Back to You (15 page)

She laughed softly. “Well, when you look at it that way, I did have a pretty good excuse to be so cranky.”

They sat quietly for the longest time, neither of them uttering a word.

“Should we talk about it?” he finally asked. “About what almost happened?”

She had been thinking about it all night – how they had come so close to messing everything up. And she had decided it was for the best they hadn’t – Jennie’s sudden appearance had been a blessing in disguise.

They couldn’t get that close – not when there was so much at stake.

Summer was getting on, and it wouldn’t be long before she and Jesse would be heading back to New York. She and John just had to stay away from each other for a few more weeks.

“It was for the best,” Sophie said softly, gauging John’s reaction. “We shouldn’t be getting into this. We should really try to stay away from each other.”

John sighed. “Easier said than done.”

Yes, she knew how hard it was to stay away. She fought the urge to touch him every second. “It’s hard for me too.”

“You’re a woman. I’m a man,” he said plainly. “It’s a lot harder for me.”

Sophie laughed. He had no idea. “Oh really… is that so?”

“Do you realize how much I want you?” he asked her, looking off into the distance, as he always did when sharing more than he wanted to.

“Honestly,” he started. “In the beginning, I swore I’d stay away from you. I had no desire to be rejected and hurt by you again,” he confessed.

Sophie knew she had hurt him, but she hadn’t realized he had still been so broken up about it.

“And then, I thought we can’t make love because then, I’ll fall for you… and you’re leaving,” he went on.

Fall in love… she had already fallen.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking, John,” Sophie tried to explain. “We can’t get involved and completely mess up our lives… that’s a recipe for broken hearts.”

“But I don’t care anymore about any of that, Snow,” he almost shouted, “because I realize I’ve already fallen for you.”

Sophie could not find the words to respond. She understood just how he felt.

“You and me,” he said, finally looking at her. “It’s inevitable.”

She didn’t say a word, but she agreed.

John and Sophie played Bocce ball with the kids – the boys against the girls. The girls kicked some rear, and they were not above gloating.

“You girls just got lucky,” Jesse mumbled between bites of his sandwich.

“That’s what poor losers say,” Sophie teased.

It had turned out to be a perfect summer day, and a fun lunch. Despite the constant tension between her and John, Sophie quite enjoyed these times together – just the four of them.

“Paige and I are going to go hang out on the beach,” Jesse said, finishing his last bite of sandwich.” “Is that all right?”

“Yes,” she told him. “Just don’t go swimming without us.” Although Jesse was a much better swimmer than she was, she still always insisted on her presence when he swam.

It was awkward again – Sophie and John sitting alone together. She looked everywhere but at him.

“It’s your birthday on Sunday,” he said suddenly.

She absolutely had no desire to talk about her birthday – she wanted to forget the whole thing.

“How did you know?” She realized it was a stupid question as soon as she uttered it.

“You’re having a big party, I hear,” he teased. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Oh no… had her mother invited the whole neighborhood? Of course she would invite John – that was a given. Sophie was dreading the party and just wished she could sleep the whole day off. “I can’t wait either,” she told him with obvious sarcasm.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

“What’s back there,” she asked, desperately trying to change the subject, pointing to the shed far out in the distance behind John’s house.

“That’s my workshop.”

“Oh yes,” she smiled, “you’re a carpenter.”

“It’s a hobby. I fiddle,” he clarified.

“I’m sure you’re pretty good at it.”

And after a few seconds of silence, she hesitated a little before asking him, “Can I see?” She couldn’t stand sitting there beside him, talking about her birthday.

He smiled. “I’m not sure you want to go in there,” he warned. “It’s a mess.”

“I’d love to see it,” she insisted, almost pleading.

“Well, it’s pretty grimy in there,” he told her. “And I know how you don’t like to get dirty,” he teased. “That pretty little white skirt could get filthy in there.”

She smiled. “Let’s go.”

He followed her, towards the back of the property. “Wait,” he said. “I just need to go grab the key from the house.”

She stood on the grass, enjoying the view of his backside as he made his way to the house.

He came back in a flash and she followed him eagerly to the shed.

He fiddled with the old-fashioned lock on the door. And finally, he opened the door for her.

The place was dark, hot and stuffy – like a sauna. The sunlight beamed through the glass paned windows, creating soft sunbeams. He was right – it was a mess – wood shavings littered the floor and the place was pure chaos.

“Don’t you find it hot in here?” she asked. “It’s steaming.”

“Well, I have that big fan over there,” he pointed out, “and I work mostly here early in the early morning, or at night.”

She walked hesitantly, taking in her surroundings. The place had a certain rustic charm – wooden beams evident on unfinished walls, paint plastered on every surface, the wonderful smell of wood. She walked over to one of the benches which appeared to be newly created, the smell of pine filling her nostrils. “Can I sit,” she asked.

“Go ahead,” he said as he took a seat next to her.

“Did you make these?”

“Yep. They’re pretty simple.”

“They’re nice. You make a lot of stuff?”

“I get requests here and there,” he told her, “small stuff.”

“Did you make those?” she asked as she stood up and walked towards the cabinets set against the wall.

“You made these?” she asked, her fingers lightly brushing the edge of the beautiful tin inlays built into the cabinet doors.

“Yep,” he told her, “but the inlays were done by a guy I know.”

“Very nice,” she said. “And those coat racks are great,” she added. “This would perfect for my Mom’s place,” she pointed out, rubbing the steel hooks between her fingers. She wasn’t sure why, but she longed to touch and feel all the textures around her – it was helping her keep her hands off John. She was full of nervous energy. “Can I buy one?”

He smiled.

“Seriously,” she pressed. “Are these for sale?”

He grinned wider. “For you… it’s free.”

“But I can pay–”

He shook his head, and that amazing smile of his drew her in.

She walked in his direction. She had to navigate awkwardly on her wedges around all the stuff covering the floor – cans of paint, turpentine, bins of stuff and the largest red toolbox she had ever seen.

She was heading towards him and desperately wanted to kiss him. But she reminded herself what she had pledged – she couldn’t go there.

As messy as the workshop was, there was a little corner which was meticulously tidy and organized. She was instinctively drawn to it. “Well, there is order among the chaos,” she teased, propping herself up on the workbench.

“Making yourself comfortable?” he asked, fiddling nervously with some strange contraption on the side of his workbench.

“Is it okay if I sit here?” she asked nervously. “It’s kind of the only clean spot to sit on,” she pointed out, crossing one leg over the other, her wedged healed espadrilles dangling daintily.

He laughed, looking at her long enough to make her uncomfortable. “You look really odd in here,” he said, walking towards her.

“What do you mean?”

He walked closer still. “You just don’t quite fit in,” he said softly, finally making his way to her.

His fingers toyed with the hem of her skirt.

She took a deep breath.

He sighed. “It’s hopeless,” he said in a soft voice. “I know what you said, but I can’t keep my hands off you.”

He was officially making her nervous again.

“Uh… show me what all this stuff is,” she asked, trying to distract him.

He smiled. “Do you really care?”

She looked over her shoulder at the pegboard – the wrenches were displayed perfectly from smallest to largest, the screwdrivers equally well organized.

“What would you do if I were to switch these wrenches,” she asked, grabbing one of the smaller wrenches and replacing it with one of the larger ones.

He smiled. “I would absolutely have to spank you with this thing,” he joked, grabbing a large mallet off the pegboard.

They both laughed.

He grabbed the measuring tape and stretched it out. “And with this useful little gadget, I can take your measurements.”

She laughed. “Oh no, not necessary,” she protested, pushing the tape away.

He set it back in its spot, and grabbed two screwdrivers. “This is a Phillips head,” he told her, “and this is a flat–”

“…that… I know,” she laughed. “I’m not a complete idiot.”

“I didn’t say you were,” he said, grabbing a hammer. “Then, you must know this is known as a ‘hammer’.”

She laughed. “Are you making fun of me?”

He smiled.

His hand on her knee took her by surprise.

He gently unfolded her legs. No longer sitting like a lady, she was terrified. Hot and bothered as well, but also terrified.

He sat the flat tip of the hammer on her ankle, just above the strap of her shoe and dragged it up her leg… slowly. All the while, his eyes were fixed on hers. Slowly up her leg… over her knee.

He tapped her knee gently with the tip of the hammer. “Good reflexes,” he smirked.

She laughed. “Why does it feel like we’re playing doctor?”

“Like we used to?”

“Um…” she said. “It’s not quite like it used to be,” she pointed out.

He was arousing her.

Part of her wanted to get out of there as fast as she could, and the other part of her wanted to grab his shirt and pull him between her legs.

Immobilized, she did neither.

She tried to distract him again. “Uh… you could do a lot of damage in a place like this,” she said, looking at the circular saw sitting on the workbench.

“Don’t even think about touching that,” he warned her.

She laughed. “Seriously, you could chop heads.”

His eyes opened wide. “Wow, you are so morbid.”

“And what’s that contraption there?” she asked. “You could torture me with that, I’m sure.”

He laughed. “Such a twisted mind for such as beautiful woman.”

“I did wear a dog collar once,” she joked. “But seriously,” she said, “I’m glad I’ve known you all my life. I’d be a little nervous right now if I had just met you.”

His fingers traced the edge of her jaw. “But you’d still be here, wouldn’t you?”

Her heart was thudding so hard, she was sure he could hear it. “You are so arrogant.”

“You like it,” he said, not taking his eyes off her. “Admit it. You like it when I talk to you that way. It gets your blood boiling.”

It was no use.

She grabbed the fabric of his shirt and pulled him to her, hoisting him between her legs.

“Uh… Snow,” he protested a little – but not much.

“We’re finally alone,” she pointed out with a sly smile.

He kissed her neck gently, “Finally…” he breathed.

“So what should we do?” she asked, breathing loudly. Her mind was full of things she would have liked to do, but this was neither the time nor the place. She didn’t have any devious plans in mind, perhaps just a very passionate kiss – or two.

He slid his hand under the thin fabric of her skirt. His hands glided up her thighs until he reached her panties.

She was terrified again – and eager. She hadn’t counted on this.

“Breathe,” he whispered. She wasn’t quite sure she could.

“I’m giving you five seconds,” he said quietly, a playful smile tracing his lips, “and if I don’t hear a peep from you,” he went on, tugging at the lace trim of her panties, “I’m taking these off.”

A peep?!
Forget about speaking – she couldn’t even breathe.

He spoke slowly, with a hint of playfulness. “Five,” he started, his fingers firmly grasping at the fabric.

She closed her eyes, delighting in the sensation of his hand on her skin.

“Four,” he said slowly, kissing her collarbone.

She couldn’t believe what was happening.

“Three,” he went on deliberately.

She was completely frozen.