Lennon goes to check on the chickens and play outside for a bit, and Clover drops down on the couch beside me.
“This is nice,” she says quietly. “Minus, you know, the biblical flood occurring both in my home and out of yours. Maybe I’m a water witch or some shit,” she says, laughing.
I look at her suspiciously. “The signs are all there,” I say accusingly, which makes her laugh more.
“Yeah,” I say, circling back to what she said. “It is nice.”
Silence stretches.
“I’m glad you came and got me,” she breathes, tilting her head to look up at me.
I turn my head before I can stop myself. Her hair is a mess, her eyes are hooded, and her mouth looks entirely too enticing.
“I am too,” I confess, leaning in to her. Her hand clutches my sweater, pulling me in. Our lips clash together, and it feels so goddamn familiar. I didn’t know my lips could have a home, but here it is. I run my hand through her hair, grasping the nape of her neck, tugging gently. She smiles against my lips, and my heart shatters. There it is. I will never get over that.
She moans quietly as I tighten my grip, and I move my lips down her neck. My other hand snakes under the flannel she stole from me and shoves her bra up over her breasts. I feel her nipples harden under my touch as I slide my palm down overher. She sucks in a breath when I take one in between my finger and thumb, pinch, and pull. A throaty noise escapes her.
She pulls away, and before I can tell her to get the fuck back here, she straddles my waist, pressing her center down on my cock. She leans down and presses her lips back against mine, taking control of the situation. She rocks against me, breathy little pants escaping her. I can tell she’s close.
The front door slams, and Clover throws herself off of me, flying to the opposite end of the couch. I grab the throw blanket and quickly throw it over my lap.
“Man, the chickens are pissed,” Lennon says, kicking her muddy boots off right in the middle of the floor.
Clover bursts into laughter. “Hey, now you get to put fifty cents in the swear jar,” she tells Lennon.
“Pissed is a bad word?!” She clasps her hand over her mouth, realizing she said it again.
Clover continues to laugh and gets up to get the muddy boots off the floor and put them in the mudroom.
The rest of the day goes slowly and simply. More chores. Chopping firewood. Easy laughter fills the house.
I want to touch Clover. To brush her hair back. Kiss her forehead. Hold her in the quiet moments between the chaos, but I can’t.
After Lennon goes to sleep, I stand in Clover’s doorway again, making sure she gets settled in.
“Think the power will be back anytime soon?” She asks, sliding under the quilt and adjusting herself on her pillow.
“I don’t know, honestly. Once the county can get out and fix the bridge, they should be able to get to the transformer.”
She nods. “I want a hot shower or bath so bad,” she groans. “And I want to text Brynn to let her know I’m okay. She’s probably worried about us.”
“I texted her and the folks before the power went out the other night, to let them know we were flooding and that we would be okay. Sometimes, service drops out here in bad weather, so I warned them.”
She looks so cozy, curled up in the mountain of pillows. I want to ruin it, pick her up, throw her over my shoulder, and take her to my bed. Instead, I clear my throat and rap my knuckles against the dresser twice.
“Well, if you need anything . . . ” I trail off. It’s become our little routine.
“I’ll holler,” she says sleepily.
I lie in bed a while later, staring at the ceiling. Somehow, the house feels way too empty and way too full at the same time.
CLOVER
Ihear a long, loud honk coming from down near where the gate of Beck’s property is. When it stops, I hear two distinct doors shutting.
“Y’all up there?” A familiar voice shouts in the distance, and Lennon and I drop the dry macaroni noodles we were making art with and look at each other.
We both run in at the same time, equally excited, and start searching for our shoes. I don’t have any rain or mud boots, so I’m going to have to sacrifice the low-tops I was wearing when I got here to the mud gods. Luckily, I at least put my own jeans on today instead of just slumming it in Beck’s joggers. I am still wearing his hoodie, though.
