His Perfect Woman (Urban Hearts Series Book 1) (10 page)

              "Harv, let's move the snow gear tomorrow, my sciatica is acting up today." Marge said, putting one hand against her tailbone.

              "I can do it. No need for you to work this hard." Harv's voice was almost tender—the complete opposite of his usual gruffness.

              "Don't you dare, Harv Morrow. I won't have you lifting that heavy stuff by yourself. Putting it off one–oh, hello Mr. Berenger, I didn't see you there." Marge straightened on seeing Ross.

              "I didn't mean to interrupt. I was just going to ask about more firewood." Ross entered the room tentatively. Harv tossed his dish-rag into a plastic bucket and squinted at him.

              "Did you use everything out of the bin already?"

              "What bin?"

              "I'll show you, thought I did already." He looked back at his wife. "Let's wait on the snow gear. It ain't going nowhere."

              Ross stepped aside to let the old man lead the way. He cleared his throat.

              "Look, if you need an extra hand, I'd be glad to help."

              "Naw, I got it."

              "No thank you, Mr. Berenger, we wouldn’t think of asking a guest." Marge glossed over her husband’s gruffness. "We've been managing on our own for quite some time."

              "Please, call me Ross, and I'd really be happy to help do some heavy lifting or something. It's the least I could do after that amazing lunch you fed us."

              "Your lady friend didn't seem to like it much." Marge frowned.

              "Oh, she liked it just fine. She just never eats much." He turned back to Harv. "How about it? You’d be doing me a favor. I need something to keep busy for a while. Dani's taking a nap." At least, he hoped so. She was more than cranky when she didn’t sleep well.

              The old man huffed. "Follow me."

              They headed out into a large shed unseen from the road.

              "We keep a lot of the snow gear in here, plows and snow blowers and the like. Getting to be that time of year to clean up. Some of this stuff’s a little heavy for the missus."

              "It's a two person job." Ross said, surveying the neat equipment shed. Harv motioned him over to a large snow blower.

              "I need to take this in to town. Gotta get some gears repaired on her. I'll back the truck up and we can load her up."

              Ross nodded and watched as the old guy flung the double doors open to the sunshine and he guided him in as Harv backed the truck up. After the snow machine was loaded, there were several other little jobs that needed doing. Ross was amazed at how much the old man talked while they worked. He learned the history of the house—how they bought the land back in the eighties and raised their kids in the house—and then, Marge's dream of having a bed and breakfast.

              "She gave up a lot for me, back in the day. She's a smart cookie, Marge is. Coulda gone to college and all, but she worked so I could get my tool and dye certificate from the tech school. And then the kids came and well, there ya go." Harv straightened up after he and Ross pushed a large metal plow under a wooden shelf. "Least I could do is make her dreams come true."

              "Sounds like a great life, actually." Ross said."You and Marge have a great relationship."

              "Can't complain."

              "How do you do it?” He stopped himself. This guy didn’t want to know his problems. Ross couldn’t explain what drove him to continue. “I mean, be married all these years, and make it work, not take it for granted."

              The old man didn't say anything for awhile. He motioned to Ross, and they walked out into the sunshine. Harv shuffled out of view of the long house, and pulled out a bag of Redman chewing tobacco. He stopped to dig out a pinch and stuffed it in his mouth. He offered the bag to Ross, who managed to decline without grimacing. Harv spoke after situating the tobacco around just right.

              "There's no big secret to a good marriage. You just got to decide to be married, every day. It’s not the years. It’s the days. Every day, I wake up and think to myself, I'm lucky to have her, so I tell her that. She feels the same way. No big secret if you got the right woman.”

              Ross mulled that over for a while. "I guess I never thought of it that way. My parents have been married for almost forty years. They still like each other, or seem to, anyway." Ross smiled, thinking of his mom and dad's friendly banter.

              "Your girl's nice...pretty. It serious?"

              Ross evaded the question. "We're working some things out. Kind of why we're here."

              "Didn't think you were here for the bird watching. So, why are you here?"

              "I just said...."

              "I mean here." He indicated the shed they'd just left. "Helping an old man move stuff around, rather than being with your girl."

              "Thought you needed help." Ross protested.

              The old man snorted.

              "Appreciate it too. Come on." He led Ross over to a large metal bin with a roll back lid like a giant barbeque. Inside, were neat uniform chunks of wood. "Hold your arms out, I’ll load you up.”

Ross did as he was told. Harv layered lengths of birch and oak across his arms, talking the whole while.

“If you ask me, and I know you didn't, but I'm gonna tell you anyway. If you ask me, you're wondering if Dani's the girl for you. But you don't want to know the answer to that question, not really. Cause she's a nice girl. And you want to do the right thing. The Missus had you both figured right off. You're the kind of guy who does the right thing, even if it’s not. Kinda hard to figure, ain’t it?"

              "The right thing? How would you..." Ross tried to keep his tone light.              

              "Don't get all defensive, you asked."

              He hadn't really, and while he wanted to point that out, he wanted answers more.

              "So, how did you know? That Marge was the right woman for you?"

              "Hell." The old man shut the wood bin lid and walked away, chuckling. Ross stood, his arms aching under a heaping load of firewood. He watched him shuffle off. Halfway down the path, the guy stopped and turned around. "Hell son, she told me she was. All I had to do was listen to her. Like I said, Marge is a right smart cookie." He waved to Ross, and spit a stream of tobacco juice into the snow. He muttered a gruff thanks on his way back to the Missus.

              Ross entered the tiny cabin, having only lost two pieces of wood on the way and found Dani awake and wrapped in a quilt.

              She looked up. "So, where did you go? I was about to set out a search party."

              "Miss me?"

              "Always." She smiled. He smiled back.

              He dumped the load of wood onto the cement hearth and proceeded to build a fire, telling her about Harv's story as he worked, about the old couple's relationship. "He's hard as nails except around her. Then, he's a marshmallow."

              "Ah, that's sweet." Dani unwound herself from the quilt and crossed the cold floor.

              "He said he wanted to make her dreams come true."

She handed him the lighter and he clicked it under the stacked wood. Dani moved into his arms and they both watched the tiny flames grow into a real fire. They leaned into the warmth. His chin came down into the curve of her neck.

              "Happy?" he asked.

              "You getting all marshmallowy with me?" Her lips were at his cheek.

              "Is that a bad thing? Seems to work for Harv." He smiled into her.

              Dani pulled away, frowning. "Can we not talk about the old folks? It's ruining the mood." She nibbled at his jaw, planting kisses until she reached his mouth. "It's getting warm now. Why don't you get out of some of these clothes." Her voice was low and seductive. He hadn’t realized before how different her voice was when she wanted sex. It changed from its normal high pitch to something low and breathy. It was like a signal between them. In contrast, Azure’s voice held a huskiness that was always sexy, regardless of what she talked about. He shouldn’t be thinking of Az. Not with his girlfriend in his arms.
You don’t really want to know if she’s the woman for you.

              "Now?" he spoke into her kiss. She smiled and placed her thigh in between his, pushing up against him.

              Their lips still pressed together, Ross shrugged out of his heavy flannel shirt, leaving his t-shirt underneath. She wasn’t satisfied with that, pushing her hands under it to find his bare skin.  He did the same with her sweater, unhooking her bra. Her hands twisted in his short hair, angling his lips for a better fit against hers, tongue probing deep inside until both their mouths were puffy and wet. She pulled back, her breath coming heavier, let out another moan as he brushed against her nipples. She stepped back and pulled the sweater off over her head, and shrugged off the bra. She peeled up his shirt and palmed the front of his jeans.

              "Wait," Ross pulled away and unlaced his boots, pulling them off, socks following. He stood upright and watched her naked breasts move as she unzipped her skirt and eased it down over her hips. She wore only a pink and black leopard print thong, its tiny silk triangle barely covering her mound. He pulled his jeans off, along with his boxer briefs. She dropped to her knees, helping him step out of them. She stayed on her knees, looking up at him with a slightly wicked smile.  The stove heated up fast and he tried to step back from its heat. She held him in front of her, hands on the backs of his thighs, his hips. Her hot mouth was insistent. The curtains were open on the single window and he could barely make out Harv’s house through the trees. He wondered idly if the couple from Green Bay got their creative mojo flowing this same way.

                By the time they were both sated and sexed out, the sun had gone behind the trees and Ross had to stoke the fire again. Dani fixed soup and grilled cheese and they sat like an old married couple, eating and not talking. 

              "We never finished our conversation," he said. He was at the small sink, his hands thrust into soapy water. He washed the soup bowls, rinsed them and placed them in the dish rack.

              "We were a bit distracted don't you think?"

              “We always seem to be distracted." He frowned into his reflection in the dark window.

              "You don't seem to mind." She got up from the table and cleared their plates, putting them into the sink. She bustled about the kitchenette, putting things away. "You want some coffee? or cocoa?"

              "No."

              "I was thinking wine. We brought that bottle of Petit Syrah right?"

              "Yes, but–"

              "Something hot would be nice, maybe hot toddies."

              “Dani." He rinsed more plates and spoons.

              "No, cocoa sounds better. You can-"

              "Dani, stop." He turned away from the sink, hands dripping. "Stop, I don't want a drink. I just want to talk to you."

              Dani stopped. She acted like it was a huge deal, taking her away from the important task of boiling water.

              "Okay, what?"

              "I just need to know, what we're doing here, you and I."

              "What is up with you?  Your sister got to you, didn’t she?  This is not like you at all."

              "Well, maybe it is, maybe it is like me, we’re just always too busy to think about it. My sister may have a point, it's time to grow up.”

              "We get along, we have fun, what's wrong with that?" she asked.

              He dried his hands on a dish towel and rubbed her arms. They were folded across her chest defensively, her chin jutted out in a stubborn pout.

              "Nothing's wrong with that. It's great. It's just that we're so busy we don't ever just be. Think about it, over the last year, we've done bike treks, hiking, skiing, wine tastings, balloon rides, lots of marathon sex and ..."

              "Okay, fine." Her mouth quirked up. "No more marathon sex."

              "It's not that, I don't mind the sex, it's just-'

              "You don't
mind
the sex?" She pulled away from him. "Well, thank God you don't mind, I'd hate to put you out or anything." She pulled the steaming kettle off the stove and poured it into a cup of powdered chocolate. She set the kettle back with a slam.

              "I didn't mean it like that, you know I didn't. It's just...don't you think there should be more?"

              Dani walked to the wooden rocker by the window. Not bothering to turn on the lamp, she sat in the dim corner. He couldn't read her expression. He just heard the scrape of the spoon against the side of the cup. She settled the quilt around her and finally looked up at him.