CHAPTER NINE

ALEX

The crew returns and some of the guys give me shit-eating grins as I pack my cooler away in one of the trucks.

It's Pat, the boss, who shakes his stubby finger at me. "Try to get laid on your own time," he grunts.

I grin. "I was on lunch."

A few of the guys laugh and even Pat joins in. "Smartass."

With that, we get back to working on the drain field.

My muscles burn pleasantly, but my body burns for a much different reason. The taste of Fern lingers on my tongue and thoughts of the way she responded to me has my cock going hard all afternoon.

She felt so right in my arms, her body, despite her size, fitting as if she were made for me.

The hours of work yet to be done don't seem like nearly enough, as tomorrow we should be finishing up and ready to move on to the next project.

I want to take her out, to get her in my arms again, and convince her to never leave them.

Shit, I want so much that it's a need digging deep into me.

Six pm hits and we start packing it in for the night. Joe and I rode over together this morning, and I can't hold him up if he has big plans.

"I got something I need to do."

He raises his brows and jerks his head in the direction of Fern's house, and laughs. "You're crazy. You got five minutes or I'm leaving your ass here."

"Thanks!"

As the other trucks depart, I jog over to Fern's front door and pound on it.

It opens and Fern peers out. The sight of her has my fingers twitching with the need to grab and haul her into my arms. To claim those sweet lips in another hungry kiss, even if Joe is watching.

Tightening my hands into fists, I fight the urge. "What are you doing for dinner?"

Her nose crinkles up. "Ummm… leftovers."

"Can I take you out?"

Big brown eyes blink as she ponders the question. "Now?"

I jerk my thumb towards the running truck where Joe is waiting for me. "No, later. I need to head back to work to get my truck and then run home for a quick shower, and then I'll be back. You like Chinese?"

"Yes."

Grinning, I reach out for her before remembering my dirty hands and drop them down to my sides and shove them in my pockets. "Great. Give me forty-five minutes and I'll be back."

A bit of pink blooms on her pale face. "Okay," she says shyly.

I absolutely love it.

Giving a nod, I turn and jog back to the truck, my eyes fixed on the closed door as we drive away.

"Damn, you are hard up for a sweet bit?" Joe laughs as he cranks the radio.

"You got no idea," I say, relaxing into the seat and tipping my head back on the headrest.

Joe shakes his head and lets it drop. Considering how hard I'm panting after Fern, it's a miracle I'm not getting my balls busted over this. Though that still may come.

Once back at work and in my truck, I tear off for home and take a record-breaking fast shower. Just enough to get all the sweat and grime off me.

Driving to her house, I sing along to the radio and feel gloriously alive and happy. I don't even have time to get out of the truck before Fern's hurrying out of the house and opening up the passenger door and hopping inside.

She smooths down the skirt of her green dress and buckles up. The safety belt nestles into the valley of her breasts, highlighting the soft mounds.

"All set?" I ask, pulling my hungry gaze away from her breasts.

Fern flashes me a tight smile and nods.

Despite our kisses this afternoon, she seems nervous and anxiety swirls in my chest as worry eats at me. Did I do something wrong?

"I'm a widow," she blurts out as I pull out of her driveway. "I should have told you when you asked me out to dinner."

Coming to a smooth stop at the fork in the road, I look over and take in her pale face and the way she's worrying her lower lip. The lower lip that I worshiped the hell out of earlier.

Was I wrong? Did I imagine something between us that simply isn't there? It didn't feel like she was opposed to me kissing her. Hell no, the way her little body shuddered and squirmed against me nearly set my cock off like a rocket.

Now it feels like a kick to my gut, knowing I'm competing with the memory of another man. A man that had his ring on her finger and probably loved the hell out of her. A man that she loved.

Swallowing hard, I merge into traffic and continue driving to the restaurant. "Shit. I'm sorry, Fern. How long ago did your husband die?"

"Five months."

Double damn. If it were a few years, I might have a chance. But five months? My hopes crash hard and the good mood I've been in disappears.

It's selfish, but I need to know. I have to hear the words from her lips. "You're probably not ready to date yet. You still love him." A tiny flare of hurt burns unpleasantly. "You could have said no when I asked you to dinner," I mutter.

Bright and high bitter laughter fills the truck. "Oh, no worries there. I'm very over him. I was over him long before he died. It's one of my biggest regrets that I didn't divorce him a year ago."

She grimaces, peeking over at me from the corners of her eyes. "That sounds dreadful, doesn't it?"

I laugh as relief fills me and my sour mood evaporates. "No, it sounds like it's good for me."

At the restaurant, I hustle to open the truck door for her, but she beats me to it. "Sorry," she mutters as she slides down on her own. "I'm not used to a gentleman."

I tuck her hand into the crook of my elbow and guide her up to the bright red double doors of the Chinese buffet. "My momma taught me and my brothers how to treat a lady."

Her fingers tighten on my arm. "I like your momma already." I grin and feel like the luckiest man on the planet.

That feeling persists as we eat and chat.

I truly don't want to bring him up much, but obviously he was a part of her life, and it sounds like she has some baggage to work through. "Do you wanna talk about your husband?"

She aggressively dunks a fried chicken wonton in plum sauce, her eyes never leaving the food. "No."

"Okay, fair enough." I take a sip of soda and smile. "Tell me about you, Fern."

Her jaws work on the food far longer than it should take to chew a simple wonton. "There's not much to tell," she finally says, patting at her mouth with a flimsy brown paper napkin.

Leaning forward, I take a chance and capture her hand, stroking my fingers over hers. "I don't believe that for a moment."

Laughing, her hand relaxes beneath mine. "Well, believe it. I'm twenty-six, I work at Bob's diner, and have no pets and no gardening skills."

"I'm thirty-six, you already know where I work, and I also don't have any pets."

"What about gardening?" she challenges.

I hold up my hands and wiggle both thumbs. "Is there such a thing as black thumbs? Because no houseplants survive longer than two months with me."

She giggles. "And I'm trusting my landscaping to you!"

Joining in, I chuckle and shake my head. "Honey, we're spreading grass seed. There's no skill involved in that."

Her brown eyes gleam and we sit and stare at each other. The world could burn around us and still I wouldn't be able to look away from her. This woman makes me feel things that are both unexpected and exciting. I want to know her inside out and every which way.

The guys at work might snicker over my infatuation, but I don't care. They won't be laughing when I make Fern my wife.