33. Della
DELLA
Cloud nine. That’s where I am. Tripp was my first time having sex, but it’s not like I hadn’t done anything before him.
Granted, that was all with inexperienced high school and college boys, but I wasn’t coming in completely blind.
But the way Jaxon kisses me is different.
I refuse to believe in something as ridiculous as love at first sight or soul-mates, but this is some serious lust. He’s hot, I’m horny.
Mix in his willingness and my desperation, I think you’d be bound to get some fire… right?
But at the same time, part of me knows I’m just telling myself that.
I leave in a few weeks, and hot and horny will be easier to leave than something bigger.
Neither of us is signing on to something more.
But when he says things like sex doesn’t feel that way, it leaves me with other thoughts that are dangerously easy to entertain.
Making my way into town, I need some more art supplies. I have been painting every chance I get, and this kind of rediscovery is extraordinary. Almost as extraordinary as Magnum Biggs inside me, and that thought has me walking around town with a perma-grin.
“Morning, Rose,” I say, pushing through the doors of the store.
“Della!” she exclaims. “Back again so soon? I take that as a great thing.”
I returned for more canvases and conversation last week, but she’s not the only one who can’t believe I’m back again. After skipping a few heartbeats and studying my face, she continues. “You have a different aura about you.”
The way she says it makes me think she’s reading my mind.
“Rose, it’s been a wonderful thing,” I return her warm smile. “I forgot how every piece of me lights up when I paint.”
“Love to hear that! I didn’t ask last week, but what are some things you’ve painted?”
“Well, I did a sunrise painting, and it’s everything.
Honestly, I’m not sure if I’ll do another one I love as much as that one.
But I’ve also painted how the light kisses the paddock in the morning.
And the lake. And a cowboy hat over boots.
It just feels like there’s so much to capture.
I’m so enamored with everything here. Next up is a wildflower landscape. ”
“I can hear the love in your voice. I can’t wait to see the works. We should talk about you having a gallery show upstairs.” She floats out the idea like it’s nothing.
“Oh, it’s not like I’m good, Rose. I mean, I’m not bad, but I’m not gallery-worthy. It’s loose impressionism. And it’s acrylic paint. Granted, it’s the professional grade, but you and I both know it should be done in oil.”
“Don’t sell yourself short; anyone who talks as passionately as you do about painting is no amateur. Plus, anyone who would judge the type of paint you’re using isn’t worth your time, anyway.”
“You’re making me blush!” I say, feeling the color rise in my cheeks.
“How about this? Take some photos of what you’ve painted and show them to me the next time you come in. Then we can talk. You said you were on a mission to get your groove back. Let’s bring it back with a cherry on top.”
“You are the sweetest,” I reply, still stunned at her offer because she hasn’t seen anything of mine.
Was I ready to undertake something like a gallery show?
No way. Besides, I have, like, a month left, and how many paintings could I possibly get done by then?
Not enough. “I can’t produce a gallery worth in that timeframe. ”
“And you’re leaving for sure?” she asks.
The question catches me off guard because I haven’t given actual thought to it. Sure, it’s flitted through my mind, especially because I don’t have a plan or motivation to make a plan, but that’s a pretty big question.
“I… I haven’t thought too hard about it. I’m just kind of going day-to-day right now.”
She smiles a knowing smile that all but confirms my mind has officially been read. “Well, keep painting. I have a suspicion you won’t be leaving as soon as you anticipate.”
“What do you mean?” I tilt my head and look around.
“A gut feeling, I guess,” she shrugs. “Anyway, what do you need today, dear?”
The way she talks is almost a little unnerving.
She’s speaking as if she truly knows something I don’t.
It wouldn’t completely shock me if she has some crystal, hippie, tarot-card space in the back.
I make a note to ask Jaxon about her later, but I get what I need and end up back at my cabin, ready to tackle more paintings.
Not that I am entertaining actually doing an art show…
I’m not. But I’ve had so much fun that I’m just going to keep going full steam ahead.
Heart of Will has no shortage of inspiration, from the way the sky turns every color in the rainbow to the greenery coming up after a long winter. Inspiration is everywhere I turn.
At six on the dot, Jaxon knocks on my door for the family dinner, but I’m running behind because I got so caught up in the painting. A scene from last night’s campfire was on the forefront of my brain, so I started. But one detail turned to another and I jumped in the shower late.
With a towel wrapped around my body and another around my head, I whip open the front door. His eyes open wide when he sees me, and both of us freeze for a second.
“I’m running late,” I say hysterically. “I’m so sorry.
You can go without me, and I’ll meet you there!
” I don’t invite him in; I just run back to my room and leave him standing in my doorway.
Rather than being put off by my spastic nature, he chases me, literally chases me up the stairs and into the bedroom, before playfully tackling me on the bed.
“Are you kidding me?” he says. “I know what’s under that towel, and I regret to tell you dinner is off. Well, not off… You are for dinner.”
I laugh and hit his chest. “Get off. Do you know what a bad look it is if we show up late to your parents’ important thing?”
“Do you know how good you look right now?” And with that, he tips my chin up and kisses me.
It’s like I short-circuit because all the noise about punctuality quiets down when he pulls back and looks at me.
I groan, because I really do have to get up.
My hair is still wet, for God’s sake. But having him this close triggers a muscle memory my body responds to in a way equivalent to breathing.
“How are you feeling, Del?” he asks.
“Stressed because I hate being late!” I say.
“No, how’s your body feeling after last night?”
“If you’re asking if you broke me, I can enthusiastically say you did not, and I’m looking forward to round two tonight. But only if we successfully get to your parents on time. If we’re late, you’re not getting any.”
“Not getting any?” he smirks as his hand makes its way under the too-small towel I have on. My legs spread slightly because I can’t say no to this man. “What am I going to find if I touch you, Del? Someone who wants to go to dinner, or someone wet thinking about being fucked again.”
A noise escapes my lips, and I spread my legs wider. He’ll find the latter.
“I can’t get enough of you, Tatroe,” he says into my ear before his hand traces up and reaches the apex of my thigh. He kisses me as he circles my entrance, pushing two fingers in to prove his point.
“Mmmm-hmmm,” he groans into my mouth, “I thought that might be the case.”
He pumps his fingers in and out, but uses a motion to coax maximum pleasure out of me, and it doesn’t take long before my towel has fallen off, and I’m writhing next to his body with choppy breath.
What a sight it must be; me fully nude, with him next to me, dressed in gray chinos, a button down, and the hat I’ve claimed lying right beside my body.
It feels scandalous, and hot as hell. He couldn’t wait until after dinner, and while I said I would be upset if we were late, I find I no longer care much.
When he brings his head down to sweep his tongue over my nipple, the orgasm rips through my body, and it surprises me how powerful it is. After catching my breath, I reach for his belt, but he puts his hands over mine to stop me.
“We gotta go, baby. But you'd better be ready to finish this after dinner,” he smirks again. “I believe I was told that if we were late, I wouldn’t get any.”
My mouth drops open, and I’m speechless.
“Chop chop,” he laughs, standing up, and putting his hat back on his head.
I follow suit, not even trying to put the towel back on, and he smacks my ass as I walk away.
“Jaxon, you are unbelievable,” I say, looking over my shoulder.
“In the best way,” he answers, but I see him putting his fingers, the ones that were just inside my body, in his mouth to lick them.
Holy. Shit.
We get to his parents’ house with two minutes to spare, but we are the last to arrive.
I’m immediately welcomed as if I’m part of the family, and I take care to speak to everyone individually.
The only person I feel half a step off with is Cayson, but based on what Jaxon has said about what’s happening in his life, I brush it off.
Rose’s cryptic comment about staying longer is taking up real estate in my brain, and the dangerous question of what if floats in.
Dinner is as exquisite as he made it out to be, and I assume it’s from the lodge restaurant, but apparently, his mom works for two days to make it. Each time I encounter her, I’m more and more taken by this woman.
“Wait,” I say as dessert comes out, “you really made all of this?”
“I had Dale build me the chef’s kitchen fifteen years ago, and I’ve loved it every day since,” she gushes, looking at him. “Plus, if there’s one way to ensure my family comes together, it’s by feeding them.”
The entire table laughs, and I’m filled with such an incredible warmth. The love here is palpable, and I am feeling blessed to have been taken under their wing.
After dessert, Beth pulls out a box and announces that we’re playing a game. I look around the table and am, admittedly, a little surprised by it. Jax didn’t mention that games were part of this evening.
We play, and besides the fact we have a blast, it’s comical how the lot of them argue over every single tile laid, except the ones Mazie and Luke play.
The response to their choices is always a resounding perfect, and how’d you think of that?
It’s hilarious to watch them then pivot to give each other shit.
When that ends, they turn on the LA Sliders game so they can watch Kellen Wildes play.
It’s hard to reconcile the stories I’ve heard about him with the larger-than-life all-star that keeps flashing on the television.
Though I don’t pay much attention to baseball, Kellen is such a big deal player that even I know who he is.
It sounds like him, Cayson, and Jax had the best time together growing up, and I’m sad I don’t get to meet him because his season just started.
Getting distracted, I end up looking around and notice Luke at the table coloring, and I wander over.
“Hey buddy,” I say. “I hear you like art.”
His eyes dart around as if he’s looking for an out, but I continue. “I do, too. I paint. Do you like painting too?”
He stops looking around and faces me before nodding quickly.
“Really? That’s so cool. Here’s something I painted last week,” I say, pulling out my phone to show him. After my conversation with Rose, I took photos of what I’d done so far… just in case.
Luke looks at the photos, then at me, then at the photos again, then shoves his chair out to leave the table. I feel bad that maybe that was too much, but seconds later, he comes skidding back with three papers that he hands to me.
“Did you paint these?” I ask, flipping through them. “Luke, these are great! Look at how blue your sky is, and your green grass! I love your yellow sun!” They are three-year-old paintings, no doubt, but I can make out trees and mountains and flowers, and that’s a big deal for that age.
He beams at me, waiting for more praise, which I happily heap on.
“I like yours too,” he whispers. I look around to see if anyone else heard it, but people are too engrossed in the Sliders game.
“Thank you, Luke. If you ever want to paint together, I am always here to do that with you.”
He smiles at me, and I hit the freaking moon that he shared his voice with me.
I want to hug him, but realize that would be way too much, so I settle for a smile back.
Handing him his papers, he runs off to put them away, but then goes to Cayson, who lovingly puts his arm around him, none the wiser that he just shared his art and his voice with me.
I get up and relocate to the arm of the couch next to Jaxon, and he puts his hand on my back while he continues watching the game.
It’s so… normal. I haven’t been to a normal family dinner since my mom died.
My aunt and I would enjoy plenty of meals, but being surrounded in this capacity is different.
Even when things were great, it’s not like I had siblings surrounding me.
“I can’t believe you actually know him,” I say to Jax.
“Eh, I can’t see him as anything but the person who hates snakes and can’t drink Goldschlager,” he replies, but I catch him looking at his siblings and sharing the inside joke.
“Baseball is kind of boring to watch on TV,” I say quietly, or so I think. Immediately following my statement, a couch pillow hits me, and I laugh with my whole heart, feeling accepted.
“Oh, you’re in for it now, Della,” Beth says as she hits Dale’s arm to stop him from throwing another one.
My heart is bursting, literally bursting, and I settle in to watch the final two innings of a victory that Kellen secures with a walk-off home run.