by Roi, D. S.
8
Cyana’s sore muscles loosened with her yoga practice. Her body hummed, ready for action. Thankfully, the demons of the past rattling around in her head quieted down. Coming home had its way of bringing back the good and the bad. She remembered Septembers in Georgia. The smaller the clothes the cooler she’d be while working.
After a shower, she dressed in shorts and a V-neck T-shirt. She took her mane out of the cornrows and let the kinks free to do whatever they wanted on top of her head. The loose curl pattern in the front right patch of her hair fell forward, as it normally did. She shoved the crazy coil away from her sight.
Getting to grout with Asher today zipped a new spring in her step. It had been so long since she’d gotten to express herself. It felt good to create again. She couldn’t wait to see the end result of what they had accomplished.
Stepping out onto the Milway grounds was like stepping into a beehive. The vibration of mowers manicuring the lawn welcomed her. Several women in large brimmed hats tended to the roses and gardenias. A few workers painted the pergolas off the left of the large back yard. Another busied himself with a final coat of white on enclosed seating areas in the far corners. She could only imagine those spaces for covered seating or photo sessions after the wedding. Small round tables and functional matching chairs now dotted the once bare back porch.
She strolled to the end of the area, weaving through the table setup and judging the distance. The designer must have had extensive knowledge of proper placement. She took a moment to admire the fact they weren’t overcrowded. Whoever set them up left enough space for a serving staff to tend to tables. Her sight traveled upwards. The fans weren’t on, but there was no one to enjoy their gentle breeze anyway. She imagined a cold cup of lemonade on this porch would be heaven after a long day of hard work.
She sighed. Considering work made her think about Asher. The man seemed never to sleep. He was the last one to bed and the first one up. She hopped down the steps, scurrying to the outside kitchen building. Opening the door, she smiled with satisfaction, admiring the fruit of the previous day’s labor. Now to finish. She closed up the kitchen, scanning the large yard. Where is Asher?
Cyana started down a thin stone path leading toward the far reaches of the yard. Occasionally, she stopped a worker, asking for Asher. Even with their limited English, they nodded and pointed.
The yard seemed never ending with benches and boulders along the path. She twisted back toward the house, seeing only the second level over the lawn. The workers had disappeared from view but a massive shed emerged in the far back of the property. It had to be where all the staff told her Asher was.
She set her stride and walked up the concrete ramp approaching the oversized wooden door. It swung open. She jumped with a squeal.
Asher’s broad smile greeted her. “Really, Love, we have to work on these surprises.” He leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest. “How’d you know where to find me?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t know if you were in there or not. I asked around. The guys doing the lawn don’t speak English.”
“No hablas Español?” he asked.
“What?” She shook her head.
“You don’t speak Spanish. Well, I can’t hold it against you. I don’t either. Miguel runs the crew. I only deal with him.”
“Oh, I see.” She peered past him into the shed’s interior at a carved canopy. “Asher, that’s beautiful.”
“It is.” He said the words but didn’t take his stare from her.
The heat crawled up her face. She shifted her view to his feet before tugging on the sleeve of her shirt. The act gave an opportunity to look over his form. His blue and white flannel shirt was open with a white tank underneath. His jeans were worn, fitted and topped with a large silver buckle. A pair of black boots finished his style.
“You want a better look?”
She met his gaze. Devious confidence permeated his intent. “Um, I’d like that.”
“Come on in.” He tilted his head towards the interior of the work shed and started inside.
She followed, attention trained on his well developed buns. Her hands flexed to grab at the strength of the muscle, but getting caught in the magic of his muscle would be trouble. Reeling in her desire, she approached one of three wooden canopies.
In the post of the one closest to her and Asher, she spied carved Dolphins and seahorses, accompanied by textured star fish and sea shells.
“Wow, this is marvelous.” Her finger caressed the lumber of one column. “Is it for the wedding?”
“Yes,” Asher said, taking a seat on the workbench next to a plywood table arranged with various tools. “The ball player getting married plays for the Dolphins.”
She nodded. “Joshua Wilmington,” she said.
“You know him?” he asked.
“Well, I mostly watch football.” She shrugged. “But, I catch a game or two of baseball while the season ends and football begins. I’ve seen him a time or two on the big screen. I guess anyone’s bound to catch a few players’ names with, what, like, over a hundred games being played in a season.”
Asher smiled. “He’s a good kid. I got word the bride also loves the sea. She’s a yacht stewardess. Since he plays for the Dolphins, I thought it would be a nice surprise to make a custom canopy to marry them under.”
“Oh Asher, that’s wonderful.” He smiled while observing his work. The warmth in the room seemed to kick up a notch and envelope her with ease. “It’s very thoughtful of you.”
“I hope they like it.”
“I bet they’ll love it.” She ran her hand against the texture of the column, admiring it again. Definitely a man who took pride in his work.
“I plan on finishing it tonight after we grout,” he said.
“Do you ever sit still?” she asked.
“Once a week,” he admitted. “Have you ever tried your hand at wood carving?”
She sauntered over, taking the stool next to him and analyzing the other two canopies. The middle one had the impressions of hearts and flowers. The last was plain with grooves matching the pillars on the front porch.
“No, I prefer to carve in fondant and modeling chocolate.” She smiled. “I can definitely work with a sea shore design.”
“You haven’t got the cake designed yet?”
Her lip went out in a pout. “No. I’m feeling antsy too. My sister knows my work. I can pull things together, but it’s been so long since I’ve made a cake. I don’t like not having the designs or practice materials to get ready. But, I’ll have to manage with the short notice. I did bring my portfolio so the bride knows she’s not dealing with a total newbie.”
“Really? A cake portfolio? Is that like a photographer or art portfolio?” he asked.
“Well, butter my biscuit. Cowboys know about art portfolios?”
He roared with laughter, settling an elbow on the table. “Sister-girl, you’re something else.”
She shoved her shoulders back and smiled a confident beam. “I know.”
He raised a brow. “I’ve never seen any of your cakes. I’d like to take a look at your portfolio, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course. A sista doesn’t spend hours putting together something gorgeous so no one sees it.”
He nodded. “Good. Let’s do it after we grout.”
“Kay.” She swiveled back to his work. “Well, if I ever get married, I know who to call for a canopy, if you can fit me into your schedule.”
He laughed lightly, leaning closer to her. “I’d make time for you.”
She flashed a smile before averting her gaze to the floor. “So, you ready to work, Cowboy?”
He stood from the table. “Sure.”
After locking the shop, Asher walked leisurely with Cyana toward the Milway. He wanted to take as much time with her as he could before her folks showed up. She peered ahead and he watched her.
“Are you staring at me with that look on your face?” she
asked.
“What look, Love?”
“Like you could grab a big spoon and take a heap of chocolate in your mouth.” She smiled, but didn’t look at him.
His grin widened. “Well, damn, I think that about describes it.”
She laughed. “Asher, you’re a mess.”
“I am? Is that sister-girl for something?”
She laughed so hard her arms covered her belly. “No.” She spoke while catching her breath. “No, it means exactly what you think.”
He chuckled. “I love to hear you laugh. I love the smile on your face too.”
“Careful, white boy. You’re using the word love an awful lot.”
He shoved his thumbs in his pockets. “Are you uncomfortable?”
She shook her head. “Now, a country boy like you shouldn’t be looking at a girl like me.”
He chuckled. “Well then we’re in luck.” He threw his arm around her shoulder, unable to resist touching her any longer. “I’ve never been able to stay away from beautiful before.”
She laughed, but wrapped her arms around his waist to match his stride.
He hauled the grout bags and dye onto the side porch of the stable kitchen. Cyana stepped out of the back entryway with gloves in her hand. Asher stopped next to the grout mixer. She joined him; picked up the supply invoice from atop the stack of bags he’d carried up the ramp and started reviewing it. After her once over, she grabbed a bottle of the charcoal grout stain. Asher dusted his shirt from setting the heavy load outside the doorway.
“What shade are you going for?” she asked.
“Dark,” he said.
She peered up to him with a smirk playing on her lips. “I mean the grout, Cowboy.”
He leered at her and lowered his voice, stepping in closer. “I did too, Love.”
He wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass. Her guard was down. He wanted to catch her before the coyness crept in. He reached out; soothing the rogue curl she seemed to toy with during her bashful moments. The move left her nothing to do but stare up at him. He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and ran his thumb up to her hair line. The space between them was sizzling with vibrations. He closed the gap further.
“I want it as dark as I can get it. Bold. Unique.” His gaze trailed the soft features of her face and settled on her luscious looking mouth. He shifted his hand from her neck to send his thumb across the silken texture of her lower lip. He had to have a taste. “Can you help me get the color right?” He breathed, lost in her sudden inhale and parted lips.
“Yeah,” she whispered. He moved in. Inches from her mouth, she blinked and jumped away from him. “Asher, no. I can’t.”
“Oh, I beg to differ. Lips like yours certainly can.” His voice rumbled out. Every woman he’d ever attempted a move on not only could, but had. She wouldn’t steal this from him. He wrapped his hand at her neck again. “Can’t you feel this between us?”
Her eyelids fluttered. A frown worked into her brow. It was all the affirmation he needed to know she felt the connection too. “It’s nothing, Asher. It’s just...a thing.”
“Is it? Well, let’s see.”
He dipped his head for the kiss he deserved. Sparks flew from her lips to his, dancing through his chest and spiraling down his spine. The stunning new sensation twisted heat into his depths. The blaze brought a thirst for more of her mouth. Her tongue. The craving shifted into a foreign ache.
This had never happened before. Dammit, I’d better be careful. Caution stirred in him to keep his advance slow. He wanted to dive deeper into her mouth, but tamed his thoughts. Fear he might lose his chance to lure in his prize tainted the kiss. This filly didn’t seem willing to let him ride a while. He pulled back a few inches. Waited.
She didn’t move for a moment, seeming shocked he’d been bold enough to take what he wanted. His cock ached something fierce in his jeans. The seconds stretched on while he tried to mentally tame it down. Her breath brushed against the moisture on his lips.
Come on, Love. Show me something. Show me you want it. Cyana didn’t move. Their pants mingled in rushes of anxiety. She closed her eyes a moment. Damn. He’d lost her.
Her eyelids shot open and sparks blazed behind pools of chestnut. She came for it. All the shyness melted from her. She lunged to take his mouth.
He tasted her deeper. She moaned a sweet sound, tearing yearning straight through his center. Closer. He ached for it, stirred with caution to meld their bodies together. Cyana came up onto her toes.
He reached to the back of her. She hopped into his arms. He groaned, lifting her to level their heads. She wrapped her legs tight around his waist. His tongue lavished affection and yearning with a gentle greed until he released her.
He locked into her gaze. “That’s some ‘thing’ you got there, little lady,” he said. He gave a wink, knowing he’d stubbornly opened a gate she had intended to keep shut.
“Um. I ah…” She tried a few words while surprise played over her features. After a few ill attempts to speak she glanced to the ground.
“It’s okay. I won’t push it,” he said. For now. “I’ll work all damned day for another one of those. Whew-wee.” The statement wrenched a laugh from her while he set her down. “Come on, partner. Let’s get this here floor done.”
9
Cyana needed this distraction. The gust of magnolia fragranced air didn’t cool her skin while she worked outside the back door of the stable kitchen. Once she and Asher finished mixing the grout, they’d be working against the clock to finish the floor. She didn’t quite know how to process the fact she’d jumped on him. Her son was twenty now. It’d been longer than she’d given herself credit for.
Wow. Twenty years? Too long to suddenly have firm demanding lips pressed against hers. She wanted to melt into the draw of Asher’s heat, the grip of his hands and hard body along her front. She took a steady breath and measured more stain into the mixer while Asher turned it.
“How’s that?” she asked.
He stopped churning the mix a moment to glance inside. “Looks damned good.”
She surveyed the length of his body, broad up top, long and thin in the middle with round buns and thick legs. The thoughts of long and thick took her mind to other places. The curiosity made her ears burn with shame. Yeah. That’s part of the problem. It looks too damn good. She hauled her mind back to the grout. “Well, let’s go.”
It was fast-paced work but honed her focus on a task other than getting her hands on Asher, better yet, her lips. She brushed back her defiant curl, swiping at the sweat the humidity brought with it.
“Here you go.” Asher caught her attention. He was holding out a bottle of water.
She smiled. “Thanks.”
“I knew I was missing something yesterday. Woke up sore this morning ‘cause of it.” He spoke, ripping into the top of a second bottle. It dripped sweat drawn to the chilled drink by the moisture in the air. Her analysis followed a drop down to the floor in a line. Her attention halted on the wad below his buckle. Sizzling heat ripped up her spine. Damn. I need a drink.
She twisted the top off the water and guzzled a few swigs. “Mm, so good.”
“Yep. Sure is.” He agreed after lowering his bottle. He glanced around. “Looks like we’re almost done here.”
She stole a survey of their work space and nodded.
“That’s some mighty fine team work. Mighty fine.” He repeated the words while running a lingering gaze over her.
She must have looked a mess. She was nearly certain the humidity turned her fro into a curl fest. She didn’t have to look over her shirt to know she was covered in sweat. It trickled down between her shoulder blades and breasts. Determined not to think about what he may have been considering, she turned her water bottle up and finished the drink.
“You need a break?” he asked.
“No.” She shook her head. “Do you?”
“And miss a chance to bump into you every now and then? No way.”
He leaned over to her. The sparkle in his sight prevented her withdrawal. “Do you really want me to stop? If I’m making you uncomfortable, I will.”
She sighed. Part of her missed having the interest of a man. She didn’t mind one so handsome being bold enough to flirt. Unfortunately, her body was taking his playfulness seriously.
He reached out and ran a finger over the bridge of her nose. “I’ll tone it down for the rest of the day, if it works for you.”
Asher didn’t understand why it bothered him so much. He couldn’t say rejection from women was normal for him. Then again, he’d never pursued a woman who hadn’t already known him or wasn’t after him to begin with. He could gather from Cyana’s behavior she saw him as the Milway project manager. Nothing more.
He sat back on his heels as Cyana cleaned up the last tile. Dammit, this attraction is real. He knew it in his gut. His cock was killing him for another moment of her in his arms. He had to figure a way around the bashful bubble of hers. Her itch had to be deep to get that kind of response from his kiss.
He watched her sit on her feet. The rounds of her ass molded to the soles of her sneakers. The sweat trailed down the center of the tank in a V. The muscles of her upper back flexed. Aw, hell.
He couldn’t resist. He didn’t know another female who worked hard enough to earn this, but he gave massages out to the less deserving. His hands closed over her shoulder muscles and his thumbs worked into the meat between her shoulders. A soft throaty groan followed, making him want to curse the stiffness of his cock. Easy, Cowboy. He smiled at the mental scolding using her pet name and groaned after finding a knot in her shoulder.
