Page 22 of Cut to the Heart of It
“After I finally moved on from that mess, I just never found the right person. Now, it’s too late for me.” My brow furrowed, confused. “Menopause.”
“Ah. You don’t look old enough for that.”
“Good response. But I’m 45. It started a few years ago and now; I don’t have to worry about pads or tampons anymore.” She started to grab her fork again, then looked at me with a grin. “Speaking of such things, where did the box of condoms come from earlier?”
“All my cabins are stocked with pads, tampons, and condoms. A customer left a note a long time ago as a joke I think, but it actually made sense. Folks sometimes don’t realize how far from town we are and well, those are things you need at the drop of a hat.”
“That’s really thoughtful, especially for the ladies.”
We both finished eating but I noticed she wasn’t as tense as before. The apples of her cheeks stayed round as we ate, the smile never leaving her face. But this time, it didn’t seem forced.
I stood when I was done, and she tried to grab her plate and stand so I took it from her hands. “Sit.”
“I can clear my plate. Plus, you cook, I clean. Fair is fair.”
I spun her in the chair and boxed her in, gripping the island behind her. “Woman, I don’t like that you’re so uncomfortable with me doing things for you. You’re gonna have to get over that real fast.” Staring down at her as I stood between her thighs, my groin tingled as I tried to will the blood from rushing there.
Her chest rose and fell with deep breaths. “Well, it’s best to not pull out all the stops early. If I get used to it, I’ll always expect it.”
I leaned down, inches from her lips. “You should always expect it.” I grazed my lips over hers before giving her a peck. Then, I stood, grabbing our plates and started to clean.
She went to the couch and turned on the TV and once I finished up, I grabbed a beer. “Do you want a beer, some Fireball?”
“How about some Fireball if you don’t mind?”
I poured her a double and put the bottle away. She took the drink from my hand, and I glanced down next to her. “May I?”
She patted the seat, so I sat, wrapping my arm around her then pulled her legs over my lap.
“Cheers,” she said as she held her glass up.
“Cheers,” I replied as I clinked my beer to her glass. “What are we drinking to?”
“To simple things.”
Sitting there with her watching her murder shows, everything felt great. And simple.
Chapter 13
CJ
Several days passed. Several amazing, relaxing, and sizzling days. Johnny was definitely rough around the edges, but he was also kind, thoughtful, and gentle. Well, sometimes not so gentle in bed. I had more orgasms in four days than I had in ten years that weren’t self-induced.
Even with all the intense satisfaction, I managed to get nearly done with my manuscript. It was like a dream. I woke up with him worshipping me, then he would cook me breakfast, then go work on the trees on the trail while I wrote. I’d stop to make us lunch and take him cold drinks. After writing some more, he’d return, shower, and cook dinner for us, never letting me clean up.
We talked about everything, and nothing. He rubbed my feet while I watched my “murder shows” as he called them. His son and uncle stayed in contact with him. The rain had let up, but the crews were making their way around the town then up the mountain.
My boss gave me grief when I told him I was stuck, but I had my laptop and could work so I did when the workweek started.
Johnny overheard and asked a million questions about my job and if I liked it.
“Like is a strong word. It pays the bills.”
He was cleaning up the kitchen after dinner while I sipped Fireball at the island, not allowed to help. “But you want to write full time?”
“That’s the dream.” I spun in the chair. “My friends and I joke all the time. We all just want to move the woods and write books.”
“Move to the woods? Like hermits?”
