by A. J. Downey
I sighed as I rolled to a stop and put my car in park, careful to leave enough room for the Jeep to back up and go around the main pasture and around and back out. Fenris had plans to gravel the rest of the track around that pasture but hadn’t gotten to it yet.
My little Prius couldn’t do the mud, but the Jeep looked like it would definitely have no problem.
I looked over at the overhang off the back of the house and the men gathered beneath it. It was Fen and Vyking, but the third man and likely owner of the Jeep, I didn’t know.
He wasn’t nearly as tall as Fen or Vyking, but he was still taller than me. He had his arms crossed over his chest, which was covered in a black tee, the spill of his beard fiery and impressive as well as nearly to his belt line.
He was bald, his light eyes smiling and kind as he turned his head in my direction when I got out of my car.
“Hey, Aspen. Like you to meet my buddy Jon Oppegaard.”
“Hi!” I called out over the roof of my car.
“Hey, how’s it going?” he called back, and his tone was friendly. He was the kind of guy who was instantly likeable – clearly laid back and genuinely nice.
“Good! How about yourself?” I asked as I crunched across the drive.
“Aspen makes heavy earthenware plates and mugs and shit, I like ‘em,” Vyking said, taking a drink out of one of my coffee mugs I’d gifted Fenris.
“I’m glad,” I told Vyking.
“You made that?” Jon asked, jerking a thumb at the mug in Vyking’s hand.
“I did! I run a shop called Clayrity in Georgetown off Airport Way.”
“Oh, cool. Another mead guy, Brandon has a shop out that way on Airport called Mr. B’s Meadery. He’s a good guy, does a real nice Ginger Cardamom mead I hear, which is all him. I hate ginger.”
“Oh, nice,” I said, faltering a bit. I had no idea what he was talking about.
Fenris, as ever, came to the rescue.
“Jon’s the owner of Oppegaard Mead out there in Tukwila. He came buy to check on a batch we were making, to determine if it was infected.”
“Infected?” I made a face.
“It’s all good,” Jon said affably. “Sounds worse than it is. Just means your equipment maybe wasn’t properly sanitized and you got some bacteria growth going on that you maybe didn’t want in there. Mead is a lot more forgiving than wine or beer, but it’s still subject to similar issues in the brewing process.”
“So, was it?” I asked, as Fenris tucked me under his arm and into his side.
“Looks like it,” Vyking grumbled.
“So, what’s the cure?” I asked.
“Start over,” Jon said with a shrug.
“Geesh, that doesn’t sound fun.”
“It’s not too bad, it was just one carboy, the rest seem to be alright,” Fen said.
“Onward and upward,” Vyking agreed. “Let’s get this new batch going.”
“Want a hand with that?” Jon asked.
“Love one,” Fen said. “You give my pops a hand and I’ll get some dinner going. Pretty sure my lady’s hungry.”
I felt a warm, tingling rush at Fen’s words and smiled again, blushing at the thought. His lady had a nice ring to it, even more so with the reverence with which he said it.
“Come on, you can gimme a hand in the kitchen if you don’t mind,” he said, jostling me lightly. I looked up and nodded.
“Love to,” I murmured.
Just inside the back door of the house, well away from prying eyes, he pulled me against his body and lowered his mouth to mine. I closed my eyes and kissed him back, and wow, he was a skillful kisser. With a touch of his lips, a stroke of his tongue against mine, I felt knotted muscles loosen right along with my inhibitions.
I groaned into his mouth and he pulled away gently, a mischievous smile on his lips.
“Yeah,” he said with conviction. “I’ll be doing more of that tonight, if you’ll let me.”
“Let you?” I asked, chest heaving with my breathlessness. “Pretty sure I’m going to beg you.”
He laughed and said, “Good to know. Think you can fix up a salad while I get the grill lit?”
“Sure.”
“Knives there, cutting board here.” He pulled the built-in one out from where it was hidden under the lip of the counter. “Bowl up there.” He indicated, and I nodded.
“Okay.”
We worked together mostly in silence, and it was comfortable – moving around one another and trading little touches when we could.
It didn’t seem to matter how damp or how cold it was outside, no matter the weather, Fenris and Vyking were fanatics about cooking with fire. I didn’t think the oven got much use. I made the salad while Fenris seasoned some thick steaks for the grill.
“Wish we had corn,” I said, and he opened up the fridge and brought out a bag of ears.
“Your wish is my command, my lady.”
“Awesome, where’s the foil?” I asked. He brought a roll down from the top of the fridge as I tore into the corn, shucking it with the practice of a thousand summertime barbecues. I was impressed that he had it. It was getting close to the end of its season as we headed into deepest fall. In fact, it was already dark outside.
“I’ll be back in a minute for those,” he said, letting the meat rest as he went outside to fire up the grill.
I fell into the peacefulness that being domestic always brought me, fixing the corn up with butter and a touch of salt to each packet and peeking in the oven.
I was right. It looked barely used. There were some pans in it, a couple of cookie sheets, a roasting pan, and a cast-iron Dutch oven by the looks of it. I pulled all of it out and heard something rattle in the Dutch oven and lifted its giant lid.
“Ah ha,” I voiced triumphantly, and lifted out the two muffin tins.
By the time Fenris came back in, I had the oven preheating and was whisking mayonnaise into my thin roll batter.
“Mayonnaise?” Fenris demanded with a look of disgust on his face that instantly had me howling with laughter.
“Shut up, you’ll like these, I promise.”
“What the fuck are they supposed to be?” he demanded suspiciously as I dropped a heavy-handed spoonful of batter into each muffin tin.
“Dinner rolls,” I said, rolling my eyes. “They have a sort of biscuit texture and flavor but come out in a muffin-like shape.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” he said, hefting the cookie sheet I’d stacked the foil-wrapped corn on, and the other cookie sheet lined with parchment he’d set the steaks to rest on. He raised an eyebrow at me suspiciously as he backed out the door, nudging it open with his shapely butt to exit out through the mudroom.
Long story short, the dinner rolls were well received, the conversation with the three men lively, and as evening wore on into night, we sat comfortably at the picnic table under the extended roof overhang from the back of the house.
Vyking and Fen had hung lanterns at even intervals from the underside of the roof’s edge and the light from them was warm and just enough along with the lantern at the center of the table. It seemed if they could get away with skipping the use of electricity, they would. I couldn’t decide if it was a cost-saving measure, or what, but I liked it whatever the case may be. It was simpler somehow, certainly more rustic, and just made things peaceful.
“What about you, Aspen?”
“What?” I looked up from my plate where I’d been chasing my last bite of salad across its surface.
Jon chuckled. “We were talking about travel. If you could go anyplace in the world, where would you go?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said. I blew out a big breath. “With everything going on, travel has honestly been the last thing on my mind.”
“Oh yeah? What’s going on?” he asked, catching whatever look Fenris beside me cast him too late. I put my hand on Fenris’ arm and he looked down at me. I shook my head slightly, indicating that he didn’t need to protect me from ha
ving to talk about my life – shitty though it may be for the time being.
I gave Jon the CliffsNotes and he gave a low whistle.
“Yeah, you got a lot on your plate. All that aside, I know exactly what you’re going through with your business. I had something similar happen to me when it came to the meadery and getting it going.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Man, I didn’t know that,” Fen said.
“Me either,” Vyking declared.
“Oh, yeah. It’s a long story, and it’s getting late, otherwise I’d get into it for y’all. I promise, though. Rain check. It’s a wild ride from start to finish.”
“Love to hear it, brother. Can’t be as crazy as your trip to the old country,” Vyking said.
“Oh, that’s part of it,” Jon said.
“Shit, you’re gonna have to come back real soon, then.” Fenris got to his feet and stepped out over the bench of the table to get out.
“After a meal like that, what’s for dinner tomorrow night, man?”
The guys had a laugh and I smiled and giggled along with them as I started to gather plates and utensils to bring everything inside.
“Leave it,” Vyking grunted. “You and the boy cooked; I clean. Fair is fair.”
“Let me give you a hand bringing this inside,” Jon said affably. “Then I’ll get out of here.”
“Thank you,” I murmured.
“Hope things get better for you,” he said, and I smiled.
“Thank you. I hope so, too.”
“Come on, let’s get you to bed. It’s past your bedtime,” Fen said gently and put an arm around me.
“K. Goodnight, Jon, goodnight, Vyking.”
“Night, girly,” Vyking declared and I went with Fen inside.
“Go brush your teeth, I’ll turn down the bed,” Fen said at the top of the stairs.
I rolled my eyes slightly and said, “Yes, Dad.”
“Oh, you’ll call me daddy, alright,” he said with a wink, and I burst out laughing.
“No,” I said with certainty. “Not my thing.”
He grinned at me and I stepped into the bathroom and shut the door.
I scrubbed my face, brushed my teeth, and stood in front of the mirror and stared at my reflection.
I had blond hair in crazy unruly curls around a too-round face. I liked my eyes, a vivid green, the outside ring of my iris ringed in jade smoke, but other than that, I felt I was wholly unremarkable to look at. Plain. Boring.
I sighed.
I didn’t know what Fenris saw in me, but it was nice. Nice to have someone to listen to me. Nice that someone cared. Nice that he was so genuine about things. Simple about them. So matter of fact.
There was something… different about Fenris.
He has absolutely no fucks to give, I told myself. That’s what it is.
The realization wasn’t exactly a stunner, but it was the truth. He didn’t sweat the small stuff. He didn’t care about the divorce, or the fact that I was basically financially ruined at this point. He didn’t seem to care either way if I kept my shop or lost it, just in how it affected me and my happiness, and I didn’t understand it. I didn’t understand it at all…
Why do you care about me? Boring, unimaginative, little me… the quiet girl, the unobtrusive girl.
How was it this man saw me when it felt like practically no one else did?
Two rapid knocks fell at the bathroom door and I jumped.
“Aspen? You good in there?” he asked and I realized I didn’t know how long I’d been standing here, staring at myself in the mirror.
“Yeah!” I called out. “Just a second!”
I opened the door after an intrepid and at once, cleansing breath.
“Hey, pretty girl,” he breathed as I looked up into those so-blue eyes of his.
“Hey, yourself,” I murmured.
“I’m going to take a minute to brush my own teeth and I’ll be in with you, that alright?”
“Yes, of course!” I said with a laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Okay,” he said with a laugh of his own and a bob of his head. He stood aside so I could exit the bathroom and he could take my place.
“Two seconds,” he said with a wink and I smiled and nodded.
I let out a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding when the bathroom door shut.
Shit. We were about to be alone, sharing a bed, and with all the kissing lately…
Are you seriously going to get cold feet and chicken out now? I asked myself harshly as I changed into my nightgown, suddenly feeling like it was more frumpy and less country chic. Like it was something my grandma would wear and not something someone my age should be wearing, never mind how comfortable it was.
I jumped and shrieked slightly when his hand fell on my shoulder in a light touch. I had all of the things I’d worn that day gathered in my arms, about to dump them into a trash bag I’d brought for my dirty clothes. Instead, they went everywhere. I whirled to make sure nothing went on to or over any of the lit candles, but no, we were good except for the frantic beating of my heart.
He grasped me lightly by the shoulders and turned me to face him, his hands warm, strong, and rough with callouses against my skin.
“It’s all good,” he said softly, his voice deep and soothing. “I got you.”
It was a strange sort of thing to say when he’d been the one to startle me so, but at the same time, it was the right thing to say.
I looked up at him and he drew me in, putting his arms around me and holding me tight. I closed my eyes and laid my head on his chest and just soaked it in – the warmth, the security, the way he just felt so good against me, and I against him.
He held me like that for countless seconds that probably dragged on to minutes and only shifted once I let out a sigh of contentment, my shoulders and back muscles easing when I hadn’t even realized I’d held them tense.
He was so warm and alive beneath my hands as I wrapped my arms around his trim waist and I was keenly aware of how little was between us by way of clothing – just my nightgown and panties, his black boxer briefs…
He smelled so good. Like the outdoors – all clean air, damp earth, and rich wood. Like the mountains smelled when you stood at the edge of the river or falls. I closed my eyes and breathed him in, letting him hold me, and for one brief moment, I left it all behind and just lived fully in the moment.
“You feel so damn good in my arms,” he breathed against the top of my head and I looked up at him, feeling almost, I don’t know, drunk? I couldn’t really describe the feeling, the languid sort of relief that made muscles that had been tensed forever relax and my mind which had seemed to race nonstop finally be quiet.
“It feels really good to be here, with you, like this,” I whispered nervously.
He lifted an arm, his hand brushing my hair away, his thumb grazing my cheek in a light and sweet caress.
“Everything at your pace, honey,” he murmured and I looked up and blinked rapidly as I processed what he said. I mean, as the meaning behind his hushed words finally sank in. I mean, really sank in… he wanted me. Badly.
“I mean, how soon is too soon?” I whispered quietly and shuddered. He smiled a little sadly at me.
“Worried about what people will think, you getting with another man so soon after getting divorced?” he asked.
I swallowed hard and nodded since I couldn’t find my voice quite yet. When I did, I said, “I’m not even divorced yet, not really. I mean, I only just filed and—”
He placed a fingertip against my lips and hushed me.
“There’s an old saying out there,” he murmured, drawing me close again and I couldn’t even remember taking a step back from him. I felt a little awful about that. I mean, I wanted him too, desperately, and under no circumstances did I want him to think I didn’t.
“What’s that? The old saying?” I asked.
He tipped my chin, ducking his head, bringing his lips a hair’s bre
adth from my own. I closed my eyes as the warmth of his breath fanned across my lips and sent a tingling rush to all the right places.
“Best way to get over a man is to get under a different one,” he murmured, and I sucked in a quick, sharp breath as his lips made contact with mine.
The absolute rush that came from the contact was indescribable. I don’t know what it was that curled through my body, licking the nerve endings every which way with pleasure. Flame like, fairy like, flitting through my body, butterflies taking flight in my stomach as I was drawn to his warmth like a moth to flame, my hands making contact with his waist, pulling myself in close and closer still until I was fetched up right against him while he ravaged my mouth with his.
Adrenaline surged through me as his arms closed around me, one hand threading through my blond locks, cradling the back of my head as his tongue swept into my mouth and stroked against mine. I moaned, and he devoured the sound like it was candy, a rich chocolate upon our tongues.
He moaned back like I was the most decadent thing he had ever tasted and God, I wanted more.
I wanted him to hold me close and never let go. I wanted him to touch me, kiss me, fuck me, and I didn’t at all know where that came from. All I knew was that I wanted it, I wanted him, and I didn’t know the first thing about how to express any of it because I was paralyzed by my insecurities.
He broke the kiss, as though he sensed the two wolves raging inside of me, light and dark, the indecision maddening, the desire, at times, overpowering the back-and-forth bringing me to a low, roiling boil inside that I thought sure would be the death of me. The needle pegged in the red as the pressure built.
“Arms up,” he ordered gruffly, but gently, and I put my arms up in perfect supplication as he lifted my nightgown off over my head.
“Good girl,” he whispered, dropping it to the floor and pulling me close, rewarding me with another deep kiss.
