s it on the short fence next to me. With a quick twist of the faucet, the water begins flowing. Scrubbing my hands together under the spray, I wash away the dirt before cupping them together to splash the water on my face. There’s a small pail at my feet that I half fill. As I tip the pail back, I let the water flow through my hair and down my back. Feeling instantly cooler, I shake the excess water from my too-long hair. Getting a haircut every other week, like I did when I was at my desk job, flew right out the window once I moved home. Forgoing the neat and clean-cut look for an almost-never-clean-shaven face and hair that’s long enough to tuck behind my ears has actually been kind of liberating.
Dragging my shirt across my face, I feel as if I’m being watched. As I crane my head around, I look over my shoulder slightly and see Elle standing in front of the window in the office. Immediately, she freezes and our eyes lock together. She’s close enough for me to see her eyes get wider, to see her chest rise and fall on a deep breath, to see her throat work to swallow back her obvious appreciation for what she’s just seen. Before the sly smile on my face even reaches my eyes, she turns quickly and walks away from the window.
In the last few days, I haven’t said much of anything to Elle, not even bothering to stop in to say goodnight to her as I leave each day. But maybe I will tonight.
After helping Peter unload the last of today’s harvest, I make my way into the building that houses the offices. “Oh, hi, Owen.” Rosie’s warm voice greets me as I approach Elle’s door.
“Hey, Rosie. How was your day?” I find that no matter what kind of day I’ve had out in the fields, no matter how frustrated I may feel about everything, I can’t ever be anything but nice to Rosie. She’s such a sweet woman; it’s impossible not to smile around her.
Shuffling a few stacks of papers, she huffs a breath of air, moving a stray piece of hair from her forehead. “Busy, busy, busy, you know, the usual.” I want to say, “no, actually I don’t know because Elle doesn’t tell me about much of anything on this side of the estate,” but I bite my tongue.
Not for much longer.
“But it’s quittin’ time for me.” She stands from her chair and slings her bag over her shoulder.
“G’night.” We exchange a smile and she’s out the door.
Maybe it was the heated stare we exchanged before, but something in me makes me pause outside of Elle’s door. Opting for courtesy, I knock before entering, rather than just barging in, like I may have done last week.
“Come in,” her soft voice calls from behind the thick mahogany doors.
My eyes immediately go to the gigantic stack of papers on the desk. I’m assuming they’re the reason for the haggard and beaten look on Elle’s face. But, when she picks her head up from whatever she’s working on, finally taking notice that it’s me who walked in the room and not Rosie, her face brightens. Plastering on that how-can-I-help-you smile she’s mastered whenever I’m around, she eyes me suspiciously, waiting for me to explain why I’ve come here.
“Everything okay?” Though the intent of my question is genuine, I can clearly see that something’s gone wrong; she still doesn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth. Her longer-than-necessary pause tells me all I need to know: everything is most definitely not okay.
“Of course,” she answers professionally, but I hear the quiver in her voice. I wonder if I put it there. Only one way to be sure: move in closer and see if I can make it quake even more.
Leaning over the desk, I scan the papers. “Anything I can help with?”
“Um, well…uh… no.” Her stammering forces a wolf-like grin to curl at my lips. I’m definitely affecting her and I love it. “Is there something you wanted?” Her arms fold across one another on her desk and she leans closer. It’s impossible not to notice how the tops of her breasts push against the lacy line of her top as she does so.
She catches me staring and laughs as she says, “Up here, Owen. My eyes are up here.” Recovering as quickly as I can, I pull my eyes away from her rack. Her eyebrow is arched at me in a mockingly sarcastic way, but there’s a touch of triumph there. Damn her. She did it on purpose and I fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.
As she sits back, a smug look spreads across her face. Forcing her attention back to whatever she was working on before I walked in, she clicks away at a few things on the computer. She’s intentionally ignoring me, excluding me from the work she doesn’t even know I’m more than qualified to do. Not one to miss out on an opportunity, I take her state of disinterest as a chance to stare at her.
When I told Nick she wasn’t unfortunate looking, I hadn’t given her beauty the credit it deserved. She really is quite beautiful. Pieces of her light brown hair frame her heart-shaped face. A few strands have fallen from her low bun, cascading down her long, delicate neck. Her caramel-colored eyes are almost hidden behind her glasses, but I can see the fire in them. When she pulls her glasses off her face, she slips one of the end pieces into her mouth. Watching her run that little piece of plastic back and forth over her full, plump lip makes me wonder what her lips might feel like elsewhere.
“Oh, shit!” She clicks on a few more things and I try to tame the erection that’s just sprung to life behind my zipper. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” she repeats and it’s actually kind of funny watching her become so frazzled.
“What?”
“Crap, it’s nothing. Nothing you need to worry about.” With more force than is necessary, she slams the lid of her laptop closed. On a loud, exasperated sigh, she stands from her chair and walks over to the window. Damn! She’s wearing those stockings with the dark seam running down the back of her legs. So much for taming that erection.
And of course her ass looks perfect, too.
She twists her neck from side to side. The sound of it cracking and popping as she stretches it out makes me cringe. Her hand goes to her neck as she tries to rub out some of the tension.
Hmmm…wouldn’t mind her rubbing out the tension in my pants right now.
This is when I decide to make my move. Standing from my chair, I walk up behind her and drop my hands to her knotted-with-stress shoulders.
She startles slightly, before straightening her back like an arrow. She turns her head slightly, eyeing me cautiously. “What are you doing?” There’s a breathless quality to her voice.
“Calm down, Elle,” I say as I begin kneading her shoulders and upper arms. Her name rolls off my tongue, dripping of the sweetest honey.
Feeling her melt under my hands is more satisfying than I care to admit to. The subtle moan that passes her lips makes me want to nip and bite at her neck, kissing my way up to her ear. Somehow, I manage to restrain myself enough to say, “Now, please tell me what’s got you all worked up.”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” she defends as some of the tension returns under my fingertips.