Chapter 2 #2
“Umm… What?” My mouth suddenly feels a little too dry.
“Sunshine, that’s only a knitted sweater, and you didn’t even put socks on,” he points out, and I lick my lips, immediately feeling his eyes on my mouth. “Sit on the couch and bundle up, I can make you something.”
“Oh!” My eyes widen, and I smile, letting my body lean in closer to his.
There is no mistaking he’s attracted to me.
Not when we are standing this close to one another, and a very thick ridge is poking at my belly.
“I’m okay, big guy. I just, umm, I wanted to make sure you were okay,” I say softly, and I swear a team of butterflies flies in my belly at the sight of his bright blue eyes softening as he looks at me.
They’re warm and soft. Soothing.
“Come here,” he orders, and I blink at him.
But he’s completely unfazed by my momentary lapse as he takes a seat on my old lumpy couch. The thing is ugly and has definitely seen better days but is incredibly comfortable. I stare at him and the way he looks right at home here.
Like he belongs. With me.
My heart hitches slightly even though I know better than to hope.
He’s sexy and strong and right there in my new home.
Maybe it’s the slight chill in the air or the soft dewy glow of the candles burning, but I find myself doing exactly what he asked for.
Sitting down, my hand still in his, I take a seat right next to him.
So close our thighs touch and I can feel his warmth seep into me.
The man is like a living, breathing furnace, and lucky me, I get to get toasty by him.
My body trembles at the small contact. How long has it been since I’ve been around someone like this? Too long, if ever, a voice perks up and says in the back of my mind.
“You’re cold,” he mutters, wrapping his arm around me and covering me with an old, knitted blanket I found and fell in love with at a thrift store.
I bought it for my mom for a Mother’s Day one year.
The way she fawned over it, you would have thought I made it with my own hands.
But that was my mom. Sweet and loving, so completely grateful for every little thing she had in her life.
Especially me. I might not have known my dad, and I might not have known our extended family, but I never felt the loss of that.
She was everything I ever needed. And she is gone.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, and I smile softly at him, shaking my head.
“Nothing.”
“You look sad. Do you want me to go?” he asks, and my smile widens.
“Not even a little bit,” I admit honestly. It’s probably a little too much, but that’s the way I’ve always been.
“I can’t figure you out,” he complains, and I giggle.
“Why do you want to?” I ask, and his thick manly brows bunch up closer.
“What?” His scowl grows, and I don’t know why I giggle harder. There is something about his reactions. Getting one at all makes me, I don’t know, feel weirdly at ease around him.
“Big guy, half the time, I don’t know if you like me or hate me.” He opens and quickly shuts his mouth as he looks around. His hand at my shoulder still stroking my skin, infusing me with his touch and body heat.
“How do you like Moonlit Pines?” he finally breaks the silence, and I sigh, sitting back a little, putting just a smidge of space between us as I cuddle into the blanket.
I need it.
Not because I don’t like being close to him, but his change of subject is an answer even if he didn’t say it out loud.
My beautiful mom taught me two huge lessons.
First, when a person shows you who they are, believe them the first time.
And two, if someone tells you you’re too much, that means they’re basic and to never, ever dilute who I was so that I’d be more soluble for them.
Because when you start to do that, you lose track of who you are.
“I love it here,” I answer, curling my knees up, “It’s so different from the desert.”
“I bet,” he mutters, and I have a very big urge to roll my eyes at him. The desert city might have a bad wrap sometimes, and sometimes it’s crazy. Traffic, pollution, overpopulation. But it was home.
“Have you ever been?” I ask, feeling my defensive side start to rise.
“A couple of times.” His answer surprises me.
“Did you like it?” I find myself asking, completely intrigued. Like I usually am when it comes to Reed.
“At the time? I did,” he admits, and I can feel my lips start to quirk upward.
“But now, at my age and after all the…” He clears his throat, and I have a distinct feeling he was going to cuss but stopped himself.
It’s cute he would watch his mouth around me.
If he only knew I have a mouth that would make a sailor blush.
“After coming home from Afghanistan, I just…” He pauses, and my heart feels like it skips a beat as he confirms my suspicion of him having been in the military.
“I wanted to come home,” he shares, and I find my hand reaching for his.
That small amount of space I put between us all too quickly disappearing.
“You were in the military?” I ask even though he all but confirmed it.
“I was.” He nods. “Army. Twelve years,” he clarifies, and I lick my lips thinking about what he would look like in a uniform.
I should probably steer clear of that train of thought. Last time I checked, my battery-operated boyfriend hasn’t been charged, and that would just leave me upstream without a paddle.
“That’s a long time,” I note, hoping to God he can’t read my dirty mind. Thankfully, he just nods. His thick thumb strokes the top of my hand when suddenly, it hits me. “Oh my god!” I jump up, and he frowns standing up, too, his hands on my shoulders.
“What is it?” He searches my face as I chew on my lower lip. There I go, being overly dramatic again.
“I didn’t ask if you wanted something to drink!” I exclaim, and a brow goes up. “My mom would be so mad. You’re my guest. My only guest! You’re the only one I’ve had over here! Can I get you something? Water or—" His fingers come up and rest against my mouth.
“Breathe, sunshine,” he orders calmly, and I find myself doing exactly that.
I breathe in deeply. His woodsy masculine scent fills my lungs, and I wonder what kind of cologne he wears.
I want to buy a bottle and spray my pillows so I can smell it on my way to sleep.
“I’m good. I brought us a drink. Something to stay warm and some banana bread to keep the buzz off. That sound okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.” We sit down, and he leans over toward the table, letting me have a moment to watch him without being completely obvious.
He’s in shape.
Like crazy in shape. The muscles seem to mold to the thermal long-sleeve shirt he’s wearing. His hair is in a man bun at the crown of his head. He pours us two glasses and hands me one.
“To snowstorms and power outages.” He raises his glass, and I do the same.
I sip the liquid. It warms me up from the inside out, and when I look up to look at him, I notice his eyes are already on me. He hands me a slice of the bread, and I look at it with wide eyes.
“Does it have walnuts?” I ask, and he freezes.
“It does. Shit! Are you allergic?” His breathing is slow, like he’s trying not to freak out.
I place my free hand on top of his thick muscular thigh and shake my head slowly.
I’m kind of worried he’s just a figment of my imagination because he just seems to get better and better with every moment I spend with him.
This huge, burly man I can’t read seems like he might maybe care right then. Of course, he does, you idiot. There is a power outage, and he probably doesn’t know if you have Benadryl!
“No, not at all.” I smile and dance in my seat as I take a bite.
“I love banana nut bread. The mild sweetness and nutty crunch.” I bite and chew the yummy goodness of the best banana bread I’ve ever tasted comes to life on my tongue.
“Mmm.” My eyes close, and I sway my head back and forth, completely enjoying the delicious treat.
It’s so good I do a little dance in my seat, and when I open my eyes and look in his direction, his light eyes are right on mine.
Again. Like he hasn’t looked anywhere else.
His nose flares, and I feel heat prickle at the back of my neck.
“This is the best banana bread ever,” I say softly. My dancing slows down, and I notice he scowls. Maybe I am too much?
“Come here,” his deep voice orders, and before I can ask where he wants me, he puts me there.
Right.
On.
His.
Lap.
Talk about the best seat in the house! Wow!
Being me, I have no choice but to wrap one arm around his neck and rest the other on the hard planes of his chest as I curl into him.
We sit there for a moment, my head resting on his shoulder, in the quiet silence of my new home.
Warm and happy, I let myself enjoy the moment.
I realize the quiet of night doesn’t seem as overwhelming as it usually does.
Being in Moonlit Pines is amazing.
I love everything it has to offer. The fresh air and natural beauty and kind people.
But the nights are a little hard to adjust to.
Every night, the silence feels scary in an eerily, almost all-consuming way.
Reminding me over and over, with every second that ticks away, of just how alone I am in the world.
It’s why I play music loudly and why I sing at the top of my lungs, sure no one can hear me, but at least my own voice is sound, and I’m not drowning in the quiet.
But right here, on his lap, cuddled up, as his heartbeat thumps away steadily beneath my ear, I’m finding that with him, I don’t mind the quiet so much.