CHAPTER THIRTEEN

 

Commitment is falling for the girl of your dreams.

In a split second. In a heartbeat.

For the first time. For the second time.

And over and over again.

 

NOX

Hollander races to me the moment I walk in the door. He winds around my legs, his massive body leaning into me while he trills a welcome I haven’t had since Beck moved in about three weeks ago. Crouching, I sink my hands into his fur and scratch behind his ears and under his chin. “Hey there, stranger. Thought you’d switched sides.”

With a chirp he stands up and butts his striped head against my jaw.

“It’s okay. You’re forgiven.” I stroke my hands down his sides. “I like her too, bud.”

Standing up, I glance around the cabin, which is less messy than usual, while I put my keys and phone down in the kitchen. There are still a couple of coffee cups next to her laptop on the counter, but I’m getting used to it. Besides it hurts nothing to be easy about the coffee rings marring the shiny white surface. “Where is our girl anyway?”

“Meow.” Hollander traipses off toward the bedroom. He glances back at the door to make sure I’m following and then disappears inside.

Shouldn’t be surprised she’s sleeping. Girl likes her afternoon naps. Because she’s a night owl. I can’t keep up with her. Don’t even try. I have to wake up early to work, and she stays up late to write her articles. We’re polar opposite in the way we live, but I remember what it was like to always be on the move. To work when the whim took me. To sleep when the sun came up. Don’t miss it. Any of it. Can’t go back to bleeding my soul onto papers and into strings and out of my vocal chords, even if my chest hurts like a piece of me is missing. Even if words form in the back of my mind and my fingers almost move of their own volition. Something that hasn’t happened to me in so long that it didn’t seem possible anymore. But my goals are different now. My plans changed. It’s better this way.

Beck’s not in the bedroom. Movement catches my eye from the windows. Out in the grove people are milling around. There are a heap of them. Twenty or so people are tramping over my property. All these people give me a gut ache and imaginary ants crawl under my skin. They shouldn’t be here. This is my personal space, and I don’t like having people I don’t want aware of my personal life in it. What are they doing in the valley? What the hell is going on?

Hollander meows and rubs up against the glass, moving back and forth as though he’s desperate to join them. Or at least to find Beck. She must be down there too. Have to find her and work out what the hell she’s up to now. If this is another one of her bright ideas to get me to wave the white flag on this marriage she’s got another thing coming. Turning away from the window, I march through the cabin and down to the grove.

At the first row of trees I pass a couple leaving. They’re carrying a hessian bag full of oranges between them. Up ahead more people are picking fruit off my trees. West, who is standing on a ladder, grins and waves from a spot further down. It takes me a few minutes before I catch sight of Beck talking to a couple of women who are holding plastic shopping bags filled with oranges. A few of West’s friends are raking up some of the fat dimpled balls that are split open on the ground.

Beck laughs at something one of the women says. With a smile she brushes her hair back behind her ear as she continues to chat. I lean against the trunk of a tree, meaning only to take in the view for a minute. She’s like sunlight, all lit up from within when she smiles. Then that smile turns on me. Her gaze is sweet and peppered with awareness, and my chest resonates with it. Melts the irritability right out of me.

The two women walk away as I make my way to Beck. She glances down and then back at me as we meet in the wide middle of the grove. More people stroll around us toward where a dozen cars are parked. “I hope you don’t mind,” she says.

“All these people.” I nod at one of the guys who frequents Mayhem as he raises a hand in hello. The creeping electrical buzz under my skin disappears. “Did you invite them? Did you ask them to come pick oranges?”

“I put some flyers up.” She steps closer.

“You should have let me handle it,” I say.

“You already have too much on your plate. I’ve counted the hours you work each day.” She places her hand on my arm and looks up at me. “I don’t know why you work so much. But I can tell that you’re exhausted. And these stupid trees, whatever your reason for hating them is, were something I could help with. I wanted to do something to help.”

I thrust my hands in my pockets, my thumbs through the belt loops on my pants. Otherwise I’m going to touch her. It might be innocent. Quasi innocent. But with her neck craned and a full glimpse of her creamy tits pushing at her tank top, it might not. It’s hard to remember that there are people here when she’s almost acting like we’re in this together. Like we’re a team. And I get this glimpse of what it would be like if our team was to last. If I could convince her this curse she puts so much stock in isn’t real, and that our marriage is. Her sweet body in my arms, her belly starting to round under my palms. Hollander curled up around her enormous belly as it grows bigger. The first of our children in my arms. Christ, I want to run with this pretty little fantasy, but there are too many other things I need to accomplish first. “So you asked people to come and help?”

“No.” She bites her lip and reaches into the pocket of her shorts to pull out a tattered envelope that’s creased down the middle. “Actually, I asked them to pay to pick the oranges they wanted. I put it on the internet and Liv helped me put up a few flyers around town this morning. And then I asked West and his friends to help with cleaning up the rest.”

“You made money out of this...” I glance around at the trees, some of them bare of fruit. Others are still being picked over.

“Uh-huh. And I paid West and his buddies already.” She thrusts the envelope into my hand. “This is what’s left.”

I draw it out of her hand slowly, unfold it and open the tab. A stack of small bills fills the inside. It’s not a huge amount, but it’s huge to me. I stuff it into my back pocket. “I can’t believe you did this. Last year I couldn’t find anyone willing to buy the damn fruit. I had to pay them to take it away. The year before I had to hire a truck to get rid of the rotten things.”

“Oh. Also I made a deal with a couple of the grocers to take what’s left when we’re done here today. I hope that’s okay.”

“Okay? I can’t believe you did this for me.” My grin is huge. So fucking huge. A weight lifted off me that I didn’t realize was quite so heavy until she came along and plucked it away. Better, I didn’t have to ask my siblings to help. Didn’t have to burden them with shit I couldn’t handle.

“I...” She darts a glance at the horizon as though she’s expecting a storm to be gathering there. She ducks her head as though anticipating it will break over top of her as she says, “You’re a good man, Nox, and I care about you, and I just wanted to help.”

“You do, huh?”

“Of course I do.”

“I like the sound of that, Mrs. Casey.” I squeeze her shoulder, though I wanna pick her up and spin her around. Kiss her in front of all these people. First the oranges and then her admission. Makes my chest warm.

“Oh. I didn’t mean...” She swats my shoulder, and I capture her other hand while she blushes the prettiest shade of pink. “I was saying of course I want to help.”

“But you said you cared.”

“Like a friend. In a friendly way. In the way I might care about anyone I meet.” Her eyes are huge, doe-eyed. Her gaze flicks about, not quite landing any place.

“Come here.” I wind my fingers around her wrist and pull her away from the group. We cross the aisles of trees, heading to the furthest part of the grove. Away from the people and the noise and the oranges still hanging like fat little baubles.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

Stopping at the last tree, I pull her between it and me. Her back up against the bark, I grip the trunk on one side of her, rest my other arm above her head. Voices waft toward us from the group, but they’re faint. Far away enough that no one can see us or hear us if we’re quiet. “It’s okay to admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“That you want something you like to believe you don’t need.” 

“But I don’t want anything,” she says, even as her body arches closer to mine and her tongue glistens her lips. “Except for your signature.”

“On those damn papers,” I agree, running a hand up the outside of her leg from her knee to her hip. The papers that have been sitting on my bench since they arrived. The ones I refuse to open or read. Especially after she told me why it’s so important to her. Because what she really wants is for me to prove her wrong.

“Exactly.” She winds her leg around me, her heel pushing into my calf. Small hands spread across my chest.

I bow my head to hers. “Our lives are entwined for better or worse and I happen to like it like that. I like the way you want me even though you can’t admit it. Headstrong or shy. Either way works for me.”

“I can admit it, but it’s still completely irrational.” She twists her head to the side, giving me access to her neck. “Human nature. That’s all.”

“It’s a fucking turn on is what it is.” I nip her skin at the juncture of her shoulder, breathe in her sweet and yet slightly tart scent. “If we were alone...” I grasp her ass and pull her tight against me “...I’d have these cute little shorts you’re wearing down around your ankles. Your panties too. And I’d show you how much I like the fact that you care about me and you wanted to help.”

She gasps, and her breasts push against my chest. Tight diamond points form under the thin cotton of her top. “But we’re not alone, so you won’t, will you?”

Can’t help teasing her a little. Let my fingers graze up and down her side. “You don’t want me to make you come with my fingers? Don’t want my rough hands on your skin, making you hot, making you see stars?”

“Oh God.” She whimpers in my ear as her hands grip my hair and hold me close.

“I know how much my fingers turn you on. Rough calluses.”

She breathes in sharply, her leg tightening at my hip. “Skilled, agile digits.”

“Flexible. Able to touch you exactly how you like.”

A low moan breaks from her lips. “You know how to play me.”

It’s so tempting to ignore everything but the desire to touch her the way she wants me to. I love that I have this effect on her. My chest puffs up and my cock stiffens. I skim the bare flesh between her shorts and top and she starts to pant. The warm sliver of flesh quakes with my touch as I slip the tips of my fingers beneath the waistband of her shorts. “All I would have to do is slide this hand into your panties.”

“Nox.” She says my name like a plea.

Makes me feel like a god. I wriggle my fingers lower. Slide a digit through her wetness and around her clit. “Going to want to hear you say my name again, Angel.”

“Nox, stop.” Beck shoves both hands into my shoulders, pushing hard. It leaves me reeling for a moment. I want to tell her that when I told her to say my name I didn’t mean like that. Then the voices break in.

“Have you seen Beck? Wanted to tell her we were done with that side of the orchard.”

“Yeah, we’re done with our side too.” That’s West’s voice. “She’s not with the others? Maybe she went back to the cabin.”

“I saw Nox a little while ago. Maybe she’s with him.” Another voice chimes in. “He’s your guitar teacher, right?”

“Right,” West speaks again. “They’re friends. I’ll text him and tell him we’re finished.”

“Great, bro.” Footsteps trudge away from us.

“She’s hot.” Another of West’s friend’s comments, and Beck makes a funny little noise as she covers her mouth. I try not to smirk but he’s right; she is. And she’s my wife. And maybe I could be one lucky bastard if I could make her mine in more than name.

“She’s fine all right.” Someone else picks up the conversation. More footsteps move closer to our hiding spot. “That rack, man. That ass. There’s no way they’re just friends. He has to have tapped that.”

I growl under my breath. Cuss. Should go out there and tell those boys not to talk about her like that. But I’m half hard and I don’t want to put more wood on their fire. One of them spots me like this and they’re going to have some evidence to their theory.

Beck makes a face and winds an arm around my waist, keeping me close. Rubbing up against me in a way that doesn’t help.

“Shut up, Julian,” West grumbles.

“All I’m saying is that we could all use a friend like that,” this Julian kid calls out and the group laugh as they head out of the grove without spotting us.

There are still other people in the grove. Other voices. So I don’t hold onto her when she pulls away from me. But I do help her brush the bits of tree debris from her back.

“You didn’t tell me,” she says. “Why do you hate the oranges so much?”