Chapter 5
Joelle
I don’t remember standing up. I don’t remember moving from the bench. One second, I’m leaking and flushed and desperate, and the next I’m empty and floating somewhere outside my body, nipples tingling, thighs trembling, pussy throbbing, my breathing slow and shallow.
Wade doesn’t touch me or reach for his belt or make a move like he’s owed anything at all.
He looks at me like he knew I’d come apart like that. Like he’s seen it before. I can’t believe what I did. Mortified, I focus on the floor.
“You alright, pretty girl?” he asks, voice low.
I nod because I don’t trust my mouth yet.
There’s a long silence while he studies me. Then he turns and pulls a laundry basket from beside the doorway. He digs through the folded clothes for a moment, then holds up a black T-shirt that’s soft and faded, but clean.
“Take off your shirt.”
I slip it from my arms along with my ruined bra, not bothering to cover myself. He’s seen and touched it all.
“Arms up,” he says.
I do what he asks without thinking.
He slips the shirt over my head, guiding my arms through like I’m a child. The cotton is warm, smelling like soap and sun, and drapes low enough to hide everything.
“Better?” he asks.
I swallow. “Yeah.”
My voice still sounds wrecked. I ball up my bra and shirt and leave it on the bench.
“Good.” He nods, then jerks his head toward the door. “C’mon. Let me show you the rest.”
I follow him, breasts loose, my brain still ten miles behind my body.
What the hell just happened?
Wade didn’t force me. Not even close. He asked. And I said yes, then I orgasmed like a desperate, needy freak.
It was like something bypassed my brain entirely, like my body decided, this man knows what to do, let him handle it.
And he did.
I feel lighter now. Clearer. My skin tingles and my chest no longer aches.
My whole body’s loose and warm like I had really good sex.
Not that I’d actually know what that’s like.
The one time I had sex, I didn’t have an orgasm.
My baby’s dad left me wet and still wanting, disappearing when I asked if we should swap numbers so we could see each other again.
He saw me again, once, when I was pregnant, but turned his back before I could say anything.
What must Wade think of me? A walking disaster. A clueless woman who almost made herself sick through ignorance of her own body. A woman who orgasmed with a man when all he was doing was trying to help her out with a problem.
It’s so embarrassing.
But Wade doesn’t seem to care about any of it, and I know I’m messed in the head because I want it again.
That feeling, of climbing to the highest peak and tumbling into warm water while stars spin above me, is addictive.
The blissed-out expression on his face, knowing he was feeding from me and enjoying it, is addictive.
There’s no missing the still-present bulge in his jeans.
We step out onto the porch, and I blink against the sudden brightness. The air smells like turned dirt and hay.
Wade points across the property to chicken coops, a small stable, a vast stretch of pasture, and a fence line that runs out of sight.
“We breed cattle, break horses, board a few now and then for money. Lotta upkeep. Lotta hard work.” He looks at me again. “You willing to get your hands dirty?”
I nod. “I didn’t come out here to sit on my ass.”
That gets the first real smile out of him.
We circle around the back of the house, and that’s when I see the three men, spaced out along the paddock, mending a post line. All shirtless. All sweat-slick and muscled in ways that only come from real labor.
Wade raises his voice.
“Come meet the new help!”
They straighten, one by one, serious eyes curious and appraising.
The youngest is lanky, in his early twenties, with dark curls, wide eyes, full lips, and a jaw that could cut glass.
If he were born anywhere else, he could have walked the runway, but in cowboy country, there’s only one line of work.
The biggest is heavy built, chewing a toothpick and squinting into the sun.
The third is Wade’s double, if a little leaner, with swirling tattoos up his strong right forearm, and laugh lines that hint at humor.
They walk over as Wade says, “Joelle, this here’s Eli, Rick, and you know Caleb. They keep this place running with me.”
Eli nods, smirking like he heard a joke I didn’t. Rick does the same, his dark eyes watchful. “Ma’am,” he says, his voice like charred oak. Caleb sweeps over the oversized shirt that he might recognize, and my loose breasts. Maybe it’s his shirt. The thought makes me flush.
I cross my arms again, but all it does is draw their attention to my chest.
“She’s here on a trial basis,” Wade adds, as if he hasn’t already made up his damn mind. “We’ll see if she can handle what’s required… if she fits.”
The way he says fits makes my stomach twist. It carries different connotations now than when he first said it.
After Wade finishes the introductions, he wanders off with Eli and Rick, listing jobs that need to be tackled while Caleb lingers.
He was always the quieter twin. The one with a book in his hand or his eyes on the horizon. But he walks beside me as I drift toward the edge of the porch, our feet scuffing against the warped boards.
“You left right after Dad died,” he says without looking at me.
“I was a kid,” I say quietly. “And Mom… well, she didn’t want to stay where she wasn’t wanted.”
He gives a soft snort. “She wasn’t.”
The silence stretches. The chickens cluck somewhere behind the barn, and a breeze rustles through the long grass, lifting the edge of the shirt I’m wearing. Is it Wade’s or Caleb’s? What must Caleb be thinking about me already wearing their clothes?
“Where did you go?” he asks.
“I finished high school. Got a job. Met a man who wasn’t worth the trouble. Got pregnant. Everything got real, fast.”
Caleb finally looks at me. His eyes are still that same calm gray, but the boy I remember is gone. The man who stands in his place is taller, still lean but broader across the shoulders. Strong in the same quiet way I remember.
“And your mom?”
“She got remarried. Wasn’t eager to help me with motherhood.”
“You look like you’ve been through hell,” he says gently.
“It’s not easy being a single parent,” I admit. “But I’m still standing.”
He nods, as if that tells him everything he needed to hear. “We all carry shit, Joelle. No one here’s gonna judge you for doing what it takes.”
I want to believe him. I want to believe I’m not just a burden with stretch marks and a sob story, and breasts that need draining. That this place could be more than a stopover.
“You think you’ll stay this time?” he asks.
I glance toward the barn where the others disappeared, back to the kitchen where Wade kneeled with milk on his lips like it was all in a day’s work.
“I don’t know yet,” I say honestly. “But I need stability for my son. It’s going to be up to you guys if we can make it work.”
Caleb tips his head in a slow, understanding nod. “Do what Wade asks, and you’ll be fine.”
I nod, wondering where Wade’s head is now that he’s suckled me and seen me come.
It’s not exactly the ideal way to start a new job.
I guess I’ll have to work three times as hard to make sure he sees my professional potential because I can’t stay here for anything else.
I might be desperate but I’m not that kind of girl.
“It’s good to see you again, Joelle,” Caleb says, tipping his hat. I watch him walk away, already worrying how he’ll react when he finds out I named my son after him. Or worse, that his brother already had my nipples in his mouth and I’ve only been here thirty damned minutes.