Wren

THE ENTIRE RIDE TO Flint’s house from when he picked me up at the salon, he’s held my hand as I babble on. I’ve never been much of a talker, but there’s something about him. I’ve got my left leg tucked under me, sitting on an angle in the passenger seat so I can look at him while he drives.

His beard collects little pockets of light when an oncoming car’s headlights hit it, and I love how he bites his bottom lip then tucks it up over his top for a second before settling them back together. It moves the hair just below his bottom lip, and for whatever reason, it’s more than fascinating to me. It’s sexy as hell. His calm is offset by the sheer power that emanates from this enormous man. In my little girl heart, I can’t wait to see him chopping wood. Carrying logs on his shoulder as though they were filled with cotton balls.

The night air has cooled, and it feels like there’s a change in the weather blowing in. His rough hand is gentle and still strong. He’s a puzzle, this one, but one I’m beginning to think I want to spend a whole lot of time trying to solve.

“You do realize I want to know everything about you, Wren. I do mean everything.” He breaks in to my thoughts. “Every thought you have interests me. All the things you may think are meaningless, I want to know them in detail. You are the most fascinating creature I’ve ever come across, and I don’t want to miss another moment. Do you get that?”

I’m taken aback by his proclamation. His voice is solid; there is no game he’s playing here. I don’t know that I’ve ever heard more sincerity in a statement from anyone before. Except maybe my parents.

I clear my throat as he glances over at me. It feels like we’ve been driving on this dirt road in the dark for an hour, but I’d be happy to drive another twelve. Just driving with him is more fun than I can remember having for as far back as my memories go.

“Umm...” I stammer, then I can’t help the smile that bursts across my face. “No. I didn’t get that. But it makes me happy. I can’t stop smiling.”

He dips one eyebrow, regarding me, then looks back at the road and squeezes my hand as he lifts it to his mouth. He holds the back of my hand against his lips for a good minute or more, then finally, he takes a deep breath. His chest fills and stretches the red, blue, and black checked flannel he’s wearing, and he places our layered hands over his heart.

“Scoot closer, Wren. I need your hand here, and I don’t want to pull your arm out of the socket. I’m fairly skilled at backwoods first aid, but hurting my girl is not something I ever want to do.”

My belly flips and tumbles when I hear him call me “his girl.” The independent feminist in me realizes there is nothing demeaning or derogatory about his term of endearment. As well, I sink into the comfort of knowing there is absolutely nothing wrong with me swooning over his burly man in all his Neanderthal-ness. I’ve always been a girl who followed her gut, and I gotta say, my gut is telling me to follow this man, so I’m all ears.

I scoot over as close as I can into the console that separates us.

“Oh, and thank you for offering to cook again tonight. I’m fairly hopeless in the kitchen.”

“My pleasure, Chirp.” He lifts our hands and places them back down on his chest. “I checked your freezer. Hot Pockets are not healthy. You know that, right, Chirp?”

I squint one eye as he looks over with a half grin.

“Chirp?”

“Yeah. Ever since that day I caught you falling off that ladder, that’s the name that’s been going through my head when I think of you. You’re my sweet little bird. Chirping in my ear even when you’re not around. I hear you.”

“Huh.” I shrug, feeling the warmth rise on my cheeks and the fluttering tension take hold between my legs. I’m still sore from last night, and the memory of just how Flint seemed to know my body has me flexing my Kegels and fighting off a little groan.

“Your chirping voice in my head was what got me through four months in jail.” He keeps his eyes straight, and my stomach drops.

“Jeez.” I lower my eyes. “I’m so sorry. I suck because I never asked about all that. Said anything about it any of the times we ran into each other. I don’t handle stuff like that well. I sort of live with my head in the sand so much.”

“No. Don’t apologize. I live by the ‘everything happens for a reason’ motto. So, for whatever reason, things happened the way they should. I spent all that time thinking about you, hearing your voice. I’m none the worse for wear. I shouldn’t have brought it up, so that subject is closed for the moment.”

The thumping of his heart on my hand hypnotizes me. This brute of a man is quickly becoming one of the most beautiful humans I’ve ever met. And I’ve met some good ones along my travels in my short life. I can feel who he is, and it’s an energy that seems to connect directly into my soul.

We drive for a bit in silence, but it’s a comfortable silence. The road worsens, grit and dirt flying up as we bounce over pits and holes, but Flint just takes it in his stride. If he even notices, he makes no indication. I glance around, checking on Hercules as he’s flung up and down in his dog bed on the back seat, but he’s apparently unaware that he’s nearly being tossed off the seat.

More thudding and bouncing comes as Flint steers around the worst of the potholes until we take a right turn around a thick clump of pines, and I get my first look at the “cabin” that he’s been building. The air feels different. Crisp and cool. The scent of something that is more than just forest and pine ignites feelings of comfort inside me.

The headlights throw golden light out into the fog that is gathering low already, glinting from walls of windows that break up the massive logs forming the outer walls of his home.

“Holy Cracker Jacks.” My eyes stretch open, and my lower jaw releases, leaving my mouth agape. “A cabin, huh? You call this a cabin?”

“Yup,” he declares with a casual tone that neither acknowledges nor denies the awe in my question. “Now you can see my other obsession. Or, I should say, my old obsession. It’s been replaced. I think you’ll like staying here, though. I know I’m going to enjoy having you. Two days until you have to go back to work, and I’ve got plans for every minute.” He raises my palm to his warm lips, kissing me as the coarse facial hair surrounds and scratches at the skin where his lips touch.

I pull my phone out of my back pocket and bring it up to snap a picture. When I look down at the screen, my heart sinks.

“Hey, my phone says no service.”

“Yeah. There’s only one company that has even spotty cell service up here. You got someone you need to talk to?”

I consider his question for a moment. The salon is closed on Sunday and Monday. My sister has been up my rear end, but once I realize I am sort of off the grid, I begin to relax. “Nope. No one.” I stuff my phone down into my backpack that is on the floor at my feet and look back at the house, a contented smile settling over my lips.

The cabin spreads across a wide expanse of green lawn. A second story lurks, unfinished, over part of an angled section that hinges off to the left of a sprawling single story. Its beauty is accentuated by its unique combination of rustic and unexpectedly modern design. If Frank Lloyd Wright and Paul Bunyan designed a home, this would be it.

Flint lets my hand go as he pulls the truck up next to the front entry. Beautiful lighting angles up through the shrubs and low trees that nestle around the structure, and the shadows they cast against the texture and shape of the logs is a stunning work of art in light and shadow.

“Let’s go.” He reaches over to run a hand down the back of my hair, and excitement shoots down my back and spreads like a bursting firework in my core.

Outside the truck, Hercules jumps down and sniffs around. He relieves himself on the nearest pine as we gather the bags of groceries and make our way through the heavy, carved front door. Flint follows me through, waiting for Hercules to run through his legs, then kicking the door shut behind us as my eyes once again widen at the astonishing beauty and elegance of such a rustic living space.

“You, Flint Rendell, are a man of many surprises. You can cook. You can build this.” I spin around, twisting my head to gesture at every amazing detail as he walks through the open space to an enormous kitchen that sits off to the left of the great room, a cavernous space which is anchored by a floor-to-ceiling freestanding stone fireplace. “And you can decorate.”

“It’s just stuff I’ve picked up over the last year. The rest of the place is practically empty. Just this room and my bedroom are furnished.” He sets the bags he carried in on what looks like a varnished redwood countertop, and I follow behind, doing the same. “I honestly don’t know why I keep building on to the place.” He looks at me, flattening his palms on the counter and locking his elbows. “But I’m beginning to maybe understand why now.”

“Oh?” I raise my eyebrows and hop up to sit on the counter next to him.

He shifts in front of me, resting one hand on each knee as he spreads my legs without a word, squaring his body between them and leaning forward. His man scent fills my nose and has a direct connection to all the lustful and squishy parts of me, forcing me to draw a deep, ragged breath of anticipation.

“Yeah.” He licks his lips and bares his teeth, wrinkling his nose in a sort of growl for a second. “I think I’m going to fill this place with our babies. I never thought of that before you, Wren. But now, it’s all I can think of. You. Me. And a fucking family.”

My heart races, and my hands move to his beard-covered cheeks. I should be shocked, right? But I’m not. I’m so turned on right now that a little pre-orgasm squeak slips from my throat.

“How do you feel about that?” he asks as his mouth comes down to the nape of my neck, and one of his hands moves into my hair, pulling my head to the side as he bites into the tender flesh and sends sparks of desire spinning into my vision.

“I feel...” Words fail me as he works my buttons, alternating tongue and teeth up and down the tight tendon in my neck. “Oddly excited and happy.” I giggle at the query in his grunt. “I mean, about the thought of a near stranger telling me he’s been fantasizing about me having his babies.”

I feel a smile spread over his face, and a low chuckle vibrates against my throat.

“Good.” He releases my head and kisses me for a long moment, taking any breath I had away. When he finally breaks our connection, he taps a finger on my nose. “You sit there and look as good as a half-fucked fox on fire, and I’ll cook. I’d like to fuck you right there where you sit, but you told me you haven’t eaten anything yet today, so first things first. We’re going to work on that as well. You can’t go all day without food, Chirp. I’ll tan your ass if you do that again, got it?” He raises his eyebrows, those shockingly blue eyes narrowing before he turns and starts to unpack the groceries, and my ovaries are done for.

We talk about everything and nothing while he cooks dinner. The smell is amazing. This guy can really cook. As I sit there and admire the view, I push away the remnants of nagging worry about my finances and the failing salon. I decide, as is my usual style, to live in the moment and pretend that by some magical fairy dust, all my adult problems will work out or disappear.

For this weekend, I’m a princess. Flint even refuses to let me set the table.

“Well, then I will clean up,” I declare as he comes back to take his place between my spread knees sitting on the counter. His hands glide up to give my hips a harsh squeeze, and the low growl and intensity in his eyes as he does it tell me I am going to be dessert.

“Cleanup may have to wait until tomorrow.” He leans in and kisses me, something I’ve grown quite fond of by this point.

He jerks me forward, and my legs spread wide, my crotch pressing into him as my hands come up to the sides of his head where his hair is buzzed short. The texture of the scruff there plays on my palms as his tongue works inside my mouth, and we both sigh as the kiss intensity grows.

With a reluctant grunt, Flint pulls our lips apart, and I’m left struggling to breathe.

“Dinner.” He slips his hands lower to cup my ass then lifts me up and sets me down as if I’m weightless. My legs take a moment to adjust to holding me upright. He’s turning me to Jell-O, and I consciously have to think about making my skeleton and muscles support my weight.

He guides me by the hand to the table, where he’s set everything just so, and my eyes widen when I see my full plate. He pulls the chair out for me, and I slip into the seat as my stomach groans.

“Sorry. Been a long time since I had actual home cooking.”

“Don’t be sorry. You eat it, and I’m happy.”

“It’s a lot of food, though. I mean, this plate looks like it would feed two of you.”

“You’re hungry. I cooked you everything you said were your favorites.”

“Yes, so I can see.” I grin, looking down at the feast. “But I certainly could stand to drop a few pounds, and you will not be helping the cause with this sort of meal plan.”

He stops dead, half into his own chair. Hands come down to flatten on the tabletop on either side of his plate, and his elbows lock as he glares at me from across the small, round table.

“Don’t.” His single word sends shivers down my spine with the power.

“Don’t?”

He does that lip-lick, nose-scrunch thing and adds on a brow furrow for good measure, which has my pulse thumping in my throat and a flush of sweat breaking across my forehead.

“Don’t ever say you need to drop a few pounds again. And, while we’re on the subject, don’t ever call yourself fat or anything resembling that word. Got it? I just want to cover all of this right now. If you ever do that with me, I will turn you over my knee and whoop that ass and show you just how perfect you are. We clear?”

I gulp down the lump in my throat and nod because forming words right now is out of the question.

“Good. Now, eat. I’m hungry as fuck, and we are going to be burning some serious calories off tonight, so get to eating.”

He winks, and a little grinning lip curl has my belly tumbling around.

“Thank you. I mean, it looks delicious.” I bring a bite of the baked macaroni and cheese to my lips and savor the smell of it. As he sits down and rests his forearms on the table, watching me with that sexy as hell Viking-ish smile, everything is just perfect.

“You’re delicious. As a matter of fact, you’re the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted, Chirp. And I’m going to be tasting you again as soon as we are done eating.”

I nearly come from the sound of his words and the truth I hear behind them.

I look around as we eat and chat. By the back door, there are three axes hanging on the wall, and my very active imagination once again pictures Flint swinging them. Naked from the waist up, those muscles in his arms flexing, and his face tight with concentration. A little involuntary shiver runs up my spine.

“You’ve built all this yourself?” I ask as I bring the fried chicken leg to my lips and take the most delicious bite.

“Yes.” He looks up and around. “And no. I mean, the biggest logs, well—some of them are too much for me. I had to have help moving those. I told you about Ramsey and Vince. They both helped when I needed it. And when needed, a few other guys from the crew. But yeah, for the most part, I’ve done it all. A little help with some electrical work, brought in a couple outside companies to do some of the mechanicals that aren’t my specialty.”

He leans back in his chair, watching me eat with a satisfied gleam in his eye.

“Wow,” I mumble, holding three fingers of one hand over my still-full mouth.

“You realize how hard I am right now?” Flint says as my body reacts by drenching my panties.

I shake my head, setting down the chicken leg and realizing I’m as full as I’ve been in years. And the only thing I want right now in my mouth is Flint.

“You done?”

I nod again, words failing me as Flint rises from the table. His sheer size still humbles me and leaves me awestruck.

“Come on.”

He comes around to my chair, pulling it out for me to stand. When I turn, he’s got me by the waist, and in one quick commanding move, he lifts me to face him. My legs automatically wrap around his core. I coil my arms around his neck, and he starts walking us down the hallway off the great room, and Lord knows I’m hoping we are heading toward the bedroom.

The first room we pass draws my eye, but as fast as I look, Flint darts out a hand from under my ass, grabs the doorknob, and pulls the door shut.

“Your office?” I ask. All I could see in my brief glimpse was a row of monitors. There must have been five or six of them above a sprawling modern black desk.

“Yeah. It’s a mess, though. I’ll show you sometime after I clean it up.” Flint’s voice trails off, and he seems momentarily distracted before he looks up at me. I lose myself yet again in those deep, blue eyes. “Right now, I’m going to show you the room that’s been waiting for you for a long time. No one else besides the workers and Vince and Ramsey have been here. This house has been waiting for you too, Wren. Just as I have.”

With that, he brings us to the doorway at the end of the hall, nudges the door open with his boot, and in we go.