Page 30 of Pining for You

Without waiting for an answer, I took his hard length in my mouth, enjoying how he threaded his fingers through my hair and thrust into me. Before he could finish, I pulled him down onto the couch and straddled him.

We were both sweaty, sated and needed another shower by the time I rolled off him.

“Fuck me, woman, you’ve made me late.”

I walked my fingers down his chest, wondering if I could coax another erection to form. “I dare you to say you didn’t enjoy yourself.”

“I did, but maybe we can come back to this later?” He shifted from beneath me and struggled to his feet. “I really am late and I hate to make Mrs. B wait on me.”

“What are you really doing out there for her this time? Painting her deck? Pruning her lilacs so John won’t know you’re working on the side? Or are you doing her grocery shopping again? Don’t say you’re helping her fix her chicken coop because I’ve been out there, remember? We fixed it up already.”

“She decided it’s not going to last another winter so she bought another one off Kijiji — I picked it up for her last night and dropped it off while you were having your girl time with Amanda. I promised her I’d go back this morning to replace the roof and to make sure the chicken wire for the outside run is buried deep enough that animals can’t burrow under it.”

Of course he had. Heaven forbid he’d actually take some time off for himself. He was always helping people, not just Mrs. B.

“I’ve hardly seen you all week. If you’re not at Marilyn’s, you’re helping Malcolm or Ellie or over at the Mason’s office doing whatever it is you’re doing there.” I trailed him into the bedroom and satisfied myself with watching him pull on a clean set of briefs, blue jeans and a dark-blue T-shirt with “I’ll go out on a limb for you” in white text across the chest, and “Trees are life” on the back. One of a dozen shirts his sister had made for him.

Turned out I’d gone to school with Shelly, even been in the same homeroom for two years. Plus, I’d shared an English class in grade eleven with Joy. Shelly had been big into knitting, crocheting and a bunch of other crafts back then, but now she had a small shop in Dartsmouth featuring local handmade items and supplied all her family members with clothing, claiming they were walking billboards for her shop. She’d sent me one that, with Brad’s urging, proclaimed I was the “Chainsaw Whisperer.”

Brad’s shoulders stiffened, his shirt halfway over his head. “I like to help people.”

So I’d discovered. I’d also learned he refused to take any sort of payment for his help. Brad was one of the good guys. So different from Tony who would only help someone if he could get something—money—from them. I reminded myself Brad might think I was needy or clingy if I whined any more but I’d missed him. Especially since we were no longer on the same team at work.

“I know,” I said, keeping my voice casual. “You coming back here afterward? Or do you want me to meet you over at your place? Or are you going to go help Malcolm again tonight?”

Damn it, I couldn’t help the tiny whine that crept into my voice. This guy was becoming my drug of choice.

“Sorry I’ve been busy so much lately.” He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against him. “Malcolm is halfway done the job and he needs an extra pair of hands. I know I haven’t been around as much either of us would like, but I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

I kissed his chin, or what I hoped was his chin beneath his beard. “I know you will. It’ll give me time to give myself a manicure or something.” Thanks to the job, my nails were in horrible shape, even though I always wore gloves.

“Listen, Ellie’s throwing a party Friday night. They told me I could bring a date if I wanted. It’s a garden party sort of thing, not a barbecue. She said casual dressy. I figured that meant I’d need to wear a shirt, but maybe not a tie? You could wear that yellow sundress in your closet?”

I laughed. “You’ve been eyeing that sundress ever since I told you how easily the spaghetti straps come undone.”

“Of course. I have big plans for undoing those straps—” he cupped my breasts “—and revealing these beauties. Not in front of the guests of course. In private.”

“I could put it on right now. Let you practice.”

He sighed and dropped his hands from my chest. “I can’t. I really need to get out to Mrs. B’s and get that that coop in order. She’s already arranged for five new hens to be dropped off next week, so the clock is ticking.” He picked up his tool belt, slung it over his shoulder, then walked backward toward the door. “What do you say about the party? If you get bored, we can go up to my apartment and you can show me how easily those straps untie.” He raised his eyebrows with a grin. “Or if you want, we can go out for dinner, somewhere nice, since we’re going to be dressed up anyway. Maybe drive into Peterborough or down to Whitby?”

“We can discuss it tonight. I’ll wear my yellow sundress for you to practice on.” That had to be better than doing whatever it was he was doing with Malcolm.

“I’m no dummy, but I might be late. So if you get tired, we can play undress Chloe another day.”

Before I could protest, he kissed my forehead—no one had kissed my forehead since I was twelve—and went clomping down the stairs to the street.

I will admit that I threw myself on the couch and pouted like that sullen twelve-year-old.

11

BRAD

Flipping the bird to the security camera now that I knew Malcolm would see it, I unlocked the door to my apartment and trudged upstairs. Two days ago, I’d walked out of the meeting with the loan officer more confused than when I’d gone in. The damned tie I’d worn had been loosened and tossed in the back of my truck before I’d even driven out of the parking lot. I’d tugged at the little buttons at my collar so hard one popped off, pinging across the dashboard, never to be seen again.

I’d spent nearly days and days over the past month working with Ellie on that damned business proposal, working with the numbers Molly had supplied, coming up with valuations, a marketing strategy and a risk analysis. I would never have been able to write it without Ellie’s help, but even as I’d placed the plan in a briefcase she’d loaned me, she’d been worried about the valuation John had provided. From the frown the loan officer had given me, I was afraid she was right.

When it came to climbing a tree, spotting disease or potential problems, I was aces. But some of those reports the bank had requested gave me the sweats.

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