Chapter 15

fifteen

CANDACE

“Candy!”

I froze at the sound of my mom’s voice.

I hadn’t thought she’d be on the back porch this morning. It was cold. Steal-the-breath-from-your-lungs cold. I knew because I was the one dressed in thin sleep shorts and Mark’s stolen college hoodie, running across the yard in my sneakers with no socks on, trying to get into my warm apartment.

I’d backed out of Mark’s garage fifteen minutes ago while he’d watched from the doorway in nothing but a pair of jeans until I was out of sight.

Late November wasn’t messing around. Frost coated the grass in all directions, a glistening layer that crunched underfoot. I could see my breath puff out white and impatient as I turned to face my mother with goose bumps coating my skin.

I’d been successfully doing the walk of shame and sneaking back into the garage apartment behind the farmhouse several mornings a week for the last month.

Well, maybe not so successfully if my mother’s huge knowing grin told me anything.

With a sigh, I detoured to my parents’ back porch and closed the screen door as quietly as I could, hoping like hell that my dad was still asleep, or just literally anywhere else while I had this conversation with my mom .

She patted the cushion beside her, and after I took a tentative seat, she shared her blanket, throwing it over my legs.

“You want some tea?” she asked before a sip of her own.

“No, thank you,” I replied primly, grateful for the blanket but dreading when I inevitably had to get back up again.

I needed a hot shower. My hair was a tangled mess, twisted and tugged on from Mark’s hands the night before. I’d thrown it up in a messy bun this morning with the intention of cleaning up as soon as I got home.

But here I was, sharing a love seat with my mother while I still smelled like Mark’s sheets. And I was pretty sure I was sporting beard burn on my neck.

Casually I reached up and removed the elastic band, attempting to smooth the strands down to cover my throat.

“You know you don’t need to be embarrassed, honey.”

Oh, I begged to differ. No one wanted their parent catching them after sneaking in from spending the night with their boyfriend. Especially a secret boyfriend I couldn’t even admit to seeing. And it wasn’t like Mark could spend time with me in the garage apartment, not unless we wanted to hide his truck in the fields and try smuggling him in without setting off the new motion-sensor floodlights on the property.

I sighed.

Yes, things with Mark were going great. We’d had a solid month together so far. Homemade dinners at his place. Takeout pizza and movie nights on his couch. Bonfires in the garden. Taking photographs up at Craggy Peak and Juniper Point. And nights in Mark’s bed.

He brought me flowers from his greenhouse for my office. We worked together in the Apple House, and then he’d helped me get the space ready for the tree lot that had kicked off last weekend, following Thanksgiving.

Mark had joined my family for the holiday too. While it had been nice to sit beside him at the dinner table, I couldn’t do more than press my knee against his. I wanted to hold his hand or tease him about the pie we’d baked together and burned the night before because we’d gotten distracted. But secrecy was still paramount, and I had to be careful with my glances .

We still parked my mother’s car in his garage whenever I came over. When I spent the night, I always woke up to a blaring alarm on my phone, signaling it was time to hide what we were to each other, reminding me to get home before someone noticed me missing.

I knew Mark was only doing it for me—for my reputation, and to prevent any awkwardness at work. However, some days it was harder than others to remember the reasons why.

When I was dressing in the dark and pressing sleepy kisses to Mark’s mouth, I felt like I was, once again, someone’s dirty little secret. Guilt hovered just beneath the surface even though I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I was only being with someone I cared about, someone who cared about me in return. There was no secret wife and child this time, no adultery or workplace misconduct. But sometimes my heart had a hard time separating the past from the present.

“You’re an adult,” Mom continued, drawing me out of my worries. “And you don’t need to hide. You can be honest with us. We’ve only ever wanted you to be happy, whatever that may be.”

Her tone changed at the end. I glanced over to read her expression, but she didn’t appear anything beyond open and reassuring.

Briefly, I wondered if my mother could see the secrets I was keeping. Not just my month-long relationship with Mark, my parents’ favorite employee, but the other things I was hiding beneath the surface. The truth about my return to Kirby Falls. My reluctance to leave. How I hadn’t done more than update my résumé and glance at job listings. The way I couldn’t bring myself to apply for a single position anywhere.

For a moment I considered coming clean, admitting that I didn’t want to find another job or move back to the city—any city. I wanted to stay right here and work on the farm with my family, live in my hometown, and be...happy.

But then my mother smiled and patted my knee. “We’re just so happy to have you here, Candy. Even if it’s just for a little bit until you need to get back to your life. Your father and I want you to feel comfortable while you’re home, and if that includes having a... playdate , shall we say?—”

“Oh, God,” I groaned in mortification.

“—then that is fine with your father and me. ”

“No, it’s not!” my dad yelled from just inside the doorway to the kitchen.

I covered my face with my hands as my mother laughed.

“He’s kidding,” she said happily while attempting to pry my fingers away from my heated cheeks. “He knows you’re a grown woman. And sometimes women have needs?—”

“Nope,” I said and stood abruptly, casting the blanket off my legs in the process. I’d rather get hypothermia than have this conversation. “I am not mature enough to discuss this.” Without making eye contact, I hurried toward the screen door. “Thank you for understanding, Mom. Let’s never speak of this again. I will see you later.”

“Bye, sweetie!” she called. Her amusement followed me across the lawn.

I picked up my pace as the wind nipped at my bare legs.

Maybe it was the run-in with my mother and all the feelings it brought up, but afterward, I’d texted Mark to see if I could stay over the following Sunday night.

Monday was his day off next week, and I figured I could just go in late in the hope that we could wake up together, or at the very least, without an alarm getting me up and out of bed before daybreak.

Sunday rolled around, and I parked my car in the garage as usual. Mark made cabbage roll soup for dinner. Apparently, I’d gone twenty-five years without realizing I liked cabbage, or maybe I just liked it the way Mark made it, in a creamy tomato base with rice and ground beef. Either way, dinner had been cozy and comforting, much like the man himself. With it being December, I’d been in the mood to watch something festive, so we streamed Die Hard and argued over whether it was a holiday movie or not.

Later, when we were in bed, I felt like I should give Mark a heads-up about Mom. I didn’t think she’d made the connection between us—I doubted she’d be able to hide her excitement if she’d accurately pieced together who I was having a playdate with.

Good Lord .

My parents loved Mark. He was their star employee and an honorary Judd son. If my mother thought we were seeing each other, she’d go ahead and book the venue for our wedding reception and put together a list of names for her future grandbabies.

I felt an ache at that. Mark would make a great husband and father.

Deliberately pushing those sorts of wistful thoughts away, I turned off the light on the bedside table and snuggled closer to his side. “So, Mom caught me sneaking in the other morning.”

Mark stiffened, his warm body going rigid at my words.

I hurried to add, “She doesn’t know about us.”

“You didn’t tell her?” His voice was cautious, quiet, as if he’d expected me to fold beneath my mother’s early-morning inquisition. Maybe I was reading more into his tone simply because the room was dark and I couldn’t see his facial expressions. Maybe I was hearing accusations where none existed. Maybe I was being too sensitive about all this secrecy because of my past. Chances were high it was all three.

“No, Mark,” I replied evenly. “I know you’re not ready for that. She only wanted to assure me that she didn’t care if I was...seeing someone. She knows I’m a grown woman, and she didn’t want me to feel like I needed to sneak in and out of my own apartment like a rebellious teenager.”

“I see.” His body relaxed on a long, slow exhale.

“So I thought I’d skip the alarm in the morning, go in a little late.”

He pressed a kiss to my temple. “It would be nice to wake up together.”

I breathed a little sigh of relief. Mark did want me here. “Yeah.”

“And not have to shake your comatose body awake, because you could sleep through a tornado.”

I squawked in mock outrage and pinched his side. The skin was easily accessible since Mark was wearing boxer briefs and nothing else. “It’s not my fault I’m a heavy sleeper!”

He yelped out a laugh and twisted away from my grabby hands. “Honey, there’s being a heavy sleeper, and then there’s you. I check your breathing at least once a night.”

Seeking retribution, I pressed my ice-cold feet against his side.

“Holy shit.” He jerked, reaching for my toes to still me and then sandwiching his warm hands on either side of my bare feet. “Are you cold? Why didn’t you tell me? I can turn the heat up.”

His sweetness had me pushing my grinning lips against his shoulder. “I’m fine. My feet just stay cold.”

Mark rubbed my skin as if trying to transfer his body heat to me. “You’re sure?”

“Yep.”

Then he turned on his side to face me, taking my feet and tucking them securely between his muscular calves. Strong arms came around me next, calloused fingers drawing shapes I couldn’t identify on the skin of my back. I nuzzled my face against Mark’s chest, and the last thing I remembered was stubble on my forehead and soft lips telling me he’d keep me warm.

I woke up suddenly the following morning. The kind of disoriented emerging that happens when you lie down for an afternoon catnap and wake up four hours later. I could have been in another country for all I knew. But when my abrupt consciousness started to make sense, I took note of the fact that bright sunlight streamed through the curtains, filling every corner of Mark’s bedroom.

The man himself was seated beside me, fully dressed and freshly showered. He appeared to be holding back laughter, but I forgave him because he also held two cups of steaming coffee. The scent filled my lungs as I groggily pushed up onto one elbow.

Alas, our dreamy wake-up montage complete with slow, sleepy lovemaking in dim early-morning light had not come to pass.

“What time is it?”

“Almost ten,” Mark replied, passing me a mug and making sure I held it securely before releasing his grip on the handle.

“Shit,” I murmured .

He smiled. “I didn’t want you to sleep too late. I didn’t know what you had going on at work today.”

The first sip of caffeine had parts of my brain coming slowly online. “Why didn’t you get me up sooner, when you got up?”

Mark’s grin widened.

I groaned. “You tried and I didn’t budge?”

He nodded. “You looked really cute all curled up and dead to the world.”

I groaned again. “Mom used to have to get a spray bottle to wake me up for school.”

Mark chuckled and took another sip of coffee.

“It would be nice to be a normal sleeper...She said I used to talk, too.”

Mark smirked but said nothing.

I sat up straighter. “Wait. What did I say?”

He hid his growing smile behind his Kirby Falls Farmers’ Market mug.

“Marcus Mercer, you better tell me right this minute.”

Then he did laugh outright. “Marcus is not my first name.”

“I know. But I don’t know your middle name, so I had to make up for it.”

Reaching forward, he swept a strand of hair off my forehead. I could only imagine what a mess it was. “It’s Jeffrey.”

Before I could further demand he recount my sleepy nighttime mumblings, he stood and made for the doorway, calling as he went, “I’ll make you some breakfast. Don’t go back to sleep.”

“Okay,” I agreed, struck with a sudden wave of affection that had my voice emerging quiet and choked.

That sense of warmth and fondness went absolutely nowhere when I eventually unwound myself from the blankets and stood. Because there, on my feet, were a pair of oversized men’s wool socks .

I looked down at the thick fabric that definitely hadn’t been there the night before. Flexing my toes, I thought about Mark’s sweetness. He was always considerate and gentle with me, always made sure I had what I needed—that I was safe and comfortable and content. He was steadfast and loyal, the first person to help out in any situation. Mark volunteered his time and his generosity and he took care of the people he cared about.

He was in the kitchen right now, making me breakfast despite the late hour, because he knew it was my favorite meal.

I made my way to the bathroom across the hall and grabbed my toothbrush from right next to Mark’s in the holder. Then I retrieved an elastic from the countertop and did my best to tame my wild brown hair into a high ponytail. After I finished up, I took off everything but the socks and went to the kitchen.

Mark was at the stove, with his back to me, but he must have heard me approach because he said, “What do you want in your omelet? I have those mushrooms you like and a few cherry tomatoes from the greenhouse. I’m out of bacon though.”

When I stayed quiet, he glanced at me over his shoulder and promptly dropped the spatula he’d been holding.

Grinning, I approached slowly. Then I reached around his body to twist the dial closest to me and turn off the heating stovetop.

“What are you?—”

His words cut off abruptly as I lowered my naked self to my knees before him and undid the button of his jeans.

Mark’s eyes went dark and watchful as I tugged his zipper down and shifted his pants and underwear just far enough to free his hardening cock from the confines of his clothes.

“You don’t have to—” he tried to say, but he was again interrupted when my tongue dragged up the underside of his erection.

I watched him swallow thickly as I reached the head, swirling my tongue and collecting the drop of liquid at the tip. Then I brought my eyes to his as I took him deep inside my mouth.

Mark made a rough sound and reached back to steady himself on the countertop .

He looked at me with so much patience and gentle restraint that some troublemaking hellion inside me—one that had never seen the light of day—wanted to make him lose every ounce of that careful control.

And that was what I set out to do. With hands and lips and tongue and teeth, I fought to drive Mark wild. I relished every strangled moan, each whispered fuck . The way his eyes absorbed my movements and how well I took him.

There was power in giving pleasure, and with the way Mark was looking at me, I felt consumed with it.

His thighs shook beneath my fingertips, and I knew he was getting close. He tugged hard on the line of his restraint and balled his hands into fists. So I smoothed my palms up his legs and used one to grip his length and the other to cup his balls, and I redoubled my efforts.

When Mark finally grasped my ponytail and wound it around his fist, the seductress buried deep inside this consummate good girl gave a victorious shout and a devastating smirk. I bobbed my head in time with his urging, and soon enough, Mark’s movements stilled as he found his release, his panting breaths the only sound in the room.

When he’d recovered, Mark helped me to my feet and opened his mouth, the very obvious offer to reciprocate poised on the tip of his tongue. So I kissed him instead. What I’d done had been for me too.

When I finally pulled away, Mark’s hands were cupping my ass. Grinning, I said, “I’m going to get dressed and then head to work. Bonnie’s meeting me after school, and we’re finishing up the float.”

Judd’s Orchard was part of the annual Kirby Falls Holiday Jamboree, and the parade was happening this week. Normally my family drove a tractor or a truck and threw out candy, but this year, I’d designed a float. It was still rural-parade appropriate, on a trailer hauled behind a pickup truck. But it looked amazing, and I was so excited for the event.

“Do you and Bonnie need any help tonight?”

I got an intense amount of pleasure out of Mark’s loose, still-dazed expression. I smiled and shook my head. “We’re almost done. I’m taking her out to dinner as a thank-you. ”

“You’ll come over after?” His sneaky hands had returned to my backside and he gave a squeeze.

“Yeah.” I laughed, attempting once again to extricate myself. “And I’ll take those mushrooms and Swiss cheese in my omelet if you’re still offering.”

Reluctant fingers trailed along my hips as I pulled away and he replied, “Anything you want.”