Six
For the first time in many mornings, Jen awoke to silence rather than to the thunder of Robin's hammer. Small mercies. She groaned as the morning sunlight snuck through her bedroom shutters to strike her full in the face, and curled tighter against the ball of warmth sharing her bed. Nugget, realizing Jen was awake, immediately wiggled free to lay half-sprawled over Jen's chest, trembling with the excitement of waking up.
Jen wished she could summon half of the dog's enthusiasm for getting out of bed. Her head throbbed, the drinks from the night before lingering into a hangover. The two...three?... shots of whisky on top of the wine had been a mistake. The only thing that had saved her from yet another indulgence—inviting Shane home—was that by the time they'd left the dock late last night, his own head had been swimming in alcohol.
And Jen wanted him in her bed too much to risk ruining it with a drunken encounter.
She smiled, stretching under deliciously sun-warmed sheets. The way he touched her when they were together made it obvious he wanted her, too. It was small consolation for waking up alone, but at least he wasn't looking for a sloppy hook-up either. Her fingers wandered beneath her underwear as she recalled his shy smile, the feeling of his shoulder and thigh pressed warmly against hers as they huddled on the dock, the roughness of his stubble on her palm…
Warmth and pleasure bloomed between her legs, pooling in her belly, as she rubbed her fingers right in that spot she wished that he was touching. She closed her eyes, imagining it, imagining his jaw scraping along the skin of her inner thigh... the sensation of grinding on him through his jeans that night in the chicken coop... the way it might feel if he moved inside her...
God. Shane. She arched against her own fingertips, breathing hard, halfway disbelieving that she was coming this hard or this fast. In her mind, his blue eyes were keen on her as he asked "What do you want, Jen?" The quiet intensity of the memory—and the idle thought of him lying in his bed, touching himself and thinking of her this way—pushed her right over the edge.
Later, slightly less stir-crazy with want, Jen stood on the porch with a steaming cup of her favorite coffee while Nugget romped and snuffled in the fresh snow drifts. Her entire farm glittered with frost under the noon sun, serene and silent but for the playful dog.
Five years ago, she'd lost nearly everything. During the worst of it, she'd never imagined that she could regain this much control over her own life. A terrifying amount of control. If she failed, she'd be left with absolutely nothing but this land. She'd have to crawl back to her parents and admit that they were right: that although her ex, Adam, might have bashed a giant hole into her plans, she should have simply tried to forgive and forget like her parents had begged her to.
She snorted, forcing herself to ease her grip on her coffee mug before she shattered it. Some things shouldn't be forgiven; some things couldn't be forgotten.
In the fallout, Adam had called her selfish, one last jab before she'd filed for divorce and cut off contact. When she'd moved here, her parents said that she was only running away from her problems, as usual.
No matter how much their judgements stung, Briarly Farm felt right in the marrow of her bones. She wished they understood this feeling, the stomach-swooping expectation, the fear of the potential of her wild, ice-shrouded land—the buoyant hope that helped her plan for spring.
Yet no matter how hard she tried to forget the shadows of her past, she couldn't seem to let them go.
Later that day, Jen hovered near the door of Clint's smithy, finding it hard to leave the sweltering heat of the forgefire.
Clint hefted Jen's hoe and the two axes from the countertop, examining the patina of their ancient copper finish with a low whistle. "These as old as the dirt on the farm?" he asked, so matter-of-fact she wasn't sure if he was joking. She offered a smile in case he was.
"They might be. The handles feel loose. I'm afraid they'll fly right off one day."
"Well," he said, drawing out the word in such intense consideration that he seemed to forget she was there. "They just need a little TLC. I can upgrade them to a stronger steel. Or even gold."
"Wow. People gild their tools?"
Clint leaned against the counter, folding his arms over the tools with a shrug. "My forgecraft are iridium. Gotta invest in the way you make your living."
Iridium. She'd seen the majestic gems glittering in sets of foreign jewelry in the Zuzu Museum of History, the thought of using the precious stone to till her fields was laughable. "True, but it doesn't make my coin purse feel any better. Let's stick with steel for now." She slunk reluctantly to the chilly air beside the shop door. "Thanks for staying open late for me. Let me know when to come pick them up?"
"Sure. I'll mail the invoice over once they're done and I've got the total billable hours nailed down."
Total billable hours. Jen shuddered, recalling the accounting spreadsheets she'd labored over at Joja. Granted, five years on the job had taught her enough that the accounting for her farm was simple, but they weren't years she was eager to repeat. Clint didn't notice her flinch. He drummed his fingers on the counter, and Jen could tell he was already looking inward, planning the project. His eyes brightened as he nodded to himself. "I think I can get it done before next weekend."
"I'm not in a hurry. Just need them before spring!"
But he didn't hear her. He was already turning back to his forge.
Outside, she grit her teeth and leaned into the biting wind. Taunting sunlight broke through the low-hanging clouds swirling in, sparking off the dusting of snow settling over the thin copse of trees blocking the sea breeze.
The ocean itself loomed dark and beautiful on the horizon, luring her across the river. Sand mingled with snow in churned-up footprints leading toward Elliott's lonesome cabin. The winter wind, heavy with the tang of salt, hit her full-force as she stepped off the bridge. It leeched the warmth from her, and suddenly braving the pier to Willy's fishing shop in the foul weather, with the ocean raging rough beneath the frosted pier, seemed much less of a good idea than it had that morning.
Tips for ice fishing could wait, Jen decided, letting the wind push her back over the bridge. She had one last item on her day's agenda, one that put a smile on her face as Clint's advice popped into mind: Gotta invest in the way you make your living.
The barn was complete. It was time to fill it.
The field outside Cindersap forest thrummed with activity, at odds with its normal solitude. The Mayor, Emily, and Robin set up ice fishing stations around one of the small ponds while Leah and Willy made careful cuts in the ice itself, all in preparation for the next day's Festival of Ice.
Noticing her approach through the lane between Marnie's ranch and Leah's home, Willy waved and called, "Been practicing with that fishing pole?"
"Not as much as I should," Jen hollered back with a grin, meandering closer to the lake and her grandfather's old friend. She glanced around the to-be fairgrounds, her face warming as she spotted the empty pier at the far side of the lake. The spot that always made her think of Shane. She ripped her concentration from the pier and memory of her drunken-cuddling with Shane the night before, and focused again on Willy. "Is it safe to walk on the lake with all those cuts in it?"
Willy winked at her, as though her city naivety amused him, and sniffed sagely at the air. "Coldest night of the year, the night before the Festival of Ice. I can smell the ice coming. The fish can sense it too," he said, then hefted his saw to test the ice below his feet.
"Thanks for the head's up," Jen said, hiding a smile at his prophetic tone. "I should finish up my errands before it gets here, then."
"And make sure you've got plenty of wood stacked for your fireplace."
She waved goodbye, and bee-lined to the ranch. The door to Marnie's store was locked when Jen knocked, but Jas's high-pitched voice drew Jen around to the front pasture. One of the barn doors stood open, letting light spill across the fresh snow.
Jen walked through the pasture gate before really considering what she was doing, and was halfway across the pasture before propriety made her hesitate. But she'd already plowed through snow nearly up to her knees and her tracks were obvious, and the light and warmth of the barn were irresistible. Jen knocked against the barn door before stepping through, hugging herself against the lingering chill.
The bay horse spotted her first, glancing at her with languid brown eyes as Jen crept into the barn. Marnie stood between them, supporting Jas on a step stool as the little girl, so bundled up against the cold she looked like a pink marshmallow, bit her tongue while fiddling with the horse's halter.
"Make sure to pull it snug, Jas," Marnie said, surreptitiously checking the harness straps after Jas fastened them. "Or else Lady won't know that you're in charge."
"And she'll run me around the lake," Jas said, grinning like she couldn't wait.
Marnie chuckled. "She's headstrong. Do you remember what I told you?"
"The rider is in charge. That's me."
"Yes. And it's far too cold for chasing after her if she runs away with the reins. Ready? Run get your helmet before it gets too dark out to ride."
Jas hopped off the stool and ran toward the back door of the house. Feeling awkward, like a voyeur of the family's private life, Jen cleared her throat. "Ah, Marnie? Hi."
Marnie turned, surprised, and brushed her graying hair from her face. "Jen, dear! Get in here out of that snow."
"I didn't mean to intrude—" Jen began, a bit bashfully, as she crossed toward Lady's stall.
Marnie waved away her concern. "Don't worry about that. I wanted to exercise the horses before we get iced in, so I locked up shop a little early. We can pop back over if there's something you need?"
"Robin finished my barn, actually, and I was hoping you—oh, hello." The heady scent of horse washed across Jen as the curious horse snuffled at her face, its ears pricked forward in interest.
"Forgive Lady," Marnie said fondly, patting the horse's neck. "She can be a bit bossy."
"Oh, I don't mind." Smiling, Jen let Lady get a good sniff of her fingers before raising them to stroke the horse's velvety nose. "When I was really little, grandpa had horses. The stable is just behind the house, but these days it looks more like a wood dump."
"I remember your grandpa's horses. Ah, money pits, they are." Marnie planted a big kiss on Lady's jaw, her eyes sparkling with delight. "But I love them anyway. It's getting harder for me to ride my two as often as I should, but Jas is nearly ready to ride on her own. You'd never know that girl was born in the city, the way she's taken to my animals."
Jen would never have guessed that Jas wasn't a blood-relative of Marnie's, for all the pride in the older woman's voice. She pressed a hand over her heart as the pang of longing, of missing, struck her again as it always did: creeping up on her when it was least expected. Forward, she had to keep looking forward. Realizing she'd let the thread of the conversation hang, Jen forged on with,
"With the barn done, I was thinking of what you said about raising sheep for wool. What do you think?"
If Marnie had noticed Jen's jagged edges, she gave no sign. "Sheep are wonderful, but my flock is thin this winter. Nothing I'd feel good selling, at least not til spring. I do have a late bloomer calf that's recently been weaned that would be a great starter for you. Or one of the young goats. Or one of each," she added with a wink.
"That could work," Jen said, plotting it out in her mind. "They can get me started with milk and cheese. That'll give me time to learn more about wool—"
"Marnie!" Jas's shout preceded her dash down the stables. "I found my helmet!"
Spotting Jen, Jas immediately skidded to a halt and retreated behind the legs of the man following her: Shane, wearing his typical casual jeans and a hoodie. Jen's stomach fluttered as a bout of school-girl giddiness struck her—a giddiness that intensified as he met her eyes and smiled, a quiet hello that seeped warmth into Jen's bloodstream and got her heart racing.
"It's okay, Jas." He crouched next to Jas and asked gently, "Remember what you wanted to tell Miss Jen? About the pumpkin."
Jas glanced over at Jen, eyes widening when Jen took a step closer. "Thank you Miss Jen for the pumpkin," she mumbled, hiding her face behind her helmet. "Carving it was really fun."
Jen hid a smile at Jas's adorable discomfort. "You're welcome, Jas."
"Very good," Marnie said, holding her hand out to her adopted niece. "Now climb on up, Lady is ready to run!"
Jen watched in silence as Shane boosted the girl into the saddle and Marnie led the horse out a side door into snowy Cindersap forest. With the bluster of the horse and Marnie's cheer and Jas's suppressed exuberance gone, the barn fell silent.
But Jen didn't mind Shane's silences. She wandered through the barn, trailing her hand along the wooden railway until she found the long pen of goats next to the pair of growing calves munching hay with their drowsing dams. Shane's boots scuffed behind her as he followed. A heater blazed nearby, warm enough that Jen shrugged out of her winter coat and draped it over the railing.
"I'm sorry Jas hid from you. She'll warm up. Kids are funny sometimes."
"It's alright. You don't have to apologize," Jen reminded him, her soul aching all over again as she recalled his slurred words from the night before, when he'd opened up about the trials of raising his dead best friend's daughter. In an attempt to lighten the subject, she said, "With the barn done, Marnie thinks I should start with both a calf and a goat. Do you think it will be too much to take on?"
She savored his warmth as he stepped close behind her to survey the animals. "I could take another look at the barn, but based on the glance I got I'd say you've got plenty of space. Although goats are pretty mischievous."
Jen laughed. The squat, long-haired goats—boasting a mixture of brown and white and honey-colored hair, half with horns and half without, all with long drooping ears—blinked up at her with yellow eyes from their huddle in the corner. "Really? They look calm to me."
He smirked, leaning his forearms on the railing beside her. "That's because they're full from dinner. Otherwise they'd be climbing on top of whatever they can. They chew everything and bother the chickens. They'll probably get into your crops. But I like them."
"Despite all that?" she nettled, nudging him with her elbow.
"Don't say I didn't warn you," he said, nudging her back.
They stayed close, watching the young goats crowd one another for prime sleeping position, until Jen worked up the courage to slide her hand over Shane's. Wordlessly he turned his hand over, palm up, so they could link fingers. Jen caught her breath as the intimate contact re-kindled the desire she had managed—barely—to tamp down that morning.
"Everyone keeps saying that tonight is likely to be the coldest night of the year," Jen said, flushing because what she was building herself up to ask was burning her up inside. She kept her eyes fixed firmly on one of the goats, a mischievous black-spotted female that Jen instantly decided should come home to her barn.
Oblivious to Jen's meaning, Shane merely nodded. "Always is, night before the Festival of Ice. At least, so far as I've been here."
"I thought—maybe—" No. Be direct, be clear. She took a breath, and gulped, "Do you want to spend it with me? At my—at my house?"
Shane froze, as though despite how forward she was being, he needed to be absolutely sure he'd interpreted her correctly.
Trying to be clearer, she said, "Tomorrow's the Festival, the town will be closed if you want to... sleep over..." She glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes, trying to smother an embarrassed grimace as she added, "…I'm not very good at this."
Shane stared at their joined hands, then pulled her around to face him. He half-hid a smile. "Actually, you read my mind."
"That's a yes?"
He burst out laughing, the sound so sudden it startled the goats. Just as suddenly, he lifted her by the waist and set her atop the low railing. He stood between her legs, tantalizingly close.
"Of course yes," he whispered, brushing her hair back from her shoulders before kissing her, kindling a fire that nearly scorched every shred of her remaining restraint. Her hands roamed over his back, his waist, pulling him into her as he deepened the kiss and wrapped his arms tightly around her.
"Hold tight," he said, half a moment before he picked her up. Jen clung to his shoulders and hips as he carried her to a darkened side aisle and pressed her against the wall, knocking aside a broom in the process. It clattered to the floor, sending three chickens flying in indignation. Jen ignored the noise as they wrapped tighter into one another. Like that first time in the chicken coop, Shane ground against her, easily finding those intimate pressure points as though he was already well-acquainted with her body.
Damn their clothes. Shane's tender, urgent kisses devoured her as she unwrapped her legs from his waist, getting her own feet under her. The show of strength—carrying her, pinning her against the wall, his growing confidence—was too much. Desperate for more, her hand cupped the bulging groin of his jeans.
"Can I?" she asked, tugging at his belt.
"Anything you want," he said, nearly panting as he jerked at the zipper of his pants. Desire had clearly obliterated his usual shyness, the way it had obliterated her inhibitions. Jen shoved his pants and boxers down, than ran her hands up his strong thighs, all the way to the throbbing heat of his hardening cock. His eyes widened as she dropped to her knees. Clearly not what he'd been expecting.
"Jen?"
"This morning I got off to the idea of you doing this to me. Let me return the favor."
That put the blush back into his cheeks, until she took him into her mouth. A satisfied sigh hissed through his teeth as she ran her tongue over him, getting the feel of him before speeding her rhythm. "That feels… so good."
He ran his fingers through her hair, the light touch along her scalp making her shiver. The smell and taste of his skin surrounded her, warm and utterly addictive. She desperately wanted to learn what he'd be like in bed—but for now, Jen was in control. His pulse pounding in her mouth thrilled her, and the way his cock pulsed when she hit just the right chord. He shifted his hips as though barely restraining the urge to thrust, and Jen backed down the tempo, teasing him. His erratic breathing as he tilted back his head and closed his eyes and gasped, "I'm close—don't stop—I'm coming—" drove her dangerously near the edge.
He shuddered into her with a moan, his warm seed too much to swallow. When he was spent, she sucked him one last time—slow and gentle, promising more—and spit the cum into the dirt before he pulled her to her feet and threw his arms around her.
"Christ, Jen," he said, pressing her forehead to hers as though the pleasure had ripped the energy from him. "Christ. You're so fucking sexy."
Sexy. She'd gone down at him in a barn, across from a pen of goats, and the man still thought her sexy. Jen laughed, trying not to sound nervous as she joked, "So… still want to come over tonight?"
In answer, Shane cupped his hands over her butt, squeezing hard enough stir butterflies in her stomach, and pressed his hips to hers. "I can't stop thinking about you," he admitted, serious yet somehow uncertain. As though despite all evidence, he wasn't sure if she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
She held one of his hands to her chest, so he couldn't deny the raging of her heartbeat. A thrum of intimacy rose between them, growing in their shared, shallow breaths. She didn't know how to be clearer other than to say, "I want you so much."
He bit his lower lip, still shy as he slowly undid the clasp of her jeans and slipped a hand beneath the waist. Jen shivered as his fingers brushed through the hair between her legs, inching toward her most sensitive skin. "Alright?" he asked, voice strained. She laughed again, breathless, and nodded.
This wasn't real, this couldn't be real. She wasn't a risk-seeker, eager for the fear of being caught, of having sex in open spaces like this. She never even really talked dirty. All of that went out the window as her mind filled with the things she wished Shane would do to her—now—and she wanted to tell him all of them.
His middle finger moved delicately over the mound of her sex, between her lips, to her clit as though he was afraid his touch might break her. She leaned into him, closing her eyes as that spark of pleasure sprung again to life. "You can press harder. Move your fingertip in a circle." She shuddered as he obeyed. "Yes." Her knees buckled at the touch, from the pleasure spinning through her head like a strong wine.
Outside, the wind howled, slamming against the barn hard enough that it shook around them. In Shane's arms, she barely noticed.
"You're so wet." The whispered words nearly set her on fire. He slipped his finger into her, thrusting it so slowly she nearly begged for more. "Does this feel good?" he asked.
She forced herself to capture his gaze, silently demanding that he not look away. "More."
He held her close, confident now, and carefully slipped another finger inside. Eyes still locked with hers, he said, "I'm going to take your legs right out from under you."
Oh God.
The barn door creaked open, and Jen sprang away from him as though standing so close to him, feeling the way she did, was illegal. Her heart rattled in her chest, its beat echoing in her ears. Head still spinning, she leapt to the goat pen as though she'd been there the entire time, and surreptitiously buttoned her jeans. Behind her, Shane swore lightly and straightened his clothing before stepping into the main aisle.
Jas led Lady inside by the reins, grinning wildly. "It's snowing!" she shrieked when she spotted her uncle. "Really hard. Aunt Marnie went in to make us hot chocolate."
"Hot chocolate?" Shane repeated, voice over-wrought to match her enthusiasm as he took Lady's reins and led the horse the rest of the way into her stall. "And she's letting you stall Lady all by yourself?"
Jen watched them out of the corner of her eyes while pretending to study the goats, still shaky from how he very nearly had taken her legs right out from under her, and how very nearly they'd been caught doing it. By Jas no less. And instead of feeling horrified, the only coherent thought Jen could squeeze out of her brain was how badly she wished the girl had waited just two more minutes to open that door.
"Yeah. She's going to check me when I'm done," Jas replied stoutly, already working at removing Lady's saddle. When Shane reached for the girth strap, Jas lunged to stop him. "I can do it by myself!"
"Alright," Shane said mildly, crossing his arms as he stepped out of the stall, letting the little girl manage on her own. "Do you remember what Marnie taught you about staying calm around the animals?" ...Jas?" he prompted in a slightly sterner tone when she didn't answer.
"They don't like loud noises," Jas mumbled after a moment. "Sorry, Lady."
The horse neighed, as if in response, before ripping into the hay piled in her feed bucket, spreading it around the floor. Shane looped Lady's reins over the stall door. "Hey Jasi, I'm going to walk Miss Jen to the sale's counter, then I'll be right back."
Jen smiled at the nickname and reminded herself to breathe as Shane shoved his hand into his pockets and strolled casually over to her. Behind him, Jas hauled a step-stool into Lady's stall, gibbering happy nonsense to the horse.
"I don't think your face can get any redder," he told Jen with a smug grin.
"I wonder why," Jen groaned, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, as though that could make her disappear. "Jas could have seen us."
"She didn't," Shane said, shrugging. "She's still oblivious about some things," he said, and then kissed her as though to prove it. His lips didn't linger on hers, no matter how badly she wished they would.
Jen sighed, grabbing her jacket from the railing. "Well. If the storm is as bad as Jas says, I should get home to make sure I've battened down all the hatches."
Shane watched her in silence for a few moments before venturing, "Why don't you come in and have some hot chocolate? Then Marnie can get you set up with the animals. There's no rush."
Jen tugged up the zipper of her jacket, a protest rising in her throat. But truly, he was right. Nugget was safely bundled in the house, with a doggy-door if she needed to get outside-not like she would, with that wind howling. Jen had locked the chicken coop before leaving the farm for the day. There was nothing else pressing, nothing else requiring her presence at the farm this very moment. People had gotten lost in blizzards walking shorter distances than her hike up to her farm.
What do you want, Jen?
Jen wanted to stay. She wanted to relish the butterflies that twirled in her stomach every time Shane looked at her. She wanted to talk with Marnie about the animals she'd be buying, and find out if Jas had already named them. She wanted Jas not to be frightened of her.
Mostly, she wanted to brave the eventual walk home with Shane beside her, relishing the promise that'd he be there to help warm her back up.
She held her hand out to him. "Hot chocolate sounds great."
Author's note: I meant to have this out for Valentine's day, but missed the mark. *blushes* I'm practicing a—ahem—more heated style of romance in this fic than I normally write. Hope you enjoyed! As always, thank you for reading and please let me know what you think!