Chapter 10 #2
The shotgun gives her a wider berth of accuracy, even if the positioning is tricky.
He gets behind her to lift her arm and tug her shoulders back.
All easy enough, except for the part where she smells so damn good.
All they got is old slivers of green soap at the house, but he may as well be in a Disney movie on a summer day when that scent wafts up his nose.
“Whenever you’re ready,” his words come out weird and strangled like he forgot how to speak.
There’s a hint of a smirk on her lips that he can see from the corner of his eye. It vanishes when she pulls the trigger, and the kickback pushes her into him.
He should have given her some space. He’s crowding her. Why didn’t he move away?
Reflex lands the palm of his hand on her hip to brace. He freezes at the slightly intimate contact, unsure of what to do or say. He missed his window of opportunity to back up without making it weird. Now he’s stuck, plastered to her without an exit strategy.
Can’t think of anything except how soft her shirt is where he’s touching her and the warmth seeping through the fabric. This isn’t appropriate, but here they stand, motionless as if time stopped and welded their options shut.
The machine in the background whizzes and whirls, Addison’s breathing grows faster, and her breasts heave in his periphery. Alarm bells go off in his head as his dick begins to perk up, betraying him.
Panic flares, and he forces himself backward. He doesn’t look where he’s stepping and trips on a box, letting out a squeak before landing square on his ass.
“Are you okay?”
“I’ll live,” he groans, lying there like this is his permanent resting place.
“Are you gonna get up?”
“Nope,” he deadpans.
She smiles, holding out a hand and helping him to his feet.
He’s never blushed so hard in his life. His brain imploded the moment her ass pushed against his crotch and hasn’t recovered yet.
“It’s got some thrust to it.” She palms the shotgun with a straight face that leaves him uncertain if she’s fucking with him or not.
She doesn’t seem the type to tease, but the way she’s stroking the barrel with her fist can’t be an accident.
Then, her neutral stare cracks while her whole face glitters with mischief, blowing her cover.
“Shit,” he scowls.
Apparently, she’s exactly the type to tease, and he just didn’t realize it until now.
It’s only then that they become aware of Emma staring at them from across the room. Algebra may as well be floating above her head like she’s trying to figure out a math puzzle.
He’s overcome by the feeling of being caught, even though they hadn’t done anything wrong. He was clumsy, and she helped him up. That’s all, but he still fidgets without reason.
Emma points to the screen exploding in fireworks. “I got all the ducks.”
* * *
“You’re good with her,” Addison finds him in the kitchen once Emma is asleep.
“I’m not. She was crying back there ‘cause I’m an asshole.”
“She knows the difference between someone who’s angry with her and someone trying to help.
She isn’t used to this yet, but she will be.
Going easy on her won’t save her life later.
” She grabs a potato chip from his offered bag.
“Momma, he said I did a good job. It was all she could talk about tonight. It took me forever to get her to sleep. You’re better at this than you think. ”
He figured Emma tolerated him at best or was afraid of him at worst, so it’s surprising that she values his opinion at all.
“She’ll be a good shot soon. So will you.” He deflects, remembering how easily Addison nailed the headshots after only a few tries. “Already are.”
“You don’t have to go easy on me either.”
“Do I look like the type who says shit I don’t mean?”
“No.” She palms her cup, sending him a few glances that make him think she’s working up to something. “I saw a sign for the library on our way back. Can we go there?”
“Looking for something specific?”
“A few romance novels.”
He raises an unimpressed brow at her answer until she confesses the truth.
“I need every book not nailed down about how to birth a baby.”
“You don’t…I mean, haven’t you…didn’t you already…” he gives up, while she watches him with a hint of amusement.
“Yes, I already had one a long time ago, but Emma was a C-section. They found the cord wrapped around her neck and got her out two weeks early.”
“Damn. I thought hospitals were forbidden in the sect.”
“They are. I’d been in pain for days. My parents knew I’d die, and they persuaded our elders to let them take me.”
“Your husband didn’t do any persuading?”
“No. He fought against it. Said that nature needed to take its course. That we had no right to interfere.”
“What a fucking asshole.”
She wasn’t kidding about fate trying to snatch that child away right from the start.
“I’m feeling like I should use the time I’ve got left to be more prepared. Unless you have experience delivering babies that I should be aware of?”
“Oh, sure, plenty.”
She stares at him like he’s full of shit.
“Okay, never,” he admits. “I did pull out a calf once at a dairy farm. Does that count?”
Her nose scrunches with a wrinkle. “No.”
“Fair enough.” He is not delivering this baby. Not a chance in hell. She’ll leave before then, or he will. The concept of playing midwife himself doesn’t compute, so he refuses to consider it. “We’ll find all the books. Don’t worry.”
He’s telling her not to worry, but he’s worried as fuck knowing she’s flying as blind as he is.
This also serves as a stark reminder that he never intended to stay here beyond a month. This place, this life, none of it was meant for him. He is only an intruder here, and he needs to get back to his plane and find his own patch of land that isn’t already inhabited.
When he was fresh off the terror of his fever, he only welcomed the concept of the three of them sticking together.
Liked how it felt when she assumed he’d be there when the baby came, and that he would be part of her story somehow.
Now that he’s lucid again, he knows he can’t stay.
She’ll be the first to kick him out with her newly booted foot on his ass the moment she finds out the truth, anyway.
He doesn’t want to abandon them, though, not after her husband did the same.
Not after everything they’ve been through.
He wonders if she might agree to leave this place with him, but nixes that idea for now. Too afraid she’d say no, and even more afraid she might say yes. Then it would be up to him to find a safer place for this baby to be born. That’s a weight he ain’t prepared for.
“Sorry.” She shakes her head with a self-deprecating smile. “I worry, it’s what I do. I shouldn’t be dropping this on you.”
One hand covers her belly that hasn’t grown at all since he met her.
He nods toward her stomach. “Still a peanut?”
“Maybe even smaller. They don’t grow fast. She’ll be a peanut for a while.”
“Moving yet?” He is so curious about this whole situation. Couldn’t explain why beyond Addison being the first pregnant woman he’s met up close. “No, that’s too soon, right?”
“Much too soon. Though I could swear there’s already a bowling ball on my bladder.”
“So that’s why you get up to pee ten times a night,” he scowls.
She gasps in fake offense. “You try having a watermelon on your bladder and see how fun that is.”
“Went from peanut to watermelon real quick just now.”
She nods toward a bowl of plastic fruit on the counter, covered in dust. “Keep it up, and I’ll throw an orange at you.”
“Is this one of those mood swings I’ve heard about?” he teases.
Her eyes flare, and she reaches toward the counter.
“Okay, okay. I’m done,” he snickers, holding his hands up.
She leans back against her chair with a sigh. “Think they have morphine at the library?”
“This is the boondocks, probably got LSD and Molly in there too. Get you trippin’ just right. That baby will slide out without you feeling a thing.”
“Mix it with some of those pills in your stash, and I won’t even remember my own name, let alone that I had a baby at all.”
He nods. “Are you sure you aren’t from here? Pretty sure half the population in this town was born that way.”
Addison laughs, and the candlelight glints off her shiny hair, forcing him to go slack-jawed before he can control his own face.
She starts telling him a story, smiling and gesturing wildly, but all he hears is the Charlie Brown teacher muffled in the background because he’s too distracted by how beautiful she is.
Calling her pretty when he was hallucinating was one of the few things he’d said clear-minded.
He’s been able to ignore it for the most part, but lately, it’s become difficult.
He sits at the table across from her, nodding like he’s paying attention, but mesmerized by the freckles dotting her skin.
“And then a T-Rex ate him, and they lived happily ever after,” she finishes.
He squints. “Wait, what?”
“Where did you go just now?”
“Sorry.” He runs a hand across his face, internally scolding himself.
When he looks up again, she’s watching him with that same algebra floating above her head that the kid had at the shooting range. Then something seems to click because she looks away, suddenly shy.
She may have figured something out, but he’s still clueless as ever.
It’s not until he’s in bed later that night that his confusion starts manifesting in a new way. He can’t stop thinking about Addison.
Granted, this has gradually become a problem before tonight, but this time, he’s bombarded with a truckload of mental images he can’t shake.
The way she smiled at the table. Soft and sweet, like the extra sugar in her tea.
How soft her skin was when he brushed against her at the range.
That backlit, golden shimmer in her hair from a candle flame.
It’s innocent at first, but the more he tries to think of anything else, the more his thoughts stray into unfamiliar, x-rated territory.
And that’s right around the time he realizes he’s very attracted to her.
Doesn’t need this bullshit swimming around in his head.
She deserves better than him having dirty fantasies about her.
And yet, his brain won’t listen. It twists and turns and crooks a finger to pull him closer, whispering that what he imagines doesn’t mean anything and can’t hurt anyone.
He’s confused and horrified by his own reaction.
Sure, he was attracted to his ex-wife until she broke his heart and then trampled the pieces.
He’s jerked off to porn a few times since then.
He’s not dead yet, but his imagination has never run this wild, not even for the woman he was married to.
It’s got his head spinning, trying to think of any number of disgusting things to turn off this unexpected attraction.
What if it never goes away? Is he expected to live with it for the rest of his life? How does anyone function like this? He’d do just about anything at the moment to make it stop, but his cock must be purple by now, and nothing works.
He grabs a pillow and shoves it over his face, hoping the lack of oxygen will calm down his crotch.
It doesn’t.
Cold shower. That’s it. He flings the covers off himself and rushes into the bathroom to run ice-cold water. Jumps in without hesitation, shivering and cursing under the spray as his cock bobs in the frozen tundra.
It would be warmer in here if she were with him….
Shit. Fuck. No. Stop thinking about her, he begs himself, but it’s no use.
Maybe just once won’t matter, he reasons. He can get her out of his system by embracing…whatever the hell is going on, and then it’ll be over. He hasn’t come in forever, not since before he met her. He’s all backed up, and it’s fucking with his brain. That’s the only logical conclusion.
It has nothing to do with her. It can’t.
Only takes a dozen strokes, combined with the mental image of Addison saying that gun has a lot of thrust, to have him spilling all over his hand.
He leans his forehead against the tile, wanting to cry.
This is bad. This is very bad. He thought of her when he came, which made it impossible to pretend it wasn’t about her. Not only that, but instead of fixing the problem, it may have made it worse since she’s still in his head.
He’s starting to scare himself. Doesn’t know how to handle all these new feelings he’s never experienced, and fears his affliction could be permanent.
She is his only friend. She’ll never want him like this, and even if by some miracle she could, he would never be enough for anyone. Especially not her.
Wyatt gets out of the shower, dries off, and puts his clothes back on, only to narrowly avoid running smack into her in the hall.
“Hey.” Why did he say that? One word feels like a confession of all his sins.
She smiles, pointing to the bathroom he just left. “Hey. You know where I’m going…”
He nods, the two of them stuck in a weird pause in the middle of the hall.
She ducks her head, looking up at him through long lashes. “Okay, goodnight…”
“Yeah. Okay. ‘Night.”
She disappears into the bathroom and shuts the door, and he beelines to his room again, running through that brief interaction a dozen times and regretting what few words he said, certain she saw what he did written all over his face.
He can’t slip again. She can never know.