13. Chapter 13
C uddling had always been awkward for Zephyr.
She did not like to sit still and allow herself to be petted like some lapdog.
But it was cold outside, her brain had yet to restart, and Neil was being so gentlemanly, letting her sleepily lean against his shoulder.
It turned him into a sort of anchor for her.
Anticipation made her bouncy, almost unable to keep herself from floating away.
She burst into a hysterical giggle, startling them both.
Neil blew out a sharp breath. “Easy. I’m driving a very expensive car that isn’t mine. What has gotten into you?”
“It’s just…I realized you’re grounding me.” The pun brought the giggles back until a staticky zap jolted her. “Hey!” she protested, pushing her lower lip into a pout. “That was on purpose.”
“Terrible jokes have consequences,” he declared.
She envied his control. “As an air witch, I can dole out punishments, too. Like give you a bad hair day or steal the air from your lungs.”
“That escalated immediately.”
“It really got away from me,” she agreed.
Her cabin bloomed into view, and they parked in her sad shed. When Neil got out of the car, he knocked his knuckles on the support beams, worry lines forming on his brow. If she didn’t keep them moving, he’d get distracted by one of the many home repairs she needed.
“Close your eyes!” she ordered, pushing him out of the shed. She left her boots in the car and regretted that choice as soon as her feet touched the frigid ground. Thank the gods for socks. “Whatever you do, don’t look at the lawn.”
“Seems like that would make walking difficult.”
“Figure it out, Finnegan,” she said. “It’s for your own—oh, shit.”
“What? Is everything okay?”
“Yes and no,” she blabbered. “I forgot to run this by Dale.”
He glanced at the cabin warily. “Dale? Your familiar? What, do I have to ask his permission to date you?”
“That might help, actually.”
“I find the tradition of asking a man’s permission to date a woman weird, and I’m not going against that for a bird.”
“Ugh, I hate that I love that you have rigid principles.” She let him go, slipped off his jacket, and tossed it at him. “Give me a minute. Meet me on the porch.”
It was freezing outside, but he did really love her porch. He’d be fine. She just needed to handle Dale.
Zephyr slipped inside, padding through the cozy living room and bounding up the narrow stairway that led to the master bedroom upstairs.
The upstairs used to be two bedrooms, sharing a bathroom between them, but in the years she was gone, her parents had removed a few walls and her childhood bedroom had disappeared forever.
At least her parents had sort of made up for it by leaving her the cabin once they had purchased their RV and taken off into the wild.
She had expected to find Dale sleeping in the middle of her pillow.
When he wasn’t there, she ran through the house until she found him nestled in a hand towel on the kitchen counter, surrounded by birdseed.
She had left the paper bag out, and he’d torn a huge gash in it, gorged himself, and fallen asleep.
Zephyr patted his head and cleaned the mess, dumping the birdseed into a plastic container and snapping on the lid. There. Dale-proof. Probably.
With her familiar taken care of, safe and warm and oblivious to the man under his roof, Zephyr bounced to the side door that connected her tiny living room to the porch. She reminded herself with each step to slow down, but couldn’t convince her feet or her racing heart to comply.
At first glance, she thought Neil had left. The porch was empty, and it took her several panicky minutes to locate his form emerging from the shadows.
“What are you carrying?” she asked, watching him climb back onto the porch, brush past her, and leave the porch for her living room. She followed, hot on his heels. “Is that wood? Where did you find—”
“You have a woodpile.”
“I have a woodpile?” She blinked.
Neil cocked a brow. “Did you think I was chopping wood in the dark?”
“I’d like to imagine so.”
“Of course you do.” He shook his head, scanning her living room until he settled on something. “This is for the wood-stove.”
“Cozy.” Zephyr watched him inspect the black iron stove, clean out old ash and grime, and fill it with the logs he’d carried inside. It was fascinating to watch him—he moved as if he had lived there for years. But once the stove was lit, the fire gently crackling, he looked lost again.
It lasted only for a second. He grabbed the quilt hanging off her couch, flicked it out a few times, and laid it carefully on the carpet.
Her obscene number of throw pillows were thrown down as well, forming a cozy nest in front of the fire.
Was he treating her as if she were a bird ?
She wasn’t sure if she should be offended or just amused.
Zephyr grabbed a pillow, hugging it to her chest as she sat on the floor with her back resting against the couch. She pulled off her soggy socks, tossing them toward the front door. Neil sat next to her, and his fidgeting began.
“You’re happier with something to do,” she observed. She had thought them so different from each other. But it appeared Neil hated sitting still, too. It sparked a hope she was afraid to voice or even think about.
“I like solving problems. Not the emotional kind.” He looked through the front picture window, frowning. “I saw the lawn. It’s a problem.”
“Neil, you’re not mowing my lawn in the dark. People are going to think you’re crazy.”
“Not crazy. I’m bewitched.”
“Oh, that was so lame .” Zephyr stood, pulling him up with her. “Come upstairs. Do not test the railing.”
The upstairs was all her design. Her parents had sold their furniture to help pay for their camper, so Zephyr had spent her first week in town at the thrift store to gather mismatched, heavy wooden dressers and a bedframe.
The wall facing the front of her house only had a small, circular window.
But the wall facing the east? Zephyr had replaced it with glass.
At this hour, only the stars and the shadows of trees could be seen.
But in the morning, it was a beautiful streak of pastels—orange, yellow, and the soft blues of dawn.
The glass, looking out over the void, was her idea of exposure therapy.
“I never took you for a minimalist,” Neil admitted as he took in her bedroom.
“Still moving in,” she replied. “And don’t look in the closet.”
“Maybe I should make sure you don’t have a shrine to me in there.”
“If you want to end up buried in an avalanche of clothes, go for it,” she said. She rubbed her arms, wishing she could keep her foot from tapping on the wooden floor. Nervous was new for her.
Neil reached forward to take her hand in his. His thumb brushed her knuckles so tenderly she almost wanted to cry. Would he treat the rest of her that way? Her crash had left her with a maze of scars. It terrified her to show him the fading results of her many surgeries. Or it used to terrify her.
She had to lighten the air. Zephyr used their joined hands to tug him toward her bathroom. “You’ve been working all day, and not that I don’t find those coveralls attractive, but I think you should shower.”
He let her lead the way. “And I think you should join me.”
She froze. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“I can’t say I agree.”
Sure, it sounded good to him . He didn’t know what a mess her body had become, and the lighting in the bathroom was too revealing.
Still, Zephyr wanted to get into that shower with him.
When she had her bedroom wall replaced with glass, the contractor had talked her into a bathroom remodel, too.
It had been so hard to refuse the upsell when she had the funds, and the idea of tearing her childhood home apart and rebuilding it to her specifications had sounded so good.
She attempted a compromise. “Okay, but lights off.”
“Lights off? While I shower ?” he scoffed. “I thought you’d put a spotlight on me if you could. You stare at me, and it is not subtle.”
“I would if you’d let me. But that’s not…” She sighed. “You saw my fall, right?”
“No.”
“Sure you did,” she said dismissively. “Even if you missed the race, the news played the clip of my accident for a week.”
He answered carefully, “The Pumpkin Hollow Gazette wrote about it, but I didn’t want to watch that happen to you. I made sure I didn’t see it.”
Zephyr couldn’t think of anyone who hadn’t seen her loss. She cleared her throat. “Well, it was bad. And I have, uh, scars.” She started babbling. “I’m supposed to put this salve on it. It was very expensive, but the goop gets under my nails and it makes me crazy—”
“I’ll put the salve on you. After. The. Shower.”
“What?”
He cupped her face in his hands, a thumb brushing her lips. “You are the most confident woman I know, and there is absolutely no reason, in this moment, that should change.” He released her, turning her around gently and grasping the zipper of her dress. “Would you like me to help you with this?”
She rasped, “Yes.” What a relief he couldn’t see her face. It gave her time to compose herself.
Her zipper dropped to her waist, cool air hitting her back as she shivered.
Neil planted kisses in her hair before helping her pull the dress down and off, and he tossed it on the bathroom floor.
But with more skin exposed, it just gave him more opportunities to tease her.
His hands roamed along with his lips, and they moved just as carefully.
When his fingers traced her first scar, she froze.
His lips followed the path he’d traced, and he repeated those kisses on every one of her scars.
The sweet action caught her breath, and Zephyr turned around suddenly to face him.
He pulled back an inch, concern flitting across his face until she placed both hands on his chest and shoved him into the open shower.
“Gods, woman, let me get undressed first.”
She covered her mouth but couldn’t contain her giggle.
She felt silly, but that felt better . Her muscles relaxed—the bout of self-doubt gone as her laughter took its place.
She let Neil step out of the shower as she slipped out of the rest of her clothes.
While he undressed, she fiddled with the shower knobs.
Silently, she thanked her past self for investing in a waterfall shower, though it had seemed too extravagant for the cabin.
Once the water got to the scalding temperature she preferred, she hopped in. She heard Neil undressing, and when Zephyr turned around, he was there . In the confines of the shower, standing toe to toe with him, her hands roamed his chest unabashedly while her mind spun with possibilities.
Neil placed a cloth into her hand and a bottle of soap in the other.
She applied the soap to the cloth and washed his chest, eager for any excuse to keep ogling him.
His chest was large in what she could only describe as a useful way.
Made for actual work and not for photoshoots.
It so distracted her that Neil took her cloth away to clean the rest of his body.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I’m just a woman.”
He gave no response except a startled laugh, then finished his shower, rinsed, and immediately wrapped his arms around her.
They kissed, and she melted against him as much as she could.
She felt the proof that he needed her press against her stomach, and she turned away from him to lean forward.
He accepted her invitation, reaching around to cup her breasts as he slid inside her.
She had to admit—she liked this part slow.
She felt every inch of him fill her, and after each of her moans or whimpers, Neil paused and savored the moment with her.
Bracing herself against the shower wall so she could push back against him, she soon realized, as he had in the shop, he wouldn’t let her set the pace.
His strokes were deep but slow, and she could not handle not having control anymore.
“I want to change positions,” she said, and he obeyed immediately. She shut the water off and pushed him out of the shower, right past the towels he’d found for them, and shoved him down on her bed.
She straddled his lap, slid down on his length, and rode him at the speed she wanted. “Do not come until I do,” she ordered. She took his hands, unfisting them from her bedsheets, and placed them on her hips.
“Fuck, Zephyr. I—”
“No excuses. Look at me.”
He did, and gods, how she enjoyed seeing those blue eyes so undone. Helpless. All for her. He called her beautiful and a torment, and she agreed with both assessments. She delighted in keeping him right on the edge. He pleaded with her, but his sentences came out half-scrambled and needy.
“You already knew I like teasing you,” she reminded him. “I’m sure you imagined this— exactly like this.”
“More or less,” he muttered. “You weren’t so bossy in my imagination.”
“And do you like it, Neil?”
He paused. “I do,” he admitted.
It was a quiet confession, and the vulnerability of it, and a new angle, brought her falling over the edge she’d been riding.
She clenched around him, struggling to keep pace as she came.
He followed right after, his hands bruising her hips.
She’d find his marks on her later, and she looked forward to it.
She dismounted to head to the restroom, and when she returned, Neil had found her salve. He held the jar aloft and pointed to her bed. “Lie down and let me know if I miss anything.”
He remembered? He wasn’t already asleep? Were her standards really low, or was Neil really great? Probably, sadly, it was a bit of both. “It’s mostly my back. It’s hard to reach, even when I actually try.” She got face down on her bed and braced for the cold salve.
He worked quietly, rubbing in the salve with a soothing massage. She hummed, her eyes fluttering closed. She’d be asleep soon if he kept that up.
“I was hoping for thunder,” she mumbled.
His massage paused. “Thunder?”
“When you came.”
“When I think you can’t be any more ridiculous, you outdo yourself.” His need pressed against her again, and he coughed. “Sorry, but if you had my view, you’d understand.”
“It’s okay,” she mumbled. She shifted, raising her hips as she buried her face in her pillow. “You can go slow this time.”
They reunited once more, and he lay next to her when they finished. Neil asked softly, “Can I—”
She interrupted, “Go to sleep, Neil. You can mow my lawn in the morning.”