His Plain-Jane Cinderella

by Jennie Adams

  And a bathroom down the hallway with the promise of a hot shower in it. Troy shucked out of his wet sweater and shirt and tossed them back out the front door. They landed with a wet plop that brought Stacie’s gaze to him.

  She didn’t move, didn’t draw a breath. Her expression barely changed but, oh, it changed so much to reflect every spec of desire Troy felt towards her, right back to him in return.

  It was that change that had Troy’s pulse racing. She was still pale. It had been cold out by the creek and she didn’t have a coat on, just another soft sweater and a pair of those stunning jeans that she didn’t seem to realise were stunning.

  Stacie began to stutter. ‘You—I—that is—’ She shivered.

  She needed to get warm. Troy needed to get warm. And they both needed each other.

  ‘Will you run the shower for me?’ The words emerged in a low, deep tone. They were a question and an invitation and an admission of need, all rolled into one. The first two he understood. The third he would admit to himself because he always tried to deal honestly.

  She read it all in his eyes. The invitation, the offer to retreat, and perhaps the need that even now he tried so hard to deny.

  Maybe she understood, too, that him asking her to run the shower was a long way from being any kind of order or instruction. It was a need for her wrapped up in a man’s few words.

  He hoped she would see and understand the rest from within herself.

  She searched his face for a long moment. He waited. Whatever was in his eyes, he made no attempt to shield. After a pause, she gave a slight dip of her head.

  When she turned and walked ahead of him, further into the house towards the open door of the bathroom at the end of the hallway, relief swamped Troy for a moment.

  He would have the chance to express to her in actions the things he couldn’t put into words…

  What did he mean by that? The question faded away as he stepped into the bathroom behind her. He thought of another moment, a different bathroom. The gentleness and need for gentleness that he’d sensed in her then. What was he doing?

  ‘I want this to be right for you, Stacie. I don’t want you to regret it later.’ When it was over. When this led to whatever it led to.

  Would that be to an ending? Or to the beginning of an interlude between them that they could both enjoy in a mature way until they agreed to put a stop to it?

  The questions registered, but dimly, because other questions filled his mind.

  What if I can’t make it right enough for you?

  That was the strongest and it came from somewhere deep inside where Troy believed there was a lack of softness, inability to be tender enough, to find enough of that side within his nature. He might have left the army, but the personality that had made him good at his work there had not left him.

  Could he find those emotions? Did he have them, if he dug deep enough?

  ‘It will be right for me, Troy.’ Her belief in that was in each word, in her movements as she turned on the taps in the shower and as she turned and raised her hands to his chest.

  That touch…

  Troy closed his eyes and felt it somehow deep inside. And he knew that in this moment, in this encounter, he would give all that he had, and that he would take this. He wouldn’t stop it, now that he was sure it was what she wanted.

  With reverent hands he lifted her sweater and let it drop to the floor behind them. The bra she wore was crimson silk trimmed with a darker crimson lace. He might have known she would choose something pretty and bright, with her love of fabrics, but Troy felt as though he’d learned something new about her, another piece of information to tuck away.

  The touch of her hands on his chest felt like heaven, or perhaps the closest to it that he would ever get.

  ‘You’ll shower with me?’

  ‘Yes. I need the warmth. You do, too.’ Her words were about being out in the cold. About Troy wading into a river and getting soaked, her worry about the safety of two dogs and one man.

  But the words were about so much more than that. Even if Stacie didn’t realise it right now, she’d named feelings, something within each of them that believed they could find that warmth by being together. A well of tension rose in Troy’s throat because he didn’t want to feel exposed in that way—yet when it came to Stacie he was.

  And he was taking this because beyond that unease was all that they could share together. Here. Now.

  ‘I will do all that I can and give all that I have to give, to bring you that warmth.’ That was his commitment. He helped her remove the rest of her garments and shucked out of his remaining clothes. He’d seen her once already with her hair wet. Standing her under the warm spray and making it that way again now was a gift.

  Each plane and angle of her face was revealed in all its beauty. Water turned her eyelashes into spiky clumps and dampened her cheeks. He kissed her mouth as they stood under the spray, kissed petal-soft lips that bloomed to his ministrations until he had to stop kissing her and pay attention to learning other parts of her and encouraging her to learn him too.

  They washed and soaped each other standing beneath the hot water, cocooned in this world of just the two of them while elsewhere in the house two dogs ignored them, uncaring of anything but themselves and a warm fire.

  Stacie looked at the scarring around his knee, just looked. She already knew its impact on his life. That was where the real scarring remained—in the things Troy couldn’t do.

  The thought registered, made him frown, because there was something in it.

  ‘Turn your back.’ Her instruction was soft, almost a whisper.

  Thoughts drifted away as Troy turned and felt the ministration of soapy hands learning him by touch, even as he learned Stacie’s touch upon him and knew he’d never forget it.

  He didn’t tell her she was beautiful with flowery words or phrases. Troy was not good at those words.

  Instead, he committed his efforts to showing her the truth of her appeal. Each touch of his hands carried that message. Each time he looked at her, he revered what he saw. When the shower was off and they were dry, he took her hand and led her to his bedroom, shut them inside in a haven of privacy and quiet where he could focus on pleasing her, giving to her with all that he had.

  Troy was her opposite. He couldn’t give all to Stacie that she deserved to have. But, what he had, he would give generously and open-handedly and at least she would know that.

  It seemed as though time stretched out. That was what Stacie thought as Troy laid her on the bed and came to her, giving her slow, sweet kisses as she found her way through final layers of shyness to receive all of this interlude with him. This wasn’t new to her, but in a way it was because she felt so differently with Troy, and so much more deeply.

  ‘Stacie.’ He said her name.

  Just that, and yet in that moment she felt as though she had all of him, everything he had to give to her. The overwhelming thought came and was kissed away as his mouth covered hers, and he brought them together finally. Stacie forgot all but Troy. Just Troy, just this sharing.

  Would it lead to more? Stacie couldn’t control that hope. It was part of bringing this to Troy, of sharing this with him. For all her efforts to protect herself, she couldn’t seem to do that with him: she could only give and want to continue to give.

  And to receive, as Troy kissed her and encouraged her. Finally, when it was time, he brought their closeness to fruition in a way that somehow made her know she was utterly safe with him, that all they shared was meaningful and good and right.

  She found the warmth she had looked for, and she kept it as Troy wrapped his arms around her and they lay quietly as their breathing slowed.

  Troy tugged the covers about Stacie’s shoulders, allowed his hand to trail onc
e from her shoulder blades to the base of her spine before he simply wrapped her close in his embrace once again, released a long, slow exhale and then matched his breathing to her slower cadence.

  He wouldn’t sleep, not in these moments that were for him to cherish. Troy wanted to mark each one by the breaths that she took, to hold her until she woke naturally. He did that, and when she woke they made love again slowly, looking into each other’s eyes.

  ‘I need to go, Troy.’ She emerged from his bathroom. She was fully dressed.

  Troy had pulled on jeans and a thick sweater, put boots on his feet and attended to the dogs so it would be easy for her to go when she was ready.

  Now she was, he didn’t want to let her go, but he needed the time because this had been so much more than he could have anticipated: holding her. Lying with her wrapped in his arms. Waiting until she’d fallen asleep and then stroking his fingers gently over her face, committing the feel of her soft skin to his memory while she wouldn’t know how much he needed to do it.

  ‘If you want anything—’ He stopped himself. ‘Whatever you need, Stacie.’

  ‘Time.’ She bit her lip before she went on. ‘I need time to understand.’

  What had happened, what their sharing had meant. It was what he could benefit from, too, though Troy wasn’t entirely certain he’d be able to figure out answers. How had this happened when he’d thought he understood everything? Maybe in that passage of time it wouldn’t feel quite so strong, startling and overwhelming as it did right now. ‘Take what you need, Stacie.’

  ‘I’m going to have an open house for the Bow-wow-tique in a couple of weeks, if the creek recedes and my yard dries out enough. I really should sew for that.’ Her words revealed her confusion, her need to think, to find understanding. ‘That’s how I’ll probably spend my weekend.’ Stacie called Fang to her and left to walk the short distance to her home.

  Would she find that comprehension? If so, where would it take them? Or where would it not?

  CHAPTER TEN

  ‘IT’LL be all right, Fang. I’ll get all the work done and have enough stock prepared before the first dog-show is held at Tarrula at the end of next month.’ Stacie murmured the words to her pet where he sat stoically at her feet in her Bow-wow-tique room. She lifted a piece of quilted fabric into her hands, laid the biased edging over it and began to pin it in place.

  Before she returned to work on Monday, she wanted a satisfying pile of completed outfits. The online sales were increasing, and her first open day was just weeks away. Each effort brought her a step closer to realising her dream for her Bow-wow-tique.

  Stacie pushed aside all thoughts that she might not be able to get to work due to the flooded creek, that her home might be waterlogged when it came time for the open house.

  Troy had encouraged her efforts with her business.

  She couldn’t push that thought away, either, couldn’t stop her thoughts straying to him again and again. He hadn’t been out of her consciousness since they had made love last night. Since she had woken hours later, made her excuses and gone home.

  He’d insisted on walking her, a man, a little dog, a girl and her muscle-dog walking through the dark, wet weather to her home so close to his home.

  ‘I have so much to do this weekend, Troy.’ That was what she’d said. But inside, she’d been thinking, I’m overwhelmed. I don’t know how I could have let this happen. I’ve never experienced anything so beautiful and special in my life and I don’t know how to even start dealing with how it’s made me feel.

  Stacie pulled the remaining pins aside and put her foot down on the sewing-machine pedal. Sewing her way free of the thoughts.

  But Troy was there. Every nuance of his face, every moment in his arms.

  No matter how she tried not to let it happen, her thoughts circled back to him. Stacie pursed her lips and sewed harder, and when that didn’t work she stopped sewing altogether.

  All right, they’d made love last night—beautiful, passionate love that had left Stacie fulfilled, shaken and overwhelmed because that fulfilment had seemed to come from so deep in her heart.

  Had that just been her? How had Troy felt? What had their night together meant to him? No answers came. She’d known they wouldn’t come. Whether she stopped to think, or tried not to think, her confusion and feeling of being overwhelmed remained the same.

  She finished sewing the dog-coat and went to the cupboard to sort through her fabrics. But somewhere inside Stacie wanted to make her way straight back to Troy’s house and just walk into his arms and…stay there.

  ‘It’s not possible!’ As Stacie spoke, Fang jumped to his feet and trotted out of the room, tail wagging.

  A visitor? One that Fang knew and whom Stacie hadn’t heard arrive. Troy…

  Even as she heard the knock on the door, her heart started to pound. She wasn’t ready—not to see him again, to confront what they’d shared, to try to understand her feelings about it and figure out what to do about those feelings.

  ‘I know you’re probably working, Stacie.’ Troy stood on the other side of her door with Houdini at his feet.

  The weather behind them was grey and dull. Behind Stacie she had dog-clothes patterns spread across her kitchen table, chairs and fabrics all through the living room.

  ‘The creek’s started to recede.’ Troy’s hand rose to the back of his neck. ‘I thought you’d want to know.’

  As he spoke, a gust of bitter wind blew through the opened door. Troy’s gaze searched her face.

  Stacie pushed the door properly open. ‘Thanks for telling me about the creek.’ Before she got any further, Houdini shot into the house.

  Troy’s gaze followed the little dog’s movements until Houdini disappeared from sight inside the house. Even then, he didn’t quite meet Stacie’s gaze. ‘May I come in for a minute?’

  ‘Of course. I’ll make hot drinks.’ Just like a good hostess would.

  Stacie wanted to be that, but what would they talk about? Would Troy want to speak of…?

  ‘I’m in the process of creating a production line.’ She gestured to the chaos in the living room and on her kitchen table and chairs, scooped fabric off one of the chairs and gestured for him to sit there. ‘I have to get a lot of garments made.’

  The jug boiled while she had her back turned to Troy. She pulled down cups from a cupboard, coffee granules, sugar, and milk from the fridge.

  ‘Let me do it,’ he said quietly from beside her.

  She stared at the coffee jar. The lid was threaded crookedly. How long might she have stood there, fussing with it, putting off the moment she would have to turn and face Troy?

  Now that moment had come. She handed over the coffee jar; they shared one glance and Stacie had to accept that her world truly had changed.

  It had changed when she’d rested in Troy’s arms and felt the touch of his fingertips stroking over the curve of her shoulder as he’d held her. When he brought her to completion—and not only her body, but also her emotions embraced him.

  ‘Stacie…’

  Was Troy trying to figure this all out, as she was? Or had what they shared been no more to him than any other encounter?

  ‘What comes next, Troy?’ The question emerged even as she warned herself to avoid the topic.

  Well, that wasn’t going to be possible, was it? He was here to confront this very thing, to say whatever needed to be said. Because after last night, after today, they would still be neighbours; she would still work at the plant he owned. Houdini would still adore Fang’s company. Stacie would still look out her window and glimpse Troy working in his orchards.

  ‘I don’t know if I can do this.’ The whispered words came straight from her heart, straight out of the pain she’d experienced when Andrew had fallen in love with Gem
ma and Stacie had felt ashamed and lost—thrown out as though she didn’t really matter, just because her sister was beautiful and Stacie…was Stacie.

  But that was all over now. Stacie didn’t love Andrew any more, so it didn’t matter, did it?

  No, you don’t love Andrew, because you’ve fallen in love with Troy instead!

  That couldn’t have happened! It would be a disaster if that had happened. Troy—yes, Troy—didn’t want it.

  She was imagining that reaction within herself. That had to be it.

  ‘I…wanted to speak to you about last night.’ Troy’s words were hesitant. He took a sip of his coffee and then set it down. His hands clasped his knees and it was as though with that touch he held onto all the confusion that Stacie carried inside herself. ‘I don’t understand—last night—how that was between us…’

  ‘I don’t either.’ It was a relief to admit it, but didn’t that just make it worse?

  ‘I’ve never felt that way with a woman, Stacie.’ The words seemed wrenched from him.

  She knew then that it had meant more to him than just something to be forgotten afterwards. She’d thought it at the time, but she’d been afraid to believe it.

  It was dangerous to believe. Why did she have to care so much? It was impossible to think without the risk of every thought being imprinted on her face for him to see.

  She couldn’t love him. She couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t!

  She didn’t know what to say. She wanted to protect herself. ‘I haven’t, either, but Troy…’

  What did she say? That it mustn’t happen again? He was probably here to tell her exactly that. And yet the thought of never being in his arms again, never kissing him, holding him, sharing touch with him…

  From the moment she met Troy he’d been in her thoughts. She’d wondered about him, wanted to get to know him, and as they had settled in as neighbours with each other she’d come to know him—and with each step of knowing…