Chapter 18

[Brock]

I’m grateful for the logs I split yesterday, because by midday, the power goes out. With weather warnings of six to forty-eight inches, which is quite a disparity in prediction, the outdoors has become a winter whiteout. We can’t see more than a few centimeters out the windows, which rattle a little as the wind howls. The scene could be considered frightful, but inside is delightful, as the song goes.

“The day feels ripe for napping,” Pear says, wandering up beside me near the window as the light inside the house fades. We haven’t broken out candles, letting the blaze in the fireplace illuminate the room.

“I feel like I’m totally slacking,” I counter. While Pear has given me list after list of items to complete, I’ve finished the tasks quicker each day, spending more time lingering in her company than working on projects.

I need a good report from Pear. Need to prove myself to Cap. I can’t lose the fire department.

However, I am more concerned now that I’ll lose Pear. She hadn’t offered a definition for us the other night and I don’t want to ask again. However, I really want to keep seeing her somehow.

“When do you return to Atlanta?” She’d told me she arrived on Christmas day, and the calendar has almost reached two weeks, a standard period of vacation leave.

“Oh. Uhm. About that?” She ducks her head and brushes hair around one ear. “I’m actually not returning.”

“Really?” I clear my throat after the too-surprised and too-hopeful response. “I mean, really.”

With her eyes fixated on the swirling snow outside the window, she explains, “I quit my job.”

“What?” My shock cannot be contained. “Why?”

Pear sighs before offering a quick glance at me then returns her gaze to the window. “It’s a long story. ”

“And we have time.” When the power went out, a local outage notice came through our cell phones with no estimation on when the electricity will be restored. Glancing back toward the window, I estimate it won’t be anytime soon, so we have plenty of time to discuss Pear’s situation.

“I told you that Reggie had a gambling issue. He’d set us . . . me . . . back three years with his delinquent tax payments. I was grateful I had a job, and I was good at what I did, but I didn’t love the place.”

Pear has already told me she worked in sales for a major pre-packaged food distributor. They sold anything from frozen peas to fresh chicken.

“Anyway, around the time I’d made my final pay-off to the government my rental lease was coming to an end. We’d lost the house to collections. And I was ready for a change.”

She waves down her body, emphasizing her outfit which is her loose-fit white pants and fuzzy white sweater along with thick cabin socks on her feet.

“Thus, the white,” she reminds me. “But I knew I needed more than a wardrobe update. I needed a life shift. Plus, my boss is a dick.”

I chuckle at her vehement dislike. “What’d he do?”

“He’d hit on me one too many times and I was tired of playing nice. I finally told him I was reporting him to HR if he didn’t knock it off. Not to mention, his wife was sweet, and she didn’t deserve someone like him in her life.”

“You threatened him?”

“Not exactly.” She continues to avoid looking at me.

“Well, tell me what exactly .”

“Ever want to throat punch your boss?” Her voice lowers.

“Not literally.” I choke, laughter in my tone again. My boss is her dad, and while I’d had my moments with Cap, and any other authoritative person, I’d never hit someone out of anger. What happened with Dane and me was a joke, outside of the department, and on our private time. However, the incident had created a ruckus within the department as a public display of aggression. Another strike against me .

“Well, I did.” Pear finally turns to look at me.

“You mean you thought about throat punching him?” I ask to clarify but the churn in my stomach tells me there’s more to the story.

“No. I throat punched him.” She imitates by curling her middle finger and ring finger inward, making a bull-like formation with her forefinger and pinky. “Right to the Adam’s apple.”

“Jesus.” I swallow hard as if I can feel the short, quick jab to my neck. “Why did you do that?”

“Because he grabbed my ass.”

“What the fuck?”

“Yep. And that’s when I told him I would report him to HR. After he threatened that he’d report me for assault, he told me I was fired. I told him he didn’t have to fire me. I quit.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.” She sighs again. Her shoulders fall. Her arms cross over her chest. “Life implosion two-point-oh.”

I wrap my arm around her shoulders and tug her against my side. “Does your dad know all this?” I’d like to assume Cap does, but somehow, I don’t think so.

“Not yet.” Her head falls forward again. “I was hoping to tell him everything when I got here.” She slowly lifts her head, turning her face to me. “He doesn’t know the half of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“He knows Reggie and I divorced but he doesn’t know about the money. I didn’t want him to worry. I’d handled it. But now I’m free of that debt and that episode in my life, and I want a fresh start.”

“Sounds like you’re looking for a second chance, more than your life imploded a second time.”

Pear weakly smiles. “Dad is going to be so angry about the details I held back, but I’m hopeful that by telling him I’m moving to Chicago, he won’t be half as upset.”

“You’re moving to Chicago?” Clearly, this decision had been made before her arrival at the farm, before she met me, but a small part of me does a weird hop-skip-tap of my feet in mid-air because she isn’t leaving. She’ll be following me to Chicago.

Well, not following me but living there.

“Where will you live?”

“I was hoping to crash at Dad’s for a little while. Not for long, though, as he only has two bedrooms, and the second room is an office slash den for him.”

I’ve been to Cap’s place. It’s nice but small. The place will be cramped.

“Where is all your stuff?”

“In a storage pod, and in a holding pattern until I know where I’ll live. My car, however, is being delivered to Chicago.” She tips her arm and glances at her wrist like she’s wearing a watch. “Today.”

Pear peers out the window once more. Not a chance that delivery is being made if this winter storm is happening in Chicago.

“So, you came here to talk with Cap. Only he left for twelve days. But you’ll be going home with him after he returns.” My mind is bumbling through the steps, always arriving at the same result.

She is going to Chicago, too .

“That’s the plan. For now.”

“And what about a job? Do you have savings?”

Pear scoffs. “Not enough to live on. Reggie wiped me out. And I’d been holding out for a promised Christmas bonus that didn’t happen. But even if I need to wait tables for a while, I’ll do it. I just want time to rethink the direction my life has taken and then straighten the path toward something else.”

“Like what? Do you have any ideas on what you’d like to do?” I’m boggled by all that I’ve heard.

She’d been harassed. She throat-punched her boss. She worked hard to dig out of a financial hole she hadn’t dug in the first place and she’s turning her life upside down to start over.

She was the superhero here. Not me.

“When I went into therapy for my head, I also started working out for my body. Not necessarily to lose weight but to help my heart, maybe slim some pounds, but also to build strength and stamina. In my limited free time, I’ve been working on becoming a certified fitness instructor. I want to help others understand our bodies are individual and unique, in whatever shape or size that might be. What isn’t normal is everything else we learn about how we should look or what we should wear. Even what we should or shouldn’t eat. It’s about finding happiness within one’s self, and honestly, fuck everyone else.”

Happiness. She’d mentioned the emotion before when we discussed Nick and what he might do with his life. Not that a job was the end all, be all of happiness. Joy was the important part, especially when you spent eight to twelve hours of your day working.

If one-third of your time applies to employment, shouldn’t that job be worth your time?

Scoffing at her desire to be a fitness instructor would be insensitive. She’d been making six-figures, and she wanted to downsize to an hourly-wage, but I’d learned the hard way that money does not equate happiness.

Time should. The time you spend at work. The time you give to others. The time you are alone.

Time is more valuable than money.

You can spend time, but you can never recoup it. You can’t save it up. You can’t earn more.

You only have the time that is given to you, which is your life, and it should not be wasted.

With that thought, I cup the back of Pear’s neck. “I think being a certified fitness instructor in Chicago sounds like a great idea.” I might even know a guy or two who could help her out. Find her a gym. Recommend individuals to be trained. It was all do-able, and it meant a future for her. And maybe for us.

I kiss her slowly at first, but the crackling energy around us quickly builds like the roaring fire in the stone hearth. With the power out, only the dancing glow of the flames skittering among the logs illuminates the room.

Pear shivers .

“Are you cold?” I rub my hands up and down her arms. The heat in the house has been slowly diminishing while the temp in this front room remains relatively consistent.

“I’m okay,” Pear lies as another shiver ripples through her.

“I have an idea.” Leaving her for a moment, I go to her bedroom and remove all the quilts and blankets from the bed, tucking the pillows underneath my arms as well. Returning to the living room, I spread out a blanket and then position the dining room chairs in a formation that supports another blanket over the top of the high backs, forming a blanket igloo.

I toss the pillows inside the space and return to Cap’s room for more pillows and blankets.

With our cozy den complete, Pear and I crawl inside, and the heat centralizes around us.

“I haven’t made a blanket fort in forever.” Pear stares overhead at the blanket design above us. “If only we had fairy lights.”

The miniature lights would add to the ambiance, but I like the atmosphere. We agreed to conserve our phone batteries by shutting off the devices, only turning them on once each hour to check weather reports. In the meantime, we have quite the romantic setting with the fire blazing and the blanket tent surrounding us.

I want this cocoon around us to stop time and make Pear mine.

“Since you’re planning to be a certified fitness instructor, I was wondering if you could help me with my flexibility,” I flirt, running the tip of my finger up her arm.

“Is this another one of your weak pickup lines?” she flirts back.

“Do I need a pickup line?”

Pear shifts to her side, facing me. “You could still try to woo me.”

“Woo you?” I huff, good-natured.

“Lay it on thick. Let’s see what you got.”

“Okay.” I smirk. “Countdown on.”

“Countdown? Like when the clocks kept rolling into a new year? ”

And I kissed her until we were both balls of sexual energy, ready to burst. I shake my head. “This is a countdown to all the things I cherish about you.”

Pear blinks in surprise. Game on .

“Have I told you how heavenly you are, Paradise?”

She rolls her eyes.

“How you’re like a ripe pear that needs to be savored.”

“Weak,” she mutters but a smile curls her mouth.

I shift, sitting upright to remove one of her thick socks and then the other. “How you might have once dressed like a dark turtle but you’re more like a white dove, offering peace, penance, and compassion.”

“Brock.” She laughs until her eyes catch on mine.

I crawl over her and reach for the hem of her shirt, removing her arms before tugging the sweater over her head. “You’re solid like a fence post.”

“A fence—”

I cut off her disgruntled sound with a finger over her lips. “Strong. Resilient. A survivor. You’ve stood up to a lot over the years, but tonight, I want you to relax. Let me be in charge.”

“Okay.” She swallows hard and licks her lips.

“Do you know what I thought when we stood beneath the stars and listened to the owls?”

Pear shakes her head on the pillow while I pull down her pants and tug a blanket over her cool skin.

“ Who ”—I coo—“is this woman and how can I win her over?” Win her heart .

I fold to my side beside her and prop up on my arm. Using my finger, I trace down her nose and around her eyes, before trailing over her lips.

“We have five senses and yet they aren’t enough. Not only do I want to taste and touch, see and smell and hear you, but I want to feel you. I want to be inside you.” I drag my finger over her heart and tap twice.

“Fireman,” she whispers the nickname with awe, but she has no idea the adoration I have for her. What she’s dealt with. What she’s overcome. I promised her I’d get some mental help, and I’ll hold to that vow. I want to work on me. I want to be better for her.

“Did you know there are six pleasure points on the body?” I lean forward for her mouth. “Here.” The kiss is only a sip as I have more areas to count on her body.

“And here.” I run my finger along the column of her throat, and she tips her head, allowing me to press another kiss there.

Tugging down the blanket I’d wrapped over her chest, I pluck at a taut nipple peaking underneath her bra. “Here too.” I move to the other breast to give that nipple a tweak as well.

Pear does not disappoint as she arches her back, as if desiring that I linger longer but I have more places to travel along her body.

Pushing more of the blanket off her, I run my hand up her inner thigh and she easily spreads her legs.

“These.” I hum as she knows how much I love her solid legs.

“Of course, here,” I add, reaching around her and cupping her ass as I wedge myself between her calves.

“And the final spot.” I blow a hot breath over her covered pussy.

Pear whimpers. “I think that was seven.”

“Math isn’t my strong suit.” I run my nose along her panties, inhaling the musky scent of her arousal. “But if seven is a lucky number, you’re my number one.”

A moment passes before Pear figures out that math equation. “You’re my number one, too.”

I smile before pressing a kiss to her warm heat, but I’m not done counting all the ways I adore her.

“Eight,” I blurt.

“Eight what?”

“The number of years I’ve been waiting for someone like you.” There’d been five years since my divorce but three years of misery before it was final. And I’ve been holding off from committing to anyone new because my girl was out there, somewhere, waiting on me.

Now, we’re here .

“Brock,” Pear whispers, her voice thick. Her delicate hand cups my cheek so I’m forced to hold on her eyes which glisten. So beautiful. So breathtaking. So full of hope, and I never want to disappoint her.

“Are you a cat?” I tease, popping the intensity of our stare. “I have nine lives I’d like to live with you.”

Pear laughs, deep and rich and curling at the waist as I jest with words I intend seriously. I think I’ve been waiting for her my entire life. For so long, I’ve been too afraid to admit it, to recognize this yearning inside me. Too frightened I’ve missed my chance at happiness. Too scared to hope happiness was still out there for me.

“Ten.” I pop up to all fours and grab her hand, sucking each finger on her left before moving to her right. As I lower toward her feet, she squeals.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Suck your toes?” I sure fucking would and when I clamp my teeth around her pinky one, she stills. I give each toe a nip before running my hands up her legs. Her firm ankles. Her solid calves. Her thick thighs.

“Perfect,” I hum, reaching her hips and tugging at her underwear, dragging it down her body to remove it. “You’re an eleven on a scale of one to ten.”

“That might be the cheesiest line yet.”

However, the next sound out of her is a gasp as I lick her seam, splitting her open to shove my tongue between her lower lips, and kiss her. Her fingers slide through my hair, gently yanking at the short ones on the back of my head. The sharpness spurs me on.

I sip and I suck. I dip and I devour. She’s a Christmas surprise and a New Year’s celebration. And I want her for every holiday in between the start of a new year and the end.

For now, I take my time to bring her to the crest and tip over the edge. When her legs stiffen and then her thighs clap on the sides of my head, I double down my worship of her body until she’s champagne overflowing a cup and bubbling on my tongue. Until she cries out my name and moans with an unsung hallelujah .

Once spent, I climb back up her body and sit back to hastily remove my flannel shirt and the thermal I wear underneath, then I roll to the side to kick off my jeans and boxer briefs. In no time, I’m between her thighs again.

“Is this okay?” I ask, fisting myself, long and stiff, and desperate to be inside her.

“Condom? I’m on the pill, but still . . . condom.”

I scramble backward, pulling out the few packets I shoved in my jeans pocket. I hadn’t planned on this happening during my twelve-day retreat. The condoms were in my duffle bag, and I’ve never been so grateful as when I’d found them there the other day.

As I roll on the condom, I watch Pear slide her fingers between her legs.

“You startin’ without me, snowflake?”

“Keeping myself warm for you.”

Fuck. She’s going to be the death of me. A heavenly one.

With her thighs spread and cradling me between them, I line myself up once more.

“You set the pace, baby. I can go fast or slow. I can be rough or sweet. Your call.”

“Yes.” One single word gives me permission to do it all.

But first, I slide forward, watching as her body welcomes me inside her indescribable heat. Her opening is soaked, and I easily glide inward, awed as I disappear within her.

“Snowflake,” I choke at the stranglehold she has on me. Clenching me tight within her. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“The best,” she groans, tipping back her head and arching her back as if she can draw me deeper.

I’m almost to the hilt and I pull back, teasing to withdraw completely when her hands clap on my shoulder blades. Her fingertips scratch down my back, inching toward my ass.

I surge forward and we both gasp.

“Fuck,” I moan.

“Yeah,” she whimpers .

In and out I move, bringing myself to the brink and then rushing home to fill her. Pear’s body chases mine, letting me retreat before squeezing to keep me inside, trapping my head with a hold so tight I never want her to let go. I thrust inward, setting a rhythm of long pulls and quick pushes until we’re both a mess of sweaty skin and ragged breaths.

“I want to feel you break around me.”

“Brock,” she cries out, kneading her fingers into my backside, spreading my cheeks apart. With her legs spread wide and her knees raised, I grab her shin and tug her leg toward her chest, opening her up to me.

“Yes,” she groans.

My body detects what I’ve learned about hers before this moment. How her legs stiffen. As if all the pressure collides in one spot before she combusts, falling into the release like the burst of a firework, lighting up the sky before floating back down to the ground. Sated and spent.

Her head falls back, and I wait out the final flicker of her flame before building up my own inferno, rocking into her harder, diving deeper.

“Pear,” I strain. After the way she was milking my dick, I’m going to spill any second. With a final clench from her, my dick gives out and I release on a sudden jolt. Pinpricks of light dance before my eyes, blinding me for a second. I can’t do anything but feel her around me. The slickness of her release. The tension of her channel, and the warmth of her cradling me inside her, embracing my own explosion.

My forehead falls to the pillow just above her shoulder as my breath comes ragged and quick. My heart hammers in my chest while my thoughts race.

Only one thing is clear. I’ve fallen for this woman.

Similar to the blizzard outside, I’ve lived my life like a raging storm, only to be calmed by the stillness of one snowflake.

Pear turns her head on the pillow and kisses just below my ear. Her lips against my sensitive skin are delicate, sweet, and innocent.

And the bastard that I am, I want to steal all her goodness and keep it for myself.