In The Hay (Uninhibited in Apple Trail, Arkansas) (9 page)

Chapter Eleven

Nicolette’s thoughts were gone. And likely her mind too, and she really wished her clothes would join them. How had he
known
. Or suspected even. It’d taken her an hour to finally decide not to wear panties. He’s here five minutes and was already guessing.

With his hands and mouth on her, his words breathing in her ear, she’d nearly bent slightly over and told him to look and find out. The only thing that had stopped her was the dough being squeezed in her hands and knowing they’d get nowhere before being interrupted because the fresh bread she’d made and put in the oven would be burning.

She dried her hands on a towel and swore she would make it through this meal and then she would be all his.

“This isn’t near as much fun without you,” he grumbled.

She couldn’t look at him, not just yet. She had to cool the burn in her body first if she wanted to make it through supper. “I have to check the soup and make sure it’s not sticking.”

“Go do that and then come back. What if I screw up? You should be right here with me.”

“Roll it paper thin and you’ll be fine.”

She stirred the pot and checked the bread. It was golden brown and fluffy. The fresh yeast filled the room and she pulled it from the oven, gaining a look from Drew as she slid it on the counter. He wasn’t looking at the bread though, but at her.

She leaned over his shoulder, careful to keep enough distance so she didn’t touch him.

“Nice work.”

“Call me Gordon Ramsey.” His charm flashed with the wink of his eye and she couldn’t keep her hands off any longer.

“All right, Mr. Ramsey.” Moving behind him, she slipped her hands under his shirt and dragged her fingertips along his belly.

He sucked in a breath. Forget eating. The bread was out. The soup was on low. She dipped her thumbs in his waistband and traced along his sides and to the middle of his back. She lifted his shirt and kissed the hot skin between his shoulder blades. He stilled and she smiled, liking this idea of his keeping his hands busy.

“Keep rolling, Mr. Ramsey,” she whispered.

“
Dre
—w.” He choked on his own name and had to clear his throat. “That’s what I want to hear you whisper.”

“You know what I like?” She eased her hands up his back and gripped his shoulders. “These. They give a girl something to hold on to.”

She squeezed her nails into his skin and his strong muscles flexed under her palms. He rolled faster. His breath was shuddering out.

“And here.” She dropped her arms and reached around him, flattening her hands on his chest. “Best. Pillow. Ever.”

And he spun. The rolling pin forgotten, flour flicked up off his hands and his mouth crushed over hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in tight, trying to crawl closer against him. Yes. Yes. Lord have mercy, but yes. She wanted skin on skin. Heat over heat. After the slip-n-slide, she'd had all too little time with him in the shower before the rain had cleared up and he’d reported to work.

It wasn’t enough. These brief encounters here and there were not near enough, but tonight would change that.
After
supper they would never have to stop. She pulled back, her hands flat on his chest. “Roll the dough.”

He grinned and cupped her ass. “Let’s forget supper.”

She shook her head, trying desperately to pull a full breath in her lungs. “Eat first. Then we won’t have to stop for anything tonight.”

He turned and picked the roller up as instructed. He rolled and rolled. She leaned over his arms, careful about not touching him. It was too tempting. “Looks good. Back up and let me cut it.”

He hovered close with his hand on her lower back while she rolled the dough into a long tube and then lifted her knife and cut strips. But then he stepped behind her and lifted her hair. She had it up, but still the ponytail was thick and hot on her neck. Cool air feathered across her nape and she grabbed the counter to keep from falling.

“About how much longer?”

She tried hard to keep the moan out of her voice, but it couldn’t be helped. He was rubbing her shoulders now. “Um, ten minutes tops 'til we’re sitting down eating.”

“If I stay, we’ll never make it. I’m going to set your pool up.”

Okay, she had to admit she couldn’t wait to get in that thing. “Thank you.”

“And after we eat, I’m going to take real good care of you.”

She looked over her shoulder and met him with a quick kiss. “I will surely let you.”

He returned to the house just as she was setting bowls of soup down and taking her seat at the table.

He washed his hands and joined her. “You may think it’s crazy, but you’re going to enjoy that kiddie pool.”

She lifted an eyebrow, trying to keep the questionable look on her face. “We’ll see.”

“No seeing about it.” He sat at the table. “I promise, you’re going to like it.” He dipped his spoon in his bowl and tasted. She couldn’t help it, she watched and waited. She knew it tasted good, but she wanted his opinion. A little smile turned his lips. His eyes softened and he sighed. “This is awesome.”

She did all she could not to bounce like a kid at his approval. It was silly, but she had worked on it and they hadn’t exactly done a lot of eating together and she wasn’t even sure it was something he would eat or if he’d force it down to be polite. “You doubted me?”

He shook his head. “No. I just, I rarely get home cooked meals.”

Her eyes nearly fell out of her face. “What do you eat?”

“Pizza. Burgers. Chinese. Whatever I pick up on the way home. It’s what I was raised on.”

Her nose curled up. “That’s disgusting.”

“You don’t eat fast food?”

She waved her hand and sipped from her tea. “No, I eat it. What’s disgusting is that fast food is all you eat. Your mom never cooked for you?”

He snorted and shook his head. “No. We got a little home cooking around holidays, but nothing grand or anything. She’d heat up a ham. Open some green beans.”

She frowned, thinking of how much she loved the holidays because they were an even grander time around the table that usual. “That's not home cooking.”

“Compared to what we normally got it was.” He shrugged. “Mom was busy running the business with Dad.”

“My mom was teaching me to bake bread when I was eight.”

“I bet that was fun. That you got to do something with her that you both love.”

She stared at her bowl, remembering the hours she’d spent standing on a stool to be high enough at the counter to work the bread. Beautiful sunny days she’d missed while learning to make bread, sweets,
doughs
of all kinds because Mom thought she would enjoy it one day. What do you know, for once someone was right about something Nicolette would like.

Only, she hadn’t really enjoyed it until today. When she’d been rolling the bread, she’d known all the smells, the softness of the warm center of the bread, the crunchy crust and how the butter would melt. That part was all routine, but it was imagining Drew being pleased with those things that had finally made cooking fascinating to her and made her take care as she’d made dinner.

He reached under the table and rubbed her thigh. “What’s bothering you?”

She blinked and looked back at him. In fact, while she’d been planning her menu, she’d been thinking of what Drew would think. Looking for her clothes, she’d been thinking Drew. Nearly her entire day had centered around Drew.

And she was fixing to have to give him up.

And it was going to hurt like hell.

She sighed, wondering exactly when she’d fallen so hard for him that her entire day had suddenly revolved around him. “Nothing.”

“I wish you’d tell me.”

She stared at him for a long moment, wanting to keep these feelings, wanting to live in them and feel them. Part of her wanted to share them. But, a relationship wasn’t what they were about. Unless…unless Drew was feeling the same? “Do you really?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

She hesitated, not wanting to say the wrong thing and ruin the night. She’d rather hide how he was making her feel than destroy the time left. “Is that what we’re all about?”

“Is what,
what we’re all about
?”

“This relationship. That we talk about those things. About our families and stuff. Because we really don’t. Or haven’t. But is that what you want? That we do that?”

He stared for a long moment and swallowed thickly. “We can talk about them if we want to.”

She wadded a napkin in her hands, understanding his answer. It was the way he’d stared with eyes open like someone was fixing to run him over with a truck. He didn’t feel the same. She sighed. “I just don’t want to become confused with what we are. I’ll start confiding in you and then I…” She tried to think her words carefully before saying something wrong. “I might start wanting more. I don’t think that’s what you want.”

He squirmed, readjusted in his chair and chugged half his glass. “Not at this time, no. I’m trying to work to take over part of my family's business and expand. Having something more than what we have right now would be a distraction. Hell, my dad would call just being with you a distraction and unfocused.”

She didn’t want to admit how hard that hurt to hear. Not that he was cruel. She’d known the stakes from the beginning. He’d never promised more. She wasn’t going to push for what he didn’t want. “That’s what I’m talking about. I don’t want to muddy an “us” when there’s not an “us” but just some fun while we’re here.”

His smile looked tight before he dropped his gaze and shoved his half-eaten bowl away. “Yep.” She pushed the hair back from her face and did the unthinkable. The most horrific thing ever. She put her elbows on the table and rested on them.

And he was right, as much as she hated to admit it. She didn’t need more, even though he did bring her some focus. With him, things seemed to make a little more sense, but even so, she didn’t know what she wanted. While all her friends were engaged, married, talking about babies, Nicolette still couldn’t answer the age old question of
What do you want to be when you grow up?

“Hey.” Drew stood up from his chair and moved behind her. He cupped her shoulders and squeezed, massaged. She leaned back, wanting his embrace but only getting the cold hard back of the chair. “Let’s go outside and get in the hot tub.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Hot tub?”

He grinned and held out his hand. “You’ll have to come with me to see.”

It was another offering. An offering for more of their surface relationship. She slipped her hand in his, taking what she could, when she could. He tugged her out of the chair and hurried her toward the door.

He kept a hold of her hand once they were outside and ran with her around the house, into the corner near the tall privacy fence. The water was less than half full, but looked refreshing on the humid night after she’d spent much of the day around a hot oven and a boiling pot. He lifted the hose and opened up the sprayer, angling it in the tub. After a few seconds, steam rose from the little pool. He was looking mighty proud.

“Hot water out of the water hose?”

He tossed the nozzle aside. “Takes seconds to attach it to a hot water tank. Now what are you waiting for? Strip, honey. It’s time to find out if there’s a pair of panties under there.”

She refused to let his sarcasm ruin the moment and stripped her shirt overhead and dropped her bra while he watched. She hooked her fingers in her waist band and stopped. “What do you think?”