Love in Deed: A Silver Fox Small Town Romance (Green Valley Library Book 6)

by Smartypants Romance

  “Momma,” Hannah drones. “That’s another mouth, plus keeping after him. We aren’t—” Hannah pauses when I slide a few hundred-dollar bills across the counter to her.

  “We don’t accept charity,” she whispers, the words I’ve taught her to say at any hint of help.

  “It’s not charity. It’s rent. Room and board, which includes three meals a day.”

  “Who’s going to shop for him?” Not the first question I’d expected, but I explain how Naomi takes me out once a week anyway. Adding the last of the dishes to the drainer, I limp over to a kitchen chair and take a seat.

  “And his room?”

  “I was thinking he could take Ewell’s old bedroom upstairs.” I struggle to look at my daughter, holding my tone steady as I speak. This is my decision, but I need to take into consideration she sleeps up there as well.

  “That’s next to my room,” Hannah states.

  “I could move upstairs again as well,” I suggest, and Hannah’s mouth pops open. I thought of shuffling around the rooms. Having Jedd take a guest room and return to my old room as the master of the house, but I don’t want reminders of my life with Howard.

  “Are you sleeping with him?” The quiet accusation settles like a slap.

  “Hannah,” I groan as if the thought hadn’t occurred to me. It only occurs about ten times a day, but she doesn’t need to know that.

  “Sorry. Momma, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think you liked Jedd.” Hannah’s hands wring together, her eyes darting everywhere but at me.

  “Well, I...” I should say I don’t. It would be the truth. I feel so much more for him, and if I’m not careful, I’ll get in over my head, so I’m as honest as I can be at the moment. “I do like him. He’s turning out to be a good tenant.”

  Hannah eyes me suspiciously, and her mouth opens like she has more to say, but then it closes as she thinks better of whatever it was.

  “Jedd wants to update the contract. One year on the land, paying us rent with room and board.”

  “I don’t understand,” she questions.

  “What don’t you get, sunshine?” I ask like she’s eleven again, and she’s struggling with a math problem in her homework.

  “Am I not enough?” Hannah stares at me a long moment, gripping the back of the kitchen chair.

  “Oh my goodness, girl. You are everything to me, but Jedd … Jedd just needs a place to plant roots, and he’s doing good things out there. It isn’t charity he’s handing us, but rent, and it’s time we put the land back to use.”

  It’s time a few other things got some use as well.

  “I can’t believe you fooled me into thinking he was your man,” Jedd teases as we sit on the couch after dinner, a rerun of Nailed plays on the television in my front room. Hannah has gone to work, and Jedd and I are alone in the house. It’s the first night he’ll sleep here inside, and I’m nervous, though it makes no sense.

  “Why? Was it so strange I’d have a man?” I snap back, but my tone stays sassy instead of spiteful. My energy is like a balloon losing air, and I find my emotions converting to something lighter, like helium.

  “Nooooo,” he drags. “Just jealous you had a man.” The comment shuts down all insecurity, at least for a few minutes. It’s hard to imagine someone jealous over me, and while jealousy is one of the seven deadly sins, the idea that Jedd would covet me and not want anyone else to have me is empowering. We sit awkwardly on the couch. He took the corner so he could position his body toward the television, which rests at an odd angle for watching from the sofa. Normally, I would take my perch in my rocker diagonal to the view, but I took a seat on the center cushion, leaving space between myself and Jedd, but feeling a great divide between us as well.

  My lawyer, Mr. Caesar, tried to tell me that in the eyes of a court, my marriage is a technicality. In the eyes of the world, I’m long since divorced of all responsibility and connection to Howard Townsen. He deserted me.

  Left behind.

  I shiver at the thought.

  “Cold?” Jedd’s voice roughens, reminding me of last night when he’d tucked me into his body and flipped the blankets over us. I’ve never been so warm in my life, overheated in more ways than from just the covers on my body. I want him with the passion of a thousand blazing suns and the desire of the largest bonfire.

  I want to make love to you.

  My face flames with the thought, and Jedd’s hand runs up my spine, reminding me I’ve taken too long to answer him.

  “No,” I say, too quick, too sharp, and his hand retracts, misunderstanding my meaning. I’m not declining his touch. There’s nothing I want more than his hands on me, exploring me like he did this morning, but suddenly, I’m nervous. Is it too much too fast? This was my reaction to Howard—short and sweet and too quick—and I don’t want to be caught up again. I don’t want to give in to pretty words and empty promises.

  Jedd chuckles beside me, and my lids flip open. I’ve missed what Tripper Hanes has done on the screen.

  “Have to admit, he is a little funny,” Jedd remarks as we both watch Tripper and his crew demolish a kitchen.

  “I find construction invigorating,” I blurt out for no reason, then close my eyes at the admission. My hands have been in my lap, and one slips to the cushion, gripping it in mortification. As my fingers curl over the worn fabric, the callused tip of Jedd’s finger strokes down the side of my pinky and the digit flinches. Jedd curls his thick finger around my smaller one and strokes up and down.

  “Yeah. You like a man working with his hands, Bee?”

  I nod in answer because I can’t find my words. My throat clogs from the attention his forefinger and thumb are paying to my littlest finger. He tucks his fingers under my hand, loosening its hold on the cushion, and slowly spreads his fingertips under my palms. The rippling effect reminds me of throwing a handful of pebbles into a puddle and the nerve endings shoot like fireworks up my arm.

  How’d he do that?

  Whatever he did, it’s setting my heart rate higher. I squirm a little in my jeans, hoping not to draw attention to myself yet wanting his attention all over me. Jedd turns his blunt nails under the pad of my hand one more time. His thumb strokes over the top, tracing the veins to my fingers, and then the tips of his fingers join the thumb in massaging down each digit. Each rub, each tug, is like a live wire straight to a part of me that wants those fingers strumming something more intimate.

  “Every woman’s hand is a story,” he begins, and I swallow the dryness in my throat. My veins stand out. My skin hosts age spots. My fingers are short. I have no idea what any of that says about me.

  He flattens his palm underneath mine again, feeling my warm skin against his.

  “You’ve worked hard at some point,” he notes. “Tilled soil. Pulled weeds. Planted flowers.”

  He has no idea how much I want to see a garden again. Not just pots of tomato plants, but flowers blooming. Golden tickseed, lemon bee balm, black-eyed Susans, an explosion of yellows and purples and pinks.

  “These fingers have also loved a child, caressed her cheek, and felt her heartbeat.” My eyes prickle with the reminder of my daughter as a younger girl when she allowed me to hold her hand, hold her close, and pray that all her dreams come true.

  “But who holds your hand, Bee?” My eyes leap up to his, but he keeps his focus on his fingers, stroking over mine, touching my skin, and caressing the lines in my palm.

  “It’s been a long time,” I state, but Jedd already knows. I can’t recall a single time Howard held my hand just for the sake of touching me, supporting me, or encouraging me. Jedd lifts mine, flipping it palm up, and presses a lingering kiss to the center. Something inside me leaps to life, and I want his mouth on other parts of me.

  “Jedd,” I whisper, the yearning unmistakable, as is the fear. It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything remotely sexual.

  “What do you need from me, honey?” he asks, dangling his tongue along the length of a finger and then suc
king it into his mouth.

  Cheeseoncrackers.

  I don’t know how to tell him what I want. I don’t know how to go about these things. I don’t want to recall the way it went with Howard.

  “You’ll need to tell me.” Something in my face must show I’m horrified, or possibly terrified, at explaining to him what I want him to do. “Or you could let me explore on my own.”

  “Explore,” I say. I don’t think the words leave my lips, yet somehow, he heard me. He leans forward, cupping my neck and dragging me to meet him in the middle. Lips connect with lips. Tender and sweet but quickly heating to tempting and sinful. Suddenly, I’m pressed into his chest, leaning against him in an effort to be closer. Our mouths move as one, his leading mine, and I’m eager to follow.

  He breaks away, lowering for my neck. His nose finds the sweet spot where I want him to nip and suck. My chest heaves with the anticipation, curious and breathless over what he’ll do next. He doesn’t disappoint as his mouth opens and teeth scrape. I whimper, and the next thing I know, I’m sliding. Jedd shifts our bodies so I’m over him, chest to chest, thighs to thighs as mine straddle his.

  He moves my hips until we connect, and he rocks me back and forth as our mouths meet again. My core pulses. My heart races. He’s going to make me come undone again without removing any clothing.

  “Sweet Jesus, Beverly. I want you so badly.”

  I agree, but something isn’t right. It’s the way he said my full name. Not Bev. Not Bee. Not honey. I dismiss the thought as his mouth drags me back to full attention. His lips, hungry and divine. His hands rocking my hips in time. Our parts rubbing at one another.

  “Fuck, baby.”

  I love it, and I hate it that he’s used such a term.

  “I told you I’m happy with pieces of you, Beverly, but this is one part where I want the whole cookie.” Suddenly, hands are roaming, and clothing is moving, and I’m losing my grip on the moment. I’m rocking over him, but the steam is settling for some reason.

  “Fuck baby, just like that.” And I stop.

  Jedd’s eyes open. He hasn’t been looking at me. He hasn’t been watching me in the brightness of my living room. It feels all wrong…and I don’t know why.

  “What?” he asks, frustration in his tone as my body cools under his hold. It isn’t that I don’t want to do something with him. I want him to explore me. I want to explore him, but I can’t place my finger…

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I lie. I can do this. I’ve done it before, over and over with Howard, when I didn’t like it. Didn’t like him.

  “Stop,” Jedd says, his voice shaky as he peers up at me. I shift back, my hands pressing at his chest. I stare down at him, everything hitting me hard.

  Fuck baby. Just like that. These words trigger me like I didn’t know they would. Technically, I’m still married, but I don’t feel guilty. Should I? What strikes me is the way Jedd morphed into Howard. He sounded like him, or maybe I projected Howard into Jedd. I glance around the room, feeling like it’s all wrong to be here. In this space. On this couch.

  “Where’d you go?” Jedd asks, still looking up at me over him, his eyes searching mine.

  “I’m sorry. I…” How do I explain myself? How do I tell him what it was like with Howard? How it hadn’t ever been tender but rough and crass—too quick, too aggressive, too demanding.

  Jedd said he wanted to make love to me, and I’m falling for the prettiness of those words instead of the reality. Making love involves being in love, and that’s not how Jedd feels about me. We’ve moved from enemies to business partners as he had a contract at the ready for me to sign. It was rather convenient.

  My brows pinch.

  “What are you doing with me, Jedd?” I stammer, holding still in our precarious position, but no longer finding the sensuality in it. What is he doing to me? I’ve come undone by this man: the tractor, his cot, and now almost this, but it doesn’t feel right.

  I’m not ready, but I am, and I know I’m not making any sense. I swallow as I slip off his lap, and his eyes follow my retreat.

  “How did I lose you?” He hikes up to his elbow, the prosthetic supporting him as he looks up at me standing over him.

  “I…I think I just got lost in my head.” His lips twist in response, and he frowns. “It’s not that I don’t want you, it’s just…I don’t know what happened and…”

  “I can’t fix it if you don’t talk to me.”

  I don’t know what to say. How can I explain that the fear of rejection stems deep? I’d try things, and Howard would criticize me. I’d want things, and he’d refuse. It isn’t that I don’t want Jedd, or he isn’t willing. I just want it on my own terms and to be considered an active participant, not passive, in what we’re doing. Telling all this to Jedd seems like I’d be opening myself up even more to him, giving him more than just my body.

  “I think you should go to your room.” The strain in his voice surprises me.

  “Excuse me?” I hiss, hands coming to my hips. I realize my sweater has fallen off my shoulder, but I don’t right the material. Jedd’s eyes fall on the exposed skin. His nostrils flare.

  “You need to walk away, so I don’t feel like I’m doing the walking.”

  “What…?”

  “I promised I wasn’t leaving, and I’m holding to that promise, but right now…I just need…Go.” His tone turns gravelly and deep, and for the first time, I see Jedd on the edge. The need in him is as strong as the desire is in me. I want to take advantage, but I’ve shut down.

  I don’t want to feel like I’m doing something I shouldn’t do. And I don’t want to rush into the deep end without wading in the shallow a little. I went too far too fast with Howard, and it’s how I got here. Right here, where I waver as I stand. I lower for my arm crutches, slipping my hands to the supports and turn my back on Jedd.

  As I move forward, I feel his gaze tickle up my spine. I imagine him undressing me, taking his time, and I realize all I had to do was explain. I only had to tell him to slow down, or how I wanted it, but I’m afraid. If there’s one area my courage lacks the most, it’s in the bedroom department. The last two times, Jedd’s caught me off guard, but this…on my couch…with those words…it felt different. It felt too much like Howard, and my eyes prickle with tears.

  Will I never be able to let him go? Will he ever stop haunting my thoughts? Will I ever be free of him?

  I pause at my bedroom doorway, looking down the narrow hall to where Jedd is still seated on the couch. He’s watching me, and our eyes lock for a second.

  Come after me, I want to whisper, feeling silly at the notion. Chase me, because just once I’d like a man to follow me and not feel like I’m the one running after him. Tears fill my eyes with the thought.

  Jedd doesn’t look away, and I realize he’s waiting. He won’t move until I’m behind my door. With a final nod, I enter, hesitating until I hear the click of the latch, and then place my forehead on the wood and let the tears fall, cursing Howard all over again for ruining my life.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  [Jedd]

  “What’s all this?” I ask, standing outside a room with a large wooden desk, an old file cabinet, and a rack containing bars of soap. It’s been a difficult couple of days avoiding Beverly, so I hadn’t noticed how busy she’s been.

  “Soap,” she states, and I turn to see her standing near my shoulder. Everything in me tells me to lean over and start my day as I wish with a good morning kiss, but I don’t. Something set her off the other night, and she hasn’t been able to tell me what I did.

  “Soap?” I question.

  “Soap,” she repeats, and I grin, finding the conversation similar to the one when she caught me in my outdoor shower. My mind shifts to taking a shower with Bee, and I’m feeling the twitch of a problem in my jeans. Why can’t I just keep it clean for five seconds? Then thinking of cleaning returns me to soap on Beverly’s body, and the dirty thoughts start all over ag
ain. I scrub a hand down my face and shake my head.

  “You gave me the supplies, and it produced a lot.”

  “I’ll say.” I laugh. There must be at least fifty bars in the slatted shelf on the table in this office.

  “They need to cure. They’re sorted by the fragrance oils you purchased for me.” Honey. Citrus. Lavender. Lilac. Almond. These are the scents I ordered, not certain which one she’d want. “Naomi helped me. She told me I could add texture to the soap by sprinkling in bits and pieces of the coordinating product, like real lavender. Or make the soap original like lemon lavender, adding lemon zest in the combination. That reminds me, I’ll have to remember to pick up dried lavender from Samantha Hill at the winter market.”

  “What’s the winter market?” I ask, noting it sounds like a farmers’ market.

  “It’s a farmers’ market in the winter with seasonal items. Vegetables. Sometimes roots and bulbs. Winter fare and holiday crafts. That sort of thing,” Beverly offers. I nod as I look back at the soap.

  “You should sell your soaps there.”

  Beverly looks over at the piles and back at me, innocent surprise on her cheeks. “Why?”

  “What else you going to do with fifty bars of soap?” I chuckle as I enter the room and reach for one, inhaling the unmarked bar but instantly recognizing the fragrance. Honey. And all Beverly. My eyes close as I recall running my nose along her skin, nipping her neck, and wanting so much more. She said I could explore, and then we stopped. What happened? I’ve been beating myself up for days, giving her the space I think she wants from me.

  “There are sixty-three actually.” She pauses, watching me inhale the bar a second time. “You really think people would buy soap from me?”

  The way Beverly questions herself makes me want to raze this Valley. Why doesn’t she have more confidence? Why haven’t people supported her instead of letting her become a shut-in?

  “Sure, honey. Ladies like pretty things, right? Maybe make some kind of label for the outside so people know what fragrance each one is.”