Page 70 of Missile Tow
Chip’s body language never intimated that I was crowding him. He didn’t seem to find me needy the way I’d felt with Evan. I’d come to learn the signals with my ex, and slowly but surely, I found myself withdrawn from intimacy with Evan.
I hated to break away, but dinner was calling. “Let me check the beef’s tenderness.”
“Last time I checked the freezer, we were out of beef. Where’d you find any?”
“Bertie brought some in today. I promised her a bowl or two.”
He moved alongside me, peered inside the huge pot, watching as I stirred the stew. “What time is the entire town arriving for dinner?”
I pivoted my hip into his, bumping him out of my way when I reached for the garlic salt. These moments of us sharing a homelife were few and far between because of his obligations to his business, but I carved out time to spoil him.
In the past, dreaming about a man like Chip occupied my fantasies. And now, he was real. I intended to show my appreciation. The best part was that he knew how to be thankful and reinforce my actions with his own appreciation.
“Stop teasing about the portion,” I scolded. “I know we’re busy at the store, so I’m cooking tons. We can eat this until Christmas. Plus, we’ll have lunches.” I held the garlic salt toward him. “A lot, or a little?”
“Of you or the salt?”
“I’mafter dinner,” I teased, placing my hand to the front of his boxers, his expanding cock showcasing dessert.
“Promise?”
“If you want, I’ll drop this spoon right now, mister.”
Chip slid his hand under the waistband of my boxers and took turns holding each butt cheek, bouncing them like a boy with a new toy. Actually, I worehisboxers. I’d stopped wearing my Calvin’s after finding out how comfy boxers were. That, and he looked so damn sexy in his. I hoped he found me half as attractive as I found him.
Oddly, at that very moment, I was horny, happy, melancholy, and worried. All those conflicting emotions hit at once. As much as I’d spent the past two weeks focused on living in the moment, I was becoming attached to everything about him and Missile. The tiny community felt like home, and I was afraid the rug would be yanked out from under me.
Nights like tonight filled me with emotion. Christmas music played from a portable speaker on the fridge. Pooch was curled up near the fire, occasionally moving to a cooler space when he got too warm. The aroma of stew filled the cabin with a homey feel I suddenly found tugging at my heart. All of that, plus Chip,made me feel like I resided in a postcard. An image of domestic bliss with a heap of belonging.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Chip asked, touching my arm. “Why the misty eyes?”
I swallowed the desire to weep. “This,” I murmured, gesturing around the cabin’s interior. “I really love all of this, Chip. I love Pooch. The cabin. The Christmas tree. Being here with you.”
He held the sides of my face, and we exchanged a light kiss. “And I love having you here. You make the cabin feel like a home again.”
“You’re so fortunate to have this slice of heaven.”
He nuzzled my neck and whispered in my ear. “This can be your home too.”
I pulled back, reaching for his hands. “Don’t say that.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Why?”
“Because I want that. But…” I hurriedly looked away.
He moved slightly to his right so he could see my eyes. “Hey,” he soothed, tugging on my chin. “I want that too. More than anything.”
His words added security, but even after all the wonderful things happening for me, I had unexplained worries. I spoke out loud what I figured most people thought. “We’ve only known each other for two weeks, though.”
I couldn’t speak for Chip, but those two weeks had solidified what I’d felt a day after meeting him. We shared an instant connection even though both of us were coming out of a difficult year. I felt that the similar experiences we shared contributed to the bond forming between us.
He focused on me, perhaps trying to decipher if I truly believed two weeks was too brief an amount of time. “Youthink we’re rushing.You,the king of positivity and hopefulness? Is that what I’m hearing?”
“Are we?” I asked, turning the question on him.
He walked to the fireplace and tossed a log onto the embers. He didn’t immediately turn around, so I worried he also thought we were rushing. He turned around and began shaking his head.
“No. No, I don’t think we’re rushing,” he stated. “I truly believe we’ve been given the gift of each other. How else can you explain the way you’ve brought me back to life?” He moved to a barstool and sat down. “Explain how all those strange coincidences had to happen for you to end up in Missile. Why this town? Why me?”
