Finding Solace

“I’m glad. You needed it.”

He bends his neck to the side, stretching it. “It’s this place.”

I don’t beat around the bush. Neither of us has time for that. “I like having you here.” He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. His fingers weave through my hair, and he holds the back of my head, looking at me, studying me before pulling me to him and kissing me.

Our bodies find their way together again, and we fill the afternoon with moans, expending our desire, and satiating our lust.

Left with smiles that feel shy, although I don’t know why, we take a shower and get dressed. Watching me as he puts his jeans on, he says, “I told Billy I’d fix your chicken coop.”

“Do you know how, city slicker?”

Laughing, he dips his feet into his shoes and winks. “I think I can manage, but I need to start tomorrow if that’s okay. I promised my mom I would change her oil today.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Jason. I can manage.”

Coming over to me, he rubs my arms. “I know you can, but I want to help. Is it okay for me to take that job off your hands? You have plenty to take care of yourself.”

My arms go around his middle as I rest my head against his chest and close my eyes. His heart is strong, and he’s caring. I’m not sure I should feel so at home in his arms, but I sure do love being tucked inside them. It’s safe here, like the world can’t touch us, and all our problems belong to someone else. “Thank you.”

He kisses my head. When we part, he asks, “Are you busy tonight?”

“No,” I reply, laughing lightly. “My schedule is pretty wide open most days.”

“Let me ask you something.”

Here it comes—the questions I’ve been happily avoiding. I lean against the oak dresser, needing to brace myself against something solid. “Okay.”

“Will you come to dinner tonight at my mom’s house?”

“Wait. What?”

His forehead crinkles from my response. “Dinner. You. Me. My mom. Will you join us?”

That’s not what I expected him to ask. I thought for sure he’d bring up Cole, but I’m so glad he doesn’t let him invade our time together. “Dinner?”

“You know,” he says, his hands motioning like charades as he feeds himself. “Food. Eating. Talking. That kind of thing.”

I smile. “I’d love to.”

A wide smile appears, but his eyes always hold a little mischievousness. “How’s seven?”

“Perfect. I’ll bring dessert.” I start out of the bedroom, wondering if I have all the ingredients I need to bake something delicious for them.

“I always loved your desserts.”

“Are we still talking about food?”

“Nope.”

I roll my eyes and head for the living room. “I’m not sure I can keep up with your appetite.”

“I’m insatiable because of you.”

Stopping in the hall, I turn around and press my hands against his chest. I rub lightly over the cotton of his shirt, wanting to feel his hard muscles through it . . . yeah, I do, and I’m not making any apologies for it. But are we just undeniable physical attraction? Chemistry ready to combust? I like talking to him, but he has so much locked inside still hidden from me. I have my own secrets, too. Is it rational to want more with him when he just returned to town? To me? “What are we doing, Jason?”

His smile turns light, and his eyes darken with the change in my tone. “We’re getting to know each other. Again. That’s all,” he says.

I nod, and then take a deep breath before exhaling. “I come with baggage I didn’t have last time around.”

“We all do.” When he kisses my cheek, his mouth lingers on my skin, sending goose bumps across my arms. “I lied earlier.”

“About?”

“When I said I rest better because there’s something about this place. I lied. It’s not the place.”

“What is it?”

He cups my face, and our lips meet, but he doesn’t kiss me. “It’s you. You give me the peace I’ve needed, and the emptiness inside isn’t so empty anymore.”

He fills the emptiness inside me as well. Our lips meet, and we kiss, exchanging the words that aren’t needed.

“I’ll see you tonight, Delilah.”

He walks around and right out my front door like it’s his own to return through. I lean against the frame and watch him through the screen door. He starts his truck and looks back at me, leaving me with a nod of his head and a smile on his face that feels genuine. Dirt fills the air behind his tires, and I watch that old beat-up pickup drive away, feeling anxious as the distance grows.

What are we really?

Are we playing a game, or is this real?

I miss him already, and it hasn’t been a minute since he left.

That feels pretty darn real, to my heart at least, but I shouldn’t overthink this. We need to happen naturally for it to turn into something more. More? Is that even something I should be considering? Cole will never let that happen. He’d rather see me dead than with someone else, least of all Jason Koster.