Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 44297 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44297 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Wade usually barrels down the roads into town, but I take it slowly, wanting to stretch the morning out, and let Joelle breathe. I want to appreciate this small pocket of time that belongs only to us.
Joelle sits angled toward the window at first, watching the fields roll by, her hair in a messy bun, her hands folded in her lap. But after a few minutes, she glances sideways at me, like she’s trying to figure out what to say and how to be.
“You don’t have to make this a big deal,” she murmurs.
I rest my hand on the bench seat between us, close to her thigh. “It is a big deal to me,” I say quietly. “And it should be to you. You deserve good things.”
She lets out a shaky exhale, turning her gaze back to the windshield like the compliment is too heavy to hold. “No one’s ever said that to me before, Caleb. I don’t know what to do with care like this. Even my momma used to begrudge buying me what I needed.”
“Your momma never deserved you, Joelle.”
She wraps her fingers around mine. “I didn’t come to Grayswood expecting this. You have to know that.”
“We know, sweetie.”
“I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of gold-digger like my momma. I’m not afraid of working for what I need. All I wanted was a job, but…”
“It’s becoming more than you know how to handle?” I guess.
“I don’t need handouts, Caleb. I need security for my boy and a place I can earn my keep.”
“Not two men who want to treat you like a queen?”
She squeezes my hand. “I don’t know how to be a person who can accept that.”
I squeeze her hand back. “It’s okay if it takes some time. You gotta understand that we’re men who do what we want, and what we want is to take care of all your needs while you take care of ours. Understand?”
She makes a quiet huffing sound. “You’re different from how you used to be,” she says.
“I’ve grown since you left, Joelle. That’s all.”
“I’ve grown too.” Her voice seems tinged with sadness, and I wish I could look at her without risking killing us both.
“You have. Into a beautiful woman.”
She snorts. “There’s more of me now than when I left, that’s for sure.”
“And I’m grateful for every inch, darlin’”
When I sneak a look at her out of the corner of my eye, I find her smiling softly, and I know I’ve achieved my goal.
***
The general store sits at the edge of the tiny town we rely on to service our basic needs. It’s squat and old and full of a random selection of items. When we walk inside, Joelle hesitates just past the threshold, fingers gripping her elbows, eyes scanning the narrow aisles with dread.
“You good?” I ask softly.
She nods, but her voice betrays her. “I haven’t bought new clothes since before Caleb was born. What I’ve been wearing I got from the thrift store when I was pregnant. I don’t know my size. And dresses…” She trails off, swallowing hard. “Sometimes they don’t fit right.”
It hits me then. She isn’t just worried about how much the clothes will cost, but what she’ll look like in them.
“Joelle,” I say, stepping close enough that my voice stays between us, “I like the way you look in everything you wear. And I mean everything. Your curves are beautiful. You’re beautiful. There’s nothing in this store that could make you look anything less.”
Her gaze lifts, wide and startled, like she wasn’t ready for that much honesty.
I gesture toward the rack. “Pick whatever you feel good in. And if you’re not sure, I’ll tell you the truth. You have my word.”
She nods slowly, then reaches for a dress—soft cotton, dusty blue with a tie at the waist—and presses it to her body like she’s testing the idea of herself in it.
“You wanna try it on?” I ask.
Her lips part, uncertainty flickering. “You’ll wait?”
“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” I promise.
She steps into the makeshift dressing corner— a curtain hung on a rod—and I sit on the bench outside, listening to the soft rustle of fabric, the faint exhale of her breath.
Then the curtain pulls back.
And my heart damn near stops.
The dress hugs every curve of her body in the most perfect way, the soft fabric gliding over her wide hips. A cinched waist highlights her curves, and the neckline tat frames her collarbones and the tantalizing swell of her breasts without showing too much. She stands, shifting on her feet, biting her lip, eyes down, like she’s bracing for harsh words.
“Jo,” I whisper, finally finding my voice. “Come here.”
She steps forward, uncertain.
“You look…” I shake my head, not even embarrassed when the words catch. “You look stunning.”
Her breath shivers out, her cheeks flushing deep. “It’s not too tight?”