by Emily Mayer
"I'll let you get back to work. I need to help get that lumber unloaded before Mom drives everyone crazy."
"You're pretty… I mean you're welcome… I mean okay, thank you." Some not-insignificant part of myself was dying, listening to me botch what should have been an easy response.
Jack shot me one more mind-melting grin before heading back out the way he had come.
"Smooth,” Ben said.
I spun around in my chair to face him with the wild, desperate eyes of someone who wanted to pretend the past few seconds had never happened. "That was bad, right?"
"Oh, yeah." Ben nodded his head in agreement.
"Will you fire me so I can go back to Chicago right now and pretend like that never happened?" I pleaded.
"Not a chance. I’m enjoying watching this way too much."
At least I had a latte to drown my sorrows in.
37.
The sound of saws and hammers echoed through the quiet house for the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening. Ben had eventually abandoned me to help the menfolk, leaving me alone with all my raging hormones. I didn't last much longer before making my way out to King's enclosure—at least that was the lie I was telling myself. I was just taking the long way there, to stretch my legs after sitting all day. If that route just so happened to take me past where the goat house was being built, it was just a happy coincidence, totally unplanned.
I followed the sound of hammering and country music until I reached the new enclosure. Two things immediately caught my attention. First, there was a herd of sweaty, tool-wielding men playing out some handyman fantasy I hadn't known I had until that very minute. Second, the goat house was freaking adorable! It was a surprisingly large two-story structure, with scalloped trim and a balcony in the works. It looked less like a shed and more like a playhouse.
My eyes scanned the group of men until they landed on the person I would’ve been looking for if it hadn’t been just a coincidence that I’d walked by the construction site. Hat backward, Jack was bent over a table with a pencil in his mouth and a ruler stretched out across a piece of wood. I watched, completely mesmerized, as he took the pencil out of his mouth to make several marks on the beam before lifting the saw and cutting along the marks. And then, and then, he reached for the bottom of his t-shirt and lifted it to wipe the sweat off his forehead. I caught a sliver of perfect abs and what I was pretty sure was the start of a tantalizing V that pointed directly to the promised land.
My ovaries exploded like two fireworks on the Fourth of July. Boom. Bang. Sizzle. By the time the bottom of his shirt had drifted back to its proper place I knew I would never be the same. I silently gave thanks for the unseasonably warm September evening.
"Enjoying the show?" The sound of Gabe's voice startled me out of my fantasy world.
I opened and closed my mouth like a fish flopping around on dry land.
"I just came to see if you guys needed any water because staying hydrated is important,” I said, all on a single rush of breath and way too high-pitched to fool anyone.
"Sure you were, perv. I think I have a dollar if you want to shove it in his pants." Gabe reached toward the back pocket of his jeans. I swatted his arm away.
"Shouldn't you be…” I paused, searching the remnants of my brain for the name of a tool. “…hammering something?"
He shook a box of nails I hadn't noticed earlier. "Hard to hammer things without nails."
"Hey." The low rumble of Jack's voice made me whip my head around like a kid who’d just gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
He gave me a crooked smile that had color flooding my cheeks and my head swirling as his boot-covered feet ate up the ground between us.
"Hi," I said, doing my best impression of a totally calm and unaffected human. I noticed his hair was getting long. It curled out from under his hat in a way I found inexplicably attractive. I wanted to run my fingers through those curls. It also confirmed my suspicion that I’d never actually grown out of my "backward hats are so hot" phase.
"Are you okay?" A furrow appeared between Jack's brows. His concerned eyes darted between mine and then performed a quick body scan.
So much for the calm, unaffected act. I could cross actress off my list of potential new careers.
"Evie is trying to earn her first-aid patch, so she came by to make sure we're staying hydrated. Right, scout?" Gabe inserted on my behalf. I elbowed him in the ribs, causing him to chuckle and Jack to look mildly concerned for our collective sanity.
"I just wanted to stretch my legs so I thought I’d come see how the goat shed was coming along. It looks awesome! Like one of those tiny homes on HGTV." I shot Gabe a look which I hoped he understood meant ‘play along or I’ll separate your balls from your body.’
"I can't believe this is for a bunch of goats." Jack lifted the hat up and ran his hand through his damp hair, giving a sigh that was echoed by the remnants of my ovaries.
Gabe announced he was delivering the nails to Cole, and sauntered off in that direction wearing a smug smile.
"Well, I think they’re going to love their new home. I can't wait to see the looks on their little goat faces when they see it," I said, once again playing the role of goat defender.
Jack turned to face me more fully, placed both hands on my hips and gently tugged me closer to him. Warmth spread outward from where his hands were resting and traveled throughout my body.
"They would have been just as happy living in a shed." His eyes had that little shine to them that told me he wasn't really upset.
My gaze darted over his shoulder to the handful of men who could clearly see Jack's hands on me again, and I wondered if they were as confused about the whole thing as I was. I recognized that the smart, mature thing to do would be to ask him for clarification, but that might mean an end to all the touches and almost-kisses. As it turned out, that was a risk I was not willing to take.
I turned my focus back toward the man standing in front of me and moved one hand tentatively up to rest on his chest. My fingers brushed lightly over his shirt at first, cautiously exploring the foreign territory. When I felt reasonably confident he didn't mind the first hand, I moved my other hand up to join it, marveling at the solid wall of muscle beneath them. I almost let out a pleased sigh.
"These poor goats deserve a cute little house after everything they've been through."
Jack smiled at my response. This variety of smile did not bode well for me. "Do you actually know anything about these goats?"
I searched my mind for any mention of their past, and came up empty. "They’re pygmy goats? And… yep, that's it."
His smile morphed into a smug grin. Being this close to him, combined with the smell of sweat and leather and just a hint of something all man, was starting to make me feel a little drunk.
"They lived on a nice farm with a very loving family and a very ordinary shed," Jack informed me, hands squeezing my hips for emphasis.
"Oh. I thought you said your mom was rescuing these goats? It doesn't sound like they needed rescuing."
"They're an older couple, looking to sell their land and move into town. Mom heard about their plan to downsize at church and didn't want the goats to be split up. She's been going on about goats for years, so this was the excuse she's been waiting for."
"Aww, these goats are going to be going through a major life change. It's very important that they have a space where they can feel safe. You want them to feel welcome at Pinehaven, right?" My mouth was moving, but most of my attention was focused on my fingers dancing lightly across Jack's chest. Truthfully, I really didn't care that much about goats right now.
"Not really,” Jack responded flatly.
I laughed, smiling up at him. "Okay, okay, you hate the goats. Your mom’s really excited, though. She’s cooking up a feast as a thank-you for getting their house together so quickly." I dragged the next words out of my mouth. "I should let you get back to work. I’m going to swing by and say hello to K
ing."
I took a step back, letting my hands drop from the chest I wanted to burrow further into, but Jack tugged me closer before I broke free. He leaned in closer and placed a kiss on my forehead, making my breath catch. I glanced up at him, trying to figure out what was going on in that mind of his—and hoping whatever it was meant more of this.
"All right, I'll see you at dinner." He released my hips with a final squeeze, and started walking toward the enclosure. "Tell King I said hi."
And I did. I told King hi for Jack, and all about the kisses. When he didn't offer much insight, I convinced him to be my wingman, then headed inside to see what I could do to help Mary with the thank-you dinner. All the while, my head was busy dreaming up possibilities.
38.
Dinner was mostly the guys sweeping through the kitchen like a hurricane, stacking their plates insanely high with food and then heading back out to finish the goat house. I spent the remainder of dinner alone with Mary, rambling about absolutely anything I could think of in an effort to avoid any questions after she saw Jack drop a quick kiss to the top of my head on his way out the door. I had no answers to give, a fact made extra uncomfortable given that Mary was his mother. I imagined that conversation going something like Mary asking if Jack and I were seeing each other and me responding with "Visually, yes, we see each other."
I spent what felt like an eternity helping Mary do dishes while she snuck glances out the window to ooh and ahh over the goat house, then headed to the office to work a little more on the divestment project for Ben. I knew he’d want to present it at the next board meeting, which was scheduled for the end of the month—a deadline that was suddenly looming large in the back of my mind.
Now that Rodney was gone, I felt freer to wander the house in the evenings. The guys had finished painting the goat house about an hour earlier, and everyone had disappeared to their rooms or their own house for the night. The house was quiet, so I decided it was probably safe to wander downstairs in my grey sleep shorts and long-sleeved pajama top to investigate whether the TV in the living room had Netflix on it. I was tired of watching TV on my laptop; it felt like I was back in my college dorm room.
I flipped on the light in the living room and grabbed a throw blanket off the back of the couch. I dug around for the remote control and confirmed that there was indeed Netflix on the TV. I clicked on my guilty-pleasure show of the moment, and nestled into the corner of the couch. A few minutes later, I heard soft footsteps padding down the stairs, coming to stop behind the couch. I tilted my head back to see Jack standing behind the couch, grinning down at me.
"Hi," I managed to squeak out, pressing pause and scooting myself upright. "I thought everyone would be asleep." I felt a little guilty and a whole lot strange, sitting on someone else's couch watching their TV, even though I was sure no one would mind.
"Couldn't sleep." His voice sounded raspy, tired.
Jack moved around the couch, and my eyes took in the flannel pajama pants slung low on his hips and the worn-looking t-shirt with Pinehaven Ranch stamped across it. He sat down next to me, close enough that our thighs were pressed against each other, and draped his arm across my shoulder. My body switched to autopilot, stiffening as soon as his arm met my shoulders and relaxing when he reached down to scoop up my legs and deposit them over his own. I sat like a limp noodle while he repositioned my body so that it was nestled into his side. I was tucked so close against him that I could feel the light scratch of the stubble lining his jaw on my forehead.
"Comfortable?" I felt the question rumble through his chest more than I heard it.
I nodded my head, mind racing as fast as my heart.
"What are we watching?" he asked, reaching for the remote and pressing play.
"Hmmm? Oh, the new season of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy." I turned away from staring at his profile to watch the show.
"What, now?"
"It's a makeover show, where a group of really awesome gay men help a blah straight guy get it together. I'm a sucker for a makeover show."
Jack chuckled. "This is what you watch?"
"I watch lots of things, and this is a great show." I gave him a gentle poke in the chest. "Who knows, you might even learn something!"
His head snapped toward me, a look of disbelief on his face. "Did you just call me a blah straight guy?"
I laughed, giving his pajamas a little tug.
"You do wear a lot of flannel, and you need a haircut."
He shook his head, a grin tugging up one corner of his mouth. "Rough crowd. I've never gotten any complaints before."
I rolled my eyes playfully at him. "Just watch the show."
Jack obeyed, turning toward the television. I was too busy listening to the sound of Jack's heart beating steadily to pay much attention to the show, but I felt slightly vindicated every time I caught him smiling or chuckling. Eventually, the sound of his heartbeat and the rhythm of his breathing started to lull me to sleep.
His shifting arm jostled my head a little, making me reluctantly peel my eyes open.
"Sorry, my arm was starting to fall asleep. I didn’t mean to wake you up." His eyes searched my face, taking in my sleepy eyes and disheveled hair. I sent up a silent prayer that I hadn't been drooling.
"I can move." I started to sit up, but Jack's arm tightened around me, locking me in place.
"Stay. I like you like this," he said, his voice low and filled with something that sounded a lot like tenderness. It was my turn to search his face, looking for what ‘this’ meant. I was pretty sure he didn't mean half-conscious.
"You do make a pretty good pillow,” I managed, my voice matching his.
A small laugh traveled through his chest. "I can see that," he responded, his hand moving to sweep a few stray hairs off my face. The backs of his fingers gently traced a path from my forehead to my chin, following the lines of my face. He reached up, tugging my bottom lip free of my teeth, then brushing the rough pad of his thumb across the freed lip. His eyes searching for permission, he cupped my face and touched his mouth to mine. He moved away just enough to press his lips against one corner of my mouth and then the other before capturing my lips.
All the thoughts racing through my head stopped, and my heart kicked a frantic rhythm in my chest as he urged my lips to move. I slanted my lips against his before tilting my head so I could deepen the angle. I heard what sounded like a growl coming from his throat, and then his tongue licked the seam of my lips. I opened my mouth on a sigh. He took full advantage of the access granted to him. His tongue swept my mouth before tangling with mine over and over again.
Suddenly, my body was too far from his, and I was scrambling to get closer. I shifted to bring one leg over his lap, and pressed my soft chest against his solid one. A moan escaped him when I rubbed my chest against his, relishing the contrast. His hands traveled up my back, one tangling into my mass of hair to hold my head where he wanted it. My entire body felt like it was electric, like it needed to move more than it needed the next breath. I rotated my hips tentatively at first, trying to relieve some of the friction building up in long-forgotten parts of my body. A growl came from Jack’s throat, his hands traveling to my butt, pulling me more tightly against him. He tore his mouth away to trail wet kisses down my neck, nibbling on the hollow between my ear and neck and making my hips move faster.
Some part of me recognized that I was shamelessly grinding myself against this man in full view of anyone who happened to walk by, but that part was quickly silenced by the pulse beating between my legs. The next moan echoing through the silence definitely belonged to me. Jack lifted his mouth from my neck and rested his forehead against mine. We were both breathing heavily. He squeezed his eyes closed like he needed to catch his breath.
The heat created by his kisses and the feel of him pressed against my chest started to recede and my quiet mind started getting louder. Doubts sprang forward. Did he not feel the same way I felt? Why did he stop? What was I doing?
"We should stop." His voice was rough. It sounded like the voice he had used that day in the barn before walking away from me.
My heart plummeted as his words sank in, and I scrambled to get off his lap before he could see the tears starting to well in my eyes. God, I was such an idiot.
"I'm sorry, I should just go or—"
Jack cut me off before I could finish my train of thought, tugging me back onto his lap and winding his arms tightly around me. My head came to rest on his shoulder, and I turned to press my forehead into the nook between his neck and chin. His pulse was beating as wildly as mine.
"Don't run off on me now, Evie. I don't want to let you go yet." His hands traveled a soothing path up my back. "Not when you feel this good."
I sighed, content to be in his arms. The movement of his hand quieted the riot in my brain enough for me to think a little more clearly.
"Jack, what are we doing?" My voice was a whisper.
"I thought that was pretty obvious." I could hear the smile in his voice. "Making out on the couch."
"Why?" I hated how unsteady my voice sounded.
Jack lifted his hips up so I could feel his hardness pressing into the juncture between my thighs. "Because I want you, but not here where anyone could see. I want you to be able to look Ben in the eye tomorrow."
I needed more clarification. As much as I wanted this man, wanted to finish what we had just started, I knew I wasn't the one-and-done type. I couldn't sleep with someone and pretend like nothing had happened. I could try, or just flat-out lie to both of us, but somehow I knew that would just be setting myself up for a broken heart. My hormones might be begging me to pretend just this once, but I was smart enough to know better. It was who I was, and for better or worse, I would never change that for anyone.
