Chapter Eight
Keegan
My woman might make pumpkin carving my new favorite thing.
We come back from the orchard with pumpkins, apples, and a worn out Boomhauer. After a perfect day where we talked like I’ve never talked, laughed together, and got a little more entangled with one another, this seems almost intimate.
Back at her place, she readies her dining table for us to work. Lying down brown butcher paper, spreading out some fancy looking carving tools, and digging out some flameless candles, she’s well prepared. Also, she’s so excited it’s palpable. Not only is it adorable, it’s catching.
And then she breaks out two aprons.
“Take your clothes off,” she demands, lit up by the late afternoon sun, a sexy grin at her beautiful face. “If we do this right, we’re about to get very messy,” she says with a chuckle.
With that smirk in place, she strips out of her leggings, cable sweater and scarf, leaving her bare. Rarely does she wear bras or panties which benefits me. It grants me easy access to her when I need her. Damn glad for it now—I get a view of her in the autumn light, her skin shining and her face glowing. God, she’s gorgeous and all mine.
Kicking off my boots and pulling at my thermal, I watch her eyes as I get naked too. With her watching me me, I can’t hide how hard it is to shimmy my jeans off. I watch her wrap an apron around herself and somehow, it makes this even hotter. Her round tits are barely covered, and the short hem of the apron flashes me a glimpse of her sweetness.
She comes up to me, tying a shorter apron around my waist. “There you go big guy,” she teases with a pat at my cock.
“I'm for sure fucking you in that, babe,” I warn her, landing a swat at her ass as I join her. Kady loves to tempt me and I love it—but right now, we are carving pumpkins. “It’s been decades since I've done this,” I admit as I sit across from her.
“Me too. We used to do it the minute it we could get to an orchard. Mom and dad,” she sighs softly as she often does when she mentions her parents, “they loved to see the kids in their costumes, so they always decorated the house and the yard. I miss doing that. I grew out of it, I suppose.”
“I remember one Halloween with Oliver, we went as *N Sync members.” I laugh at the memory as we start cleaning the pumpkins. “He did it for the ladies, I did it because I loved Bye, Bye, Bye. I mean, who didn’t?”
“I went as Britney Spears one year,” she admits, flushing a little in memory, “both of us did, actually. Chantel was schoolgirl Britney with the pink poms in her hair and I wore the mod hair and red cat suit. We did it for us, not the boys who catcalled us all night. We were maybe fourteen? It was the last time we dressed up. The last time we did this, too,” she waves a hand at our carving set-up.
“I wish I got a chance to see that.” I set my tool down, watching her for a moment, “What I wish more is that you didn’t stop carving pumpkins or giving out candy. You were dealt a shit hand, baby. I can’t imagine what losing your parents cost you. I love my parents even if we weren’t close and I don’t know if I'd have made much of myself if I hadn’t had them as examples.”
She sobers, setting aside her tools too. “When Chantel met Baker, I was so happy for her. Truly, I was. She was my rock for so long and no one saw how beautiful and worthy she was. Life cost her a lot more than it cost me. She’s why I went to school, why I joined that cooking contest, and why I took a chance on opening Bite. I got so lonely though...I always had her until they met. He does his best to make sure I still have her, but it’s not the same.”
Her eyes glisten with tears and I hate that I ever thought to be jealous of him. Mostly, though, I hate that she ever felt lonely when I could have done something about it. I wasted so much time. I won’t waste a moment more and I won’t ever let her feel alone again.
“Well now you’ve got me, and I’ve got you. And Boom,” I add when he lets out a howl at our feet. “We’re not alone now, are we? We’re together and we’re going to carve these up so they’re ready for trick-or-treaters.”
“For the trick-or-treaters, huh? We can really do the house up for Halloween?” As she asks, something so innocent lights her eyes.
Without question I know she wants this. Not just to decorate together or enjoy Halloween. She wants to do it allwith me because it’s something special to her. Something she shared with Chantel and her parents—the most important people in her lives. I know my answer matters more than she wants to let on.
“Hell yeah we can, baby,” I wink at her and get back to carving, proving I mean it. “We can put up some cobwebs and those spooky sound machines. We can take turns handing the candy out, too—but we have to watch Halloween oneandtwo.” I offer these things as if they don’t matter but by the look in her eyes, I know they do.
They matter because I'm promising to be here, with her, in two weeks. In four weeks, six or eight, whatever she wants me to promise her. I'm telling her we will do things together—things she wants like the pumpkins and the decorations and things I want like the scary movies and her—and it tells her what I haven’t said yet.
I want her, I want us, and I want this thing we found.
“Oh yeah,” she cocks a dark brow at me, “I agree on part one and part two. But only if you agree I can get Boom a costume and I choose the candy we hand out,” she negotiates with a beaming smile.
“Done. Come help me babe—I am no pumpkin master.”
Because I want her closer—not because I need help—I drag her chair next to mine. We take our time carving the pumpkins, talking about Halloweens past and how to decorate her place. Hers turns out to be a masterpiece mummy that looks awesome lit up. Mine looks like a clown jack-o-lantern, and together we make one for Boom with just his name carved into it.
With the sun setting, we light them up on the front steps. Looking at her place, I promise her we will go all out for Halloween. Whatever she wants. Back inside, she counters by letting me choose a horror film as she starts making the pumpkin seeds into a tasty snack.
Seated at the counter, I watch her in her element as she seasons, preps, and starts the oven for the seeds. As she often does when she cooks, she talks me through her process. She once wanted a cooking show but when a contest allowed her a chance at it, she realized she really wanted to cook for people, not for a camera. Still, she plays this role for me and I love watching her.
“Christ, look at you,” I grunt as she bends to check the oven.
We’re both still naked, wrapped in aprons, and her teasing is driving me mad. While we worked, I did my best to behave, but I let my hands wander a few times. It’s a wonder we got through carving. Nothing and no one else winds me up like this woman does.