☽Ⓛ❈Ⓒ☾

We both stop our work for lunch. Jonah shows me his sketch over lunch. I make us some sandwiches, filled with meat and cheese. The lumberjack seems to appreciate the carb-filled meal.

He's drawn Blue by the fire. I decide immediately that I'm going to either ask for this one, or ask him to draw one for me.

I'll get it framed and it'll be a bittersweet reminder of that time I rescued an injured lumberjack and weathered out a storm with him.

'What is it you're writing then? You were typing away in a frenzy, it must have been good,' he says conversationally.

My cheeks burn and I keep my gaze on my half-eaten sandwich in my hands. I can't tell him about the passionate sexual encounter my main leads have just had. An encounter that stars his face and body.

I haven't gone so far as to name the male lead after him, but there are some Aztec tattoos that make an appearance.

'Uh, just a new novel I'm working on. Been trying to find out how to...develop the story.'

'I'll have to be sure to check out your books when I get into town,' he says and then winks. 'Perhaps I could even get you to sign them?'

The thought of this man reading my sordid romance novels makes me laugh. I'm definitely not telling him that I have copies of each of my own books in my bedroom.

'Um, I'm not sure if they're your style. What do you normally read?'

Jonah shrugs. 'Suspense, thriller, that sort of thing.'

I smile at that. He's the quiet, thoughtful type. I can see him reading a murder-mystery and working out who the killer is before the detective has.

'The most you're going to get of that sort of thing is the cliffhangers at the end of some of the chapters in my books, I'm afraid. They're romance novels for those that need some comfort.'

Jonah studies me thoughtfully.

'Is what you are, Nora? In need of some comfort?'

And just like that, the atmosphere changes between us. It becomes charged with this strange energy that has my nipples hardening in my bra and my thighs clenching under the table.

'Sorry, that was inappropriate,' Jonah says hurriedly, mistaking my silence for offence.

'No! It's okay,' I respond, just as rushed. 'Sorry, it took me by surprise, that's all. Um, yes, I guess that is me. It's been a long time since I was in a relationship and over a year since I last went on a date.'

I don't know why I confess those embarrassing facts to him, but I do. Jonah's eyes broaden, not hiding his surprise in the slightest.

'Really?' He asks, not bothering to keep the shock from his tone, either. 'Why is that? If you don't mind me asking.'

I consider it for a moment. I've been nothing but honest with him so far.

Why change now?

'Didn't really feel like dating when I lost my mum, but if I'm honest, I wasn't all that interested before that either. She'd been ill for about two years before her death and my sole focus was on looking after her. Writing took up the rest of my free time, leaving none for a guy.'

I take a bite of my sandwich and think on it some more.

'I guess I never found a guy worth making time for,' I tell him and then grimace at how bitter it sounds. 'It's a small town, not a great selection.'

Jonah chuckles at that. 'Well, you might have to come down the mountain and have another look, I hear there's a handsome man has moved in.'

I raise my eyebrow at him and resist a smile. 'Oh, yeah? Did a brother of yours move in with you or...?'

'Hey!' Jonah protests with a laugh. 'I meant me!'

I laugh along with him. 'I know you did.'

Things between us are light and easy. I'm aware it could all be an act, but Jonah genuinely seems like a nice guy. He hasn't tried anything with me and has been nothing but respectful.

Just to be sure, I keep the bear spray within sight.

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In the afternoon, we play Monopoly and Clue together whilst watching old movies. Blue sits with us, enjoying the increased number of companions.

Jonah helps me make dinner. We decide to make lasagne and I trust him enough to let him use the knife to chop the ingredients. He is completely relaxed the whole time, doesn't act suspiciously at all.

He tells me funny stories about his family and cousins and I share a couple of my favourite memories from my childhood.

We eat together at the table. It's strange how comfortable I feel around him.

I tell myself it's because of our unique situation. But deep down, I have a feeling that Jonah and I would have got on this well, even if we'd met organically in town.

There's something about him that just clicks with me. We are similar in many ways, we have the same sense of humour and when I talk, it's like he really listens.

I'm glad we're not drinking. I make reckless decisions when I drink, which is why I usually avoid drinking heavily. Having a man this attractive, alone with me in my cabin, showing me attention...it's too much for my deprived body to take.

Good thing I'm sober as hell and conscious of how perverse my mind is.

We stay up late again, much later than I usually do. Time gets away from us because we're too busy talking.

Later on, when I'm lying on the couch with Blue on the floor beside me, I thank my lucky stars that I ended up stuck in the snowstorm with someone I get on with. This situation with Jonah could have gone a number of ways.

I could be stuck with a misogynistic asshole, or with someone incredibly awkward and shy, anything, really. But Jonah is funny, polite and extremely likeable.

Perhaps, he should be a bit less likeable.

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In the morning, the smell of bacon wakes me up. I frown and dart upright, completely confused.

It's been a long time since someone has made me breakfast and I'm a bit disorientated at first. My brain eventually catches up to me and I pad barefoot into the kitchen.

Jonah is already up and dressed, and is frying bacon at the oven. He finishes up and takes the pan off the heat.

He spins around and jumps when he catches me standing in the doorway.

'Sorry, didn't know you were up yet!' He says warmly. 'Thought I'd make breakfast, as a thank-you.'

I stare at him for a moment, trying to work out if a man this perfect can be real.

Maybe I slipped in the snow and hit my head. Maybe this is all a dream and I've made up a man like Jonah.

'Do you have any more eggs?' He asks, snapping me out of my thought process. 'We had eggs yesterday and you mentioned something about chickens, but I didn't want to go snooping around and when I tried to open the back door, it nearly flew off its hinges.'

I laugh at that. 'Yeah, the storm will do that. Today should be the last day of the wind, hopefully. You can get to the chicken coop through the garage, give me ten minutes to have a shower and wake up and then I'll get you those eggs.'

'It's alright, I don't mind getting them,' Jonah offers courteously and I put up my hand to stop him.

'This is going to sound crazy, although, I think I've already managed to convince you that I'm not exactly normal,' I ramble on, 'but my chickens get nervous around strangers. I can introduce you to them if you want, but I'll need to be there.'

Jonah, bless his soul, manages to keep a straight face as I say all of this. Mentally, he must be asking himself who the hell I am and how quickly he can get out of this crazy cabin.

His lips twitch with a smile. 'No problem, can't wait to meet them.'

I take a shower and get dressed for the day. I choose my thick, faux-fur lined leggings and a knitted jumper. I plait my hair and put on a touch of make-up. This is the first time, since going into town once a month, that I've had a good reason to wear it.

Jonah is waiting for me in the living room. I show him to the garage and he voices his appreciation for my beautiful truck. It's one of my guilty pleasures, I'll admit.

I go into the coop first. I don't like keeping my girls inside every day, but when there's a storm, I can't let them out. I have eight hens, three of which no longer lay eggs.

I greet them and get out their grain. Jonah cautiously comes in and the girls back up towards their little hutch. I talk to them softly, and Jonah drops to a crouch.

I give him the grain and, at the sight of their food, the chickens warm up to him. A few minutes later, and they're coming over to eat the grain from the ground in front of him.

Jonah has a big smile on his face, looking extremely proud of himself for not scaring them away. It's funny, watching this big, burly man become all gentle for eight chickens.

I clean their hutch whilst they're distracted with Jonah. I collect three eggs from them when we're finished.

I check on the generator when we come back into the garage and top up some of the fuel. Everything is running smoothly, thank God.

There's enough wood stacked up against the wall for us, although, I'll cut some more when the storm finally eases up.

I wash the eggs and set the table when Jonah starts frying them. He serves up for us and we sit down at the kitchen table. Blue, never wanting to be forgotten, sits at my feet.

'This is amazing, thank you,' I gush over the food. 'It's a real treat to have someone cook for me!'

Jonah laughs. 'Yeah, I guess you must get a bit sick of always having to make your own meals.'

I shrug at his reply. 'I hadn't really thought about it, probably because I forgot how nice it is when someone else cooks.'

'Ah, okay. So, have I ruined it for you now? Reminded you how good it can be?'

I really hope he's still only talking about breakfast.

'Yeah, you have,' I reply teasingly.

He gives me an amused smile, making him even more handsome.

'Well, I'm happy to make the meals from now on. I don't usually cook too much, I'll confess that I get take-out a lot. Not always unhealthy ones, but you know those subscription boxes that send you the meals pretty much already cooked?'

'I've heard of those. Are they any good?

'Meh, they're alright. I was working as fire fighter and I was on-call, giving me really unsociable hours and not a lot of time to eat, so they made sense. I enjoyed it, but I wanted a more stable routine, hence, why I moved here.'

We talk some more and finish up breakfast. I clean my teeth and set about finishing my chapter from yesterday. Jonah takes up his position on the sofa, now commissioned with drawing me a portrait of Blue.

A comfortable silence sits between us. The wind howls outside, Jonah's pencil scratches against the paper, and my fingers tap away on the keyboard.

I'm so into my work, that I jump when Jonah appears behind me. I slam my laptop screen down, like a teenager caught watching porn by their parent. I leap to my feet as my cheeks burn, making Jonah chuckle.

'Sorry, I didn't see anything, don't worry,' he says smoothly. 'Just wanted to ask if this was the angle you wanted?'

He hands me the sketchbook and I assess his drawing.

'It's perfect,' I murmur.

I'm already in love with it, even though it's only the outlines.

'Really? You like it?' He asks sweetly, sounding vulnerable.

'Honestly, I love it.'

Our eyes meet and my heart stops beating for a moment.

'If you don't mind me asking, what were you writing about that you didn't want me to see?' He asks, a teasing smile playing on his full lips. 'Was it something...inappropriate?'

My cheeks burn even redder and I open and close my mouth, trying to think of something -anything- to say.

'I found your books on the bookshelf in your room and scanned through one of them,' Jonah confesses.

I don't say anything, silently begging the ground to swallow me up.

'It was quite...raunchy, is that the word?' He says with a laugh. 'I guess smut sells.'

I finally find my voice. 'Uh, yeah, it does.'

Jonah grins. 'Is that what you're writing now? Smut?'

I groan and press my palm to my forehead. 'This isn't happening,' I tell myself and Jonah bursts out laughing.

He gently pulls my hand away from my face. 'I'm sorry, I'm teasing. I'll stop.'

I meet his eyes and he gives me a warm smile.

'It was hot, you can really write that stuff,' he comments. 'Where do you get your inspiration?'

Oh, God.

How do I answer that question?

'Um, you know, here and there,' I reply vaguely. 'Just things I experience, people I meet, that sort of thing.'

Jonah takes a step towards me and I swallow hard, trying to get rid of the sudden lump in my throat.

'What about people you save? Could they be inspiration, too?' He asks darkly.

His voice has dropped an octave or two, becoming huskier, more raspy.

It appears he is feeling the attraction just as strongly as me.

'Perhaps,' I whisper.

I daren't meet his eyes. I keep my gaze purely on his lips.

He leans in close to me, moving slowly so that I have time to pull away. But I don't, I want this to happen, I've been fantasising about it ever since I took his damn shirt off whilst he was unconscious.

After what seems like forever, our lips meet.

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So I went back and started to read Phone Sex and omg my face was burning 😭

I was laid in bed like 😳shit, did I actually write this? I'm so embarrassed 😂

Dying. Can't believe I'm such a dirty bitch when I wanna be 😩 and then there's me in my Disney slippers watching old Barbie movies like I'm not a smut-loving sinner 😈

Happy Wicked Wednesday, L x