to remember what this was, and it wasn't a real relationship. If I grew too dependent on him, it would be harder to leave.
He moved down the hall, and I turned on the flashlight, gathering up a few blankets and a pillow and taking them downstairs.
He was already in front of the fireplace, stoking the small fire he'd started. I placed my things on the couch and sat down.
He turned and looked at me. "Here. Take this."
He tossed me one of his hoodies. It was cold in here, so I pulled it over my head, reveling at the smell of him.
The sleeves fell over my hands, so I pushed them higher.
"I have some hot chocolate I brought home at the end of the night.
It's in a thermos so should still be warm. Would you like some?"
"I'd love some," he said.
I got up and padded to the kitchen. It was drafty in there already. The power must have been out for a while. I poured the contents of the thermos into two mugs, added marshmallows, candy-cane shavings, and whipped cream, then returned to the living room.
The fire was burning now, and Rowan was standing by one of the large windows staring outside.
The long-sleeve T stretched tight over his broad shoulders and tapered to a trim waist. His low-slung sweats clung to his ass and his powerful thighs.
I was having thoughts about approaching him from behind and wrapping my arms around his middle.
Would he cover my hands with his, or would he turn around so that he was facing me and cup my jaw? I'd like to think he'd kiss me. "Can you even see anything right now?"
He chuckled as he moved away. "Not really. Everything is dark."
I sat on the couch, curling my legs underneath me.
He settled next to me, accepting the warm mug. "Is this hot cocoa with the works?"
"The sweeter the better," I agreed.
He sipped the hot cocoa and sighed. "It's good. Really good."
I rested my head against the cushions. "I'm glad you like it."
He reached over and touched my stocking feet.
Everything inside me stilled. Was he touching me to comfort me, or was it a precursor to something else? I had to reel in my expectations, because he was not making a move.
"I like everything about you, Hattie."
I swallowed around the thickness in my throat. "What are you saying? That we're friends?"
He set his mug down and then reached for mine, doing the same. Then he shifted so that he faced me. "When I said you were my fiancée to the reporter, I had an ulterior motive."
"What are you talking about?"
"I always wondered why we stopped being friends."
"Oh, well—" I broke off, not sure what to tell him. The truth wasn't the right move. Not in this situation.
"I thought if we spent more time together, you'd confide in me, and I'd finally get closure. I always wondered what I'd done to ruin our friendship."
"You didn't do anything," I scrambled to assure him.
"Now I think it had something to do with your father. Maybe you just found out about his addiction and didn't want to involve me?"
I sighed. "You always saw too much. I knew you'd know what was going on and start asking questions. You'd want to be involved."
"Of course I'd want to support you. Why was that a bad thing?"
"I'm sure it's not for most people. But I was ashamed. No one else I knew had a dad who came home drunk. I didn't even know where he was, when or if he was coming home some nights. It was scary."
He tugged me toward him, and I fell into his lap. I didn't want to talk about my dad or feel any of the familiar shame that was rising to the surface. Instead, I shifted so that I was straddling his hips, and his hand dived into my hair.
Everything felt like it was too much. I'd shared my most vulnerable feelings with him. I wanted to forget about it.
He was hard underneath me, and it ignited a deep burning desire that I didn't even know I had for him. I ground over him, and he pulled me down so that he could kiss me.
My lips parted on a gasp, and he took advantage, his tongue diving into my mouth. I couldn't seem to get close enough to him. And even with the cold air, I was hot. I broke away to pull the sweatshirt over my head, leaving me in a tank top.
His hands slipped under my shirt, and I lifted it to throw it somewhere. Now my breasts were bared to him, and he looked up at me as if he was awed that we were in this position. "I didn't mean for this to happen tonight."
"But you wanted this. You want me."
"Yes," he said as I kissed him this time, wanting to hold onto the fact that he desired me. That he probably had for a while. I thought we were just friends, but maybe we were something more all along, and it took the fake relationship to bring us together again.
I didn't care about the specifics. I just wanted to feel him everywhere. He moved to suck on my nipple, and my fingers tangled in the hair at the back of his neck. His teeth scraped my breast, and I trembled.
His cock was growing longer and harder. I wanted to feel him. I scrambled off the couch and tugged on his sweats. He lifted his hips so that I could pull them down. Then he pulled the shirt over his head.
I settled on my knees, and he widened his legs to accommodate me.
"Hattie." My name was rough on his tongue, and I loved it.
I licked the tip of his cock, tasting the saltiness.
His eyes were intent on me.
Then I sucked him into my mouth while I gripped him with my hand.
His skin was hot to the touch.
Despite the cold, I felt like I was on fire. The need grew inside me as I alternated licking and sucking him deep.
With a groan, he lifted me onto the couch and lowered himself over me, his cock nudging my entrance.
I whimpered at the contact and moved my hips to invite him closer, but instead, he kissed me, then moved down my body, sucking one nipple, then the other. He kissed down my stomach and shifted his shoulders between my legs.
I let one leg drop to the floor to accommodate him.
He parted my folds and licked me. My brain short-circuited. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been this intimate with anyone. I was usually too tired to even think about dating.
But it was different with Rowan. I'd shared more with him than anyone else, and he was still here. He cared about me.
And right now, he was doing something with his tongue that had my toes curling. His tongue circled my clit, and I cried out. The orgasm washed over me in waves of intense pleasure.
"I need to grab a condom," he said roughly.
"Hurry," I urged, practically pushing him away.
He didn't waste any time, getting off the couch and walking out of the room. I heard his tread on the steps and the opening of a drawer somewhere upstairs.
I was pulsing with need. I wanted him inside me.
Rowan was gone long enough for me to rethink everything. I was having sex with my childhood friend, the one person I should keep my distance from. Yet I couldn't bring myself to grab my clothes and tell Rowan this was a mistake.
Instead, my entire body was vibrating with anticipation. I wanted this with him. I didn't think there'd be any consequences because this was supposed to be fake. I just needed to keep emotions out of it.
A few seconds later, he was coming down the stairs and into the room.
He rested a knee on the couch, smoothing the condom over his dick.
Every part of his body was hard. I ran my hands over his chest, and he moved between my legs.
He gripped his cock at my entrance, and I let my legs fall open for him.
"You're so beautiful, waiting for me like this."
"I want you, Rowan."
His cock nudged my entrance, and he slid inside.
It was a tight fit, but he moved slowly, allowing me to adjust before shifting deeper. He braced his hands on either side of my head, lowering his body over mine as he began a slow glide.
I bit my lip against the rising sensations in my body. Somehow, another orgasm was building.
He kissed me, murmuring between kisses that I was beautiful, that he couldn't believe I was here with him. It was sweet, and the words threatened to crack my heart wide open.
I had to focus on the way he was making me feel physically instead of emotionally. I needed to compartmentalize this thing with him, or I was going to be in danger of falling for him, and I couldn't afford to do that.
He lifted my leg so that he could get a better angle, and in this position, he was hitting something deep inside me that I'd never felt before.
I whimpered, and he said, "Let go. I've got you."
Sweat broke out on my forehead as he continued to thrust, sending me over the edge again. This time, I shattered, my body trembling underneath his.
"You're so gorgeous when you come on my cock."
His words sent another aftershock through my body.
He thrust once more and settled deep, groaning as he gave into his release. I felt him deep inside me, and I never wanted to let go of this feeling. I felt close to him, his skin warm.
He rested his forehead on mine, and my heart thrummed with an emotion I couldn't name. And then he moved, taking care of the condom and grabbing the blanket. He covered us and curled behind me. He kissed my shoulder. "Sleep."
It was the permission I needed to turn off my brain and the swell of emotion in my chest, to close my eyes. I easily fell asleep against his chest.
I swear I heard him say, "Finally," but that didn't make any sense. What did it mean?