Chapter 12 Sean
Sean
Everything about the day was too hot. From the morning tension in his boxers at the memory of Cherry padding around the house in her pyjama shorts last night – long, toned legs taunting him – to the unseasonably warm weather, to the hassle his workmates were still ladling on about him getting married in New York.
News travelled like lightning in Kinshore, and Sean hadn’t even been the one to deliver it to them. It was at the cooperage before he was.
‘Two days?’ Billy McDonald, a young apprentice, clarified for what seemed like the hundredth time. ‘How it that even possible?’
‘It is if she’s a smoking fox and in New York,’ Sean said.
‘What, so in New York you can marry someone after two days if they’re a smoking fox?’ Billy wasn’t the brightest tool in the box.
‘No, you can get a licence to marry at short notice. You decide if your wife is a smoking fox.’ Sean rolled a barrel over to the door, chuckling at Billy’s misconstruction.
‘If anyone was going to marry after kenning someone five minutes, I’d have put money on it being you, Butler,’ Billy called after him.
‘Thanks, I think,’ Sean shouted back. ‘What can I say? If you know, you know.’
And if you and your wife both know you’re made for one another, but she thinks she’s going to ruin your life, what does it turn out that you know?
Fuck all.
‘Butler, there’s someone here to see you.’
Sean looked up from the barrel he was working on, hoop driver and mallet still in his hand, and nearly dropped both of them.
Fucking hell!
Standing in the yard was Cherry, denim hugging her hips, a vest top so tight and low cut that her breasts were rising up like the paps of Jura, giant rose gold hoops in her ears drawing attention to that swanlike neck, a baseball cap affiliated to some poker website, and sunglasses shielding what he knew to be tantalising starlight in her eyes.
This was his wife.
She was a phenomenon.
Except she didn’t want to be his wife.
She had a funny way of putting him off their marriage, turning up here all got up like a cooperage cheerleader.
‘Alright.’ Sean placed his tools by the door and meandered over to her, as casually as he could. ‘You’re a sight for sore eyes. How did you walk through the village looking this good?’
‘I used my legs.’
‘Seems obvious now you mention it… Anyway, what’s up? Thought you’d be working today?’
She shrugged. ‘On a day like this, it seemed like a waste, so I thought I’d visit my husband. See you, my darling.’ She lifted her fingers to his face and let them trail lazily through the sweat and dirt that were layering there, as they did every day.
It was bloody hard to concentrate when she did that, and Sean just about managed to form words. ‘Tease. It’s nice to see you, though.’
‘You, too. And since we’re meant to be madly in love, I brought you a sandwich.’ Cherry held out the small brown bag. ‘Like a doting wife would.’
Sean reached for her offering, surprising himself at how much this gesture threw him. Had she really walked the two miles from his house to the cooperage to bring him a sandwich? ‘Thanks ever so, sweetheart.’ He peered inside the bag. ‘Smells delicious.’ It truly did.
‘Hope it tastes as good as it smells. So, I suppose a real married couple would kiss now.’ Cherry removed her sunglasses so Sean could see the flirtatious glint they’d been hiding. ‘The husband thanking the wife and wishing her a lovely day and all that.’
‘I thought you didn’t want to be married to me.’
‘I thought you wanted us to appear madly in love all the time.’
She had a point. It would be wrong to accuse Cherry of hypocrisy when all she was doing was keeping up her side of the bargain. The stipulation was his. He’d just expected any kisses to be incidental rather than orchestrated. Still, he could manage to kiss his wife.
Very fucking easily, in fact.
Leaning in and lifting and twisting her baseball cap backwards, Sean brought his lips to Cherry’s.
To that delicious full mouth that tasted like coconut nectar and sweet pineapple with an intoxicating twist. Before self-control stood a chance, their tongues were tangling hot around one another’s and, in the middle of the cooperage yard, they were sliding into the fevered body of an exceptionally adult kiss.
A kiss that could stop traffic on a freeway and the flight path up above.
Sean drew Cherry closer, sandwich bag dangling from his hand, unable to resist the soft swell of her breasts against his chest.
She was no less restrained, tangling her hand into his hair, fingernails making their presence very much known. Fuck, he was hardening already. This was way too erotic a kiss for daytime at work.
Thankfully, a chorus of male voices resounded through the yard, whooping and calling out ‘Wahey!’ and ‘Get a room!’.
Sean pulled back, the sunlight dazing him as much as the kiss had. He didn’t need to turn to know that his colleagues were watching. It wasn’t often that women came to the cooperage, never mind ones like Cherry.
‘We’re taking the faking to the max, I see?’ He ran his tongue over his lips and cupped his free hand on Cherry’s hip. Reeled as he inhaled the honeysuckle blossom of her scent. This day just got so much hotter.
‘Of course.’ She squinted into the sun. ‘No point doing things to the minimum, Seany. If you want the world to see that I’m madly in love with you, that is what they’ll see. I’ve learned a few skills around the poker table.’
Sean nodded. As much as he hoped she would fake so hard she couldn’t backtrack, he’d have to categorise that as fantasy. Cherry was well versed in detaching from her feelings. If he didn’t do the same, he’d look like an idiot. He shook the brown paper bag.
‘I appreciate your commitment. And the sandwich, of course.’
‘You’re welcome, baby. I’ll have your favourite dinner on when you get home.’ She tilted her hips far too suggestively for someone talking about dinner. ‘Whatever that is.’
Sean’s attention idled on the curve of her hip before rising to her face, where sunglasses were once again shielding her eyes.
‘Can’t wait to taste it,’ he said.
‘Me neither. Now get back to work. Oh, wait. I got your favourite juice.’ Cherry pulled a can of Irn-Bru out of her bag, but before she passed it to him, she rolled it over her cleavage.
‘Mmm, that’s so nice and cool,’ she drawled, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.
Sean had never wanted to be a can of Irn-Bru until now.
‘You’re a troublemaker, Paradise. Get out of here before I find a barrel to take you over.
’ He reached out for the can and grinned at her.
She was a first-class tease, and he loved it, but if he didn’t focus on some hoops and staves and listen to his workmates’ drivel, his balls would be ready to explode.
A short time later, after splashing his face and neck with cold water, Sean sat down to eat the sandwich Cherry had brought him.
Made for him, by the looks of the roll and abundant filling spilling out the sides.
The local sandwich shop was never this generous with filling. And they didn’t do a BLT like this.
BLT. His favourite sandwich.
Cherry had made him his favourite sandwich. Filled it to the max, including a fuck-load of lettuce, no doubt because of their conversation about healthy eating. And walked into the village to bring it to him at the cooperage, accompanied by a scorching kiss.
She didn’t do things by halves.
He’d married a belter alright.