JENNIE
When I died, I wanted to be buried in sawdust.
My parents were Los Angeles natives, so were their parents and their grandparents. City blood ran through my veins. I loved living in Montana, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss the noisy traffic, bustle of energy and potent scents from LA streets.
But the smell of Lisa's shop was paradise.
It erased the homesickness I'd been feeling for the last few days. It soothed away the worries that I'd made a mistake by moving here. The smell was like being wrapped in a warm blanket after walking five blocks in a snowstorm.
It was almost as magical as my cake.
I splayed both hands on the tabletop in front of me, pushing down hard to see how sturdy it was on the sawhorses. It was like a rock, so I leaned a hip on the edge.
"What's left to finish this piece?"
Lisa came closer to the table. She touched the raw edge, then brushed away a loose wood shaving. "It's all sanded and ready to stain. Once I do that, the grains will really come alive. Then I'll build the base."
"Is the edge going to be like this? Or will you cut it off so it's straight?"
"I was going to leave it like this. It's called a live edge. It's not for everyone."
"I love it." At the edges, the bark was still attached. Along its edge, the wood had a lighter tone, almost yellow, where the rings were newer. The contrast between the darker center, the black knots and the bright edges was stunning. It wasn't just a table, it was art. "I want a table like this for my place."
Lisa's mouth broke into a smile, blinding me with her white teeth. I hadn't seen anything more than a slight grin from her before. Her eyes sparkled with something new. Humor, maybe? Amusement?
Whatever it was, she dazzled me.
"Are you actually smiling?" I teased. "I didn't think you knew how. Where's my phone? I need to take a picture."
I patted my dress pockets, pretending to search for my phone. And that's when I got the good stuff. Lisa's laughter echoed in the shop. It wasn't a doubled-over, booming laugh, but I'd take it.
I hid my own smile by turning away and pointing to the other project she had set up in the middle of the room. "What's that over there?"
"That's a custom table for a guy who lives in Utah. He's giving it to his wife for Christmas."
"That's sweet."
She walked over to the table, touching the round top. "This is just the framework right now. I'll mount this to a tooled and spun pedestal. Then once I get it all built and shaped, I'll be putting a design on top."
I was frozen in place as I watched her run her large hands across the table. She was gentle with the wood, caressing it like she had my skin.
"It's basically these thin wooden pieces, like an overlay," she said. "My client wants to try and have the design match this quilt of his wife's grandmother. I guess they were really special to one another. So I'm recreating the design with different wood colors in the pattern on top."
My mouth fell open a bit as she spoke. Maybe the sawdust smell worked magic on Lisa too because that was more words in a single stretch than I'd ever gotten from her.
"That's amazing." She was amazing. "Your work is . . . breathtaking."
She shrugged and ducked her head. Was she getting shy? She turned her back to me, but before she hid her face, I swore I saw a blush. She was shy. My god, that was sexy.
Not wanting to embarrass her, I scanned for other pieces in the shop. When my eyes landed on one by a stack of dowels, my jaw dropped. I had no place to store it, but I needed it for my new house. "Tell me that one isn't sold yet."
"Sorry. I've got a guy picking it up in a couple days. I'm just waiting for the epoxy to cure and then I'll seal it. But it turned out nice."
"Nice?" I mocked. "It's stunning."
She'd taken what looked like a swath from a huge tree and mounted it onto three legs to serve as an end table. The top was full of cracks and breaks from how the tree had grown. Lisa had filled them all with some kind of blue plastic, making them look like streams of water running through the honey-colored wood.
This person was so much more than she let people see. She came across so rough and cold, but in this shop, I saw an entirely new side to Lisa Manoban. She was full of hidden passion and bursting with creativity. She'd poured her heart into these pieces.
Lisa inspected part of the table, testing the blue epoxy. She was wearing jeans today, and as she bent down, they hugged her thighs and ass. It was the first time I'd seen her in something other than Carhartts. She was delicious.
We'd been so close to kissing in her kitchen. If I hadn't suggested the shop tour, we would have ended up having sex in her bedroom.
I wasn't ready for that.
I wasn't ready to share her bed.
Over the last few days, I'd thought constantly about Lisa—more than I should have for a casual, no-strings, strictly physical relationship. So I'd decided to put up some boundaries.
There would be no sleepovers. Cuddling would be kept to a minimum. And I didn't want to get used to having sex in each other's beds.
The camper bed was the only exception. Because it was a temporary home, not my real bed, it didn't count. Though the couch would have been the safest bet, Lisa was just too big to make that cramped space comfortable for either of us to do some exploration.
If we kept sex to casual places, I'd be able to maintain some emotional distance. The camper was safe. Even this shop could work.
Along with the location boundaries, I was also setting some limits on the amount of time we spent together. I was forcing myself to stay away from Lisa for at least three days between hookups. Three days.
I'd barely made it.
When I'd gotten home from Jisoo and Rosé's place early this afternoon, I'd decided to take the rest of the afternoon off and make a magic cake.
Because I was homesick.
My family was busy in Los Angeles. I'd been busy too, but when I'd lived there, they'd only been a train ride away. I'd taken their closeness for granted. Leaving the city after my divorce had been the right decision. I didn't regret coming to Montana. Still, I missed my family.
So in an effort to cheer myself up, I'd decided to make the chocolate cake my aunt had taught me how to make in high school.
I wasn't sure if it was the high butter and sugar content or the dark chocolate I bought for the frosting. But it had never once failed to lift my spirits. I'd deemed it magic after it had soothed my broken heart when I'd gotten dumped by my high school boyfriend two days before junior prom.
Magic cake had helped me through the hardest nights of my divorce when Kai's pleas to reconcile had worn my emotions raw.
I'd made the cake in the camper's tiny oven, then frosted it once it had cooled. I'd debated eating it all myself, but then I'd realized my three-day limit was over. My feet had just carried me over to Lisa's, cake plate in hand.
When she'd answered the door shrouded in the grief she wore like a gray mist, I'd known visiting was the right decision. Magic cake to the rescue.
After more calories than was healthy, the anger and sadness on her face was gone. I'd even earned myself a smile.
Lisa was still lost in her end table, so I took the quiet minute to study the benches and shelves I'd only just glanced at before.
There were hooks and drawers for everything. The larger machines all had their place. The shop was right up my alley, organized and structured to the point of near compulsion.
"I think the way you keep your shop organized is . . . sexy."
That got Lisa's attention. She stood from where she'd been hunched, momentary surprise on her face. Then she schooled her features into what could only be called a smolder.
The heat in her gaze melted my core, sending a rush of desire between my thighs.
Lisa stalked toward me like a mountain lion would its prey. Her long legs closed the distance between us in a flash, bringing with her the heat we'd sparked in the kitchen. Only now it had magnified tenfold.
She didn't stop when she crossed into my space. She didn't give me any breathing room. Instead, she crushed her chest against mine, then gripped my hips and hoisted me onto the table at my back.
"Whoa," I breathed.
"I want to fuck you."
"Yes," I moaned.
"I want to fuck you with those shoes digging into my back."
My sex clenched, on the verge of a spontaneous orgasm. I nodded, now panting against her cheek. She had yet to kiss me or make her move. Instead, we just breathed the same air. We let the fire between our bodies melt together.
The skirt of my dress was hiked up my thighs, the material stretching over my hips. My Montana work attire was mostly jeans and a cute top with sandals, but I'd opted for a dress today. Probably because I'd been a bit homesick and wanted to dress like I would have in the city. Even baking my cake, I'd kept on the dress and heels.
I mentally high-fived myself for being too lazy to change.
All Lisa had to do was reach between us and she'd find the center of my panties wet.
Which was exactly what she did. She wasn't careful or soft as she dove under my skirt. She went for the gusset of my panties like an arrow finding the bullseye.
"Oh, hell," I moaned, letting my head go limp toward my shoulder as two of Lisa's fingers yanked my panties aside and thrust inside my slick heat.
She curved them, finding the spot that made me squirm. I tilted my hips closer, desperate for some attention on my clit. But she wouldn't touch me there. She wouldn't kiss me. She just plunged her fingers in and out, breathing against my mouth.
I leaned forward, angling my lips for hers, but she backed off an inch and shook her head. "I want to watch."
I nodded, panting even more as I wiggled closer. I spread my thighs as wide as the stretch of my skirt would allow. With one hand gripping the edge of the table to keep from falling, I used the other to drag the hem up even farther.
The rough denim covering Lisa's legs scratched against the sensitive flesh of my inner thighs, all while her fingers kept plundering.
"Touch yourself," she commanded, her eyes catching mine. "Show me."
I held her eyes as my free hand went between my legs. It slipped into the waistband of my panties and found my aching clit.
"Fuck." We moaned the curse together as I let my finger swirl over the hard nub.
I wanted to close my eyes. I wanted to just disappear, shut out the world and let the pleasure consume me. But I kept my focus on Lisa and the changing colors of her irises. I watched as the gold flared and the green got swallowed by the brown.
It didn't take long until I felt my orgasm swell. My finger swirled faster as she stroked my inner walls. Then the explosion came, rolling over every muscle, pulse after pulse.
Lisa groaned as I clamped down on her fingers. I barely heard the slide of her zipper as I rode out my release. Though I did catch my own whimper as she pressed her crown to my entrance.
With an easy glide, she replaced her fingers with her cock, stretching my sensitive folds around her width. Just like all of our other times together, she didn't hold back. She used those powerful hips to leave me breathless on every thrust.
My legs wrapped around her waist, pulling her close. Then I dug my heels into her ass, earning a hiss.
Lisa returned the sting by yanking me forward with her meaty grip. Her fingertips held a bruising grasp on my ass. That hint of pain mixed with the sensation of her cock thrusting inside had me barreling toward another orgasm.
It was like falling down a hill. The more you rolled, the faster you went, and there was no holding myself back from coming hard. She'd paralyzed my vocal cords, so all I had was an open mouth as I silently screamed through my release.
Not Lisa. She let loose the loudest roar I'd ever heard. The sound waves echoed in the cavernous shop, ricocheting off the metal before soaking into the wood.
As I fought to find my senses, I wrapped my arms around Lisa's neck and sagged against her chest. She took all my weight, holding me on the slightest edge of the table until I'd finally filled my lungs and calmed my racing heart.
"Wow." I leaned away and cracked my eyes open.
Lisa's eyes were waiting, staring at me with such intensity that I squirmed on the table. Her expression was full of lingering lust and some hesitancy.
Had sex in the shop been a mistake? Had we just tainted her sacred ground? Or did her worries match mine?
Was casual sex going to ruin us both?
We'd only been together a few times, but this fling was exhilarating. It was exciting to look across our shared forest, hoping to catch a glimpse of her as I went in and out of the camper. It was a thrill to see how long I could stay away from her temptation. And learning little things about her was an adventure.
Like tonight, I'd discovered that her refrigerator was clean but nearly empty. I'd fallen in love with the furniture she made for others.
"I hope the owners of this table don't mind that we just broke it in for them." A giggle escaped my lips as Lisa's chest heaved with a silent laugh.
She smirked, giving me the same look she had earlier, like she knew something I didn't.
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing." she shook her head. "I'm sure the owner of this table won't care that we just fucked on it. But I'll keep that info out of the care instructions, just in case."
"Good call." I giggled again before she slid out and tucked herself back in her jeans.
She backed up and held out a hand, helping me down from the table. As I righted my dress, she zipped her fly and fixed the black T-shirt that I'd pulled crooked at some point during our escapades.
The overhead lights buzzed as silence descended on the shop. I shuffled on my sandals, not sure where to look. Lisa ran a hand over her face, avoiding my space.
Should I leave? Should I say something? Thank you, maybe? Clearly, I wasn't good at the after part of casual sex. If we were in my camper, she would have already been out the door at this point. But I needed to get my cake plate from inside her cabin. It felt weird to just wave good-bye and walk out the door.
"Where'd you get that scar?"
Lisa's question surprised me and I looked up from my feet. She was staring at my hands where I'd absently been rubbing the scar on top of my right wrist.
"Oh, I, um . . . I cut it on some glass." That was the short version of a long story.
I'd been distraught after I'd learned that Kai had kissed his costar. That night, I left our apartment in a daze and walked around the neighborhood block. I made the loop three times as tears streamed down my face.
When the shock passed, I got so angry that I decided to go to the restaurant and confront my cheating husband.
Furious and heartbroken, I wasn't paying much attention to traffic as I walked. About five blocks from the restaurant, I stepped out into the crosswalk—I swore the walk signal was on. I swore it. But I stepped right in front of an oncoming taxi. They swerved, missing me by an inch, and crashed into a light pole. Glass shattered everywhere. Most of my skin was covered, except for my hands. One shard sliced deeply into the back of the hand I used to shield my face.
I was lucky. The driver of the car sustained a concussion.
I spent the next two hours in the emergency room, getting the cut cleaned up and assuring the doctor I hadn't stepped into traffic on purpose.
When I finally got home, Kai was upset I'd missed his calls. He was worried.
I apologized for worrying him, then asked for a divorce.
"It was a nasty cut and I have always been bad about picking at scabs." I shrugged, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. "My mom used to cover me in Band-Aids because it was the only way to keep me from picking at my skinned knees or elbows."
Lisa stepped closer, touching the shell of my left ear. "Why do you tuck your hair behind this ear but not this one?"
"It's silly." I sighed. "My right ear is bigger than my left. I guess I got used to keeping it covered a long time ago."
"Huh?"
"It's true." I held my hair back so she could see both ears. "When I was a teenager, I never wore my hair up. I got over that eventually, but the tucking thing is just an old habit."
She looked from one ear to the other, then shook her head. "They're the same size."
"No, they're not. Trust me, I spent hours in the mirror as a teenager comparing the two." That had been my favorite pastime as a seventeen-year-old learning to accept the things about her body she could not change.
Lisa turned and walked over to the wall with all of the tool chests. She opened a drawer, pulled out a tape measure, then came stalking back.
"Don't move," she commanded as she proceeded to extend the tape a few inches.
"You're really measuring my e—"
"Shh."
I clamped my mouth shut, pulling my lips between my teeth to hold in a smile. Then I stood stoically still as the metal tape whispered across my ears and Lisa's face narrowed in concentration.
She didn't just measure the height of my ears, she measured the width, the distance they were from my nose. It was a more detailed inspection than I would have expected from a plastic surgeon's office.
When she was done, she stepped back from my face with a smug grin and her tape measure. "Your right ear is an eighth of an inch smaller than your left."
"What?" I gasped. "No way!"
She nodded. "It is."
"Are you kidding?"
"All this time you've been hiding the wrong ear, Dumbo."
"Hey!" I smacked her playfully on the shoulder, then broke out into hysterical laughter.
To my surprise, she did too. Lisa's laughter was deep and hoarse, almost like she hadn't used it in so long that it needed to have the rust broken free.
But it was beautiful as it filled the shop, making the already-bright space shimmer.
And the sight of her smile, wide and white underneath those soft lips and between cheeks, was more breathtaking than even the ridge on our mountain.
She was dashing.
I refused to blink, not wanting to miss a moment of that rare laugh. And I vowed, then and there, to make her smile more often.
A sense of pride filled my chest, squeezing out the pain from past memories. Knowing I was the cause of her smile and laugh was empowering. I did that. Me.
I made Lisa smile.
She made me forget.
Now I had to make it three days without her. Three days. I'd force myself to wait those seventy-two hours because being around her was too good. It was too dangerous.
Could I make it three days?
With the way my heart was sprouting wings, I'd better try and make it four.
Two days later, a fist knocked on the Airstream's door, making me shoot out of bed. It was dark, and after a quick glance at my clock, I saw it was after midnight.
My heart raced, my mind immediately imagining the worst. Was someone here to kill me? Would they feed my body to a bear? I grabbed my phone and dialed 9-1-1, ready to hit send, but I hesitated.
As quietly as possible, I slipped out of bed and ducked low. Then I crouched, getting on my hands and knees to crawl out of the bedroom.
Jisoo and Rosé had bought this Airstream brand-new. Its finishes were light and airy, and it reminded me a little of the apartment I'd left behind in the city. I couldn't have asked for a better temporary abode.
But at this moment, all I really wanted was a door with a deadbolt.
Why didn't I own pepper spray? Or a gun? Not that I knew how to shoot either. But they were both sold at the sporting goods store in town. All I had to defend myself was my cast-iron skillet.
I sucked at being a Montana. I'd left all of my self-preservation tendencies on the subway in Los Angeles. If I was about to be murdered and fed to a bear, I had no one but myself to blame.
I continued to crawl, making it past the bedroom and into the kitchen. I couldn't reach for a knife without my murderer seeing me through the large front window.
The knock came again and curiosity overruled judgment. Carefully, I rose up on my knees and peeked past the table to the door. A lock of dark hair caught my eye first, followed by an arm of familiar.
I sighed, breathing again as I slumped onto the wooden floor.
It was my sexy neighbor.
I pushed up off the floor, watching through the window as Lisa spotted me. Her eyebrows came together, probably confused by what I'd been doing on the floor. I went right to the door, flipping the flimsy lock and opening up for her.
"You scared me," I hissed.
She winced. "Sorry."
"It's fine. Come in." It wasn't like I'd be going back to sleep after that scare. My hand rubbed at my sternum, soothing my still-racing heart, as I stood back so she could climb the step.
She reached behind her and closed the door.
Then to my complete surprise, she pulled me into her arms. One of her hands pressed the back of my head so my cheek was resting against her heart. With the other, she trailed a light path up my bare arm.
She was dressed in her Carhartt pants and smelled like wood varnish. She'd probably just come from the shop.
I was in my pajamas, a thin tank top and silk sleep shorts with a ruffled edge. Both were a pink so pale they were nearly white.
"What are you doing here?" I murmured into her shirt as I wound my hands around those narrow hips and tucked them into the back pockets of her pants.
"Thought I'd see if you had any cake."
I laughed. "I'm all out."
"Damn. I need something sweet." Her arm left my hair, trailing down my back and to my ass. I didn't have pockets for her to use, so instead she slipped those callused fingers into the waistband of my shorts and palmed my ass, skin to skin.
A shiver broke across my shoulders and I tipped my head back. The moment I did, she captured my mouth in a desperate kiss.
"Sweet," she whispered against my lips before sweeping her tongue inside.
It had been only two days since the night in her shop and my magic cake. A part of me was glad that I wasn't the only one getting addicted. I wasn't the only one here aching for another taste.
The other part of me was disappointed because I'd been counting on Lisa to keep her distance.
If she came over every two days, I was going to get attached.
No. I wouldn't let myself get attached to Lisa Manoban. I wouldn't let myself believe that I could heal her broken heart. Or that she could heal mine.
One more night didn't mean this was love.
And next time, I'd go longer.
