Micky hadn’t been able to hear everything
from the second story window at the back of the house, though she’d
given her best effort to eavesdropping. She didn’t move after hearing
Simon come in, waiting to see if he was going to seek her out or if he
would take out his frustrations by pounding on the porch some more with
his hammer.
She had no intention of hiding her snoopy nature, or denying her curiosity.
In fact, if he did come looking for her, she planned to bombard him with
questions about what was going on between him and his cousin. But only
another minute or two passed before the kitchen door slammed on his exit
and on all her answers.
She wasn’t patient enough to let him work things out the way men
seemed prone to do. If she expected him to tell her the raw truth rather
than giving her the rational explanation he reached after time alone
in his man cave, she had to get to him before he’d put the incident
away.
She scrambled down the stairs, dashed through the kitchen, and pushed
open the door to the porch. Once outside, she heard the sound of running
water. She followed the noise toward the storage shed that sat near the
tree line at the edge of the clearing. On the far side of that structure
and hidden from view was where she found Simon.
Naked.
At least she assumed he was naked since he was standing under the spray
of a shower. An outdoor shower. Naked. Water raining down. She suddenly
couldn’t remember why she’d come looking for him; she was
too busy looking at him.
He had his eyes closed, his head turned up to the downpour, his hands
slicking his dark hair away from his face. She could see the thick tufts
of hair in his armpits, the wet mat of hair in the center of his chest,
his spiky lashes like spider legs against his cheeks.
The enclosure’s wooden fence stopped her from seeing anything
below his first few ribs, though his legs were visible from the knees
down, and his feet large enough to tempt her to open the gate for a peek
at all the good stuff between.
“What do you want?” he asked.
She had no idea how she had give herself away – unless he could
hear her heart racing, or feel the tingle in the well of her stomach,
the suffocating belt of lust squeezing the air from her chest.
“What happened with your cousin?” she came up with as she
climbed onto the stump of a long-ago felled tree to sit.
“He left.”
“I saw that much.”
“You didn’t hear the rest?”
Damn him. “Only bits and pieces. Not enough to answer all my questions.”
“He won’t be coming around here again. That’s the
only answer you need.”
That’s what he thought. “You’re not going to tell
me about the money you gave him?”
“No,” he said, sputtering water.
“You’re not going to mend your broken fences?”
“I didn’t bring enough tools.”
“I’m not talking about property fences.”
“Neither am I.”
Apparently he wasn’t into sharing his feelings. Or thinking confession
good for the soul. “Did he take all the beer?”
“Every last bottle.”
“And you didn’t tell me you had an outdoor shower why?”
That was when he looked at her. When he finally stopped being an island
unto himself and let her see how much he wanted her and was struggling
to keep her at bay.
She hadn’t known a man’s eyes could steal her breath from
her body. That one could look at her could grind everything she thought
she knew about herself to dust. That desire could come alive and exist
on its own, a being more powerful than she had ever pretended to be.
“Why do you think?” was what he finally said when she’d
expected him to invite her inside.
He didn’t want to make the first move. She’d never known
a man who cared if she was ready, who’d asked himself if seduction
was what she wanted. She’d known this man less than two days and
had stopped counting the ways he’d surprised her. All she knew
was that she was as comfortable with him as if she and not her one-dimensional
self had been engaging him in conversation since the billboard had gone
up.
“Because the woman you thought I was wouldn’t care? But
the woman I am wants nothing more than to strip to her skin and join
you?”
He looked away, a visible tic in his jaw, another in his temple, his
throat flexing as he swallowed his response. And then he gave up the
fight, swearing to himself but loudly enough that she could hear when
he came to get her. He pushed open the enclosure’s gate, stalked
toward her bare and dripping, grabbed her by the wrist and hauled her
fully
clothed with him into the small space and the spray.
It was the most caveman thing she’d ever experienced, a more intoxicating
staking of a claim than any she’d ever imagined – and she
had imagined plenty, but nothing like this . . . his hands holding her
face, his fingers sliding into her hair, his wrists pressed to her temples
as his mouth came down on hers.
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