CHAPTER TWENTY
By the middle of the week, sunscreen and shiny noses were no longer a problem. It had rained for two days straight. Here she was on Wednesday, and it was still coming down. Whenever Jenny leaned forward, water streamed from the bill of her cap in stuttering ribbons. She kicked the shovel into the waterlogged dirt, put some weight into it, and the blade slipped. She went down to her ass.
Third.
Goddamn.
Time.
She loved working outdoors, she did, but on days like this, she questioned her career choice. She got to her hands and knees and pushed up. Slid in the mud, back down to a knee. Up again.
She swiped the mud off as best she could. It wasn’t quite lunchtime, she’d been at the community center for three hours, and she’d achieved precisely nothing.
Apart from getting wet and falling over.
Screw it.
If she was honest, it wasn’t the rain distracting her. She had things on her mind, the second most bothersome being Dean and his unwelcome reappearance in her life.
Jenny wasn’t too worried.
Indignant though his comment about ‘bringing men into Kate’s life’ had made her, she understood where he was coming from. She’d be a screaming hypocrite not to.
After all, it had been her main concern, hadn’t it?
Which brought her to the number one most bothersome thing on her mind.
Derek.
Was she really going to do this with him? On the Saturday morning when she’d watched him leave, she’d hated herself a little. Derek was so out there. So much his own person. The pastor’s son who had piercings and tattoos and didn’t offer any excuse or explanation for it. Didn’t even see a need to. He accepted himself without reservation, like he accepted everyone else.
Derek was friendly. Open. Warm. All the things Jenny had never been. She was guarded, cautious, held back.
Watching him leave her house the way he did—early so Kate never knew, pushing his motorcycle so he didn’t wake her—made Jenny realize she was holding him back.
She didn’t want to drag him into the darkness with her. She wanted to step into his light.
She was scared about starting something serious with Derek.
She was even more tired of being scared.
Jenny trudged across the waterlogged lawn to huddle under the overhang of the community center building. She stuck her hand in her pocket and pulled out her phone.
Heart pounding, she swiped at the screen, brought up her contact list and hit dial. She listened to it ringing at the other end.
And ringing.
Ringing.
About to chicken out and hang up, she was already pulling it away from her ear when he answered.
“Hey, Jenny.”
“Derek,” was all she managed. Her voice was strangled. She sounded like Kermit the Frog. She cleared her throat.
“Jen? You okay?”
“Yep. Yes. I am fine.”
“Good.” A silence fell before he prompted, sounding amused, “You need something?”
“Yes!” Awesome. Now she was shouting at him.
“Baby—”
“Are you, uh, busy right now?”
“Nah. I’m stripping an engine but it’s not a priority, got it for a week. Why? What do you need?”
Jenny gripped the phone. Say it. Get it out. He’ll take it from there. “You,” she said. “I kind of need you.”
“Yeah?” Derek laughed. “What happened? I know your car didn’t break down again because I gave it a thorough going-over. Get a flat?”
Okay. He hadn’t picked up on the sex vibes she was beaming at him. “No.”
“What do you need, Jen?”
“You,” she said again, then breathed into the phone. She was having trouble getting enough oxygen while not giving into the urge to fling the phone away from her and run. She sounded like a pervert.
Upside: it seemed to tip him off.
Derek’s voice sharpened. “Where are you?”
“If I tell you, are you going to come get me?”
Her flirty vibes weren’t working either. She could tell by the way Derek clipped out, all business, “Tell me where you are.”
“I’d rather tell you where I’m going to be in, say, twenty to thirty minutes, depending on traffic.”
“Where?”
“Home.”
“I’ll be there.”
Jenny hung up and stared at the phone.
I just made a booty call.
She stuffed the phone into her pocket, sprinted through the rain to pack her tools away, and darted to the car.
This was not the most well-thought-out booty call.
She was cold, muddy, and soaking wet, and she’d underestimated how long it was going to take her to get home. Traffic was slow.
Then again, up until ten minutes ago she’d been a booty call virgin. She decided to cut herself some slack.
She was taking the final turn that led out of Emerson when she glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a headlight fire up as she passed. The motorcycle that had been waiting in a side street pulled out, falling in behind her.
It was Derek. Jenny tapped the gas as she exited the town limits.
He dropped back, keeping his distance on the wet road until she made it home. He roared up into the driveway as she opened the car door and got out. She slammed it, staring at him.
The rain had stopped and the sun had come out with a vengeance to glitter on the driveway, bouncing shards of sparkling light off the roof tiles. Derek turned off the bike, staring at her.
At least, she thought he was staring at her. She couldn’t see his face through the visor.
Slowly, he took off his helmet and set it behind him. Just as slowly, he kicked his leg over the bike and stood.
Jenny ran for the porch. She fumbled the keys and it took her three goes to get the damn thing in the lock. Derek thudded up the steps behind her.
And then he was against her, hard body flattening hers to the wood.
He swept her damp hair to one side and, lowering his head, he opened his mouth over the join of her neck and shoulder. She felt his lips, then tongue, then teeth.
Jenny jerked against the door. She’d been going for playful, but Derek’s overtly sexual kiss/bite suggested that he wasn’t in the mood for playing. He held her there for a long moment, until the steaming air seemed to shimmer around them.
Then he twisted the key in the door, shoved her in, and followed.
The hall filled with the sound of their rapid breathing.
Derek’s face was drawn tight. He focused on her, dark blue eyes searing hers. He didn’t say anything, but the question was clear. Is this what you want?
Jenny nodded and, holding his gaze, went to toe off her boots.
He shucked his leather jacket and dropped it to the floor. He kicked off his boots. Stripped the long-sleeved T-shirt over his head. The white T-shirt he wore under that was next, and then he was standing there in nothing but his jeans. Waiting for her.
Jenny was still wrestling with her boots. With the stupid laces on her stupid boots which—argh—were knotted tight and soaking wet and she couldn’t. Get. A. Grip.
Cheeks burning, she crouched and went for it, yanking and tugging.
“Motherfucker,” she said. “Goddammit.”
She glanced up to see Derek leaning one broad shoulder against the wall by the living room doorway, fighting a smile.
She threw up her hands. “So much for sexy.”
His lids lowered. “You want sexy, leave the boots on.”
Jenny stood and stared down. “Really?”
“Yeah. Get your shorts off.”
“I’ll feel like an idiot naked and in these boots.”
Derek ran his hot gaze over her. “Don’t forget the mud.”
Jenny swiped at her cheek. She really hadn’t planned this well, had she?
Derek strolled over and put a finger beneath her chin. “Want me to get them off for you?”
He could keep looking at her like that, and they’d melt right off.
Derek dropped to his knees.
Or he could do that. That would do it. “Oh.” She swayed and clutched his shoulders, as if him kneeling before her had stolen her balance.
Derek grasped her hips and kissed her stomach. She sucked it in and he laughed against her. His fingers went to her laces, and he tugged gently. Then he tugged not so gently. Then he sat back on his heels, frowning, and worked at it.
“How tight did you tie these?” he said. “You know what? Forget it.”
“Derek, I’m not having sex in my boots.”
“Not today,” he agreed. “Luckily, I can fix this.” He stood to his full height, hefting her up into his arms.
Jenny shrieked and clutched him. He strode into the kitchen, sat her on the counter by the sink and opened the drawer in the cabinet to the left. He pulled out a pair of scissors and cocked a brow.
“You’re going to cut them off?” Jenny said. “Bit extreme, isn’t it? And how did you even know which my junk drawer was?”
“Junk drawer was an educated guess.” He tucked the point of the scissors into the mess of laces, and cut. “As for it being extreme, yes. Don’t be fooled. I might seem calm but I’m riding the edge here, Jen. Either it’s this, or I will have you naked on your kitchen floor, wearing your boots.” He paused and bit his lower lip. “Mmm. We’re definitely gonna do that one day soon. Today, I’m being a gentleman.”
“Some gentleman. You ruined my footwear.”
“Yep. You’re next.” Derek yanked her boots off and leaned away, dropping the scissors back in the drawer. He caught the nape of her neck and kissed her. Hot, open-mouthed, demanding. “Put your arms around me,” he said against her lips.
Jenny did, wrapped her legs around his hips, and he carried her out the kitchen and up the stairs.
They didn’t break eye contact once.
Even when he tripped on the top step. Jenny let out a peal of laughter. He smothered it with a grinning kiss. “This is going great,” he said. “I don’t know why you’re laughing.”
“Because I’m happy,” she said recklessly as they made it to the bedroom.
“Good. I want to make you happy.” He lifted her a little and she took the hint to unwrap her legs. Slowly, Derek slid her down his body.
As soon as Jenny’s feet hit the ground, she pushed him backward. Derek yielded to her shove, doing a terrible job of hiding his smile.
Jenny pushed him back another step. His legs hit the bed and he sank down. She kicked his feet apart and stood between his spread knees. He leaned into his hands, watching as she began to wrestle with the buttons on the placket of her polo shirt.
She never did the stupid buttons up because it made her look like a dork but she’d gotten tired of the cold rain sliding into her cleavage. Of course, today had to be the day she did them up to the top.
But Jenny had other things on her mind.
“Since we’re doing this, Derek, there are a few things you need to know.” Stretch marks. Cellulite. Love handles.
“Need help with that?” Derek asked.
“No! I am perfectly capable of undressing myself!”
Not thus far, she wasn’t. She saw him think it. Derek kept the observation to himself. Instead, he said mildly, “You’ve got three seconds to get it off, or I’ll strip you.”
Jenny’s eyes locked with his.
“Three,” he said.
Giving up on the buttons, she grabbed the hem and yanked her shirt up.
“Two.”
“Shit.” Her voice was muffled by the fabric as she tried to get it over her head. The neck hole was still a fraction too small. She got it stuck on her jaw. Yanked again.
Derek stroked her quivering stomach over the tank top she had tucked into her shorts.
Jenny lurched back and he caught her, holding her in place.
“One,” he said.
Jenny gave an almighty yank and emerged flustered.
Reaching up, Derek pushed her hair off her hot face. “This, too,” he said, plucking at her tank.
“I need to warn you first—” she began.
Derek untucked the tank and drew it up and over her head.
Jenny went still.
So did Derek.
Her boobs were at his eye level, and Derek made a noise at the back of his throat. It was almost a moan, and there was not a damn thing helpless or pleading about it. It sounded…hungry.
Jenny was small, but she was curvy. She wasn’t toned and fit like Lila. Although she was strong, her muscles weren’t defined and on the surface, they were quite content living under her extra fifteen pounds of padding.
She had bits that jiggled. Mostly around boobs and butt, which was great, but there was plenty of softness in between.
She’d borne a child, and she carried the marks of that time on her body. Marks she was proud of, except… Derek had probably been anticipating taut muscles and smooth, unblemished skin, and now he was faced with the reality of all that she was and oh God remember to breathe.
Her palms turned damp and she clenched her fists, narrowing her eyes at him. Yeah, buddy. This is me. Get a good look.
Derek exhaled a slow breath and managed to tear his gaze away from her boobs long enough for her to see that the dark blue iris was almost eaten up by his dilated pupils.
Jenny unzipped her shorts and shoved them down her thighs. They hit the carpet with a wet thump.
She put her hands on her hips and lifted her chin.
“Nice panties,” Derek said. “Really nice panties,” he said, lower. “Take them off.”
“You first,” she said.
A dimple flashed in his cheek as he hooked his thumbs in the elastic and stripped them down.
Jenny’s mouth dropped open. “I meant you take your jeans off first,” she said, shrill.
“Oops.” Derek reached out and flicked open the front clasp of her bra. He drew the straps slowly off her shoulders, standing as he did until he was towering over her.
He waited. When she didn’t move, just stared at his chest, he bent to say in her ear, “You take my jeans off.”
Jenny curled a finger in the waistband and tugged him closer until the warm denim gently abraded the skin of her stomach and thighs. She glanced up at him and got a bolt of pure lust for her trouble when she saw his eyes fixed on her breasts.
This was getting more real by the moment. Swallowing hard, she unsnapped his jeans. She lowered the zipper.
And then she stopped.
This time when she glanced up, he was watching her.
“Kiss me, Jenny,” he said.