Mourning Wood

by Heather M. Orgeron

  “Add condom fisher-outer to your list of jobs.”

  Waking up to Whitney draped across my chest is my new favorite thing in life. The warmth of her bare breasts. Her hair tickling my nose with every intake of breath. The steady cadence of her heartbeat thrumming against my ribs…

  My own version of heaven.

  It’s a little after six in the morning, but the room is already bathed in sunlight thanks to neither of us thinking to shut the balcony before passing out last night. No matter. I’d be awake either way. At least the orangey glow allows me to enjoy the view while I trail my fingertips along her spine and watch her squirm.

  “Good morning,” she rasps, stretching her legs out with a yawn. Her sex-tousled hair falls around her face in a veritable rat’s nest. “Someone’s happy to see me.” She trails a hand over my morning wood, causing me to leap up and haul it to the bathroom in a hurry.

  “Someone’s gotta pee,” I chant on my way, laughing at her loud, exaggerated groan.

  “I was about to take advantage of that,” she grumps.

  “No worries.” I return with a lingering semi dangling between my legs while drying my freshly washed hands on a towel. “You’re only a few pumps away from paradise.”

  Her answering laugher fills my soul, as I leap into the bed beside her and proceed to demonstrate just how quickly our little dilemma can be remedied.

  “These things are sinfully delicious,” she garbles around a mouth full of food while we look for a decent spot on the New Year’s Day parade route. It isn’t for a few hours yet, but pretty soon there won’t be a square foot of sidewalk to stand on. We post up next to each other on the curb in a nice shaded spot to wait it out.

  “You have a little something right there.” I start to dust the falling powdered sugar from her breasts, but she swats my hand away.

  “I was saving that for later.”

  “For me? Or yourself?”

  She waggles her brows. “Here,” she says grabbing a beignet from her little white pastry bag. “Eat one so I don’t feel like such a pig.”

  Between bites we talk about everything and anything from the antics she and Kate got into as little girls to my stint in rehab when Mimi found pot in my room.

  “She sent you to rehab for a little pot?”

  I widen my eyes and gawk at her. “You met the woman! Mimi don’t play. And for what it’s worth, it worked. I never touched the stuff again.”

  She giggles. “I was raising a baby while my friends were going through that phase.” Her smile wobbles. “I used to think I missed out on so much, but now I really believe Prissy saved me from a world of heartache and bad decisions.”

  “It’s true,” I agree fervently. “You’re so much more mature than other girls I’ve dated that were your age.”

  “And inexperienced,” she adds, her cheeks turning rosy.

  “That’s a positive.”

  “Is it?” Fuck, she’s adorable.

  “Hell yeah!” I tip her chin up and meet her gaze. “Now I get to show you the ropes.”

  She shakes her head to herself. “I’ve had plenty of sex, Wyatt.”

  No need to brag, Whit.

  “You don’t have to be a virgin to be innocent, love.”

  She folds her arms over her knees, resting her head on top and angling it my way. “Explain.”

  “Well, your lack of interest in relationships has kept your heart pure.” I brush a lock of hair behind her ear to better see her features. “I don’t take the honor of being your first love, lightly.”

  “How do you know I didn’t love Prissy’s dad?” she counters.

  I wave that pesky thought away. “Impossible. You’re way too smart to fall for someone like that.”

  “Yeah, he was…” She cringes. “A good time, but a really bad choice.”

  “Hey, that really bad choice left you with a priceless gift.”

  She nods. “I occasionally wonder if he ever thinks about her, or if he just went off to college without ever looking back.” She brings her thumbnail to her mouth and nibbles on the end.

  “His loss is my gain.” I don’t think she could possibly know how sincerely I mean that.

  She smiles, reaching for my hand. “You really love her.”

  “I do.” My answer comes with zero hesitation. “And I love you.”

  She nods, giving my fingers a squeeze while she clears the emotion from her throat. “I love you too, Wyatt.”

  I bend to press a kiss to the top of her head, then stroke my hand over her back.

  “Can you believe this all started with a dumpster fuck?” She spits a laugh. “God, when I walked out to meet our new construction guy, and saw you standing there…” She shakes her head.

  “I wasn’t even sure I was gonna take the job until I realized it was you, all high and mighty in your pencil skirt and lace blouse.” I chuckle. “Such a stark contrast from the party girl I hooked up with in that alley. I almost didn’t believe it.”

  “Then I opened my mouth.”

  “And I knew.”

  “Knew what exactly?” Her sly grin stretches ear to ear while she looks at me expectantly.

  “That I was gonna have to fuck the hoity-toity outta your uptight ass.”

  She chokes. “You took the job because you wanted to have sex with me?”

  “I took the job because I saw a damsel in distress.” I give her a little jab with my elbow. “You needed saving, and I was just the man for the job. Don’t be twistin’ my words.”

  “And your plan was to save me with your penis.”

  I nod. “That sounds about right.”

  Her look is one of stunned disbelief. “You’re a real prince, Wyatt Landry.”

  “You’re welcome.” I give her the best bow I can manage from my seated position.

  “So, why’d you stay?” She hedges. “After.”

  “Because,” I drawl. “You flipped the script and made me fall in love with you first.”

  “I love that.”

  “You know, they say you find love in the least likely of places.”

  She grunts. “We just happened to find it behind a dumpster.”

  “Nah. That was unfettered lust. Love came later. We found that in a funeral home.”

  “We’re just a real fucking fairy tale.”

  I don’t know if my uncontrollable laughter is from what she said or how she said it. “Can’t wait to tell our fuckin’ grandkids,” I finally say, when I can catch my breath.

  “Excuse me.” A very irate woman walks up, tapping me on the shoulder. “There are children present.”

  “I’m so sorry.” I glance around at the crowd that’s collected while we’ve been sitting here lost in our own little world.

  After that we stick to safer topics. Sports. The weather.

  Until the telltale sirens announce the start of the parade.

  As the first float nears, Whitney turns to the woman we upset earlier and her children behind us, offering them our spot. I’m assuming it’s to make amends for our potty mouths. But it could also be that she’s just that freaking sweet. Whatever the reason, it makes me proud to be with such a thoughtful woman. Especially when I see the kids raking in beads and candy galore.

  “Thanks,” says their mother, whose face now has a megawatt smile in the place of her early grimace.

  “It’s no problem,” Whitney assures her.

  “Mount up, cowgirl,” I tease crouching so she can climb up onto my shoulders.

  “What am I going to even do with you?” she asks, blushing while she moves to make her ascent. “I can’t do it.” She circles around me, sizing me up. “I’m gonna hurt you…or break my neck.”

  “Sure, ya can. Put your hands on my head and then just froggy hop up.”

  “Riiiiiight.”

  It takes a few tries, and our uncontrollable laughter after every miss certainly doesn’t help matters. But before the next float arrives, her thighs are wrapped around my neck, her hands fisted in my h
air.

  And me? Well, I’m considering looking for the nearest dumpster, of course.

  “Hey there, handsome.” I pound a fist on the open door of the old barn turned shop in order to be heard over the buzzing of his power tools.

  At the sound of my voice, Wyatt kills the saw, lifting his dust covered goggles to rest on top of his head, and whirls around.

  It’s a rather warm day for January, even in Louisiana, with it being in the mid-seventies. I’m extra thankful for that fact when I catch sight of him shirtless and dripping in sweat. I’m literally salivating. He’s in a pair of work jeans. They’re worn and sitting low on his hips. And his abs. Dear Lord Almighty.

  The man makes filthy look like a snack.

  “To what do I owe this surprise?” With wide eyes, he looks to me and Prissy, back and forth a few times, his smile growing with every twist of his head.

  “We wanted to come see what you’re doing over here,” Prissy announces, charging into his waiting arms. “We missed you, Wyatt.”

  It’s been two whole days since we saw him last, and my little girl and I have been going out of our minds with Wyatt withdrawals. It’s a thing, okay?

  The funeral home and, well, life in general are—in the words of my child—boring without him. I must say, I concur.

  “I hope this is okay…” I twist the toe of my Converse into the ground, breaking up dirt.

  “You kidding?” He crosses the shop to kiss my cheek, leaving me longing for so much more. He’s really good about toning things down for my daughter, maybe even better than I am. Despite it being a very chaste peck, she’s still ooooh-ing and giggling up a storm. “I can’t even think of a better surprise than my favorite girls showing up unannounced.”

  “Well, I know you’re busy with building these cabinets.” I swipe some sawdust off his brow and take a glance around the cluttered space. He’s got cabinets in every stage of development from raw wood stacked in one corner to frames awaiting doors, some put together just needing to be finished, and even some completed pieces drying in the sun after being stained. “I promise we won’t be in the way.” I tilt my head and bat my lashes. “I even brought the stuff to whip up spaghetti. I mean, you’ve still gotta eat, right?”

  “I know what this is really about,” Wyatt taunts, bringing his lips close to my ear. “You’re in mourning.”

  I narrow my eyes. “For whom?”

  “Not who…what.”

  “Okay,” I amend, “for what?”

  “My wood,” he rasps before flicking his tongue discreetly over my lobe.

  I snort, slapping him on the chest. “No! That’s definitely not what this is about.”

  “So, you’re not?” He pushes his lip out into the most pitiful of pouts.

  “Well, I mean…” I feel the flush taking over my cheeks. “I could definitely go for some of that too…but that’s not why we’re here.”

  He nods, backing away as he clears his throat. “Dinner sounds amazing, and Priss?”

  “Yeah, Wyatt?”

  “Sprinkles could use a training session. He’s been awful obstinate lately.”

  “On it,” she chirps, sprinting across the yard for the back door of his little house that’s looking a lot less like a fixer-upper with each passing day.

  “Get over here, woman.” His ravenous gaze has me burning up with need.

  “She could come back at any—”

  “I just want a kiss,” he says, sauntering back toward me. My head rests against the cypress wall of his shop when he tips my chin up with a finger and his hungry lips descend on mine. He kisses me deeply, thoroughly, and with so much passion, I have horny tears building in my eyes when he finally forces himself to break away. “I’ve missed you, Whit. Don’t ever doubt that. If I didn’t have to have these damn things finished by tomorrow, there’s no way I’d have stayed away.”

  “I know.” I cup his cheek in my hand. “You get back to it. I’m going to go get dinner started.”

  “Careful…” He swats me on the ass with a flick of his T-shirt on my way out the door. When I turn back to see what he’s babbling about, he grins and says, “A man could get used to this.”

  I leave him with a flirty wink and proceed to the house, floating on a cloud.

  Upon entering, I’m greeted with the sound of Prissy and Sprinkles horseplaying in the living room. She truly loves that dog. It’s good to see her smiling and engaging with someone other than her grandparents and myself, even if her new friend is a miniature pony.

  Wyatt’s house smells like him. Like leather and sunshine, sawdust and man. I can’t even look toward his bedroom without aching for his touch. I miss him. To the point it’s kinda scary. Two days isn’t long. Yet somehow it feels like a lifetime.

  I busy myself with washing up the few dishes Wyatt left soaking in the sink. Then, I get right to work, browning and draining the meat and boiling noodles. After adding a couple of cans of Ragu—hey, I never said I was some master chef—I lower the heat and cover the pot.

  With nothing left to do but make sure the house doesn’t catch fire, I plop down into a chair at the table and, for just a few minutes, allow myself to imagine what life here, in this house with Wyatt and Prissy, might be like.

  “So, there’s something I wanted to talk to the two of you about,” Wyatt says, taking his seat beside me at the table after pulling out both mine and my little girl’s chairs. The scent of Irish Spring engulfs me. The ends of his hair are still dripping, and his fresh shirt is damp. Did no one ever teach this man how to dry himself?

  I would be all too happy to volunteer for the job.

  “What is it?” Prissy asks while I give his thigh a little squeeze under the table.

  “It’s been recently brought to my attention that someone has a birthday coming up.”

  “It’s me!” Prissy answers, bouncing in her chair. “I’m gonna be seven.” She Cabbage-Patches her arms in circles over her plate.

  “I know.” He grins, clearly amused by her enthusiasm. “How would you feel about us taking a little trip?”

  “Like a vacation?” she squeals, before turning to me with reluctance. Her face droops. “We don’t take vacations…”

  I feel sick. The last thing I want is to have to be the one to disappoint them both. “Wyatt…I can’t just leave.”

  “But what if you could?” he asks, not losing a bit of steam. He’s got a confident air that tells me he’s convinced this is already a done deal.

  “You’ve seen what goes on at the funeral home on a day-to-day basis. It’s too unpredictable.” I swallow a lump. “People rely on us—on me.”

  “Your parents are already onboard,” he announces before I can get too upset. “They think the two of you getting out of that depressing place for a few days is worth Marie coming out of retirement for just as many.”

  “Really?” While she still helps out here and there, Momma was more than ready to retire when I took over. The stress of the job was beginning to take a real toll on her.

  Wyatt leaves me to stir in my thoughts, while getting up from the table to retrieve a few brochures from the junk drawer in the kitchen. “Check it out,” he says handing one to each of us. “Great Bear Lodge. It’s an indoor waterpark where our little mermaid here can put her recent swimming lessons to good use.”

  “Look at this big water slide, Momma!” Prissy is out of her mind with excitement.

  “What about school?” I’m really not trying to be Debbie Downer—just thinking of anything that might prevent this trip from happening before allowing myself to get too excited.

  “School.” Wyatt scoffs and rolls his eyes. “No one should have to go to class on their birthday.” He turns to my little girl, who gives her head an enthusiastic nod of agreement. “It’s a four-day weekend. She’d only have to miss two days. It’s not far—just outside of Dallas. We’ll travel at night…”

  “Wow,” I sigh. “You’ve really thought this through.”

  He reaches
across the table for Prissy’s hand and to my lap for mine, giving them both a squeeze. “Well, what’d’ya say, Momma? Can we?” he asks, bringing his fingers together at a point beneath his chin. “Huh? Huh? Can we?”

  “Can we?” Prissy joins in. “Huh? Huh?”

  “Fine!” I shout, with a laugh. “When do you propose we take this trip?”

  “Second weekend of February. Friday to Monday.”

  I nod. “How much is it? When do we book?”

  “Already taken care of,” he says, booping me on the nose. “Now let’s eat. I’m starving.”

  We decide to make the trip to Great Bear Lodge in Whitney’s Camry, since it’s newer and more dependable than my old rust bucket. After dropping Sprinkles off to stay with Beau and Kate, we line up in carpool to scoop Prissy up from school and head out. With an eight-hour drive ahead of us, we aren’t wanting to waste any time waiting around for her bus.

  “Free at last,” the little heathen chants when she throws her backpack on the seat and clambers in after it. This girl always looks like she got into a scuffle with a cat and lost by the time the school day ends. She has more hair out of her ponytail than in it.

  “How was your day?” Whitney turns completely around in her seat to make sure Priss is buckled in properly. The restraint it takes not to reach out and slap that fine ass of hers… It’s practically begging for it, all firm and round in those tight-fitting jeans.

  “It was good, but Mrs. Wyler said she’s gonna have a talk with you about responsible parenting when we get back.”

  “Damn it, Prissy! You weren’t supposed to tell anyone about our trip.” With a loud harumph, the angry blonde flops back into her seat, effectively stealing my view while she refastens her belt. “What happened to pretending to have the flu?”

  “I’m sorry, Momma. I’m just not a good liar like you.”

  I actually feel Whitney’s gaze burning a hole in the side of my face when I spit out a laugh. “What?” I ask recoiling toward my window. “Oh, come on, you have to admit, that was funny.”

  “It’s not funny! That woman hates me.”

  “Hey,” I say, reaching across the car to tickle the back of her neck. That sour face of hers just isn’t sitting well with me. This is supposed to be a happy trip. “You let me handle Mrs. Wyler, okay?”