I finished scrubbing out the last of the bottom cupboards and put all the freshly washed pots and pans back in it. I sat back on my heels with a pained but satisfied sigh. The small of my back ached like it never had before and I didn't even want to think about the state of my manicure. I glanced up at the clock on the microwave. 11:05. Joe would be home for lunch in less than an hour.
I'd had the vague idea while I cleaned that I'd make Joe a hot lunch. Lilly had mentioned once that they always had a hot lunch at the farm. It was sort of an odd idea to me, especially since I rarely had lunch at all, but I could see how a farmer could need one. For Joe, it must feel like a long stretch between breakfast before the sun came up and something warm to eat at noon.
An examination of the pantry revealed a glorious spread of canned goods, but there wasn't much fresh in the fridge. There was a loaf of bread though, along some butter and some cheese, so evidently Joe had done some shopping. Grilled cheese sandwiches and canned tomato soup didn't sound too beyond my culinary capabilities. It probably wouldn't equal the meal up at the Tanner house, but it would have to do. Maybe later I'd run in to town and buy a couple of beginner cookbooks. After all, if I was going to consider this farm wife thing, I'd have to broaden my repertoire past sandwiches and soup.
I hopped in the shower to wash off the morning's sweat and dust. By the time I felt clean and presentable again it was 11:43. I set out all my sandwich making ingredients and opened the can of soup. It looked a little thick as it slid slowly out of the can and into the pot, but I figured a little heat would smooth things out. I sliced cheese, buttered bread and put the frying pan on the stove to heat up while the soup did. 11:51. I had enough time change out of my robe before Joe waltzed though the door.
I should have stayed in my robe. I'd been so wrapped up in life the past few days, and getting used to having Joe around, that I hadn't had any time alone. I stood in shocked disbelief when I caught sight of myself naked in the full-length mirror on the tiny closet door. I'd changed since the last time I'd taken a good look at myself.
I'd never been skinny, but I'd always been proportionate -- hourglass-shaped at least, which was a blessing I suppose, but things had changed. Already my middle had thickened a little, so that the ratio between my hips and my waist looked smaller; no wonder my favorite jeans weren't fitting properly. It didn't help that my breasts looked bigger too, fuller, my nipples darker. While I didn't exactly have flat, wash-board abs to begin with, the small curve of my belly was definitely more pronounced. I touched it gently, curving my hand around the gentle slope and suddenly everything began to sink in in a way it hadn't before.
I was going to have a baby. It wasn't just an abstract concept that had changed my life so completely and overwhelmingly—it was real. It was there, growing inside of me. A little person. A little version of Joe. My knees shook. I sat down on the edge of the bed, still cradling my abdomen.
It was real.
There was really and honestly going to be a baby. I was really and honestly going to be a mother. It was going to change me, had already changed me. I was never, ever going to be the same.
I started to cry.
I don't know why, but I did. Big, gulping, unattractive sobs which made me glad I was finally alone in the house. No one else needed to see me like this, no one needed to know how scared I felt, how unprepared.
It hurt so much to cry while it felt so good to let go and just weep. I don't think I could have stopped it anyway, even if I wanted to. Everything else in the world just ceased to exist except for the weird throbbing rhythm of my heartbeat inside my head. While the doctor had told me it would be a few more weeks before I felt anything, a sympathetic flutter in my insides reminded me I wasn't quite alone.
"Rhi?" Joe's voice from the sun porch sounded strangely far away. It took me a moment to realize he was there. "Rhiannon?" There was a panicked edge to his voice when he didn't immediately find me and I didn't answer back. I tried to cry out, but my throat felt thick; my response was little more than a croak. I wiped at my tear-streaked face with the corner of my discarded robe and took a few deep breaths to calm myself.
Joe stuck his head in the bedroom door and gasped. "Darlin' are you okay? Is something wrong?" He fell to his knees at my feet and took my hand. I shook my head frantically, trying to come up with an explanation as to why I was sitting naked on our bed and crying my head off in the middle of the day. Nothing plausible came to mind.
"I-I'm fine," I mumbled when my tongue untangled enough that I could speak. "Nothing's wrong."
"What are you doing?" Joe reached up and tucked a damp, wayward strand of hair behind my ear. He sounded worried.
"I'm crying."
Joe's chuckle was low but kind. "I figured that. Why?"
How did I explain myself? My brain couldn't come up with the words to describe what I'd been thinking, what I'd felt, so I said the only thing I could think of. "I feel fat."
And then I started to cry again, because even if that wasn't why I'd started crying in the first place, it didn't make it any less true.
"Oh, darlin'" Joe murmured, putting his arms around me. "You're not fat, you're pregnant and that's two completely different things by my thinkin'. And you're sexy as hell, so don't worry your head about it. You know you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." He tucked me under his chin and stroked my back, which felt good since it still ached from my morning of scrubbing cupboards.
We stayed like that for a while, me sitting on the edge of the bed, Joe kneeling at my feet, arms around each other, not saying anything. I tried my best to stem the steady stream of tears, but it took a while and a few deep, shaky breaths.
I took another deep inhale of the skin along Joe's neck where I was cuddled. "You smell like dirt and sweat," I teased when I felt a little better. It wasn't a bad smell at all, actually, even if it was a little strong; it was manly—earthy and primal.
"You smell like shampoo," Joe laughed into my shower-damp hair. "Shampoo and..." he paused, inhaling deeply. "Is something burning?"
"Holy shit!" I shouted, breaking our embrace. "The fucking soup!" I reached quickly for my robe and wrapped it around myself, Joe came to his feet just in time to follow me on my sprint to the kitchen.
Chapter Six
The forgotten, empty frying pan smoked on the stove, but the pot of soup was worse— thick, black plumes rose from it. The acrid smell made my eyes water.
"Shit," I muttered, looking around frantically for a pot holder or oven mitt and seeing neither. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!"
Joe reached past me to the stove and turned off the burners. I grabbed a nearby tea towel and moved the smoking pots off the hot elements.
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Joe muttered as he threw open the back door. A fresh breeze blew through, moving the menacing clouds around. "What the hell was that?"
I peeked into the scalded soup pot. "Tomato soup?" I offered weakly. The need to cry sprang up again. I brushed back my tears with a frustrated little pout. "I'm making you lunch."
Joe laughed but instead of joining him, I only felt worse. An angry surge replaced the tears. I threw the tea towel at him and stomped my foot.
"What are you makin' me soup for anyway, darlin'?" Joe asked, dodging the airborne tea towel with smooth dexterity. "It's the middle of July—it's pretty near thirty degrees out."
"Lilly said your Mum always makes a hot lunch," I mumbled by way of explanation. I crossed my arms over my chest and glowered at him, angry that he found it all so amusing. "I was just trying to do the same."
"She doesn't always make a hot lunch," Joe chided softly. He crossed the kitchen to wrap his arms around me before he chuckled again into my hair. "Not in July anyway. I don't need a fancy lunch Rhi; don't think you have to do that for me. A sandwich would have been just fine."
I pouted into the musty, dirty front of Joe's shirt. His broad chest still shook with the occasional chuckle.
"It's not funny," I muttered mutinously.
"It's a little funny," Joe teased. He cupped my face in his hands and tilted my chin up until I looked at him. "How in heaven's name can you mess up soup? The burner wasn't even on all that high. How'd you manage that disaster?"
"I don't know," I whined petulantly, feeling hurt. "I opened the fucking can and slopped it in the pot and put in on the burner. I think there's something wrong with the stove."
Joe looked over my shoulder where the empty soup can sat on the counter. "Did you put water in it?"
I shook my head. "It's soup Joe. It's already liquid."
He laughed harder.
"They make it concentrated to fit in the little cans darlin', you've got to add water to it. Didn't you think it was a little thick? Didn't you read the label?"
I didn't answer him; I just pouted more. I didn't feel hurt anymore, I felt stupid and that was worse.
Joe leaned down and kissed me, nipping at my protruding bottom lip. "You're so beautiful when you're angry," he teased. "Maybe you should burn dinner too..."
I punched him in the arm, but Joe only laughed harder. His hands wove into my hair, keeping my head still. He kissed me with a little more passion, but for a moment I resisted. When the tip of his tongue teased and flitted at the corner of my mouth, I melted, too tired to put up a fight. Joe's kisses were too good to turn down anyway, although I'd never admit it to him.
He made me dizzy instantly, the good kind of dizzy. Every time he kissed me, the surprise of it made me gasp.
"Maybe I'll just have you for lunch," Joe groaned, pressing himself against me. The hardness of his erection between us made me grin.
"You smell and you're filthy," I reminded him with a flirtatious giggle.
"Get used to it, darlin'."
"I just showered," I added.
Joe moaned and his fingers flittered down my neck and across my collarbone. "I know," he said thickly. "You're all soft and warm and you smell amazin'." He played with the edge of my robe, pulling on the fabric, burying his hands in the terrycloth.
His lips hovered over mine with an enigmatic smile.
"Aren't you hungry?" I asked as Joe tugged at the belt of my robe.
"Not for soup and sandwiches," he chuckled. The cool air felt crisp against my body as Joe pulled my robe off my shoulders. The heavy terrycloth slid from my shower-warmed skin to pool at my feet.
"Joe," I chided, taking a step back over the discarded robe. The greedy glint in his beautiful blue eyes made my knees weak. "Don't you have to go back to work?"
His broad hands settled around my waist and kept me from backing away any further.
"What are you doing?" I giggled.
"What I've been thinkin' about doin' all morning," Joe growled.
I laughed. I'd never met a guy who kept up with me in the bedroom like Joe did. He laughed along with me when I told him that.
"Who said anything about the bedroom, darlin'?" Joe's sapphire eyes were dark and sexy as hell.
"Here?" I glanced around the kitchen. The countertops were covered in drying dishes waiting to be stacked back into the now clean upper cabinets. I hadn't yet had time to tackle mopping the floor so its cleanliness was questionable.
Joe reached up and pinched a nipple, smiling when the sensation made me gasp and arch against him. The kitchen was all great and fine, but I could think of more comfortable places to misbehave.
"What? Don't tell me you've never done it in the kitchen?" Joe taunted His left hand captured my other breast, garnering the same reaction as his attention to its twin.
My mind tried to think back over all the crazy places I'd had sex, but it was difficult to concentrate with the rough pads of Joe's thumbs stroking my nipples slowly and deliberately.
"I can't say I've spent much time in the kitchen," I confessed.
Joe chuckled and bent his auburn head to nibble at my neck. "I noticed," he whispered in my ear.
"I am trying," I pointed out, but it was hard to sound pissed off with Joe kissing the spot behind my ear that made my insides melt.
"So am I, darlin'," he said huskily, "but you keep interrupting."
I started laughing as he rained his kisses along my jaw.
"Won't your dad be expecting you back soon?" I murmured. The rough scratch of his stubble along the sensitive underside of my chin made me squirm and gasp.
"Oh, probably," Joe said in a low rumble. His hands drifted down from my breasts to my hips as he kissed me. His tongue delved into my mouth drawing a loud moan from me.
"Don't worry, Rhi," Joe promised when our kiss ended. "I'll be quick." And before I could register what was happening Joe spun me about to face the cupboards.
I laughed dizzily as Joe's hands moved slowly over the curve of my ass. My legs spread automatically and leaned forward to brace my hands against the edge of the countertop. I knew what he wanted without him having to ask. My breath came fast and loud. I moaned every time Joe's caresses neared the juncture of my thighs. How could I get so excited, so fast?
"Joe," his name was more of a sigh than a word. He chuckled lustily. He dipped his fingers lower; we moaned in unison as he found my wetness and heat.
Vaguely, I heard the distinct sound of a zipper being lowered, but the sensation of his fingers against my clit distracted me. I didn't fully comprehend Joe's intentions until his hard cock pressed between my legs.
"Rhiannon," Joe groaned and then he was inside me. The slick heat of my pussy clenched greedily around him, drawing him in. I wailed in pleasure.
Usually Joe was gentle and slow, but this time he was determined to make me come in the shortest time possible. I couldn't do anything but hold onto the edge of the countertop and remember to breathe.
Every pull as Joe withdrew was torture. Every push as he reentered was bliss. I couldn't form coherent words, wasn't capable of anything other than a constant, inhuman cry of ecstasy as Joe fucked me as only Joe could. When he reached around to find my nipple I came so hard I saw stars. Joe's own grunt of pleasure came swiftly after, each spasm of his finish answered one of my own.
I rested my head on the kitchen counter with a very unladylike groan and laughed with disbelief as I tried to catch my breath.
Joe patted my hip with a satisfied growl and slid himself from inside me; the sudden empty feeling made me whimper.
"I've got to sit down," I muttered. My knees quaked. Sex only made the dizziness stronger, more pleasant, but stronger. I turned around and sunk down to sit naked on our kitchen floor. Joe chuckled and tucked himself back into his pants.
"That was..." I struggled with words, unable to wrap my tongue around syllables. Everything tingled.
"Good?" Joe supplied with a grin.
I nodded. "And unexpected."
His smile grew wider. "Been thinkin' about that all morning while I cultivated the west field."
I cocked an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you be concentrating while you plough? Heavy machinery and all that?"
Joe shrugged. "Yes an' no. It's a great time to think while you're out there, alone; nothin' but you and the open air. Best time to clear your head."
My own head was such a messy jumble of post-orgasmic foolishness that I couldn't fathom being able to think clearly. "Hm, maybe I should give it a try," I said with a giggle.
Joe laughed and reached past me to the forgotten sandwich ingredients still lying waiting on the counter. He stuffed a few pieces of cheese between two slices of bread. "Any time you want a demonstration, I'll be happy to show you." He took a big bite of makeshift sandwich and smiled before bending to kiss the top of my head. "Thanks for lunch, Rhiannon."
"You have to go back already?" I sounded disappointed. I was disappointed. That surprised me more than I thought possible.
Joe chuckled. "A week ago you didn't want to have anything to do with me," he teased.
"That's not entirely true," I retorted with an echoed grin. I held out my hands and Joe took them, hauling me easily to my feet. "I can think of plenty of things to do with you." I gav
e him a quick kiss and my best smile.
Joe's arms came around my waist and greedily he took another kiss.
"Are you sure you don't want to stay a little longer?" I purred, pressing myself against him. Joe groaned, he wanted the same thing I did. Our quickie in the kitchen had only given us tempting little taste.
"Wish I could, darlin'," Joe said softly. He reached around and cupped my ass, squeezing possessively. I smiled. "But I thought I'd stop by the house and talk to Mum and Dad. Break the news to them."
Just His Type (Part Two) Page 9
