14. Chapter 14
Jake
Iarrive at Black River Overlook fourteen minutes early. That gives me enough time to question every possible meaning behind Ava’s invitation.
The event succeeded. She told me we were not finished. She also called this a performance review, which could mean anything from reconciliation to a carefully organized explanation of why I should stop buying muffins before dawn.
I lean against the front of my truck and look down at Forge Creek.
The river curves past the old industrial district, reflecting scattered lights from buildings slowly returning to life.
A few years ago, half the structures below us stood empty.
Now windows glow above workshops, restaurants, apartments, and businesses people once said would never survive here.
Restoration takes patience. It also requires knowing which parts should be strengthened and which should be left exactly as they are.
Headlights appear on the narrow road behind me. Ava parks beside my truck and steps out wearing jeans, boots, and the cream sweater she wore the first time we came here. Her hair hangs loose around her shoulders.
“You’re early,” she says.
“You knew I would be.”
“I did.”
She walks toward the railing and looks over the valley. I join her, leaving enough space between us that she does not feel crowded. For several seconds, neither of us speaks.
“I owe you an apology,” I finally say.
Ava turns toward me. “You already apologized.”
“I canceled an appointment and sent an email. That isn’t the same thing.”
Ava looks down as the evening wind lifts a strand of her hair across her cheek.
“I scheduled the inspection because I saw a problem and convinced myself that taking care of it mattered more than your answer,” I continue. “I told myself it was about safety, but part of it was that I don’t handle waiting very well when something feels unresolved.”
“You like fixing things.”
“I need to fix things.”
The admission is not comfortable. Ava waits for me to keep going.
“A few years ago, I was in a serious relationship,” I say. “Whenever she had a problem, I gave her a solution. If she complained about work, I told her what to say to her boss. If something bothered her at home, I repaired it. I thought I was showing her how much I cared.”
“What did she think?”
“That I treated every conversation like a punch list.”
Ava’s mouth softens, but she does not smile.
“She said I never listened long enough to understand what she needed. I decided we were wrong for each other and moved on. It was easier than admitting she might have been right.”
“That must have hurt.”
“It did. But instead of learning anything, I became more useful to everyone else. Employees, customers, half the town. If someone needs me, I know where I stand.”
The truth becomes clearer as I speak it.
“I suppose I’ve always believed that being indispensable gives people a reason to keep me around.”
Ava moves closer to the railing. Her shoulder nearly touches mine.
“I don’t want you around because you can repair a pipe.”
“That’s disappointing. I did excellent work.”
She looks at me. I let the humor fall away.
“I know.”
“I don’t want you because you built the display, either. Although I really love that display.”
“I noticed.”
“I want you around because you make me laugh. Because you listen, even when it nearly causes you physical pain. Because you saw what Sweet Treats could become before most of the town knew it existed.”
Ava hesitates and her voice grows quieter.
“And because when you look at me, I don’t feel like an expensive mistake.”
I turn fully toward her.
“You could never be that.”
“You don’t know what I cost yet.”
“I own a construction company. I’m accustomed to overruns.”
She laughs, and the last of the tension inside me loosens. Then Ava becomes serious again.
“I need to be able to say no without worrying that you’ll decide my answer is inconvenient.”
“You do.”
“And I need to stop assuming that every mistake means the same thing is happening all over again.”
I reach for her hand but stop before touching it. Ava notices. She places her fingers in mine.
“My ex made me doubt myself,” she says. “You didn’t arrange that appointment because you thought I was foolish. You did it because you were scared something might happen to me.”
“That doesn’t excuse it.”
“No. But it helps me understand it.”
Her thumb moves across my knuckles.
“I don’t need you to rescue me, Jake. I know I’m difficult and drive people crazy. I probably drove my ex crazy too.”
“Ava, you drive me crazy … just in another way.”
I lift our joined hands and kiss her fingers. “Tell me what you need.”
“Just you.”
That phrase nearly stops my heart. Ava steps closer until her body rests against mine.
“I need you to ask before taking over,” she says. “I need you to listen even when you already know the solution. And I need you to understand that asking for your help does not make me incapable.”
“I can do that.”
“You’ll get it wrong sometimes.”
“I probably will.”
“So will I.”
I slide one hand carefully around her waist. “Are we negotiating a relationship?”
“It appears so.”
“What are the terms?”
“Honesty. Permission. No unauthorized contractors.”
“That last one feels unusually specific.”
“It is non-negotiable.”
“Agreed.”
Her gaze drops to my mouth.
“And,” she adds, “you may continue arriving first every morning.”
“That will require compensation.”
“I can offer coffee.”
“Not enough.”
“Muffins?”
“Better.”
“Occasional cinnamon rolls?”
“We’re getting close.”
I kiss her before she can improve the offer.
Ava rises onto her toes, her arms circling my neck.
The kiss begins softly, without anger, cold air, or another inconvenient interruption.
Then she opens beneath me. Every restrained thought I have carried since the cooler incident disappears. I pull her against me.
Her fingers slide into my hair. “Where do you live?”
The question sends heat straight through me.
“Up that road.”
I nod toward a narrow lane climbing behind the overlook.
Ava glances toward the darkening ridge. “How far?”
“Three minutes.”
“You timed it?”
“I time everything.”
She chuckles against my mouth.
I brush my mouth across hers again. “Are you asking to see my house?”
“I’m considering it.”
“What information would assist your decision?”
“Do you have neighbors?”
“Not close ones.”
“A comfortable bed?”
“Yes.”
“Working electricity and water?”
I groan.
Ava laughs against my mouth. “Is this too soon?”
“Probably.”
She kisses me again. “Take me home, Jake.”
The narrow road climbs through pines and turns sharply twice before opening onto the ridge. Ava follows in her vehicle, her headlights filling my mirrors.
My house sits at the end of the lane, built into the slope above Forge Creek. The original structure was a neglected mountain cabin when I bought it. I kept the stone foundation and timber frame, then added wide windows facing the valley and a deck that runs along the back.
Ava parks beside me and steps out slowly. Lights from the town glow far below us.
“You restored this?”
“Most of it.”
She turns in a circle, taking in the stone exterior, heavy beams, and broad glass doors. “It’s beautiful.”
The approval strikes deep.
Inside, the house is open and quiet. Reclaimed wood floors stretch beneath vaulted ceilings, and the living room windows frame the valley like a painting. Ava glances over at me and there is no hesitation in her expression.
I cross the room and stop in front of her. “I want to be sure.”
“I told you what I need.”
“I mean tonight.”
Ava places both hands against my chest. “I want tonight. I want you. And I want you to stop asking before I lose my nerve.”
For now, that has to be enough. I can’t stop myself from wanting all of her. I kiss her, sliding one arm beneath her thighs and lifting her against me. She laughs in surprise before wrapping her legs around my waist.
“Showing off,” she whispers.
“Strength is one of my better qualities.”
“You have several.”
I carry her down the short hallway to my bedroom.
Moonlight and the glow of Forge Creek spill through the windows. I set her on her feet beside the bed, and for a moment, we simply look at each other. Then Ava reaches for the hem of my shirt. I help her pull it over my head.
Her palms move across my chest, slower now, exploring the muscle shaped by years of physical work. When she looks at me, there is no uncertainty left.
“You’re beautiful,” I tell her.
Her lips curve. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
I kiss her neck, her hair and cheek. Ava’s softness fits beneath my hands as though I have imagined it a hundred times. Maybe I have.
Her hands settle on my waist at the edge of my jeans. She holds my gaze, then undoes the button and slides the zipper. I step out of them, watching her eyes widen at the size of my cock, already hard for her. She reaches for it, curling her hand around the shaft, and I nearly lose my mind.
Her grip is firm and curious, thumb sliding along the ridge of the head as if she is learning it, cataloguing every detail for later.
My rational mind is gone, replaced by the animal urge to thrust into her palm, to let her see me lose control.
The sound I make is nothing short of a groan, and she responds with a low, satisfied hum that vibrates through my bones.
Ava’s gaze lifts, her lips parted, and she moves to her knees. “I want to taste you,” she says, voice rough.
I would give her anything. She licks once, slow, then again, tonguing the underside, slow and deliberate, while her hand moves with a rhythm that makes my knees want to give out.
I’m not prepared for the sight of her as she periodically stares up, eyes locked on mine as she takes the head of my cock between her lips.
She’s careful at first, her mouth soft, wet, and incredibly warm.
The only thing more arousing than the sensation is the look she gives me.
It’s like a challenge, as if she wants to dismantle every scrap of self-control I thought I possessed.