Chapter 15: Chapter 15

WREN

Lance doesn’t come back so I call it quits at 4:15 p.m. I head upstairs with Puck and take the hottest, longest shower I can stand.

After I get out, I put on my comfiest lounge pants and one of Max’s t-shirts with nothing underneath. As soon as I sit down with a book, there’s a knock at my door.

I open it to see Lance scratching the back of his neck.

“Hi, can I come in for a minute?”

“Sure,” I say casually, but my stomach is suddenly twisted in knots.

Lance comes in and Puck immediately goes to greet him. We sit down across from each other in the sitting area as Lance gives Puck a few neck and ear scratches. Lance takes a big breath.

“I just wanted to apologize for what Emma said, that was completely false,” he says, and I can feel his sincerity.

“It’s really okay, Lance. What happens between you two is your business. I just want to keep my job for now.”

“We’re not getting back together. She wants to, and I don’t know what’s suddenly brought that on. We haven’t spoken in months,” he says.

I can tell he’s confused and wanting to dissect this situation with me.

“But believe me, I don’t want to be with her.”

I chuckle. “Lance, you two have a long history. You clearly have a lot of unresolved stuff. Look, I don’t care, okay? You don’t owe me anything. It doesn’t matter to me who you’re with,” I say.

I see him flinch in pain. It’s only partially true, but I feel I need to nip this in the bud.

“Really? So you don’t feel anything for me?” he asks slowly, like he’s giving me time to change my mind.

I stand up and turn to look out the window. I can’t handle his intense stare. The truth is I don’t know what I feel, but I decide to guard my heart at all costs.

“No, I don’t. At all,” I say. I try to steady my shaky voice.

I hear him move behind me, thinking he’s going to leave. Instead, I feel his strong hands on my arms as he spins me around.

His right hand slides around my waist to my lower back, pulling me against his tall, hard frame. His left hand gently grabs the back of my neck.

My pulse quickens and my skin tingles with anticipation as his face comes within inches of mine.

“Liar,” he whispers.

Then his lips are on mine. They’re soft yet possessive and feel like they fit perfectly on mine.

My body immediately responds, melting under his touch, and I close my legs tightly, praying he doesn’t notice. I feel him smile against my mouth. I’m losing control and he can tell.

Our kiss breaks.

“Lance, wait, I can’t.”

He stops immediately and pulls back.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“I—I don’t know. I just…don’t know if I’m ready.”

Lance looks sympathetic. He gently tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and holds my face in his hands.

“Okay, we can take all the time you need. And if you truly don’t feel anything for me, I’ll leave you alone.

“But I have to tell you, it’ll be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,” he says as he runs his thumb over my lower lip.

Tears well in my eyes. I know he means it and my body is screaming to let him take me, claim me, explore every inch of me. It’s been so long since I’ve craved touch and suddenly it feels as necessary as air.

I bite my lip.

“If you keep that up...,” he growls a warning as he looks at my mouth. My insides flutter, desire pooling in my belly.

He pulls me in again and kisses the spot just below my ear, then whispers, “Have dinner with me, my place, this Friday.”

My breathing is shallow.

“Okay,” is all I can manage.

***

The rest of the week is super busy. We install the alternator, which takes us well into the evening on Wednesday. Thursday is all about loading livestock, and before I know it, it’s Friday.

I go back and forth on my “date” with Lance. I consider backing out dozens of times but then switch back to my original answer. My sister and mom are supportive, but I still worry.

Eventually, I decide to play it down but still go. I throw on a clean pair of tight, high-waisted jeans and a crop top. I pair it with a long beige sweater and the brown sandals my sister sent me.

Minimal hair, minimal makeup, minimal effort.

I nearly cancel at least ten more times before I finally knock on his door.

He answers, looking insanely gorgeous in a simple black V-neck and jeans.

“Hi,” he says with a cute smile. “Come in.”

I pause and gesture to my dog at my side. “I have Puck, can I just put him to your back patio?”

“No,” he says, then walks away from the doorway. “Bring him in.”

I whistle for Puck and enter his house. Off to the right, a fire blazes in the fireplace and a new-looking dog bed sits on the floor in front of it. A fresh bowl of water sits next to it.

“Did you—?”

“Yeah, they were on sale,” he says as he stirs a bowl in his arms.

“Awww, that’s so sweet!”

I direct Puck to the bed then join Lance in the kitchen.

“It smells good in here. What can I help with?”

“You can pour yourself a drink—the bar’s in the living room.”

“Do you want something?” I ask, looking around to see if he’s already drinking something.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” he says as he looks at me with a seductive smile. My insides squirm but I try not to make it obvious.

“Ooo, pressure’s on,” I say.

His bar is well stocked, including a small fridge of fruit and other items as well as a fancy ice maker. Sometimes I forget how rich these people are.

I decide to make us each an old-fashioned with Armador whiskey, a cherry, and a perfectly curled orange rind.

I place the glass in front of him.

“Impressive,” he says as he puts the bowl he’s stirring down and examines his drink.

He lifts an eyebrow at me. I shrug.

“Max and I took a cooking class one time. We learned the basics of making cocktails.”

He smiles. It feels weird saying Max’s name out loud, but it also feels freeing.

“Cheers,” Lance says.

“Cheers,” I say, and we clink glasses. I take a big swig. “So, what are you making?” I eye the bowl skeptically.

“Pesto,” he says. “Pasta and veggies with grilled chicken.”

“Sounds great.”

He smiles again.

Lance takes the chicken out of the pan and places it on the cutting board.

I’m looking around his place when I feel him slip his arms around me from behind, his lips grazing my neck. I let out a small moan as his hands explore my thighs and stomach.

He turns me around, hooks his hands around my thighs, and easily lifts me to sit on the counter. Instinctively, my hands curl around his neck and we kiss.

~God, he tastes so fucking good.~ I find myself ravenous again.

He stops and puts his forehead against mine. “Damn, Wren, you’re fucking intoxicating.”

I chuckle as I slide off the counter.

“You started it,” I say with sass. Suddenly, he smacks my ass with enough snap to sting through my tight jeans.

“You keep that attitude and I’ll make sure your ass is sore tomorrow,” he growls in my ear.

~Fuck~. My knees practically give out but I play it off by sitting on a stool at the bar.

After he cuts up the chicken and dishes up our plates, he looks at me quizzically. “Inside or outside?”

“Right here is fine,” I say.

“So, did your mom teach you to cook?” I ask as we start eating at the kitchen bar.

He nods.

“She always said our future partners weren’t our moms and we needed to learn to take care of ourselves. We all learned to cook, can food, do laundry, clean, and sew,” he says matter-of-factly.

I snort. “You can sew?!”

“Yes—not well, but yes.” He shrugs.

I laugh. “A man of many talents,” I say.

“This coming from a female mechanic?”

I laugh again. “Yeah, definitely a male-dominated industry, but it kept me out of trouble in high school.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, we moved a lot and I always joined auto class right away. I always had guy friends, not boyfriends,” I say.

“Really? I would’ve thought guys would be all over a hot girl who also knows about cars.”

I shake my head. “Men tend to be intimidated, Max was the exception,” I say.

There’s a small pause between us.

“What...was he like?”

I look at Lance.

“If you don’t want to talk about him, you don’t have to. I’m just curious,” he says quickly.

“No, it’s okay. He was...scary-looking,” I say, looking down at my food. “People automatically assumed he was tough or hard. But he was kind, and funny, and smart, and protective.

“You two sort of have a lot in common, I think.”

“Sounds like a good guy,” he says, studying me.

“He was,” I say, willing my emotions to stay in check.

We change the subject and make small talk while poking at our food. The tension is palpable and exciting.

Halfway through my plate, I decide I’ve had enough to eat and drink. I place my napkin in front of me, get up, and straddle Lance.

Instantly, my hands cradle his face while his hands rest on my hips and we kiss—deeply.

Lance stands up and picks me up in the process. I giggle as he climbs the stairs and opens the door to his bedroom.

He tosses me on the bed, his eyes roaming my body as he lifts his shirt, exposing hard abs and a perfectly chiseled chest.

~Oh shit, this is really happening~. I’m nervous but also squirming with anticipation. He drops his shirt on the ground then looks down at me with a devilish grin.

“If you say ‘stop,’ I’ll always stop,” he says, and my insides slip. “You ready?”

I bite my lip and nod. He smiles.

Downstairs, Lance’s phone lights up on the counter.

~“Four missed calls.”~