309 Wildflower Falls Way Page 6

  “Nothing’s wrong.”

  I nod. “You can let your guard down with me, Aspen. I promise you can trust me.”

  “I do trust you. I swear to you, Wells, this isn’t about anything you’re doing or not doing. Look, my dad raised me to be fiercely independent. He taught me that you can’t go through life relying on other people. I’ve always prided myself on being able to do everything myself.”

  “And I think that’s amazing.”

  “Yeah, well…” She twists her lips. “As good as it is, it’s also spilled over into me being a little too independent. I don’t know how to act in relationships.”

  “That’s not something to feel bad about.”

  “But I’ve missed out on a lot.”

  “We’ve all missed out on things in life. We all have unique experiences. I mean, how many people know what it’s like to run a successful business, let alone do it on their own?”

  “No, I know. And I’m proud of the cafe. But it’s like…my entire life. I have no social life. Before you, I never had a real relationship.”

  “And now you do have one. And you have Carter and Miles as friends, too. And you have your dad. Your life isn’t just all work.”

  She nods slowly, a gentle smile turning up her lips. “No, you’re right. That’s true. And…look, I do want to be more comfortable with things like you putting your arm around me. It’s sweet, Wells. I mean that. It’s just going to take me some time to get used to it, okay?”

  I DON’T PUSH IT, but after a few weeks, Aspen does start to get more comfortable with it. She actually starts initiating some public affection, too—slipping her hand into mine when we’re walking down the street, or lifting her chin for a kiss. I know she’s pushing herself outside of her comfort zone for me, and it means the world to me.

  In those weeks after we first start officially dating, we hang out a lot. We go to movies. I take her to dinner. We hang out with the guys but also spend plenty of time alone. And we make damn good use of the time we spend just the two of us. She also gets on the pill, and being able to have sex without anything between us brings it to a whole other level of hot.

  We’re over at my place one night, cooking dinner together, when I realize how strong my feelings for Aspen really are. We’ve just put the dish of lasagna in the oven, and are hanging out in the kitchen, talking and laughing, and there’s this moment when I look over at her, and I think…holy shit, I’m in love with her.

  And it’s not just that moment, either. The feeling stays. By the time we’ve eaten dinner and have the dishes cleaned up, the words are still pulsing in my head.

  I’m in love with this girl. Absolutely in love with her.

  After dinner we settle onto my couch and start watching some old sci-fi flick that’s on TV. Aspen cuddles against me and I wrap my arm around her. I kiss her forehead, feeling nearly overwhelmed by my feelings for her.

  I don’t know if she has a sixth sense about it or what, but she looks up at me with questioning eyes.

  “Did you say something?” she asks.

  “Nope.”

  She smiles and shifts closer to kiss me. I’m pretty sure it’s meant to be a quick kiss, but when I kiss her back, things just kind of…slow down. The second kiss leads to a third, and the third to a fourth, each one becoming progressively more sensual.

  I drop my mouth to her neck and she angles her head and moans. My hand slides over her hips and then over to her zipper. I can practically feel her body vibrate against me.

  Aspen lifts her hips and helps me get her jeans off. But when she reaches for my zipper, I shake my head.

  “Want to taste you, baby,” I say. I kiss my way down her stomach and slide off the couch, positioning myself between her legs.

  She’s got these little pastel pink panties on—the last time she was wearing these, we’d been so hot for each other that I didn’t even take them off, I just pulled them to the side and entered her. This time, though, I hook my fingers around the sides and slowly drag them off.

  I urge her creamy thighs open and kiss my way up the insides of them, driven wild by the feminine scent of her. By the time my lips reach her pussy, I’m hard as a rock and she’s quivering with anticipation.

  I lave my tongue over her clit, eliciting a sweet moan from her. She spreads her legs wider as my tongue explores her sex. I’ve done this countless times over the past few weeks, but every time is better than the last. She tastes so damn good. Smells so damn good. I grip onto her hips and lick her harder, drawing higher moans from her lips.

  I drag my tongue down to her slit and push it inside of her, tasting her honey, feeling her sex clench around my tongue.

  “Oh god,” she gasps. She runs a hand through my hair, her fingers tightening as I dart my tongue in and out of her. I can feel her whole body coiling tighter and tighter as she gets closer to her release.

  I withdraw my tongue and insert a finger into her, then pump it in and out while I move my mouth back up to her swollen clit. I suck it, lick it, savor it.

  She’s breathing hard now, gasping for breath.

  “Shit,” she squeaks. I thrust my finger deeper and suck on her clit harder, bringing her to her peak. She screams out with pleasure as her juices coat my hand. Jesus, she’s wet.

  When I look up at her, her cheeks are deeply flushed, her eyes bright with desire.

  “I need you, Wells,” she pants.

  I pull off my shirt and toss it aside. She yanks open my belt and shoves my jeans down. My cock bounces up, hard as ever. The damn thing is red and swollen, the head sticky with the pre-cum I’ve leaked while eating her out.

  “Wells,” she moans impatiently.

  “I’m here, baby.” I climb onto the couch, our bodies coming together with ease. I guide myself into her, the engorged head of my cock quickly sliding into her silky heat. Inch by inch, I sink into her, stretching her around me. Fuck, she feels so good.

  I give her everything, bottoming out inside of her, and she receives me with a relief-filled moan. We press our foreheads together and breathe heavily, our bodies moving together, my muscles flexing as I balance myself over her. Her hands slide down and grip my ass, squeezing the cheeks as I pump into her.

  It’s intense.

  It’s raw.

  It’s sexy as hell.

  Aspen’s breath starts to come in ragged waves, and I can tell she’s close. I nip at her lips. Thrust even harder into her. I almost tell her right then and there that I love her—but I hold off. I don’t want her to think I’m just saying it in the heat of the moment.

  She throws her head back against the couch cushion, arches her back, and cries out.

  Damn, she’s beautiful when she comes.

  Chapter Eleven

  ASPEN

  Wells is cooking breakfast for me when I wake up the next morning. As I sit up in bed and stretch my arms above my head, flashes of last night come back to me. I can’t help the smile that spreads across my lips. It’s amazing how good Wells can make me feel.

  I throw on my clothes and pad out to the kitchen. Wells is at the stove cooking eggs. I kiss him on the shoulder and peer into the pan.

  “Looks delicious,” I say.

  “Yeah? Would you hire me to cook at the cafe?” he says, grinning as he tilts the eggs out of the pan onto two plates for us.

  “In a heartbeat,” I say, laughing.

  I don’t have much time to spend with him that morning because I’ve got to get over to the cafe, but it’s still nice to spend the time with him. Later, on my way to work, I’m in a ridiculously upbeat mood—that is, until I realize I forgot my phone back at Wells’s place. I don’t have time to run back and get it, though. I’ll just have to deal with being phoneless for the day.

  The next hour flies by, with everything I have to do. Like always, I have customers as soon as I turn the sign to OPEN on the front door.

  Halfway through the day, I look up and see Wells walk in. I throw him a smile, quickly finish up what I’m
doing, and go over to say hi to him.

  “You forgot this,” he says, holding up my phone. “Figured you’d probably want it.”

  “Yes. Definitely. Thanks so much for bringing it by.” I lean forward to give him a kiss on the cheek. “What would I do without you?”

  He laughs. “Well, you wouldn’t be leaving your phone at my apartment in the first place, so…”

  “True. Still.”

  He glances around the cafe. “Busy as usual, I see. I’ll let you get back to work.”

  “Thanks for coming by.”

  “Talk to you later, beautiful.”

  He kisses my forehead and walks out of the cafe. I know I have a ton of stuff to do, but I can’t help but watch him go. Is it weird that I miss him already? Or that all I want to do is be with him?

  “’Scuse me? Miss?”

  I turn toward the table I’m standing near to find a couple looking up at me, menus in hand.

  “Can we put in an order?” the woman asks.

  “Yes!” I say. “Of course.” I shake off my thoughts of Wells. I’ve got a business to run. I can’t just stand around thinking about how hot my guy is.

  I make it through the rest of the day without getting lost in thoughts of Wells, and after my last customer leaves, I let myself plop down at one of the tables, feeling more exhausted than usual.

  Maybe if you hadn’t expended all your energy with Wells last night, you wouldn’t be so tired.

  I laugh at the thought. It’s definitely not the worst problem in the world to have.

  I hope this doesn’t become my norm, though—being exhausted at the end of every day, I mean. And, God, I hope I don’t make a habit out of losing my phone. At least Wells is the kind of guy who doesn’t mind doing something like driving all the way over here to drop it off.

  What would I do without you?

  My words from earlier suddenly return to me. I didn’t think much of them at the time, but now, as I think of myself saying that, a weird feeling pricks my chest.

  That’s not me, saying things like that.

  I pride myself on not needing people.

  Come to think of it…last night, on the couch, didn’t I tell Wells I needed him then, too? Yeah. I definitely did say it. I need you, Wells.

  But wasn’t I just expressing how strong my physical desire for him was? Did it really mean anything more than that? It’s not like I can’t function without him.

  Right?

  Ugh. All of this is so new to me. I’ve never had a boyfriend before. I don’t know if it’s normal—whatever that means—to fall for a guy this fast. It almost makes me dizzy thinking about how strong my feelings for him are.

  And that’s scary.

  It makes me feel out of control.

  My heart is racing, thinking about all of this. Shit. I’ve really worked myself up, just sitting here, thinking—overthinking—things. I need air. I can’t breathe in here.

  I stand up. Walk out of the cafe. Take a few deep breaths, drawing fresh air into my lungs.

  It helps, but only so much.

  THE FOLLOWING DAY—MY day off—I call my dad and ask if it’s okay if I stop by. He tells me he always has time for me.

  My dad is in his front yard when I pull up to his cabin. I wave and cut the engine, then get out to say hello. He’s in the middle of chopping firewood and he swings the axe one final time before sinking the blade into the chopping block.

  “Hey, sweetheart.”

  “Hey, Dad.” I give him a hug, feeling a surge of emotion. I always feel safe and loved when I’m here. Clearing my throat, I hold up the covered casserole dish I brought with me. “Made your favorite.”

  He grins and gives me a peck on the forehead.

  Inside, Dad gets a fire going and I set the table for lunch. As we’re sitting down to eat, he asks how the cafe has been, and I tell him everything I can think of to share. A proud smile turns up his lips as I talk.

  “And how are things going with you and Wells?” he asks.

  When I first told my dad about Wells, his reaction was on the protective side. He asked a lot of questions and it was pretty obvious that he was trying to make sure Wells was worthy of dating his daughter. I’ve done all I can to convince him that Wells is a genuinely good guy and is definitely boyfriend worthy, but I can tell Dad still feels protective over me.

  In his eyes, I’ll probably always be his little girl.

  “Things are good,” I say. “We’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

  “He still treating you all right?”

  “Yes, Dad.” I shoot him a look. “Trust me. If he ever disrespected me, I’d kick his ass to the curb like that.”

  “Good.” He helps himself to more of the casserole. “So am I ever going to get to meet the kid?”

  “Depends. Do you want to meet him because you actually want to meet him? Or do you just want to show him what a big, tough guy you are?”

  A laugh bellows out of my dad’s mouth. “Come on now, sweetheart. I’d never do that.”

  The fireplace crackles in the next room over. I use my fork to poke at the half-eaten portion of casserole on my plate and shift in my chair.

  “Can I ask you something?” I say.

  “Shoot,” says my dad.

  “How quickly did your relationship progress with Mom when you first started seeing each other? I mean, how fast did it go from casual to something more serious?”

  My dad’s eyes soften, like they always do whenever the topic of Mom comes up.

  “Why do you ask?”

  I shrug. “I’m just trying to figure out what’s normal. Wells is the first guy I’ve really dated, and I’ve got nothing to compare it to.”

  “Every relationship is different.”

  “Right.”

  “Some relationships progress quickly. Some take their time. Some are meant to be brief. Some are meant to last a lifetime. And, well, some go on longer than they should, while other ones end too soon.”

  Like his and my mom’s relationship. The pain of loss is clear in my dad’s face.

  “I wish she was still here,” I say.

  “I do too, kiddo. I do too.” He clears his throat, moving through the pain, and smiles. “If she was here, I have a feeling she’d be asking for seconds of this lasagna right about now.”

  The rest of our visit goes by too quickly, and before long, I’m waving goodbye to my dad as I drive off. It was good to talk to him, and I think his advice about relationships all being different is definitely true…but I still don’t know what to do about Wells. I still don’t know how to interpret the feeling in my stomach, and whether it’s just run-of-the-mill nerves or a sign that there’s actually something wrong.

  Slowing at an intersection, I peer out the window of my car and look up at the clouds.

  “What do you think, Mom?” I say quietly.

  As if in answer, the clouds shift and sunlight spreads across the road in front of me. Even though I never had the chance to speak to her in real life, it’s like I can hear her loving voice in my heart.

  It’s okay to ask for a little breathing room, Aspen. If he’s a good man, he’ll understand.

  THAT NIGHT—WELL, technically, very early the next morning—I drive over to the bar. I stay in my car and watch the last few people trickle out as the bar closes. The night seems darker than usual, the moon concealed behind the night’s thick clouds. My nervous heartbeat quickens when the neon OPEN sign finally flickers off.

  When the front door opens and Wells comes out, I get out of my car. He doesn’t notice me at first, since he’s busy locking up.

  “Wells,” I say.

  His head quickly turns, his eyes widening in surprise.

  “Aspen? What are you—is everything okay?” He quickly strides over to me, concern etched on his face. “Is someone hurt?”

  “No. But I need to talk to you.”

  He frowns. “What’s going on?”

  How do I tell him? How do I explain? I
don’t even fully understand it myself.

  When I don’t say anything right away, Wells moves toward me and tries to pull me into a hug. I step back, though, out of his reach. Immediately, confusion floods his face.

  “I need us to slow things down, Wells,” I say. “I need…I need some time.”

  “Time? Time for what?”

  “To figure things out.” I swallow. “Can we put this on pause? Just for a little bit?”

  “I don’t understand, Aspen.”

  “I need…a break, I guess.”

  “You need a break.” He repeats my words with tightness in his voice. “How long have you been feeling this way?”

  “Not very long.”

  “Did I do something to make you feel like you need one?”

  “No,” I say emphatically. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  He doesn’t look convinced. But instead of pressing, he just shakes his head. “How long of a break, exactly, are we talking about?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

  “Talk to me, Aspen. Don’t run away.”

  “I’m not running away. I’m just asking for space.”

  “Same difference.” There’s bitterness in his voice now, and I feel awful to be the reason for it. His jaw is clenched tight as his eyes focus on me. “If you want out, just say so. Because I don’t do breaks. We either work through whatever issue you’re having or we end it.”

  I feel taken aback by the harshness in his voice. I’ve never seen him like this before. “You’re giving me an ultimatum?”

  He shrugs. “Guess I am.”

  Well, screw this. I’m not going to be in a relationship with someone who forces an ultimatum on me.

  “You just made things a whole lot easier, then,” I say, backing away from him. “Goodbye, Wells.”

  As I rush back to my car and get in, angry tears gather in my eyes. I hate that we’re ending things like this. I hate that just like that, we’re over.