Under a Firefly Moon

by Donna Kauffman

  She slid the tray over and a soft sigh left her as she saw what else was on it. No bacon or eggs. She was apparently expected to haul herself out of bed for those. No, he’d brought her an oversized mug of jet black coffee, just the way she liked it, and next to it was a stalk of dried lavender, a tiny nest with a few downy feathers still clinging inside from its most recent inhabitants, and a small stone that she realized, upon picking it up, was an arrowhead. They’d uncovered a few of them during the renovations, and each one was a treasured gem.

  There was a folded note underneath them. She picked it up as she took her first sip, then closed her eyes in abject pleasure. A deep, appreciative sigh later, she opened her eyes, glanced through the door to the main room, but could only hear his muted conversation and the sounds of breakfast being made in the kitchen.

  She leaned back against the headboard and opened the note as she took a second sip.

  “Don’t make me an offer you’re not willing to keep.”

  She frowned for a moment, unsure of what he meant, then closed her eyes again as she remembered what she’d shouted to him on waking up to the scent of coffee and bacon. Marry me.

  She thought about that, about mornings like this being the norm in her life. Neither of them had traditional occupations, so there would never be those mornings of dashing about while showering, shaving, donning office wear and grabbing a bagel and a fast kiss before heading out the door for some god-awful commute.

  No, her mornings consisted of getting up, admittedly early, but pulling on jeans and boots, and making her commute to the barn, and having a thermos of coffee while she kibitzed with her four-legged coworkers, before heading up to the main house to see what Vivi might be whipping up for breakfast. Hannah and Avery would roll in about then, and they’d discuss what needed to be done on the farm that day, then head out to the fields, or to town, or to whatever was required to keep the place humming.

  They worked hard, all four of them, and put in very long days, especially at the end of the growing season and all through the harvest, but it was a true labor of love. She was outdoors, where she was meant to be, in this beautiful place that was now home, surrounded by people she loved and who loved her right back. She watched the fields coming to life, knowing the lavender would grow and bloom because of what the four of them had done with their own hands. Her stables—her very own stables—and the field beyond were home to horses who had been given a second chance, a new lease on life.

  She loved every part of that. With her whole heart.

  Cody would be proud of her, happy for her, as would her aunt and uncle. She was exactly where she was supposed to be. Admittedly, watching Hannah and Avery each find someone to share all of that with had made her think about that part of her life. The one part she’d yet to fulfill.

  Since moving to the farm, she hadn’t given that part of her life any thought. She had no time, and even less inclination. Things were good. Why go muck it up with potential drama and heartache, and didn’t relationships always seem to go hand in hand with both? Then Hannah had met Will, and Chey had watched her friend fall so beautifully and completely in love. Not without risk, or a fair share of drama, but the payoff . . . Chey closed her eyes, smiled. She was openly, wholeheartedly thrilled to see Hannah find her second chance at happiness, at love, and most importantly for her, family.

  Then Avery had met Ben, and if that hadn’t been the most adorable thing ever, Chey didn’t know what was. The only thing bigger than Avery’s brain was her huge heart. Turned out the same was true for Ben. They’d all taken great glee in watching the two of them figure out they were meant to be together.

  “And crap, even Vivi is dating now,” Chey realized, smiling as she thought about how that particular date had ended, but still. Chey had a suspicion that while Paul Hammond had been crossed off Vivi’s dance card, now that she’d unearthed it again, it was only a matter of time before new names got penciled in.

  Which leaves you, she thought, sitting in bed, while the man who spent the better part of the night making the most beautiful love to you is out there making you breakfast. Then could most likely be coerced back into bed for more of the same with very little effort on your part.

  She closed her eyes and her grip on her coffee mug tightened a bit. If only it would be, could be, that simple. Hannah and Will, Avery and Ben, they’d figured it out. Yeah, but they all live in Blue Hollow Falls full time.

  And she was wasting what little time she had with Wyatt worrying about when she wouldn’t have him near. She set her mug on the tray and got up, then carried it into the great room. He was still on the phone in the kitchen, his back to her while he stood at the stove. She gave him his privacy, as much as was possible, anyway, and set the tray on the oversized ottoman that doubled as a coffee table. She picked up her gifts from Wyatt and walked over to the big stone fireplace, where she arranged them on the old railroad tie that served as her mantel.

  She had other treasures up there as well. Three massive-sized pinecones that she and Cody had collected as kids, standing upright like soldiers. An old shoe from her first horse, leaning upright, with the open end at the top, so it could collect good luck. A tied bundle of dried lavender that Avery had given each of them at the end of their first season. And a piece of driftwood and sea glass that Wyatt had given her on their caravan’s one and only surf-side rodeo in Southern California. She wondered if he’d seen them this morning, if he remembered giving them to her. Of course he had. And of course he did.

  She placed the bird nest on top of one end of the driftwood, then propped the arrowhead, point down, into a small crevice at the other end so it stood upright. She picked the sprig of lavender up and carried it back into the bedroom, leaving it on her nightstand instead.

  She should brush her hair, wash her face, put on actual clothes. Instead she walked back out to the great room, one arm wrapped around her waist, hugging the soft material of Wyatt’s shirt to her skin. She picked up her mug from the tray, then went to the big picture window with a view across the field where her horses grazed to the mountain peaks.

  She felt him behind her before his arms slid through hers and circled her waist. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to that perfect spot on the nape of her neck, then pulled her back against him.

  “Sorry,” she said, still cradling her mug as she took in the view and reveled in feeling cared for by the man standing behind her. She was blissfully content with her world at that moment and wanted nothing more than for it to go on forever. “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. I can go back in the bedroom if—”

  “No, I’m done. And it wasn’t anything you couldn’t listen in on.” He turned her in his arms, so she faced him. “In fact, it was kind of about you. Among other things.”

  Confused and curious, she reached out to set her mug on the small table that sat next to the big, leather easy chair, then turned back to face him. “Tell me more,” she said, sliding her arms over his shoulders and toying with the curls at the nape of his neck.

  He made a sound that was half growl, half purr, and she smiled when she saw his eyes darken as desire flared. She suspected he saw the same in hers as her body leapt to life.

  “I thought we’d talk about it over breakfast,” he said. “Which is ready.”

  “Earning your keep,” she said, trailing her fingertips over the nape of his neck, enjoying his visceral reaction to her touch. “I like it.”

  He leaned in and caught the lobe of her ear between his teeth. “I thought I did that last night,” he murmured.

  “Well, I like to think that was more of a mutual admiration kind of thing.”

  “Indeed,” he said, trailing kisses along the side of her neck. “I know I was a big fan.”

  “Some might say huge,” she replied, letting out a little gasp when he pushed the shirt down over her shoulders and nuzzled the crook of her neck, while simultaneously scooping her up and urging her legs around his waist. “I’m detecting a pattern here,” she said,
smiling as he let her head drop back, allowing him free reign to go . . . wherever his mouth and tongue wanted to go.

  “This way I don’t have to let you go while I get us where we need to be,” he said, surprising her by not carrying her to bed, but simply turning and sinking down into the big leather chair, with her now straddling his lap.

  “I’m assuming breakfast can be reheated,” she said, and began unbuttoning the shirt she was wearing, his shirt, gleeful at the brief look of stunned surprise on his face as she slowly bared herself to him. “You don’t get to call all the shots.”

  “Please,” he said reverently, as he pulled her to him and took one of her nipples between his lips. “Call all the shots you want.”

  She cried out with pleasure as he took his sweet, sweet time, sliding an arm around her waist, and sinking his other hand into the hair at the nape of her neck, then using both to arch her more fully into him.

  Now it was her turn to growl with pleasure as she moved against him, seeking what her aching body knew it wanted.

  She reached down between them and flipped open the snap at the top of his jeans.

  “My wallet is in the other room,” he said as he trailed hot kisses from one nipple to the next. “Poor planning on my part.”

  She continued opening the front of his jeans. “I’m on the pill,” she told him, her voice hoarse with need. “Regulates me. I haven’t been with—I’m safe, Wyatt.”

  He lifted his head, caught her gaze, his so dark and full of want it took what was left of her breath away. “So am I.” He held her gaze as assuredly as he’d held every other part of her. “Are you sure, Chey?”

  She nodded, making sure he knew that she wasn’t just mindlessly deciding this. “I don’t ever,” she said. “Ever.” She wanted him to know she meant what she said, about risking her health, or his, but also that she was making a deliberate choice, specifically with him.

  “Me either. Never, not once.”

  “We can,” she said, “if you—I won’t—don’t mind. I’m not dismissing it for the sake of speed. I want—”

  He stood then, still holding her, and walked them both directly to the bedroom.

  Admittedly part of her was disappointed, both because she wanted to feel him inside her, with no barriers, and because she’d hoped he wanted that, too. With her. She would never make anyone feel bad over that personal choice, so she kissed him, with all the care she had for him, and made sure he knew that.

  He lowered her to the bed, not quite as gently as he had the first time, shucked his jeans and followed her down without pause, his weight directly on her. She immediately wrapped herself around him, the look on his face alone making her arch up hard against him. She expected him to reach past her, for the nightstand, but instead he cupped her cheek, turned her face to his, and settled between her legs.

  “Last time, you took me before we took each other,” he said, his voice so deep now, the words quietly said. “This time I want to take you, feel you, all of you.” He started to push inside her and she gasped, her hips jerking hard against his, as an almost piercing need clenched the muscles between her thighs. “On all of me.”

  “Yes,” she panted, when he paused, his gaze hot and heavy on hers. “All of you. Inside all of me. Please, Wy.”

  Then take her, he did.

  Chapter Eight

  They were twenty minutes late to the meeting with Vivi, Hannah, Avery, and the rest of the assembled guests. The number of whom was rather startling. It looked as if half the town was packed around the tables in the veranda tearoom.

  Wyatt held Chey’s hand as they stepped up into the enclosed veranda where Vivi had set up court, so to speak. She’d put out quite the spread and everyone already had full plates in front of them. It was a good strategy, Wyatt thought: fill their bellies before making a call to action. Having been a guest at her dinner table the night before, though, he suspected this wasn’t calculated. It was just how Vivi was.

  Given the breakfast he’d made hours ago had been packaged up and stowed in the fridge untouched, he was grateful for it.

  “Sorry we’re late,” he told Vivi, taking her offered hand and planting a quick kiss on the back, much to her delight. He and Chey took the two seats Vivi had saved for them at her table at the head of the room. “I was able to get a few things put into motion this morning,” he told Vivi as he nodded while people lifted their hands in short waves, called out hello to Chey, and raised a few glasses in their general direction. “Thanks for sending the resort plans over. That helped a lot.”

  Chey responded to the various greetings with a quick nod and smile. It wasn’t until Wyatt went to pull out her chair that he realized they were still holding hands. A quick scan of the room told him the gesture had not gone unnoticed. He didn’t mind, quite the opposite, but this wasn’t his town; he didn’t have to live with these people. “Sorry,” he whispered in her ear as she scooted in front of him and took her seat.

  But when he started to let her go, she held on to his hand a moment longer, then glanced up and caught his eye. “No apologies,” she said with a smile, the words for his ears only.

  Their gazes held for a moment longer, and there was no doubt that she wasn’t just talking about the public display of affection. “Good,” he said with a quick flash of a grin, then edged behind her chair to get to his own. Vivi was on his right. Avery and a man Wyatt assumed was Ben, the veterinarian, sat across from them. They both offered happy greetings to him and to Chey. Avery’s eyes were particularly sparkling as she took in the two of them.

  Wyatt hoped Chey was ready for what appeared to be a room full of well-wishers eager to congratulate her on the apparent change to her relationship status. He hoped she was ready for it, period. He hadn’t had the chance to tell her the rest of his news that morning, as they’d gotten distracted from that conversation. Twice. He had a whole new appreciation for long, hot showers now, and he’d been pretty appreciative of them before.

  Wyatt pulled in his chair and nodded hello to the woman rounding out their table of six. She had just seated herself to Vivi’s right, placing her loaded plate on the table and propped a gorgeous, hand-carved walking stick against the wall behind her before seating herself. Wyatt had started to stand again to offer his assistance, but she’d kindly waved him off.

  She seemed to be in the ballpark of Vivi’s age, but that was where the similarity ended. She was quite short, with narrow shoulders, wide hips, and skinny bird legs below. Her steel-gray hair was plaited into a braid that went far enough down her back that Wyatt didn’t know where it ended. She wore a tie-dyed shirt with what appeared to be the Bluebird crafter’s guild logo embroidered on the front pocket. Her faded and well-worn khaki shorts fell well below the knees and would have made her right at home in the bush country of Australia. Wyatt was intrigued by her already. Her face was lined by a life spent in the great outdoors, and her smile was ready and sincere.

  He got hung up briefly on her eyes, which he swore were a lavender hue, though that might just be the lighting. Even as she smiled and said her hellos, she probed him in a swift once-over that left him feeling a little exposed. From Chey’s earlier description when they’d talked about who was going to be at the meeting, he had no doubt who she was. Chey was right about one thing. Addison Pearl Whitaker didn’t miss much.

  In this case, that was going to be a good thing.

  “Thank you all for coming out here this morning,” Vivi said, rising from her chair, all flowing scarves, bangle bracelets, and a swept-up hairdo that looked painstakingly elaborate, yet suited her stage bearing to a tee. Between Vivi’s lavender-streaked hair and Addie Pearl’s eyes, Wyatt felt a little like he was at a table with the Blue Hollow Falls version of the Witches of Eastwick. And here he’d thought he had to travel to the four corners of the earth to find such interesting company. He grew more intrigued with Chey’s chosen hometown by the minute.

  “As you all know by now,” Vivi said, after the various conversatio
ns in the room trailed off and fell quiet, “it’s come to our attention that there is a bit of an economic disconnect between the revenue flow that is coming through our businesses out here, and those centered in the town itself.”

  Wyatt knew from Chey that the assembled guests were comprised of the folks who owned the tourist draws outside the town proper. Seth, the winery owner he’d heard about, was there, as was Mabry, who owned the apple farm, as well as a goodly number of the artisans and musicians who populated the restored mill.

  “One of the unfortunate side effects of the traffic flow being diverted from the town proper,” Vivi went on, “to the mill, and to places like Seth and Pippa’s winery, Mabry’s cidery, and our very own Lavender Blue, is that the businesses in town have experienced a steady decline of tourist traffic. Our local nature park and the wilderness area surrounding Firefly Lake appear to be other victims of this significant reduction in tourist flow.” She picked up a set of papers and a pair of bedazzled glasses affixed to the end of what looked like a wand.

  Wyatt smiled, already enamored with Vivi’s stage presence. She was truly something to behold. Addie Pearl caught his gaze as he shifted to look out over the room, studied him for a moment, then gave him an imperceptible nod before turning her attention back to Vivi. Wyatt felt Chey take his hand under the table. She slid her fingers through his and rested their joined hands on his knee. She leaned in and whispered, “You just got the Addie Pearl stamp of approval,” she said. “And she hasn’t even spoken to you yet.”

  “I’ll assume that’s a good thing,” he whispered back, then flinched when Vivi swatted him playfully with her sheaf of papers.

  “Don’t make me split you two up now,” she admonished.

  “Not possible,” he replied with a grin before thinking better of it.

  That earned a series of hoots and a smatter of applause.

  Vivi’s perfectly penciled eyebrows lifted and she glanced at Chey, as if looking for confirmation. Chey made a shooing motion for her to get on with it, then looked out over the room in a dead-on impression of the Queen Victoria look and everyone quieted down immediately.