Chapter 5
Chapter Five
ELLIS
“Ellis, can you bring over the Rice Krispies paintbrushes, please?” Iris calls from the living room.
“I’m assuming those are the marshmallow squares dipped in different colors?”
Her husky laughter continues to do things that, for the last two weeks, I have refused to acknowledge.
“I know Mrs. Harriet has shown you what a paintbrush looks like, husband.”
I close my eyes and breathe through my dick getting hard. Another battle—her calling me husband almost as an endearment.
“Got it,” I call out, my voice deeper than a moment ago.
The living room and the backyard have been completely transformed. Iris with a theme is a dangerous thing to behold. When asked, Olive declared she wanted an art studio theme. Only my daughter. And Mrs. Harriet’s clear influence.
Iris took over everything, from getting decorations, making some of them, and baking all the treats, to cooking all the food. And I have to say, I am damn impressed with the things she came up with. Olive is going to lose her shit.
“ETA?” Iris distractedly asks as she arranges the paint palette cookies next to the juices that look like various colors of paint water.
“I told Mrs. Harriet I’d text her in an hour.”
“Okay,” she nods, hands on hips, assessing everything. “You think she’ll like everything?”
“Hey,” I say gently to get her attention.
She looks up at me, taking a moment to catch her breath. Two weeks, we’ve lived under the same roof. After the first weekend, I was back to my usual six am to six pm schedule at work. It was hard not needing to get Olive up and ready for someone to babysit.
Work has helped keep me at a distance from my new wife. I’m up and out before she wakes. I make sure to kiss Olive before I leave. And I’m not back until dinner time, which leads to Olive time. Before we know it, we’re saying goodnight and starting the routine again.
On the weekends, she’s asked to visit home. I’ve offered to go with her and even have tried to ask questions, but she brushes me off with a smile and leaves for a few hours.
Unfortunately, the more distance I succeed in placing between Iris and me, the more curious I get.
I want to know her more. I want to spend more time with my daughter and see the day-to-day that’s led to a very quick bond between those two.
I feel left out or like I’m missing out on important moments in Olive’s life.
“She’s going to love this. I don’t know if she’ll be able to contain all the emotion she’s going to experience when she sees everything.”
“Yeah?” She smiles that radiant one under berry-strained lips I remember the taste of still.
“Yeah,” I grin, lightly squeezing her arm before I get out of there and look for something, anything else to do.
That wildflower scent, I swear, follows me at night and lives in my pillow.
“Holeee-shit,” Keith booms as he makes his entrance. “Damn, Iris. This is the shit.”
Laughing, Iris walks over to greet them. “Thanks, Keith. Laura,” she smiles as they hug. “Here,” she reaches out for the platters Keith balances. “Let me take those to the kitchen.”
Keith holds them out of reach. “No, little lady. My wife trained me to be a gentleman. Lead the way, and I’ll set them where you like.”
“Damn straight,” Laura mumbles, then smirks at her husband.
“Teach me your ways,” Iris jokes with Laura as she and Keith head for the backyard.
“Hey, Ellis.” Laura comes in for a hug.
“Thanks for coming.”
“Of course.” She looks around at the balloons, the cupcakes arranged in actual paint palettes, the paint-splattered tablecloths, and all the clever themed food. “Olive and the kids are going to lose it. This is amazing.”
“All my wife’s doing.” Over the last week, I have unconsciously taken to referring to her as such more and more each day.
“How’s that been?” Laura asks as she and my boss are part of the few privy to our arrangement.
"What?” I know exactly what she’s asking.
“Last I saw, Olive and her are thick as thieves already.” We both stand back watching our spouses laugh about something stupid I’m sure Keith said.
“They have been…makes this crazy idea already worth it.”
“And you?” she asks. I feel her stare but keep mine on Iris.
“What about me?”
“Don’t play dumb, Ellis. You look at her differently. Like magnets, you sneak glances at each other constantly.”
“Not one of your romance sex books, Laura. This isn’t some fairytale.” I turn away and busy my hands with needless arranging. “I had my one chance at love. This isn’t that. It’ll never be that.”
“You know Keith wasn’t the only man I have loved,” she says softly. At my silence, she continues. “Greg and I were childhood sweethearts. When he proposed, it was a literal dream come true. I never thought I’d love anyone else for the rest of my life.”
I know what she’s trying to prove. I just…I can’t shake off the guilt.
Laura moves into my line of sight, arms casually crossed, leaning against the table. “Do you believe my Greg, after losing him so young, wanted me to never find love again? You think he’d resent Keith healing a part of me I thought was gone forever?”
Resting my hands on the table, my eyes fall closed.
Laura’s hand rests on my back. “Iris was the last thing you expected. But of all the women to walk through that door and become your wife…”
She doesn’t have to finish that statement. I’ve spent nights wondering the same thing.
“She’s so damn young,” I rasp, shaking my head.
“Keith and I are eleven years apart. So? The heart doesn’t see shit like that. Two souls connect, logistics be damned.”
Laura pats my back and joins her husband. I turn, and Iris’ hazel gaze assesses me.
“Everything okay?” she asks softly.
For the life of me, I don’t know what possesses me to do what I’m about to do, but it’s like a need I can’t ignore.
“Yeah.” I take her hands and pull her in.
Her body responds instantly, as if she knows what I need. I embrace her close. Iris holds me tightly, her soft cheek resting on my chest.
Fuck, this feels good. So damn good.
“We’re a team, husband.”
I squeeze her waist, holding her tighter because I want that. I want to feel a part of a duo, do life with someone again.
“Yeah, wife. We’re a team.”
“How the hell are we one-upping this next year?” I ask Iris as we clean up the chaotic mess.
Her husky laugh has my balls twitching.
“I was hopeful she’d like it, but even I wasn’t prepared for her reaction. I’m going to start planning for next year as of now. Challenge accepted.”
“I’m gonna need to add hours at work to pull this off every year,” I joke, opening the back door for Ginger to come back inside. Wagging her tail, she makes her way up to Olive’s room, where she sleeps every night.
“Oh God, Ellis. Did I spend too much? I tried to make as much of it myself. I promise to budget better next—”
“Whoa, whoa,” I rush over to her and rub her arms. “Hey. It was a joke. We barely tapped into the budget I already set aside for her birthday.”
“Oh. Okay,” she nods, staring at my chest.
I tuck my finger under her chin to lift her face. “I promise you this: if I am ever upset or concerned about something, I won’t keep it to myself to fester. I hate that shit. I’d rather fight and resolve things than let shit grow into unnecessary resentment.”
The worry fades, and a small smile brightens up her face again. “Good. I’m a fan of that rule. I hate letting stuff linger.”
“Then it’s settled.”
Iris melts into my arms, embracing me again. I close my eyes and exhale, pulling her closer.
“We’re good on money, Iris. I got us.”
She nods.
“Is that something you’ve worried about?” I venture to ask. With work and Olive, there hasn’t been a lot of time to talk. I want to understand why she would take her sister’s place as a mail-order bride.
“Are you and your sister in some kind of trouble?” I ask.
Sighing, Iris lets go. “Can we sit?”
I nod and follow her to the couch.
Raising her leg onto the sofa, she faces me. “When our parents died, their will left Raven and me the farm and house. Jed and Raven took over since I was still in high school.”
Her delicate fingers fidget in her lap. I give her my full attention, hoping she feels my support.
“When Jed passed…apparently, Raven didn’t know either, but Jed kept from us how bad things were.”
“Bad how?” I ask.
“The farm has been in debt for a long time. Jed was holding the bank back, making promises of new harvest sales, only…it seems we never caught up.”
“And with the farm being under yours and your sister’s names, the debt is on your shoulders.”
Sighing heavily, Iris leans back against the arm of the couch. “We can’t sell and leaving will only have their debt follow us. We’re trapped…which feels horrible to say. This is our childhood home. Our parents’ life’s work.”
“That’s where you’ve been going on the weekends?” I guess.
“Yeah. With Raven still hiding out wherever she is, I’ve needed to look over the books, try and pay the few farm hands we have left, and make sure the house doesn’t fall apart until we figure things out.”
“Any more texts from Raven since last week?”
Iris shakes her head. “She gave me proof of life in a pathetic excuse of a text and asked that I give her space.”
“Did you tell her?”
“About?” she asks.
“You taking her place?”
Her full lips purse. “Not…exactly.” She rushes to explain. “That’s not something you text or leave a voicemail about. That’s a conversation to have in person.”
“Fair.” I run numbers in my head. “How much is the debt? I’m assuming that’s where the ten thousand went?”
“It did, and don’t worry, Ellis. This is our mess.”
“We’re married,” I remind her.
“Yes, and you already gave what was agreed upon, which was already generous enough. We’ll figure it out.”
“No, Iris.” I lean over and cup her cheek. “We,” I emphasize, “will figure it out. What troubles you is now my troubles as well.”
She holds my wrist. “Ellis, Olive’s future and every day needs, especially with her starting school in a couple weeks is your priority. I did not come into your lives to make matters more complicated. I’m supposed to be here to make things easier.”
I run my thumb back and forth over her cheek. “Sorry, Wildflower, but you absolutely complicated things.”
“What?” she whispers, her breath brushing over my lips.
I trace the shape of her lips with my thumb. Her sharp inhale swells heat in my cock. Her lips part, her chest rapidly rising and falling. The silk button-down she’s wearing molds beautifully to her full breasts.
“Ellis,” she whispers, slightly panting.
Air struggles to fill my lungs. I clench my jaw as my cock hardens.
“Tell me to stop, Iris,” I almost beg.
“No,” she says quietly but determined.
I growl. “Get off this couch and walk away before…”
“Before what, husband?”
Fuck. She knows. She knows that does something to me. I squeeze my eyes shut.
The sound of her body moving registers before the heat of her presses closer. “Iris,” I warn.
Slowly, she pushes up her body until she’s kneeling in front of me on the couch. I stay painfully still as she lifts her leg and rests it by my hip. The moment her weight falls into my lap, I groan at her heat.
My wife boldly straddles my lap and rakes her fingertips through my hair. My head, heavy with want, falls back. My cock twitches in my jeans and the slight grind my Wildflower gives tells me she felt it…and liked it. Wants it.
My hands ignore my mental protests and grip her hips, pulling her tighter against me.
“What are you doing to me?” I whisper, hypnotized by those bright, hazel eyes.
Iris leans her weight into me, chest to chest, and runs her hands down until she holds my neck.
“This wasn’t the plan,” she whispers against my lips, reality staying at bay outside this protective bubble we’ve created.
“I wasn’t supposed to want you,” I grunt, digging my fingers deeper, feeling the warmth of her body through the leggings she wears that have been my constant torment all day.
“Last thing I wanted.”
“We should keep this,” I cough to cover the moan from her lips at my neck. “I don’t want to fuck this up.”
I get those eyes, piercing my soul. “Ellis Michaels, you are a good man. An amazing and loving father. And while I thought it was the last thing I wanted, I’m so happy it was you.”
“I haven’t felt this…since–” I fight swallowing around my closing airway.
“I’ve never…felt this. And it’s scary as hell.”
Fuck, it is.
I glide my hands up, my fingers catching the hem of her silk blouse until finally, I touch soft, bare skin.
“Olive loves you,” I reason. “If I fuck this up, we can’t lose you. She can’t lose someone else.”
She wraps her arms around my neck and holds me. My hands travel over her bare back as I exhale at the feel of not fighting this anymore.
Desire. Companionship. Peace.
Holding this woman in my arms, the weight of grief I’ve lied to friends, hell, to myself, and been pretending hasn’t suffocated me every morning I woke and looked over to my right in fear that I’d see Gillian’s cold frame there…that weight evaporates.
Is it wrong to hope for this?