I didn't answer as Joe trailed off. It was a concept I hadn't been ready for and it took a minute for my mind to catch up.
"Do you wanna see it first?" Joe asked. He sounded boyishly hesitant and I nodded half to reassure him and half to push myself into action. The shock hadn't worn off, but I needed to do something, say something.
He took my hand and we wandered over the field in the opposite direction from the house, over the gentle upwards slope of the hill, and towards a stand of trees.
"That's the McMillian's farm," Joe nodded towards the field on the other side of the wooded divide. Our feet hit a curving dirt lane and we turned downhill towards the sea.
We walked the land, following its gradual, wooded incline. The Tanner farmhouse bordered on the bluff overlooking the ocean half a kilometer away. Our steps sunk into the sand where the tree-line stopped. The vista opened up into a protected little cove, sheltered by tall bluffs on both sides and less than a mile wide. A little white cottage stood nestled at the edge of the trees where they met the beach. It had a wide porch and faded green shutters over the windows.
"It ain't much," Joe confessed, pushing his hat back off his forehead and grinning sheepishly, "but it's mine."
My jaw dropped.
The wind swept around the small cove in a sweet smelling gust. Overhead, the gulls screamed into the breeze. A constant lap of waves hitting the sand was the only other noise around. The sun shone warmly on the little cottage. It stood so patiently and expectantly, just like its owner. Instantly, I wanted it to be mine. It needed love and I wanted to give it.
"It's perfect Joe!" I breathed out in a whisper when the ability to speak came back to me.
Joe turned to me and looked surprised. "It is?"
I hugged him and the solid comfort of Joe's arms around me made me smile harder. "It's so sweet, like something out of a fairy tale. I love it."
The look of shock on Joe's face couldn't have been any greater if I'd agreed to marry him on the spot. Slowly he pulled a set of keys from his pocket, singled out a heavy, dark one and held it out to me. I wrapped my hand around the key and with a giddy laugh took off across the sand to our house.
Joe threw open the shutters while I fumbled with the key in the lock. The worn boards of the porch squeaked under my feet where a well-travelled path to the front door had chipped away the green paint years ago. The door itself had been painted bright yellow at some point, but had faded to a charming, weather beaten buttery shade.
I grinned as I pushed the door open. There wasn't anything I loved more than making something pretty, and there was so much potential in Joe's cottage I was dizzy with it.
"It's furnished," Joe murmured behind me as I stepped across the threshold, "but if you want new stuff we'll get it."
The sunroom stretched across the entire front of the cottage, and flooded with light now that the shutters were open. It had the musty smell of a house closed up too long, but it was clean, which was more than I expected.
"Charlene's parents used to rent it out to tourists, but it got to be too much work for them," Joe explained. "They didn't want to sell it to some snotty tourist from Toronto, heaven forbid, so they were just going to tear it down. It didn't take much to convince them to sell it to me. After all, I can't live at my parents forever."
Joe blushed and cleared his throat awkwardly. "I think maybe they thought Charlene and I would live here, but I never felt that way about her, never wanted that with her. I was gonna fix it up in my free time. It'd be lonely by myself here though... Is it okay?"
My gaze wandered around the front room. An old fifties era laminate kitchen table and chairs, padded in a shockingly wonderful apple red vinyl occupied half the space. A long, low sideboard with chipped turquoise paint lined the wall. A fat, vintage fridge perfect for a case of beer or two, stood tucked in the corner.
Two mismatched easy chairs in faded floral patterns crowded the other half of the room. The original prints must have been quite garish, but the sun had mellowed the colors to a more pleasing tone. An old steamer trunk stood in lieu of a coffee table. Beneath the rows of windows was a daybed, replete with a luxurious number of throw pillows. The rest of the cottage lay on the other side of a French door, propped open by a monstrous conch shell; it just invited further exploration.
Joe and I stepped through into the main part of the cottage, hand-in-hand. A fireplace made of smooth field stones dominated the right half of the room. Slouchy couches clustered around it and I noticed a tiny television of suspiciously antique origins. A bank of windows overlooked the stand of trees blocking the laneway from view to the left of the room. There was another table there, obviously meant for family dinners. I counted eight chairs with a few more lining the wall, almost enough seating for the Tanner brood.
"Master bedroom's through here," Joe prompted, nodding at one of the two doors at the back of the room.
To say that the bedroom was small was an understatement, but the windows opened out to the beautiful line of trees. It wasn't the tiny bedroom which bothered me anyway; it was the minuscule closet.
My mouth opened to say something smart ass about how the two of us would never manage to live together in such a small space and where was Joe going to keep his stuff, but the happy look on Joe's face made me keep my mouth shut.
"Kitchen and bathroom are through the door on the left," Joe explained as he led me again into the main living space. A flight of stairs rose steeply to the upper level. "There's two bedrooms up there, a smaller one at the back and a big long one at the front. Got a great row of windows that look out over the beach. It's real nice."
I squeezed Joe's hand and kept my disparaging comments to myself. The cottage was 'real nice', very sweet actually, but so desperately old fashioned. Despite what I promised and what Joe had envisioned, I had a hard time picturing myself living in it. Still, I couldn't bring myself to disappoint Joe again. Not at the moment. I'd given him too little to be happy about the past few months; I just didn't have the heart to say anything bad.
"Think it needs a coat of paint?" Joe asked me. He flipped on the kitchen lights and ushered me through to the back of the house. I breathed a sigh of relief. At least there were modern-ish appliances. The stove, fridge, and dishwasher looked as if they might be 20 years old, but at least we wouldn't be cooking in the fireplace.
I took another look around the space, craning my neck to see back into the main room beyond the kitchen. "Actually, I don't," I confessed with a smile. "I think a coat of paint would ruin it. Same with new furniture. It would be a shame to change it. It wouldn't have the same charm." Besides, all the paint in the world couldn't make it bigger.
"'Kay," Joe kissed the top of my head. "We'll just air it out real good and you can move right in."
My stomach did a little flip-flop at the strangeness of it all. Less than a month ago, I'd been my own woman. Now I wasn't myself at all. The strangest thing was I didn't really know how I felt about it. I was a little scared, but was I regretful? I wasn't sure.
I wrapped my arms around Joe's solid chest and snuggled under his chin. His arms came instantly around me and held me close. Neither of us said anything.
~~~***~~~
I went home that afternoon and packed nothing more than some of my more comfortable clothes and a few pairs of shoes. I even weaned out as much of my make-up and hair products as I could. The bathroom wasn't any bigger than the rest of the house and I didn't need four kinds of hairspray anyway. If I needed anything else it would be waiting at my empty condo for me.
I sat on the edge of my bed for a long time and looked at the small stack of suitcases I was taking with me. Odd how the condo I'd been so proud of buying only a few years back had become nothing more than a closet to me. It lacked character, heart. It was my place, but it had never been my home.
It was so oddly lonely in my apartment, although I'd never felt that way there before, that I gave in to the urge to call Mrs. Nichol to tell her the news. She laughed
her wise old laugh and gave me her best wishes.
It was nice to talk to her at length. I felt like I'd been neglecting her since Joe came in to the picture again, but she didn't seem upset by it. If anything I could sense an unspoken smugness in her words. I think she was damn pleased with herself. The old Rhiannon would have been mad and a little resentful at her sweetly self-satisfied tone, but I could always forgive Mrs. N. anything. Besides, there was a little flicker of happiness in my belly which made it easy to laugh along with her.
I promised her I'd swing by the shop at some point soon. Although I never followed a set schedule for work, I missed seeing her, missed the shop. Hell, I even missed the customers. I think I was going a little soft.
Joe came by Sunday morning as promised and helped me load up my car and his truck. There really wasn't much to load and that made me sad. How pathetic that I could fit my entire fucking life into only a few suitcases.
"Hey," Joe said softly as he closed up the tailgate of his truck. "You okay?"
"Yeah," I said, a little shocked that as I said it, I felt like I meant it. "Don't you think it's sad that my whole life fits in the back of your truck?"
Joe looked confused. "Where else would it fit?"
I opened my mouth to argue but thought better of it. "Never mind," I sighed. I tried a smile out on him, and his answered grin made the churning in my stomach subside slightly. "Take me home?"
"Sure thing, Darling."
I followed Joe back to the cottage in my car, and each mile I put between me and the city seemed to lift a little weight from my chest, so that by the time I pulled into our laneway behind his nasty old truck, I swore I felt a small tickle of excitement.
Joe must have spent the remainder of the previous day cleaning and airing out the cottage because most of the musty smell had disappeared. A brisk sea breeze blew in the open windows and already some of his personal belongings were scattered about. There were fresh sheets on the bed and all but two of the dresser drawers thrown open waiting for my things.
"I left you most of the closet too," Joe admitted sheepishly as he carried the last of my suitcases in and dumped them on the neatly made bed. "Figured you'd need as much space as you could get."
"Oh, Joe," I sighed. There really didn't seem to be much else to say to that and we fell to unpacking my things in silence. Things were comfortably quiet between the two of us until Joe stumbled upon the suitcase with my lingerie in it.
I was busy folding jeans and sweaters and didn't notice what he was doing until the complete lack of movement from the other side of the room caught my eye. I looked up to see Joe standing motionless over an open suitcase, out of which spilled quite a few dollars worth of satin, silk, and lace.
I laughed, it was pretty much all I could do. Most of my things had been bought overseas, since there wasn't really a good source for that quality of lingerie on the Island. I didn't wear the frivolous stuff often, but I loved having it. It made special occasions even more so. It saddened me to think most of it wouldn't fit soon.
Joe plunged his hands into the sea of luxurious fabrics and chuckled. "You are somethin' else darlin'." He pulled out a bright red lace thong and grinned. "Please tell me you're planning on wearing this soon."
I giggled and tossed a balled up sweater at him. "There's a matching bra in there somewhere too."
With a mischievous snigger Joe started rummaging until he pulled out a skimpy demi-cup bra of the same bright red lace. His groan said almost as much as the lusty glint in his eyes.
"I didn't know you were a lingerie man," I teased, watching as he absentmindedly stroked the delicate material. "I would have pegged you for more of a hockey-sweater-and-nothing-else sort of guy."
"Darlin' if there's a garter belt and stockings to go with this I'm yours forever," Joe said gruffly. The look on his face was enigmatic and I couldn't tell if he was kidding or not. I reached across the bed to the open suitcase and pulled at an exposed length of red elastic. The garter tangled in with a few other tiny panties on it's way up, but there was little doubt as to what it was. Joe's eyes darkened and he growled low in his throat.
"You're wearin' that for me tonight," he said huskily. It wasn't a question but I didn't mind. I pushed the suitcase of lingerie to the floor and crawled across the bed, garter in hand.
"If you like," I whispered. The air grew dense between us and it made me dizzy with want. My heart raced in my chest. It amazed me how quickly things changed between us, almost as if our lust was a light switch which could be turned on at a moment's notice.
When Joe spoke the words came out slow and thick. "You are the sexiest woman I've ever known." He reached for me, wrapping his hands around my waist, drawing me closer. Even through my t-shirt I felt how hot his skin was, how strong his grip could be. "And you're gonna wear each and every one of those little pieces of lace for me."
The steadiness of his gaze held me enthralled. He'd morphed back into sexy, intense Joe—so different from quiet, shy Joe. I selfishly wondered how many women had been privileged to see this side of him. Not many, I suspected, and it made me strangely happy that I was one.
"I'll wear it now if you want," I whispered. My voice wobbled a little, caught on the heavy lump of excitement in my throat.
Joe considered my suggestion for a moment and chuckled low in his chest. His hands strayed up the back of my t-shirt, pulling the fabric up, exposing my skin to the cool sea breeze cutting through the cottage. I shivered. He laughed again. Goosebumps trailed after the teasing touch of his fingers; my knees weakened against the mattress.
"Why don't we just see what you got on today," Joe said hoarsely. "No point in taking it off and getting dressed again just to please me."
"You're so practical," I giggled as his hands met the lace band of the bra I was wearing. I put my arms around his neck, leaning closer to brush a kiss against his mouth. Joe traced the swirling pattern of lace along my sides before brushing gently at the underside of my breasts. I groaned into the kiss.
"Feels pretty," Joe laughed. He nipped teasingly at my bottom lip. "I bet it looks even better."
I leaned back and pulled my t-shirt off in one swift motion. Joe's tanned hands were dark against the white of the bra. He mapped out the edge of the fabric, his touch feather light where flesh met lace. My breath came out in rapid, rasping gusts.
"You are so beautiful," Joe said in a husky whisper. He kissed me again, with a little more insistence than before. My nipples hardened beneath the lace of my bra and Joe brushed lightly against them. We both moaned. I wiggled, wanting Joe to hurry up, to touch me with more than just a teasing sweep I barely felt, but he didn't seem to be in any hurry.
"I wanna make love to you all afternoon," Joe murmured as his mouth moved from mine to the line of my jaw. His path of kisses led to my ear. He bunched up the heavy curtain of my hair and kissed my neck, chuckling each time a shiver wracked my body.
Everything was dizziness and pleasure. My hands flexed uselessly against the solid heat of Joe's chest. Vaguely I felt as if I should touch him back, but there didn't seem to be any connection between my fingers and my brain. There wasn't anything but the slow, sucking slide of Joe's mouth against my neck and the gasping sounds he tore from my lungs.
His work-roughened hands were oddly gentle over my skin as his fingers trailed down my spine to the waist-band of my shorts. Joe tickled teasingly at the exposed edge of my panties where my shorts rode a little lower, tugging at the lace, laughing as the fabric of my panties chafed against the dampness between my legs.
"They match the bra?" Joe asked in a whisper. He nipped at my earlobe and I nodded weakly.
"Of course," I murmured as he tugged playfully at my panties again. I squirmed, desperate for more. Everything throbbed and ached wonderfully. "Mind you, they're not as naughty as the red..."
Joe shrugged before reaching around to fumble with the fly of my shorts. "I like the white," he groaned. "It's angelic."
My snort of laughter was u
nladylike. "I'm no angel, Joe."
Joe pulled my shorts off my hips slowly, his sapphire gaze dark as the white lace underneath was revealed. When his hands reached back to trace the line of the thong to the crack of my ass he chuckled thickly. "No, you sure ain't."
"I wish I was," I whispered as Joe lowered me to the bed. The sheets were cool against my back and Joe's constant trail of caresses against the lace of my bra and panties made my head spin. The fabric muffled each touch and made me desperate for more.
"If you were darlin', you wouldn't own that lovely suitcase of surprises," Joe teased.
He kissed me with vigor, his tongue finding every corner of my mouth. My mind flitted back to the other surprises hiding in the lingerie suitcase and I wondered what Joe would make of them. I hadn't brought my entire collection, but I could hardly go anywhere without my favorite vibrator. Out of sheer curiosity I'd packed a pair of restraints too. I wasn't sure if it was Joe's sort of thing, but I was dying to find out.
Just His Type (Part Two) Page 6