by A. J. Downey
The confession was an easy one to make and cost me nothing.
“Is it safe to leave the candles burning like that?” she asked.
“Do it all the time,” I said. They were the church kind, in the tall, thick glass.
“It’s cozy.”
“Yeah.”
We lay in the warm golden glow, silent, wrapped in comfort, and I couldn’t remember a time when my soul felt so much peace.
That part was unexpected… but I liked it.
Chapter Eleven
Aspen…
“What time will you be home? My pops is planning on grilling up some meat for the three of us.”
Home…
I wished that it was, wistfully thinking back on the night before – falling asleep in Fenris’ arms, feeling absurdly protected and safe even though I wasn’t in any sort of danger. It was like he had held me together and the candlelight and soft drumming and rhythmic vocals of whatever we listened to soothed the soul, lulling me into a deep and dreamless sleep.
I can’t say how absolutely invaluable the dreamless part of that was to me. It was priceless.
So priceless that when the morning had arrived and my alarm had gone off, I hadn’t wanted to get up and for a completely different reason than the weight of my sorrow holding me down.
I hadn’t wanted to get up because I was so… content. I don’t think I was ready to go as far as happy yet, but it was close. Closer than I had been in a long time. The feeling returned with hearing his deep and velvety tone over the telephone’s line.
“Aspen?”
“Sorry!” I said quickly. “Lost in thought for a moment, there. Um, it’s Paint Night here and I won’t be off until something like ten… I thought I had said something. If that’s too late to come back, I can always go back to Tacoma tonight.”
He chuckled, and I looked out over my little shop. I was just about to set the long tables for tonight’s Paint Night. I would much rather spend the evening with Fenris in the countryside, but I also had a divorce to pay for and a myriad of other bills that would be due next month just as they had been this month.
“No, don’t do that. Just come this way when you’re done and we can reheat it.”
“Don’t wait to eat on my account, please.”
“Don’t you worry about that. By the time you make it back, I’ll probably be hungry again.”
I smiled at the smile in his voice.
“Okay,” I agreed.
“See you around ten-thirty, eleven o’clock?”
“Absolutely, I look forward to it,” I said.
“Good.”
I ended the call and with a gusty sigh started the process of setting up for tonight’s Paint Night. Some were better than others, and tonight was looking to be decent with twenty ladies or so signed up via the website.
It was a harrowing few hours when the ladies finally arrived, but I loved the paint nights and classes. It made me happy sharing the joy of shaping the earth into beautiful things with other people. Typically, my clientele ranged from the extremely creative to the people who thought they weren’t good at anything with a creative bent. I loved to prove the latter wrong when I could, but sometimes shaping clay just really wasn’t their thing. Still, I definitely encouraged them to find for themselves what was up their alley. Everyone deserved to find some kind of joy in life.
Tonight’s Paint Night was good, a lot of laughter and more than a few inappropriately wonderful jokes. I had a good time, despite myself and my desire to be back in the country. The little goat farm was utterly peaceful and charming and the quiet stillness… I was quickly becoming addicted, I think.
I was looking forward to spending time on it in the daylight. I think Fenris was right, I needed a break. Just some time to get away from it all, to catch my breath, to feel my feelings and to allow my broken spirit to mend just that little bit so that when I did turn to face the monumental tasks in front of me, my grief and the loss I felt wasn’t quite so monstrous and I had enough of me restored to give to the tasks at hand.
I did a cursory cleanup around the shop, surveyed it all, and decided that it would be alright if I left the rest until morning when I opened. I was tired, and I wanted to go back to Fenris’ farm, have a bite, and sleep.
I seriously wanted nothing more than to sleep lately. I honestly thought I could sleep for a thousand days and nights and it still wouldn’t feel like enough.
God, I was depressed, but could you blame me?
“I hope this wears off soon. I don’t know how long I can honestly live like this,” I said to no one in particular. I was alone… but I didn’t feel lonely anymore. At least, not nearly as much.
Fenris was such an unexpected gift in that regard.
The drive back to that little slice of farmland and countryside between Auburn and Black Diamond felt excruciatingly long. It felt like the only thing keeping me awake was the glow from the navigational display on my phone, and the mechanical woman’s voice from Google Maps. I turned my little car as instructed automatically and was relieved when the rush of pavement turned to the crunch of gravel beneath my tires.
The turn onto the gravel drive took me through a short tunnel of trees. The foliage, a natural privacy screen around the property, made it feel a little like a hidden oasis of peace during the day. At night, like this, it was foreboding, bordering on menacing.
The warm glow of firelight ahead was a beacon in the dark. My headlights swept over Fenris holding his hands out to the flames, his father, Vyking, standing nearby at the fireside, a large one of my mugs of what I assumed was coffee in one hand, the other stuffed in the pocket of his jeans.
I pulled up and put my car in park, meeting Fenris’ eyes as he came around the fifty-five-gallon steel drum that the flames licked out of.
“Hi,” he called out gently as I stood up. I smiled over the roof of my car at him.
“Hi,” I echoed.
“You look beat.”
“I am,” I said honestly.
“Busy night?”
“Oh, about twenty or so, so yeah; busy, but good.”
He smiled. “And y’all just sit around, drink wine, and paint?” he asked.
“And talk, and laugh,” I said with a light chuckle.
“That’s nuts,” he said with a rueful look and a shake of his head. I shut my car door and the dome light went out, plunging his features into darkness, back lit as he was by the fire.
My breath plumed the damp night air, and I shivered with a stuttering involuntary breath at the sharp autumn chill as I went around the front of my car to join him.
He hugged me almost immediately and I laughed a bit, nervously, but I hugged him back, the leather of his jacket and vest slick and chilly beneath my fingers and my cheek as he gave me a squeeze.
“Hungry?” he asked, turning to walk beside me, arm around my shoulders.
“Yeah, starving actually.”
“Food’s in the kitchen, warming in the oven,” Vyking declared.
“You guys always have fires out here like this?” I asked as Fenris and I stopped by the cheery blaze. I held out my hands and soaked up the warmth it had to offer.
“Meh, seemed a shame to waste the coals from the barbecue,” Vyking declared. “Perfectly good to get a fire going out here.” He kicked the side of the drum with his thick-soled boot.
“You wanna head inside or hang out here for a bit?” Fenris asked.
“Uh, I’m good with either,” I said sighing.
“How hungry are you?” he asked.
I chuckled lightly. “Famished.”
“Go on in, then,” Vyking said on a yawn. “I don’t need you to keep me company.”
I nodded and Fen went for the door leading through the mud room and into the back of the kitchen.
“I’ll probably go right to bed after,” I said.
“Oh, well, g’night then,” Vyking said and it was ambivalent – neither disappointed nor pleased.
“Thank you
for fixing me dinner and keeping it warm,” I said.
“Don’t mention it,” he said affably.
“Goodnight,” I murmured.
“Night, honey.”
Fenris waited, holding the door open for me and I scooted across the final expanse of the gravel drive to the house and ducked through the door, not wishing to let the cold damp from outside into the house.
Fen followed me in and shut the door tightly behind me.
“Have a seat, I’ll get your food.”
I hung my purse over the back of one of the high bar chairs pushed up to the counter and shrugged out of my overcoat and scarf.
“Woo, it’s cold out there,” I mentioned and he gave me a crooked smile, meeting my eyes with his almost feral blue ones.
God, there was something irredeemably sexy about that look.
He took a plate down and got into the oven, loading things from various foil packets onto it for me.
“This’ll warm you up in no time,” he said as he worked. “What it doesn’t manage, I’ll finish upstairs.”
I blinked, my eyes going wide as I stared at him, a blush creeping into my cheeks.
He laughed at himself, and closed his eyes, shaking his head back and forth as he slid the plate of food at me.
“That came out really bad, didn’t it?” he asked.
I didn’t speak. I didn’t exactly know what to say. I was twisted up in knots inside with wanting to say ‘yes’ but not knowing precisely what I was saying yes to. I mean, did it sound bad? Yes. Did it also sound really, really good? Also, yes.
Should I be thinking that way after all that’d been said and done?
I didn’t know… I mean, I really didn’t know. I wasn’t even divorced yet.
Does that really matter? Your marriage is over. Charles checked out a hell of a long time ago. Why should you adhere to antiquated standards? Because you’re a woman? I think not.
“Beer?” Fenris asked, looking at me almost strangely.
“Depends, what kind have you got?”
He opened the fridge, leaned in and said, “Looks like a red, an IPA, and a couple of ciders. What’s your poison?”
I completely missed the question. He straightened up slightly and looked back at me over his shoulder and I snapped out of it, barely. I’d been unabashedly staring at his ass which looked really damn good in it’s sheath of lighter denim.
“I’m sorry, repeat the choices?” I squeaked.
His slow smile made my heart stutter and skip.
“Red, IPA, or Hard Cider?” he asked.
“Cider please,” I murmured, my breath stolen by the warmth in his steady, unwavering gaze.
He nodded once and turned back to the fridge, retrieving a brown glass bottle with a blue label. He used the bottom of a lighter to leverage the lid off and held it out to me, the light glinting off of the heavy silver rings on his fingers.
“Thanks.” I took the offered bottle and took several healthy swallows. His smile grew.
“Glad to see you’re doing better,” he murmured, and I felt the heat of my blush resurge and kiss my cheeks with flame.
“Are we flirting?” I asked.
Fenris shrugged the chains at one shoulder looping under his arm rattling against the stiff leather of his jacket.
“I don’t know about you, but I am. Need me to knock it off?”
“No!” I said quickly, then chased it just as quickly with, “I mean, I don’t know.” I scowled at myself and the mixed signals I was giving.
Fenris chuckled and said, “Not that I was doing it too hard to begin with, but I’ll slow it way down.”
“I mean, why would you want to?” I asked and squeezed my eyes shut and covered my face, hiding my mortification. “Christ, that sounded way worse out loud than it did in my head. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant—” I stopped and lowered my hands and looked at him, face vermillion with shame. “I guess I did mean it like that,” I said miserably. “No reflection on you. You’ve been so wonderful to me.”
He put his hands on the countertop and leaned on them, looking down, not looking at me. He rolled his lips together in careful consideration of what he was going to say next. I shrank in on myself, my appetite suddenly fleeing in the face of my discomfort.
I felt like I was in some kind of trouble.
Fenris looked up at me and sighed.
“Why wouldn’t I want to get involved with you?” he asked.
“I can list a lot more reasons why you shouldn’t than why you should,” I answered quietly, fixing my gaze to my plate, clutching my hands in my lap.
He dragged in a deep breath slowly and let it out in a gusty sigh.
“You’re beautiful,” he said. “You’re sweet, you’re kind, and I know it probably sounds tacky given that you are going what you’re going through, but you’re sexy as hell without even trying.”
I felt my mouth drop open in disbelief.
He searched my face, concern in his bright blue eyes and it was his turn to look resigned.
“I can wait,” he said. “It’s whatever you want; whatever you need right now. And if you gotta friend zone me, I’ll live with it because I may be an asshole, but I’m not a rapey fucker and never will be. Whatever you decide – it’s cool, and I mean that.”
I felt my jaw work, but no sound came out at first, as I didn’t quite know what to say. Finally, what came out was, “Thank you,” but it didn’t seem like enough – not nearly enough in the face of the wellspring of gratitude pouring out of me.
He fixed my gaze with his and nodded after a moment, satisfied with whatever he saw in mine.
“No problem,” he murmured.
“I mean, I don’t think I could friend zone you,” I said, and my blush was back. He smiled slightly, a watered-down echo of the sexy one-sided grin of earlier.
“Just take your time,” he said. “I mean that. I’m good. It’s about you, not me.”
“You are entirely too understanding,” I said, taking another healthy swig of cider before I picked up a rib, sticky with barbecue sauce, off of my plate.
“Not as much as you’d think,” he said with a laugh. “Not typically, anyway. There’s just something about you.” He shrugged as I took a bite, my gaze fixed on his over my mouthful of food.
I had no idea what I had just put in my mouth. The meat didn’t taste like beef or pork. Fenris laughed slightly at the strange look on my face as I tried to identify what I was slowly chewing.
“It’s goat. If you hate it, I completely understand. It can be a bit… I don’t know, musky.”
“No, it’s fine, I just wasn’t expecting it. It’s good, I promise.”
“You’re sure? ‘Cause if you hate it, I can totally make you a sandwich or something. Fix you something else.”
I smiled and shook my head and said, “It’s fine, I promise. I’m no shrinking violet when it comes to unusual meats. I’ve had my fair share of venison and other game. We’re on a goat farm, goat isn’t that unusual.”
He smiled appreciatively and said, “Still had to tell you what it was.”
I laughed slightly and said, “Shut up!” which made him chuckled harder.
“Good to know you’re a natural blonde.”
I made an indignant noise. “So are you!”
“True, true,” he said, nodding before turning to reach into the fridge for a beer.
I admired the view a little more covertly. The food was helping. I think my sugar was a little low or something. It’d been a while since I’d last eaten. The disconnected fogginess I hadn’t even realized was there in the beginning was dissipating from my head but my tiredness remained; stubbornly I might add.
“Okay, in all fairness, I’m really tired and lunch was a long time ago,” I said with a rueful smile as I polished off the first rib and picked up the half an ear of corn from the edge of my plate.
“Finish up and take yourself upstairs and get ready for bed while I tidy up down here and I’ll come
tuck you in.”
I felt my expression soften and a smile grace my lips.
“That sounds really awesome,” I confessed.
“Good deal.” He nodded.
I finished my meal and it really was good. We chatted while I finished up my cider, lips faintly burning from the slightly spicy barbecue sauce that’d been in a sticky slather on the meat.
Finally, when I was yawning just about every other sentence, Fenris shooed me away from the kitchen bar.
“Off you fuck,” he said kindly. “Go get ready for bed. I’ll come up in a minute.”
“Okay,” I murmured gratefully as I drifted toward the stairs.
I fetched down a clean towel from the closet in the hall and thought about how it had only been around a month or so ago that I’d woken up in this strange place unexpectedly and how off-putting it had been. A wry smile twisted my lips as I thought to myself, my how some things change.
I grabbed my nightgown, went into the bathroom, brushed my teeth, clipped up my hair so it wouldn’t get wet, and took a quick shower to wash off the day.
I scrubbed my face twice to get the worst of my makeup off and knew I would still have to finish up with micellar water on a cotton pad around my eyes. My mascara and eyeliner could sometimes be stubborn.
Fenris knocked on the bathroom door as I stood dressed in my nightgown in front of the mirror and finished off my nightly beauty routine with a little toner.
I opened the door and he leaned against the frame. His height should have been imposing but it wasn’t. I mean, not anymore.
“Whatcha doin’?” he asked.
“Just taking the rest of my makeup off and using a little toner on my skin.”
He smiled a bit, almost shyly and said, “I suppose if I told you that you don’t need all that, you’d scoff at me.”
“Right now,” I said, straightening and gathering up my used cotton pads from my makeup kit, “absolutely. I don’t usually wear a full face, but the stress has waged some war on my complexion and I’ve needed all the extra help I can get.”
“I wasn’t lying when I said you were beautiful, downstairs,” he said, and I looked up at him.
“I’m happy you think so,” I said softly.
