Page 48 of Almost Ravaged (Men of Evercrisp Orchard #1)

Chapter forty

Mercer

I climb the familiar stairs, all my senses on high alert because of the woman trailing behind me.

“Hey. Didn’t know you were tagging along tonight,” Noah says by way of greeting.

Neither did I.

But when Sawyer mentioned it, I insisted on coming, too. Now that we’re here, and given the heavy conversation that just transpired, I’ve got all sorts of questions for my oldest friend.

Like why my graduate assistant is so interested in the details of his life.

Or why she looked horrified for a moment when she believed he was married.

Her question regarding my relationship with Noah was a valid one.

She’s so fucking perceptive. I had my tongue inside her four days ago, so it’s only fair that she wants to know whether I’m involved with anyone else.

I’m not, nor do I intend to be for as long as she’ll have me.

I can’t fathom hooking up with anyone else when she infiltrates my every waking thought and has for weeks.

I make a mental note to have that conversation sooner rather than later .

Except—what the fuck am I thinking, and who the fuck am I? And how would I feel if she didn’t want to be exclusive?

All week, I’ve caught myself entertaining questions I have no right to think or ask.

I’m not in a committed relationship with this woman.

We’ve only recently begun tolerating each other.

But I can’t deny my attraction or how intense it’s become.

My desire for her beats hard and fast in my chest. Sitting in the car with her alone was enough to leave me with a hard-on and an obsessive fixation with all the patchy holes in her loose denim jeans.

I give Noah a quick nod, then step around him and throw my bag down near the front door.

As I turn back, I’m at the perfect angle to watch Sawyer greet him.

She’s beaming, smiling so big the skin around her eyes crinkles and that pretty pink blush I love so much paints her cheeks.

Noah, on the other hand, looks uncomfortable. His shoulders are shrugged up to his ears, and already, he’s removed his burnt-orange cap and is scraping a hand through his hair.

He’s nervous. He’s fucking nervous. Because of her.

“Hi.” She gives him a tiny wave, her attention singularly focused on him.

He mutters a greeting in response, something along the lines of “How are you?” before placing the hat back on his head.

With his hands free, he reaches out for her, though he quickly pulls back.

But I catch the move. Sawyer must notice, too.

She shifts forward an inch, then catches herself and freezes, sinking her teeth into that plush bottom lip I’ve been dreaming about since she had her mouth on my cock.

When she moves closer again, he mirrors the movement. Her arms lift, and then his shoulders twitch. She places one foot in front of the other. He stands taller.

That’s when my tolerance snaps. I clear my throat, making them both jump back, and glare at them, forcing them to awkwardly acknowledge whatever that just was.

With an uncomfortable laugh, Noah turns toward me. But he doesn’t meet my eye.

Busted.

“So, um.” Sawyer brushes both hands down her legs. She looks at me, then back at Noah. “Where’s Shiloh tonight? ”

An embarrassed huff escapes him. “In her kennel. She’s settled in for the night.”

A small smile teases Sawyer’s pretty mouth as she quietly cracks the knuckles on one hand. She’s clearly reaching to keep the conversation going when she lobs another question his way.

“And how’s the hive?”

A genuine, delighted smile spreads over my best friend’s face.

A smile I know. A smile I miss. A smile I haven’t seen from him in far too long.

He shoves his hands into his pockets.

Probably to prevent himself from reaching for her again.

I strike the curmudgeonly thought from my mind, too caught up in observing the intricacies of their interaction to focus on my own reaction to whatever I’m witnessing.

“They’re doing really well,” he tells her. “I let the queen out of her clip and I haven’t seen any signs of robbing or aggression between the colonies.”

The bees.

They’re talking about his fucking bees.

How the hell does Sawyer even know about the bees?

I cross my arms over my chest and rock back on my heels.

I’m undoubtedly giving off a vibe right now, which Noah is usually excellent at perceiving.

Sawyer is impressively attuned to me as well.

However, they’re so wrapped up in each other that neither senses my ire.

Hell, maybe they’ve forgotten I’m here altogether.

“Here,” Noah insists, taking Sawyer’s bag off her shoulder.

She startles, but she regains her bearings quickly and lets him take it from her.

“I was just heading down there,” he says, his words rushed. “To the apiary, I mean. It’s going to be cold tonight. Most of the hives will be fine, but I’m going to wrap the new one in tar paper, just in case.”

Sawyer’s eyes widen and she stands a little straighter. “Can I help?”

My best friend lifts that damn hat off his head again, a clear tell. “No. I mean, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Sawyer insists. “I don’t have any other plans tonight. Just being here. With you.” She reaches toward him but pulls back quickly, her eyes darting to me. “And with Mercer. ”

She mentioned me like an afterthought, but at least she has the decency to look embarrassed. I raise one eyebrow at the woman who’s monopolized my every waking nonacademic thought for weeks.

“By all means, Ms. Davvies. Don’t let me spoil your fun. If you want to spend the evening in the apiary with my friend, then that’s what you should do.”

She huffs, finally, finally sensing my mood. With a quick sidestep across the porch, she closes the distance between us.

Once she’s close enough for her sweet vanilla and warm apple pie scent to register, my anxiety wanes.

Though a heartbeat later, my nerves start sparking to life and intrusive urges about touching and taking and claiming replace all my lucid, reasonable thoughts.

Apparently, being physically close to this woman isn’t enough for my lizard brain.

I want more, and I don’t care how it looks or what either of them thinks of my show of possession.

With a sharp intake of breath, I pull her closer and dig my fingers into the soft curve of her hip.

“Possessive asshole,” she huffs, the accusation so quiet I’m sure Noah doesn’t hear it, as she tries to shift away. She sweeps her hair to one side, peering up at me with narrowed eyes.

I snicker, my grip only tightening. “I’m as surprised as you are, Little Nuisance.”

Behind her, my best friend watches us, his attention laser-focused on the spot where I’m holding her tight.

“Okay. So…” Sawyer looks from me to Noah.

We’re too busy glaring at each other to ease her very warranted concerns.

“I, um, need to set up the camera for the time-lapse. I better get going. Otherwise I’ll miss sunset.”

This time when she pulls away, I let her go. I miss the warmth of her immediately.

“I just need—” She points awkwardly toward the bag Noah now has slung over his shoulder.

“Right. Sorry. Here.” He holds the bag out and opens his mouth, like he has more to say, but snaps it closed again, giving an imperceptible shake of his head.

“I’ll just be a few minutes.” She eyes me, then assesses him again. “Will you wait until I’m finished to check on the bees?”

Once he’s given her a nod and a low grunt, she turns on her heel and flounces down the steps, her supple ass bouncing with each stride .

I track the sway of her hips as she advances to the barn.

Because I can.

Because I want to.

Because I’ve only just gotten a taste, and I’m already prepared to stake my claim.

Only when she’s completely disappeared from view do I turn to Noah. “You like her,” I say, the accusation burning between us like heat lightning before a summer storm.

With a scoff, he takes a step back, once again fiddling with his damn ball cap. “No. I can’t. She’s too young for me. And then there’s Meg—”

I shoot him a glare. “Meg’s been dead for a year and a half.”

He gawks, and I suppose I can’t blame him. I’ve never talked about her death so flippantly before. I loved Meg like a sister. Their relationship was effortless, and it was a privilege to watch it develop and grow over the years.

But he’s been stewing in grief and guilt for too long. I was starting to fear he didn’t remember how to feel anything other than the pain caused by the gaping hole that’s been carved out of his chest.

In an effort to keep myself from saying something I regret, I relax my hands at my sides and roll out my neck. “I know you, Noah. I know what I just saw.”

He scoffs and doubles down. “That? Saying hi and trying to make small talk with the girl you assigned to work here all semester?”

A girl. First, we both know she’s a fucking woman. But if he wants to be an obstinate prick about this…

I let out a humorless laugh. He can’t think he’s fooling me. Maybe he’s trying to fool himself. “You reached out to hug her.”

His body goes rigid and his nostrils flare. “I did not.” Like a petulant child, he shoulders past me and jogs down the stairs.

Without hesitation, I follow.

He’s got a few inches on me, so it’s a challenge to keep up with him, but I give it my best effort. Each long stride brings me closer to unlocking the truth. He ducks into the open barn before I’m even halfway down the path Sawyer and I just traversed, going the other way.

“Noah.” Like hell am I letting him off the hook. There’s too much at stake for him to pretend that exchange meant nothing .

By the time I round the corner and enter the barn, he’s set about his task with his back turned. His broad shoulders flex and contract as he heaves an armful of small pumpkins from one carton and carries them over to another.

Once he’s dropped them and straightened, I say, “She asked about the bees.”

He plants his hands on his hips and hangs his head, his chest rising and falling quickly.

Heavy silence hangs between us.