Chapter 8
Molten
Her car was in his driveway.
Relief and panic hit him in equal measure. She'd come. All day, while repairing a broken furnace at the apartment complex on Mill Street, he'd been bracing himself for the possibility that she wouldn't show up. That yesterday had been too much, that he'd pushed her away for good.
But here she was.
Wayne bypassed the house entirely and headed straight for the barn. The doors were locked—she was here, but not inside. Then he heard it: the soft creak of rope, the whisper of leaves being disturbed.
He rounded the corner and stopped.
Jess sat on the old tire swing hanging from the massive live oak, swaying gently, her face tilted up toward the dappled sunlight filtering through the branches. Her feet dragged lazily through the fallen leaves with each pass.
She wasn't waiting because she couldn't get in.
She was waiting for him.
Wayne wanted her so much it hurt. Even just watching her, swinging peacefully, contently, was better than her staying away.
As he walked toward her, his boots crunched on the leaves. At the sound, Jess looked over and smiled—warm and easy, like nothing had happened.
“Hey!” She hopped off the swing and headed toward the barn. “Ready to work on those demonstration pieces?”
Wayne froze. She was... fine? She looked fine. Like nothing had happened. Like he hadn't kissed her and then immediately ruined it with his panic.
“I... yeah.” He pulled the door open, holding it for her. “Sorry I'm late. Last call ran long.”
“No problem. I got here early anyway.” She moved past him into the barn, completely at ease. “I've been thinking about the colored flames idea. I want to try copper salts today—see if I can get a good green.”
“That's... good.” Wayne couldn't read her. Was she really this unaffected?
No. He'd felt her response. Felt the way she'd kissed him back. That hadn't been nothing.
Which meant she was playing it cool. Giving him space. Or maybe testing him.
“You okay?” Jess had paused at her workbench, looking back at him with genuine concern. “You look tired.”
“Didn't sleep great.”
“Yeah, I know the feeling.” Something flickered in her expression—acknowledgment, maybe—but then it was gone, replaced by that easy smile. “Well, hopefully working will help.”
She turned to her setup, already reaching for her torch.
Wayne did what he always did when he didn't know what else to do: he went to work.
He fired up his forge, but he was hyperaware of Jess ten feet away. The hiss of her torch. The way she hummed while she worked. The subtle scent of her shampoo.
His first hammer strike went wide.
Focus.
The afternoon stretched out, every small interaction charged with unspoken tension. Jess asked him to hand her a tool—their fingers brushed. He explained something technical, and she leaned in close enough that he could feel the warmth of her skin.
Small moments. Careful moments. But unmistakably intentional.
Wayne's resolve was crumbling. He focused on the vines the Winslows wanted for their gate, as if he had no other care in the world. He was shaping a curve into the metal when he heard footsteps approaching. He glanced up to find Jess standing beside his workbench, two water bottles in hand.
“Thought you might be thirsty,” she said, holding one out.
He reached for it, but she pulled it back slightly, just out of reach. Her eyes were bright with challenge.
“Jess—”
“You've been avoiding looking at me for the past hour.” She took a step closer, still holding the water bottle hostage. “Why is that?”
Wayne's throat went dry. She was close enough now that he could see the sheen of perspiration on her collarbone, catch the faint scent of her shampoo mixed with the heat of the forge.
“I'm not avoiding anything. I'm working.”
“Uh-huh.” She moved closer still, invading his space deliberately. “So if I do this—” She held the bottle up higher, making him lean toward her to reach it. "You're totally unaffected?"
Their faces were inches apart now. Wayne could feel her breath, see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes, and watch her lips curve into a knowing smile.
“Wayne,” she said softly. Just his name. But it was a question and a challenge and an invitation all at once.
His control snapped.
“I was wrong.” The words came out rough. “Yesterday. I was wrong.”
“About what?” She didn't move away.
“About this. About us.” Wayne's hands were shaking. “I was scared. I'm still scared. But I can't stop thinking about you.”
“Good.” Jess's smile was slow and devastating. “Because I've been thinking about you too.”
She closed the distance between them, and Wayne met her halfway.
This kiss was different from yesterday's. This was intentional. Chosen. Neither of them was pulling away.
Jess's hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer. Wayne backed her against the workbench—his workbench this time, solid and scarred and perfect. His hands found her waist, slid under the hem of her tank top to bare skin.
She gasped against his mouth, arching into him.
“Wayne.” His name was half-plea, half-demand. “Don't stop this time.”
“I won't.” He kissed down her neck, felt her pulse jumping beneath his lips. “I promise.”
Her hands were already working at his belt, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Wayne registered what they were about to do.
He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “I don't have—”
“I have a condom.” Jess said it matter-of-factly, already reaching for her bag.
Wayne stared at her. She'd come prepared. She'd walked into his barn today knowing this might happen.
“You—”
“What?” She found the condom and turned back to him with that devastating smile. “I’m done playing it safe.”
I'm in so much trouble.
The thought flashed through his mind and then was gone as Jess pulled him back in. Her mouth found his again, urgent and demanding, and Wayne stopped thinking entirely.
He lifted her onto the workbench in one smooth motion, stepping between her legs. The height was perfect. Jess wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and the friction made them both groan.
“Too many clothes,” she managed between kisses.
Wayne couldn't agree more. His hands found the hem of her tank top and pulled it over her head. She was already working on his shirt, fingers fumbling with buttons until she gave up and just yanked it open. Buttons scattered across the barn floor.
“I'll fix it later,” she murmured against his mouth.
“Don't care.”
Jess laughed, the sound breathless and delighted, and Wayne felt something in his chest crack wide open. This woman—fierce and funny and completely unafraid of him—was choosing him.
He kissed her again, slower this time, trying to pour everything he couldn't say into the contact. Thank you. I'm sorry. Please don't leave.
Her hands were on his belt again, more successful this time. Wayne's jeans hit the floor, followed quickly by her own. They came together with renewed urgency. Wayne's hands mapped every curve, every hollow. Jess's fingers dug into his shoulders, then his back, pulling him closer.
When he finally pushed inside her, they both froze—caught in that perfect moment of connection.
Jess's eyes were dark and wide, her lips parted on a gasp.
“Okay?” Wayne managed, though holding still was killing him.
“Better than okay.” She rolled her hips experimentally, and they both groaned. “Move. Please move.”
Wayne didn't need to be told twice.
They found their rhythm quickly—urgent and primal and perfect. The workbench was solid beneath them, the heat from the forge wrapping around them. Jess's nails raked down his back, and Wayne buried his face in her neck, breathing in the scent of her.
This was everything. She was everything.
“Wayne.” His name was a gasp, a plea. “I'm close.”
“Let go.” He changed his angle slightly, and Jess cried out. “I've got you.”
She came apart in his arms, her whole body tensing and then releasing. Wayne followed seconds later, burying himself deep as his own orgasm hit with overpowering force.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. Wayne stayed buried inside her, their foreheads pressed together, both breathing hard. His hands were still on her hips, hers still clutching his shoulders, neither willing to move and break the spell.
She cupped his face in her hands, her thumbs stroking his cheekbones. The gesture was so tender it made his chest ache. “You okay?”
The question caught him off guard. Most people asked if sex was good, if they'd enjoyed it. Jess was asking if he was okay—if his heart was okay, if he was surviving this vulnerability.
“I don't know,” he admitted. “This feels like a lot.”
“Good lot or bad lot?”
“Terrifying lot.” But he was smiling when he said it, and so was she. “In a good way.” He kissed her forehead. “I'm sorry. For yesterday. For pulling away."
“You were scared.” Jess's hand found his, their fingers interlacing. “I get it. But Wayne? I'm not going anywhere just because this is complicated.”
Something loosened in his chest. “We should probably talk about this.”
“Or we could just see what happens.” She smiled up at him. “Take it one day at a time. No pressure, no expectations. Just... this.”
It should have terrified him. But looking at Jess—relaxed and warm and completely unguarded—Wayne found he wasn't scared anymore.
Well. Maybe a little scared. But the wanting was stronger.
“Okay,” he said. “Let's see what happens.”
They cleaned up slowly, helping each other find scattered clothes, stealing kisses. The barn felt different now—charged with new possibility.
Jess gathered her things while Wayne banked the forge.
“I should get back to my grandparents,” Jess said finally, shouldering her bag. “They'll be expecting me for dinner.”
Wayne nodded, his chest tightening. This was the part where she left. Where the spell broke and reality set back in.
Then Jess paused at the door. “Unless... would you want me to stay? For dinner? We could order pizza.”
The relief that flooded through him was almost embarrassing. “Yeah. I'd like that.”
“Yeah?” Her smile was uncertain, hopeful. Like she'd been just as worried about how to navigate this as he was.
“Yeah.” Wayne crossed to her, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her slowly. “Stay.”
When he pulled back, Jess was grinning. “You're going to have to let me know what you like on your pizza though. I'm not sharing if you're one of those pineapple people.”
Wayne laughed, the tension finally breaking. “I'm not a monster.”
“Good. Because that would've been a deal breaker.”