Western Spark

A Doozy - Part 5

It was just dark when Peony shooed Liz back to their house to get ready for school. She'd finish up some chores and then maybe call it an early night as well. She had been thinking all afternoon about what happened in the barn office, and she was exhausted from it. So she distracted herself with cleaning, realising too late she'd dusted the same picture frames in the main living room twice. It was too quiet in the house.

Sunday nights were always quiet, but tonight, with the house empty, it yawned out, cavernous. Normally Brady would join her in the kitchen for a snack before bed, and he'd talk her ear off about the latest horse in the stable. Tanner would sometimes join them, quietly listening, reading cattle reports.

She was so fond of those boys. If Tanner took a hug from her, it was always a highlight of her day. His return hug was always brief, but strong, and often she wondered if he didn't need it more than he let on. Brady was a hugger by nature, and he would throw an arm around her as she did dishes to say thank you, or when he left for school, taking her coffee out of her hands and chugging it back with a mischievous glint in his eye. He was the sweet one, always thinking of others. He reminded her so much of Keith, she knew the day was coming when that secret couldn't be hidden any more.

That would be a day to remember, and hopefully one to celebrate, not dread. No matter what, Peony prayed she and Liz could be there for the boys when it happened.

The mudroom door slammed as she was stowing her dusting kit back into the cleaning closet and she hesitated. That could only be Brett, and her stomach knotted. Could she face him tonight? She didn't have much choice.

She also needed to answer him, in some way. She couldn't deny she wanted him too. Sex, a chance to reclaim a part of her as a woman that had long been dormant was tempting. He was a strong and sexy man, one that could likely send her spinning much more effectively than her vibrator ever could. The intimacy was the difference. It had been so long since she'd been held, and kissed, and touched. The ache for that connection had echoed through her all afternoon.

She was still standing in the closet and jumped in surprise when his big frame threw a shadow across her, leaning on the doorframe. His dark hair was falling over his forehead, dented from wearing his hat, and he had a distinct odour of horse.

"What are you doing in here?" he asked, his eyes raking her. She put down the microfiber cloth she had been twisting in her hand and she let out a breath to stay calm.

"Just finishing up for the day. Have you eaten?" she answered, pasting on a smile, avoiding his eyes, or any part of him that would cause her to falter in her control right now.

"No."

"I'll set you up a plate you can heat up after you shower," she answered quickly, and walked out of the closet. Brett moved out of her way, but she was fully aware of the heat coming from his body as they passed close together. She held herself back from touching him and setting off the spark.

"Peony," he growled, his voice rough and ragged. She stopped. That tone was one she'd never heard before. She turned slowly. He had his hands in his pockets, and hadn't moved from the doorway, the simple lightbulb hanging from the ceiling illuminating him from the back.

"Yes?" she said, faltering as their eyes met. The questioning hesitation in his eyes, and the set of his shoulders told her everything. He was as nervous as she was. Quite different from the cool, confident man from this afternoon.

"I apologise for what happened today in my office,"

"You don't have to, I—"

"I said I wouldn't, but I think I need to. I put you in a position that I shouldn't have," he interrupted, and then took another breath, looking away down the hall. She waited. She could be patient with him. He was a man of few words, and this was a speech for him.

"I will never ask you or your daughter to leave this place, even if what happened between us comes to nothing. This is your home."

"Thank you," Peony managed. It was a big thing for him to say, and her heart thumped when he said it. She let her guard down as his eyes moved back to her. She had an urge to touch him again. There was that heart of gold, hidden deep underneath his layers of grief and regret. This was the Brett she knew, and cared about a great deal outside of this physical attraction they were sharing.

"I also meant what I said in the office," he added and stood straight up, his eyes piercing her, smouldering. "Offer still stands. I want you, Peony."

He strode away towards the master suite, and Peony slapped her hand out to the wall, sucking in a breath to steady herself. If she took that offer, what did that mean? Casual wasn't an option with Brett, he never did anything by halves. But a relationship wasn't in the cards either. They'd both done that to disastrous results. Not likely he'd want that again, and she certainly didn't.

At least she thought she didn't.

She made her way to the kitchen, and was just finished plating some lasagna when he joined her, in a fresh t-shirt and plaid flannel pyjama bottoms, his hair slicked back and damp. He pulled down a water glass and filled it at the tap. He smelled like sandalwood, or some sort of manly Old Spice soap, which hit her all at once and she took a shaky breath. A clean man fresh out of the shower was a heady, sexy thing.

She knew it was too late to say she didn't want him, and that wasn't going to change any time soon. Every movement and look sent her nerves jangling, but she felt comfortable in that space with what he'd said to reassure her.

It wasn't nervousness that was affecting her right now, it was anticipation.

She wordlessly handed him the plate, and he carried it over, shoving it in the microwave. Once it was humming away, he leaned on the counter on the other side of the sink and they stared at one another. He drained his water, then stepped over to her.

She didn't move back from him, his nearness almost a relief. Before she could allow him to touch her—or touch him for that matter—she needed to know what he wanted. If nothing else, they needed to be on the same page.

"What are you asking of me, Brett? A warm body, or something more?" she murmured. He stiffened as she said it, his eyes hardening, and he slowly reached out to touch her face, fingers sliding down her cheek.

"I'm not sure I know that yet," he admitted, and let out a breath that sounded both nervous and frustrated. "It's been a long time since—"

"I can relate to that," she replied, understanding the impulses he was dealing with were just like hers. They'd have to figure it out together. Maybe that was all it needed to be right now; companionship and mutual need.

"Well, no matter what it is, go slow with me."

His hand slid in under her hair, a soft, growly moan from him as his lips hovered over hers. "I'll ask this time. May I?" he rumbled.

"Yes," she breathed, and bridged the distance to his mouth herself.