Lavender Blue

by Donna Kauffman

  Hannah shook her head on a helpless laugh. “You’ll be the first person I call.”

  Avery just grinned and started making new notes.

  Hannah walked back into the kitchen, but the crew they’d hired to help with the tea service had already cleaned up and left. The place looked spotless. They’d stopped serving a half hour before the end-time of the party, so it wasn’t surprising, but even without the food and drink, the festivities had continued. Folks had gone on arriving all afternoon, and others had lingered even after they were done picking their lavender. A few of the locals had pulled instruments out of their cars and trucks and struck up an impromptu combo, which had added the perfect finishing touch to the warm, breezy, summer day. Pippa had come down to support the winery and help chat up the wines that were being served under a tent they’d erected for a special tasting. She’d joined in with the other musicians, much to everyone’s delight, and Vivi had happily given Jake a few breaks to sing a bit as well.

  Hannah had looked for Will at those times, both to see if he was watching Jake sing and to see how he was handling watching and listening to his son sing. Will had said Jake sounded a lot like his mom, which had to be why it was so hard on him to listen.

  The first time Jake had sat in with the musicians, Will had been out at the horse stables helping Chey with some youngsters who’d wanted to pet and feed the horses carrots, under Chey’s supervision of course. There were no amplifiers and the musicians had no mikes, which was what had made it all so perfect and natural, but Hannah was sure the sounds of the music and the singing had carried at least as far as the paddock.

  She’d watched as Will had paused, looked up, and turned immediately to watch his son and listen. Then he’d surprised her by unerringly finding her gaze and holding it, too. As if he’d been keeping track of her every bit as much as she had him. He’d nodded, as if in thanks for her concern. She’d nodded back, smiled, and he’d returned to watching Jake, smiling, too. Hannah had been too far away to see his expression, but he’d seemed good with all of it, or at least very willing to be part of it, and Hannah had been happy—and relieved—to see that.

  She’d lost track of him though when she’d taken her break on the veranda with Avery, and a quick scan now didn’t show him anywhere in sight. The number of people still picking lavender began to dwindle sharply. Vivi was out there with them now and waved to Hannah that she was fine and didn’t need help. A glance at the stables showed that Chey had put the horses inside, so the paddock was empty of animals and people, and Chey. Maybe Will had already left. Hannah didn’t see Jake, either, so it was probable they’d gone on home. She told herself it was silly to feel . . . well, not miffed. He certainly didn’t owe her anything, but she was disappointed that he hadn’t come to say good-bye, or at least to comment on the event. Or maybe set a day and time for your big date. “That, too,” she murmured, then smiled, amused at herself. For a woman who wasn’t all that sure about getting tangled up with a man, she was certainly tying herself into knots over his every little move. “Or lack of one,” she added dryly.

  Other than her short break with Avery, she hadn’t been off her feet all day. It seemed Vivi had the final stragglers in hand, so Hannah decided to head over to her place. As comfortable as they were, she’d love to get out of her garden boots, shower the day off her skin, and maybe even play a bit with her paints before heading back over to the house later for a previously agreed upon meeting with the others, to go over the day and celebrate their first big event.

  Hannah was looking forward to it, expecting there would be champagne, given how successful the day had been. She knew Vivi had concocted some special treat for them to celebrate their official launch. Well, maybe not the official-official launch, because this had been a party, not business, but the response certainly boded well for their big day when it happened next spring. Hannah was pretty sure their ideas about having other holiday-related events were a definite go now.

  She sighed happily. It had all seemed such a distant dream, with so much to do before they actually turned Lavender Blue into anything resembling a money-making venture. Today’s event had taken that distant dream from the horizon right up to front and center, giving her a renewed rush of anxiety over whether they could possibly get everything ready in time for their real launch. It was a good kind of anxiety, though, the happy, anticipatory kind. They were really doing this. And for the first time, her optimism about their chances for success felt truly warranted.

  Thirty minutes later, she stepped out of the gloriously long, hot, steamy shower she’d taken, dried off, then pulled on a pair of comfy floral leggings and a billowy, Indian cotton top. Comfort would be king for the remainder of the day, she decided, leaving her hair loose to dry. She wandered over to her current painting in progress, studying it, trying to work up some energy to dabble a little. She felt soothed by the shower and pleasantly tired from the long day. As much as painting relaxed her, the truth of it was, she just wanted to get off her feet for a bit.

  She was contemplating opening the bottle of Llamarama wine that Pippa and Seth had given to each of them as a thank-you for their joint venture that day when her doorbell buzzed.

  Surprised, she went to the windows first and peered down, but didn’t see a vehicle parked below. If it had been Vivi or Chey, they’d have just knocked and stuck their heads in. Avery would have texted first with her specific time of arrival. “So, who is at my door?” she murmured as she crossed the room. There were no peepholes in country doors, so she cracked it open, then paused in utter surprise. “Will.”

  From the looks of him, he’d gone home and cleaned up, too. His hair was damp and clung more closely to his head, much wavier than it was when dry. He was freshly shaven and wore a clean, soft green, button-up shirt and black jeans that did amazing things for his flashing green eyes and equally dangerous things to her no-longer dormant libido.

  Then she realized what was happening. He was here to pick her up for their date. “Oh no,” she said apologetically. “I guess I must have misunderstood. I didn’t know you meant tonight.” She glanced down at her exceedingly casual apparel, barely one step up from pajamas. “I just showered, and I was going to—but I can go—”

  “No, no,” he said, stopping her from further stammering. “I’m not here to pick you up. I just dropped Jake off at Seth and Pippa’s—they’re going to do some work up there this evening. I thought since I was driving right by, I’d just—I wasn’t sure when or where I’d see you, to make plans. I would have called, or even texted, but . . .” His smile was sheepish and endearing and, oh boy, were she and her very overactive libido in a whole lot of trouble. “I don’t have your number.”

  “Oh!” she said. “Right.” She realized she wouldn’t have been able to contact him, either. She laughed. “We’re definitely rusty.”

  “So we are,” he replied, flashing that heart-stopping grin.

  She stood there for another moment, just taking him all in, trying not to drool, when her manners finally made a return appearance. “Oh, I’m sorry. Come on in.” She stepped back and opened the door. “I’m sorry, the place is a bit of a mess,” she said as he stepped inside, and remained there, as if unsure whether he was welcome to intrude further. “I’d like to say that it’s because I haven’t fully unpacked yet—and I haven’t—but I’d be less than honest if I pretended to be a neatnick.” She spread her arms. “What you see is pretty much the real me.”

  “I think I read somewhere that a cluttered space is the sign of a creative mind.”

  She laughed. “I’m not sure if that is true, but I’m totally going to claim it.”

  He looked around the open floor plan. “Great space,” he said. “Bigger than you’d think.”

  “Thanks, I thought the same. The light is perfect for painting.”

  He nodded, his gaze shifting back to her, and they stared at each other some more. “Your hair,” he said, causing her to reach up in a panic, wondering what state of po
st-shower fright she must look like. His embarrassment over causing her panic was at odds with the flare of heat she thought she saw in his eyes as he said, “I’ve never seen it down. You always have it braided.”

  “Oh,” she said, reaching up to smooth it, then letting her hand fall by her side again, suddenly not quite as relaxed as she had been a moment ago.

  “I like it,” he said. “It’s wavier than I thought it would be.”

  “Yours, too,” she blurted, and they both smiled, then grinned. “Man, we really are out of practice.”

  Will chuckled and nodded. “I was just thinking that Jake is probably smoother than I am.”

  She laughed. “I know. I had Avery giving me dating tips earlier.”

  His eyes widened in surprise. “Really? Did you think you needed some?”

  Hannah realized that was the last thing she should have mentioned, considering what Avery’s advice had actually been, but it was too late now. She shook her head. “No, it was unsolicited. Apparently . . .” She trailed off, wondering if she should tell him what Avery had told her, or if it was best to let that lie, given they were already acting like awkward, untried teens on their first date.

  He stepped further into the room then, but stopped at her kitchen counter, still a few yards away from where she stood. “Apparently?” he prodded, his gaze looking very, very adult at the moment.

  She swallowed against a suddenly parched throat. Maybe she should offer him some wine. Maybe you should just listen to Avery and jump him. He certainly looks like he’d be receptive to that idea. She broke their gaze and turned to open one drawer, then another, looking for the wine bottle opener. Striving for a casual, breezy tone she was far from feeling at the moment, she said, “According to Avery, everyone in the Falls is laying odds on whether or not we’re going to be an item.”

  “An item,” he said, and she stilled. He was right behind her. And the very idea that she was in arm’s reach of him made every inch of her body sing with delight.

  She kept searching, not even looking at what she was digging through now. “Mm-hmm. She said it was pretty clear to everyone that we, uh . . .” She broke off then, redoubling her search efforts as she remembered that what had been clear to everyone according to Avery was that they wanted to jump each other. She was all but throwing things out of the drawer when he reached around her and put his hand on hers, stilling her action.

  She pulled in a shaky breath, feeling the warmth of his own on the side of her neck. Not only did he look like heaven, he smelled heavenly, too. She wanted nothing more than to lean back against him, have him wrap his arms around her, and pull her tightly to him.

  Her body ached with need—to the point she almost wanted to weep. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this way. Far longer than her divorce. Since before the accident even. She and Steve had already been having issues and intimacy had been one of them. She enjoyed it; Steve had grown indifferent. She found out later that that was because he had been flirting with a coworker and his guilt had caused some performance anxiety. Nothing more than that, he’d sworn, when Hannah had discovered the suggestive text messages. He’d confessed that he enjoyed the thrill of doing something new, that he felt the two of them were missing that spark and spontaneity since they’d started a family. Then the accident had happened, and . . . after that, moments like the one she was having now had been the last thing on her mind.

  But that was then. And long in the past. So, very, very long.

  “Hannah,” he said, his voice a rough whisper that skimmed along the tender skin of her neck, leaving a rippling of awareness in its wake.

  She turned and found herself in his arms. Unlike before, this time neither one of them was an emotional wreck. The emotions running high now had nothing to do with their past and everything to do with the very immediate present.

  She looked up into his eyes, knowing she was failing miserably at trying to disguise the want and need she was feeling. If she hadn’t been sure, the way his pupils flared to life proved it. “Will, I think we should—”

  “We should take this slow,” he said, his voice a low rumble.

  She nodded. “Yes,” she said, and heard the breathless note in her voice. His gaze dropped to her mouth and the muscles between her thighs clenched painfully tight, almost making her gasp with the suddenness of it.

  When he looked back into her eyes, the hunger in his matched the voracious need ramping up inside her.

  “We’ve both been through things,” he said, and she nodded, trying not to look at his mouth, at those lips, the ones she’d only tasted once, and far too briefly. Failing. “And alone for a long time.” His throat worked, and when he continued, his voice was even rougher. “So it makes sense that we’re feeling . . . what we’re feeling. It’s just the circumstances driving this.”

  “Probably,” she managed, though she was no longer certain. It was hard to imagine that she’d ever not want him like she wanted her next breath, no matter what had happened to her leading up to this moment.

  “So it’s smart for us to take things one step at a time,” he said. “Make sure of ourselves, of—”

  He broke off and she finished it for him, unable not to. “Of this.”

  He nodded. “This.”

  Then his mouth was lowering to hers, and she was closing her eyes, her body thrumming in almost anguished anticipation of his touch, his taste.

  He brushed his lips softly over hers and she moaned, long and low, utterly incapable of keeping her longing silent.

  “Hannah,” he said, almost a growl now, resting his forehead on hers briefly, their breaths mingling, their bodies so close.

  “Will, please,” she said, her voice breaking.

  He groaned then, and whatever willpower he had, whatever control she thought she could exert, seemed to leave each of them at the exact same time.

  Chapter Thirteen

  She was heaven, reaching all the way down inside him and hauling him up from the depths of his self-imposed hell, all in one single, perfect kiss. He might have been able to pull back, hold back. Had, in fact, kept himself from taking her mouth as fully as a man could after that one brief sip. Then she’d said his name, and her voice had broken when she’d let down all of her barriers and revealed that her want matched his. He was lost to it then, lost to his need and want of her, her equally hungry want of him.

  He framed her cheek with one hand, tipped her mouth up to fully meet his, and sank into her. She took him into the soft warmth of her mouth, suckled him, kissed him, then searched for the same from him. Their first honest kiss was slower, sweeter, than he’d have thought, given the rage of need pounding through his veins. He felt as he had their first time, bordering on feral. He’d gone so long without this kind of touch, feeling this kind of need, having the opportunity to do something to assuage it. He wanted to sink in, wallow in it, let it wash over him, drown him in all the sensations, the pleasure, the ecstasy. Then he wanted to take, to consume, to sate every last one of his most carnal impulses. His hunger for her was primal.

  He was fully in the moment, and maybe that’s how it needed to be this first time, an overwhelming force of nature so strong that the power of it made it impossible for him to think about anything else. Anyone else. Any fear he might have had that he’d make some inevitable comparison, or worse, feel a sudden jolt of genuine guilt, never had a chance to manifest itself.

  “Will,” she whispered against his lips, her fingers sliding into his hair in a languid slide of nails against his scalp that set what was left of his control on fire. He pulled her more deeply into his arms, backed up blindly until he was pressed against a wall, or a door, he had no idea, pulling her fully into his arms, wrapping himself up in her.

  He slid his hands down her arms, then down the lush curve of her torso, until he could bracket her hips in his wide palms, and urge her forward, so the softest part of her pressed against the hardest part of him.

  Her sharp gasp at the contact wa
s followed by a swift moan and a shudder that seemed to rock them both. She kept herself pressed there until she shook with the need for more.

  He wanted nothing more than to scoop her up and carry her to the nearest soft, flat surface. He wanted to spend hours, days, a lifetime, mapping every inch of her body. With his tongue.

  She was squirming against him, testing his own limits, not to mention the fit of his jeans. “Hold on,” he murmured against the side of her neck as she teased his earlobe, pulling it gently into her mouth, then nipping it with her teeth. He’d never known before that was an erogenous zone, but he almost dropped her for wanting to give himself fully over to her playful manipulations.

  Gripping her hips while he still could, he lifted her up. “Wrap your legs around me,” he all but growled in her ear.

  “Will, no, you can’t pick me up, I’m too—oh!” she said, ending with a gasp as he did indeed pick her up. He felt another shudder rocket through her as she wrapped her legs around his hips, pressing him as fully into her as their clothing would allow. He made a mental note to buy her a drawer full of those stretchy pant things she was wearing; it felt almost like no barrier at all. His jeans, on the other hand, were coming dangerously close to cutting off his blood flow entirely.

  She kissed the side of his neck; then he could feel her lips curve into a grin as she whispered in his ear. “I should have taken up with a man who tosses big rocks around for a living a whole lot sooner.”

  He turned his head and caught her lips in a deep, searing kiss. “I don’t know,” he said as he slid his lips along the line of her jaw, then nipped her earlobe before whispering, “If you ask me, you picked the perfect time.”

  She smiled against his mouth when he took it again. “You make a good point,” she said when he finally lifted his head. They both realized the double entendre at the same time and laughed. Somehow, rather than diminish or jerk them out of their passionate trajectory, this injection of the humor that had gradually become such a natural part of their give and take only served to deepen the intimacy between them. It wasn’t until that moment that Will realized he missed that connection more keenly than anything else. Some part of him wanted to pull back in caution at the realization. The deepening of affection that came with that kind of intimacy would open him up to a level of vulnerability he wasn’t sure he was ready for. Sex might be sex, but that . . . that connection was what held the true power. He spent a split-second thinking maybe he should put the brakes on. Now. Hard.