Chapter 20
Vivi’s had finished her second cup of coffee when she realized she hadn’t blinked once since the barn raising ended. She perched on a stool at Espresso Yourself, rubbing her temples and wondering if a brain could short-circuit from excitement.
The turnout had been incredible, and she couldn't stop replaying Boone's expression when he saw it all. Pride and surprise and this softness underneath that gruff exterior that made her stomach do flips.
Jo leaned against the counter, one eyebrow quirked, like she was daring Vivi to admit what was really on her mind.
"You look like you wrestled a tornado and lost, but somehow grinned through the mess. So you want to tell me how the rest of the fundraiser went after I left?"
Vivi smiled faintly. "Better than I ever expected."
"Sorry I left early. I had to relieve Anabelle."
"I understand. Although I think it had more to do with Eli being there," Vivi said, watching Jo stir her coffee absentmindedly. "You spent the entire morning avoiding him. Not a single word exchanged. Care to explain?"
Jo's laugh was shaky—a brief, brittle sound that almost made Vivi flinch. There was tension etched in Jo's gaze, the kind that spoke of long-held pain. "Not really."
Vivi lifted a liar-liar brow.
"Fine, I avoided him. But for good reason."
"Your turn to spill."
Jo let out a long breath, as if she'd been holding it for years. Vivi could see the hesitation in the slight slump of her frame, the way her hands unclenched from the coffee mug.
"Fine, you were right, we were engaged. But I screwed it up. Well, I didn't, my family did. Long story. But marrying him wouldn't have been fair, so I walked away because it was the right thing to do."
Vivi's chest tightened. The weight of Jo's words, spoken so quietly but with such raw honesty, made the air feel thicker. "Does he know that?"
"No, and he never will." Jo's voice shook in a way that sent a pang through Vivi's chest—a deep, resonant ache that had her reaching across the counter and patting Jo’s hand with sympathy. "How long is he staying? Do you know?"
"I think he has a little over a week left before he’s deployed. Why?"
"Just trying to figure out how long I need to stay hidden." Jo's laugh this time was almost self-mocking. Her eyes flicked to Vivi's, and for a heartbeat the facade of sharp-edged toughness wavered.
They just sat there, sipping coffee while the sounds of the shop buzzed around them. Vivi could feel the weight of Jo's history pressing into the quiet between them and could sense the careful balance Jo maintained between honesty and armor.
It made her own worries—the awkwardness with Boone, the upheaval of Bridlewood, the tangled mess of feelings she'd been trying to sort—feel simultaneously lighter and heavier.
Lighter, because someone else understood the kind of loss that left permanent echoes.
Heavier, because she couldn't imagine carrying a secret like that without it cutting at her from the inside.
"You know, when Boone said he was proud of me…" Her voice faltered slightly, betraying the mix of emotions she was trying to shove down.
Jo raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter, arms crossed. "Boone? Proud? That's a new one. Did you faint or just about cry in front of him?"
"He was serious," Vivi admitted, feeling a rush of heat to her cheeks. "But I didn't do it for him. I did it for me. That's the first time since I was a kid that I did something purely for myself."
Jo smirked in a kind of way that made Vivi feel like she was under a microscope. "Huh. You finally did something for yourself instead of bending over backward for everyone else? And here I thought you were incapable."
Vivi laughed softly, a little embarrassed and then, without quite meaning to, her mind wandered to Boone. The way he'd praised her, the subtle warmth in his voice—the way he’d looked at her as if she mattered in a way no one else ever had.
"You've been single for five minutes and already caught feelings? Pull it together, New York."
"I have not."
"Sure you haven't. You're blushing, babe. And that little hesitation? Yeah, that's you thinking about Boone right there. Don't pretend you're immune."
"It's complicated," she said finally, staring into her cup like it might give her an out.
"He's the kind of man who doesn't do casual, and I'm barely remembering how to be on my own.
I just got free of someone who wanted to build my life for me.
The last thing I need is a man who makes me forget why I wanted to be alone. "
"Oh relax, New York. All I'm saying is the guy's got presence. The kind that makes people straighten up or spread their legs, depending on the mood." She tipped her coffee toward Vivi in mock salute. "And you? You look about two seconds from doing both. And I’m pretty sure he already knows."
Boone trudged up the stairs to the house, each step heavier than the last. His body ached from overworking himself, every muscle screaming for a hot shower.
The barn loft had served its purpose while she'd taken over his room, but the idea of lukewarm water scraping across sunburned skin was no longer appealing.
He needed the house, a steaming shower, and the promise of heat that could melt tension as well as dirt.
Vivi was in town ordering curtains or some shit for the bunkhouse, so he had the run of the ranch. And he was going to take his time and enjoy it. Take a moment to himself that wasn't filled with thoughts of her.
He walked into the master bath and—
Fuck me.
Strung across the top of the glass shower door, hanging to dry, was an impressive collection of thongs and bras. Silk, satin, lace—every color of the rainbow.
Unable to help himself, he picked one up and breathed it in. God help him—he could smell her. Just the faint scent and his dick twitched behind his zipper.
He took a deeper inhale and closed his eyes. Did that make him a pervert?
Hell yea it did, but he didn't give two-shits. Boone had been lusting over this woman for weeks. He'd take what he could get.
He placed the red thong back on the shower door, something uncomfortably possessive about the idea of her surrounding him while he was stripped bare.
He hadn't expected it could be such a turn-on, but suddenly the idea was more erotic than watching a woman strip—oh, not Vivi, but any other woman from his past.
He'd give his left testicle to watch her strip down, letting those lush breasts on display. Letting that city peach breathe so that he could see just how she liked it trimmed.
Stripping down naked, he ran the water and stepped in. The heat hit his shoulders first, then his chest, then his legs, and he leaned into it, letting it carry away the grime of the day. But no matter how hot the water got his thoughts wouldn't stay in the pipes.
Vivi.
Her laugh echoed in his head. The way she'd nudged him when she teased him about the dating profile. The way she'd moved through the fundraiser, unstoppable and so fucking radiant the image alone was enough to get his blood flowing south.
He clenched his fists under the spray, fighting the pull of an attraction he'd sworn he didn't want. She embodied everything that was bright and good—and she was leaving, meaning she was wrong for him in every way that mattered.
She was a tornado of trouble blowing through his carefully ordered world, leaving a trail of sunshine and mayhem in her wake.
Every thought he had and every plan he'd made seemed to tilt on its axis the moment she stepped into a room. He wanted to resist, needed to keep his distance, but even when she wasn’t there, images of her were impossible to ignore.
Which was why he couldn’t stop picturing her. Standing under the shower, long hair plastered to her skin, eyes dazed, water slicing down her neck, then her tits, her stomach, and finally the V where her things come together.
Fuck.
He could smell her shampoo. That crisp citrus scent, which followed her everywhere. It lingered in the barn and the hallway, even in the damn the family room—suffocating him. Calling to him.
He couldn't escape her. She was everywhere.
He pictured her the way she'd looked that first morning in the pink robe—worn like armor when in reality it covered very little, showing off her luscious curves.
Through the silky material he could make out every curve and shadow of her body, the faint outline where fabric met skin.
It was enough to short-circuit his better judgment and make him want things he shouldn't—imagine things he sure as hell shouldn't be imagining in the shower.
The water ran over him, but it couldn't rinse away the tug in his chest or the ache of wanting someone he had no business wanting.
Ten more days. Ten more days to keep his dick in his pants and act like a man who didn't care.
And yet, with every drop splashing from the showerhead, Boone realized just how spectacularly he was failing.
He wrapped his hand around his growing length; the heat blurring the line between exhaustion and need.
He pressed his forehead to the tile—head bent low, breathing through the sharp pulse that came with thinking of her.
The sound of her laugh. The way she smiled like she had no idea what she did to him.
But she was doing lots to him right now. His body was tightening painfully so he gave a slow stroke, then another, his grip drawing taut.
Still not enough.
He glanced up at the row of color on the shower door and like a pervert he grabbed the red lace, clenching it in his other hand. He brought it to his nose and breathed her all the way in.
The scent hit him like a freight train, making his dick jump and push against his palm.
It still wasn’t enough. His grip tightened then pumped harder—faster—a frantic pace that was equal parts pain and pleasure, the kind that blurred everything else out.
He moved the thong to his other hand and kept stroking, deep and relentless, the lace adding just enough friction to make his jaw clench.
"Fuck," he groaned.
He pictured her on her knees, with her mouth wrapped around his dick, sucking him in until her eyes were watering and her cheeks were about to explode.
He pumped harder.
Vivi, on her knees, that round ass in his face, while looking over her shoulder and giving him that stubborn and sassy look of hers that always did him in.
"Fuck, baby," he moaned louder.
Vivi sitting above him, with her thighs around his face while she rode him as he pleasured her. Her tits bouncing, her ass jiggling.
“Vivi,” he groaned while thrusting hard into his hand. He grew so impossibly tight he thought he’d cry from the pressure. Then he pictured Vivi smiling up at him and then he heard her voice.
"Boone?"
"Yeah, baby?" he rasped through clenched teeth, his orgasm cresting—
He heard it again. Only this time it wasn't in his head.
He turned his head and there she was. Standing in the doorway in a light blue sundress with tiny straps he could tear off with his teeth, and city-girl heels that had fuck me written all over them.
Instead of looking away, Boone held her gaze—and kept pumping, harder and faster until the lace began to cut into his sensitive skin. He watched her eyes glaze over with an erotic combination of embarrassment and lust—and that was all it took.
Boone blew his hat. So hard that he nearly passed out.
Eyes squeezed closed, teeth clenched, head thrown back, squeezing the shit out of those red lace panties.
His orgasm was so violent the way he lost control, bucking until his legs burned from excursion.
Yet, he rode it out until there was nothing left.
Holy fuck, he thought, as he spilled his last drop.