She was unsure what to make of Roy. At times he was distant and unapproachable, but lately, she had seen a friendlier, gentler, more generous side of him. She was never sure which side of him she was going to get.
It was clear he had a hold on her. She quickly learned that Roy had a way of jumping to anger, but he told it to her straight and that, she could appreciate.
She reached for the whiskey bottle one last time and poured herself a shot. She paused a moment and held it up to the sky.
“To Chloe,” she said aloud. “I'm really missing you down here.”
When Jenny stepped back into the house with the whiskey bottle in tow twenty minutes later, she hoped he had settled down some.
She had spent the past few minutes crying. It felt good to release the emotion and stress that had collected inside her over the past three days. She cried especially hard over the loss of her best friend.
She and Chloe had been close since ninth grade. They had bonded at high school orientation and had clung to each other for safety ever since.
In Chloe, Jenny had found the perfect best friend. Chloe’s happy disposition and positive outlook on life had helped Jenny through many difficult times and her periods of depression. The death of her parents in grade school was extremely difficult for Jenny, and it remained difficult even after so much time had passed. Chloe had a knack for bringing her around whenever she got to feeling low.
Without Chloe, she would have had to fight her inner demons alone. She owed it to Chloe to do right by her daughter.
Jenny just wasn't sure how she was going to do that. These past three days they had been put to the test, and she still didn't believe she was any closer to forging a friendship with Isabelle. Lack of a proper home was not going to help.
At the sound of the front door closing, Roy stepped out from the kitchen. His face revealed that he was still embarrassed by what had transpired outside.
She cut to the chase.
“You were right, you know? I wasn't a chicken.”
“Well,” he said, holding up his thumb and forefinger, indicating a small gap between them, “maybe you were just a little bit of a chicken.”
“Hey, that's enough of you,” she said laughing.
“You must be ready to settle in for the night.”
Despite their jokes, he looked just as nervous with this awkward arrangement as she was.
She was thankful that Isabelle was so easy going about it. That little girl had a lot of guts to to handle what had been thrown her way.
“You know what? I'd kill for a shower.”
She regretted her choice of words and cringed. Isabelle, tucked away by the window with her book, seemed to have missed her slip up.
She reiterated, “A hot shower would be nice.”
“Of course.”
Roy pointed down to the end of the hall.
“It's the very last door down there. The water heater is a little testy, so don't step into the tub too fast after you turn on the taps.”
“Thanks for the heads up. And clean towels?” she asked as she headed in the direction of the bathroom.
“There's a cupboard in there. Guest towels are on the top shelf.”
“Have a lot of guests, do you?”
She smiled mischievously over her shoulder.
“A few.”
He let slip a short sexy smile.
“None that were here for protection, but they say there’s a first time for everything.”
Chapter 12
Jenny closed the bathroom door with a grin.
He had to hand it to her, the woman had guts. It had been only a couple hours since he'd pulled her from the burning structure that had been her brother’s home. Even covered with soot and dirt, she could still manage a joke and a smile.
For a moment, he considered what his wife, Natalie, would have done had she been in the same situation. She wouldn't have handled it quite so well. Natalie had a temper to match his. Their fight on the night she died was proof of it. If he knew his wife, she would have gone marching right up to that police station demanding justice. As much as her temper could infuriate him at times, he found it was one of the things he loved most about her. Her strong will and tough demeanor were two of her most endearing qualities.
He closed his eyes as a wave of sorrow and grief passed over him. Usually, he had his pain under control, but the recent events had stirred up feelings that were difficult to suppress.
Looking for some kind of distraction, he decided to tend to the fire. It was always a little cooler being on the lake, and they would be grateful for the warmth when night fell.
“Hey kid,” he called out to Isabelle who had yet to break her book trance. “Want to help me out?”
Isabelle sat forward, interested, her book still firmly in her hands.
“Doing what?”
“Making a fire.”
He saw the flicker of horror pass across the young girl's face as her shoulders stiffened.
“No, thank you.”
“Are you scared?”
She looked surprised by his blunt question. When her eyes hardened for a moment, he could see Joey's likeness in her.
“No. Never.”
“Then come and help me.”
He headed for the back door and picked up his axe. He had plenty of logs to keep them warm for the night, but he wanted her to face her fears. When she hadn't moved from her spot, he urged her again.
“Come on. It's going to get dark soon, and we don't want to be without a fire when that happens.”
“Okay. Fine.”
Her tough little attitude made him smile as he led the way out to the stump.
“Have you ever used an ax before?” he asked her, selecting a dry piece of wood and standing it straight up on the stump.
She crossed her arms across her chest.
“No.”
“Want to try?”
He could see a flash of interest in her face.
“It looks dangerous.”
“I'll make sure you don't get hurt. Promise.”
“Okay.”
Hesitantly, Isabelle stepped forward and let him hand her the ax. Under its heavy weight, she looked even smaller, her hands fumbling to keep it steady.
“Now listen here.”
He touched a finger to the center of the piece of wood on top of the stump.
“This is what you're aiming for. You should try to cut it right down the middle so that it splits into two pieces. But it doesn't have to be perfect. Just see what you can do.”
“You really think this is a smart idea?” Isabelle looked skeptically at him. “I could chop off your foot and you would have to limp around for the rest of your life.”
“Which is why I'm standing way back here.” He backed up dramatically until she couldn’t help but giggle. “I'd rather you chop off your own foot than mine. I'll let you be the one who has to limp for all eternity.”
She gave him a playful look.
“Okay, I'll try it this once. But only because you promised I wouldn't get hurt. And you said it didn't have to be perfect.”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“Nothing in this life is.”
“You can say that again.”
Isabelle raised the ax as high as she could before bringing it down hard on the piece of wood. It split about half way down, and she raised the ax again, this time bringing the wood along with it.
“Okay, hold on a minute.”
Roy yanked the wood free and set it back down, this time the opposite way up. “Retry.”
Isabelle awkwardly picked up the heavy tool and slammed the ax down hard again. This time, the two pieces of wood fell down beside the stump.
“Perfect.”
He applauded her, grateful to see a proud smile on her face. His heart longed for a life with a family.
Roy had discussed the idea of children with Natalie, but it never seemed like the right time for them to start. He didn't know for sure i
f that was really the case, or if she had just never wanted children to begin with. Natalie was carefree and idealistic.
As he interacted with Isabelle, he wished he had pushed the issue all those years ago. Perhaps if he had been more determined, he could have changed her mind, and he would be standing here today teaching his own child to chop firewood.
“Nothing in this world is perfect,” Isabelle murmured as if she could see into his thoughts.
He nodded glumly as she dropped the ax. He picked up the wicker basket he kept for transporting the wood and held it out to her so she could drop her two pieces inside.
“No, but that was pretty darn cool.”
He ruffled his hand in her long, strawberry blonde hair.
“Care to cut another?”
* * *
Jenny stepped into the shower and let the warm water wash over her. Her muscles ached, and her shoulders throbbed from the stress of the past few days. She felt the dull thud of a headache in her temples and closed her eyes, pressing her face against the heavy stream of water.
Her mind wandered as her body began to relax. Proving her brother's innocence seemed an impossible task, but with Roy working alongside her, they would get to the bottom of it. Her brush with death this afternoon proved someone felt threatened by their interference. She had seen enough cop thrillers to know that the bad guys only acted when the good guys were on the right track.
It was funny that she and Roy were working together now. His initial approach had left a less than favorable impression. But his persistence forced her to reconsider her standpoint on Joey. In fact, he had broken seven years of bad memories simply by pushing her to look at the situation from a different perspective.
Jenny reached up to massage her aching shoulder.
Roy was as stubborn as a mule. Without his coaxing, she would have packed up Isabelle and headed back to the city without giving Ombrea or her little brother a second thought. Joey would never have had this chance at freedom if she had remained so pigheaded.
“Roy.”
Jenny said his name aloud in a voice barely above a whisper. It was a good name, she thought, a strong name. The perfect name for such a man. She considered his build as she massaged her nagging shoulder muscle deeper.
He had a great body. Under different circumstances, she might have fallen for him. After all, there was plenty to like about Roy Peters. He was tall, dark, and handsome in a way that could make any woman swoon.
She considered the red shirt he had changed into upon arriving back at the cabin. Most men in the city went to the gym to build up their bodies, but Roy's muscular frame had come naturally. He built his body through hard work and made those muscles even more manly and sexy. Irresistible, she thought.
Jenny let her hand slip down to her chest, cupping her breasts slightly as she let her thoughts slip away.
Roy Peters was definitely a man worth thinking about.
Jenny was toweling her hair dry when she walked into the master bedroom wearing a red dress she had hastily pulled from her bag. She assumed she would be alone to undress and prepare for bed, but Roy was there collecting some items from the nightstand.
Her heart fluttered when she found him there. She quickly pushed it aside. It wouldn't do to let thoughts of Roy take over her mind when there was so much work to be done. She had to focus.
“Oh, sorry.”
Jenny started back out of the room, but Roy held up his hand.
“I was just getting a couple things.”
He stuffed an old, red shirt under his arm and reached for a battered book from the nightstand drawer. He paused for a second.
“I hope you don't mind, but I went ahead and put Isabelle to bed in the spare room. The poor thing was exhausted. I made her a ham sandwich, and she barely made it through half of it. Her eyelids could barely hold themselves up.”
“Thanks, Roy. I'm glad she could get to sleep that easily.”
Jenny rubbed at her hair with the towel as she fought for something to say.
“Thank you for being so kind to her… and to me. Thanks for letting us spend the night.”
He nodded curtly.
“I'll leave you to it, then. I’m sure you must be tired after all that's gone on.”
Jenny felt a sudden panicked feeling as if she dared not let him leave. She mentally chastised herself for allowing herself to get so attached. This wasn't at all the right time for a man. Especially one she would be leaving behind as soon as this whole mess was taken care of.
“What are you reading there?”
“What?”
He seemed surprised she was making conversation with him.
“Your book.”
Her cheeks were beginning to heat up.
“It looks well- read.”
“Oh, this?”
He looked down at the book in his hands as if just realizing it was there.
“It's To Kill A Mockingbird. It's not mine.”
“You don’t come across as a library card holder.”
“I'm not a card holder. This belonged to my wife.”
Roy was suddenly aware of what he had just said. He never felt comfortable publicly admitting to Natalie's death. Instead, he was more of a recluse, happy to surround himself with what was left of their life in the cabin. He had read her favorite book again and again until the pages began to wear thin.
“I'm sorry. I didn't realize.”
Jenny's words fell flat. To remain in the room seemed like she was crossing into his personal space and she suddenly wanted out.
“I'll leave you to it.”
“Wait.”
He stopped her before she could reach the door.
“You're taking my room tonight. I'm taking the couch.”
“I couldn't. It's your bed. I can take the couch. Even we city slickers know how to slum it now and again.”
It was a poor attempt at a joke.
“I can't let a lady take the couch. You're going to have to sleep in here tonight.”
“I couldn't do that,” she protested again. “It's your space.”
“It's only the one night. I think my back can handle it.”
“Well, there you go! If you have a bad back, then you've got to…”
He crossed the floor, closing the space between them. Before she knew what was happening he had her in his arms and his face was right up close to hers. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her face, and without thinking, she closed her eyes as he pressed his lips against hers.
She couldn’t believe this was finally happening. All the thoughts she’d had of this moment, all the fantasies, were finally coming true.
He was brave, and powerful, and he’d rescued her from a fire.
She owed him her life, and she would repay that debt by giving him everything he demanded of her.
She felt like she was completely his, his property, and there was nothing that could compare to being in his powerful, sexy arms.
Her heart leaped in her chest as he deepened the kiss, his hands clasping her hips tighter as he did so. She reached her hands up his back and under his T-shirt, the feeling of his muscles driving her wild with lust. He as like a ripped, muscular predator and she could feel the raw power of his body as she squeezed her fingers into his muscle.
Her desire took over. She let her hands slide down his muscular back, all the way to his ass, and she grabbed the cheeks of his ass in her fingers.
He was surprised at how forward she was and reached up to grip her mouth in his hands, kissing her so passionately that she could no longer tell where his tongue ended and hers began.
She brought one hand across his hip and then down across the front of his pants. Then she pulled her hand away rapidly!
She couldn’t believe it!
She’d run her hand over the bulge of his cock and it was even bigger than she’d imagined. It was bigger than she ever imagined any cock could be.
It scared her.
“Don’t be frightene
d,” he whispered as they continued to kiss.
She took a deep breath and reached back for his pants, putting her hand right over the massive bulge of his cock and squeezing it.
He let out a low, appreciative moan that sent her heart racing even faster.
“Close the door,” he whispered into her mouth, and she rushed to do so.
When she turned back around, he took her in his arms again. This time he lifted her body, turning her around so that he could drop her on her back onto the bed. He watched as she propped herself up on her elbows, enjoying her full attention as he pulled his shirt up over his sculpted chest, shoulders, and head and tossing it to the floor before reaching for his belt buckle.
She’d never seen such beautiful tattoos, or such a beautiful torso. He was like a god, sculpted from fine marble. She felt her pussy quiver with desire as she watched him.
“Stop,” she murmured, and for a second he thought she was calling a stop to the entire show.
But to his surprise, she leaned forward onto her knees and reached for his belt buckle herself. With her eyes locked on his and her teeth biting into the flesh of her bottom lip, she slowly unbuckled his belt and pulled it from his jeans. He could hardly stand to be kept waiting while she unbuttoned his jeans before unzipping him with an agonizing, unhurried slowness.
As she opened his jeans, her mind wandered back to her fantasy by the kitchen window, when she’d imagined sucking his cock and swallowing every drop of his delicious cum.
She’d wanted to give him the best blowjob of his life.
She’d wanted him to cum so hard he could never forget her.
But really what she wanted was his heart. His heart and his soul. She wanted him to cum inside her so that there would always be a part of him that was hers, forever and ever.
She couldn’t help it. She was falling for this man and she was afraid of what that meant.
She wanted to be his, body and soul, and she wanted to feel the force of his orgasm inside her, sealing their bond for eternity.
He shook himself free of what was left of the constricting clothing and pushed her down onto the bed in a frenzy of passion and desire. He couldn’t keep his hands off of her for another second. She was like a drug to him, and he craved her so badly he didn’t know how to handle himself. He growled as he grabbed her and pulled her tightly against the firm, masculine hardness of his muscular chest.
Playboy Ever After Page 29
