She arches a brow, her pretty mouth curving on one side. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Can I give it a face, too? A clown face with a big red nose?”
“Sure. I’ve got red paint. But that sounds like it might skew scary, doesn’t it?”
Cassie steps closer, mischief creeping into her expression. “Why, Mr. O’Dell, are you afraid of clowns?”
“Afraid isn’t the word I would use,” I say, slipping an arm around her waist.
“Then what word would you use?”
“I’m respectful of their space. They don’t get too close to me, I don’t get too close to them, and no one ends up locked in an abandoned lion cage at the back of the carnival while a serial killer in floppy shoes sharpens his collection of polka dot-handled hunting knives.”
She laughs, that rich, carefree laugh that is quickly becoming one of my favorite sounds in the world. “That’s a very detailed fantasy.”
“Nightmare,” I correct. “Recurring. I read too much Stephen King as a kid. But don’t tell anyone. I’m trying to maintain my rep as an adult who can be trusted to rush bravely into burning buildings.”
Cassie’s gaze softens. “I won’t tell anyone. And I think you’re very brave.” She lifts a hand, running her fingers gently over the scar on my cheek. “Jojo stopped by for a lube refill for his girlfriend today. He told me about the fire at the welding shop. How you went in to save your friend and they almost weren’t in time to get you out.”
I shrug uncomfortably. “Jojo talks too much.”
She frowns. “I’m sorry. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“No, it’s not that, it’s just…” I hug her closer. “It was a long time ago. And it was scary, yeah, but it also changed my life for the better. That night is what inspired me to become a firefighter. And fighting fires is my soul work, you know? Something I know makes a difference in people’s lives every single day.”
She nods. “Yeah. It does. You’re a hero.”
I scoff, rolling my eyes. “I don’t know about that.”
“I do,” she says, without a trace of doubt. “You’re my hero anyway. I touched twenty-seven dildos today and only blushed fire engine red once. Never could have happened without you.”
I smile. “And now we’re going to finish the job of getting you dildo comfy. Ready to get your art on?” I’d much rather carry her inside and kiss every sexy inch of her, but crazy as this is, I think it’s going to help her.
Cassie nods, propping her hands on her hips as she surveys the pile of scrap. “Ready. Where do I start?”
“I’ll get you gloves to protect your hands and then you can sort through the pieces. I like to lay my sculptures out on the grass first, in a kind of flattened 3D style, then assemble from the base up, tweaking as I go. But not everyone’s brain works that way. Blake likes to make heads first, then bodies, and attach the arms and legs last.” I jab a thumb toward the fence at the back of my two acres. “Those are his. The metal scarecrows. The rest of the redneck sculpture garden is my stuff.”
I wave in the general area beneath the ancient apple trees, where my initial Wizard of Oz tribute from a few years back—Dorothy and her friends populate the center of the space—eventually turned into a full-fledged fictional characters-made-of-scrap party. I’ve got all our favorites from when my brothers and I were growing up as well as a special request from the kids down the street, who insisted no sculpture garden would be complete without a Pikachu.
“Wow. You’re both so talented.” Cassie bites her lip. “Just to warn you, I’m consistently awful at artistic things. I’d hate to ugly things up around here.”
“It’s okay,” I assure her. “Art is about the fun, not the end result. And I’ll have to hide both of these in the shed after we’re done, anyway. The kids from the neighborhood like to hang out here, and I’m not ready to explain dildos to them. Or to their parents.”
Cassie points a finger at my chest. “Good call. That would be an excellent way to get even more people waving pitchforks and trying to run Sunshine out of town.”
“Which we’re not going to think about tonight,” I gently remind her. “Tonight is for happy things.”
Her eyes meet mine, a look in those rich chocolate depths I can’t decipher.
“What?” I finally ask. “Do I have paint on my nose?”
She shakes her head. “No. You have handsome on your nose. And I was just thinking that…” She shrugs. “Well, I was thinking that I’m pretty much always happy when I’m with you.”
That does it. I can’t resist going in for a kiss.
I thread my fingers through her silky hair and slant my lips over hers, kissing her with the late afternoon sun warming our faces. But it isn’t the summer heat that makes my blood run hot. It’s this woman, who I’m finding it harder and harder to imagine letting go of.
At least not anytime soon.
“I have an idea,” she whispers against my lips.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“I’m not going to give it a clown face. I’m going to do something even better. But it’s going to be a surprise.”
I smile down at her. “Then let’s glove up and get going.”
Thirty minutes later, Cassie has all the pieces for the base of her own giant metal dildo laid out on the grass. She hands them to me one at a time, giving instructions on how she wants them joined together, but insisting she isn’t ready to learn to weld just yet.
“Baby steps,” she says, handing me a faded blue piece of sheet metal she’s just finished hammering into a half circle on one of my shapers. “I’ll learn to play with fire next time.”
Next time. I like the sound of that. I like it so much that I have to kiss her again. When we come up for air this time, her lips are swollen and there’s a hungry look in her eyes that makes me want to offer myself up as her appetizer, main course, and dessert.
“I just realized something,” she says. “I won’t be able to surprise you with the face unless I weld it myself.”
I arch a brow. “That’s what you were thinking about while I was kissing you?”
Lids drooping to half-mast, she shakes her head. “No. That wasn’t what I was thinking about. That part came after. During the kissing part I was thinking of…other things.”
“What kind of other things?”
“Help me figure out how to make my surprise,” she says, lifting her nose into the air. “And maybe I’ll tell you.”
I smile. “I’ve got super glue. Won’t hold it forever, maybe, but it’ll do until I can solder it all in place later.”
Cassie claps her hands. “Perfect!”
And it is perfect.
Every minute with her.
By the time the sun slips behind the horizon, we’re nearly finished. I get to work on clean up, collecting the leftover scrap and disposing of the pieces too small to recycle into something new, while Cassie puts on her finishing touches.
“Okay, you can look now,” she says, granting me permission to check out her masterpiece. The moment I lay eyes on the thing I burst into laughter. I can’t help it, but thankfully Cassie seems pleased by my response.
“It’s a unicorn,” she announces happily. “A unicorn dildo!”
“I see that,” I say, still chuckling. “I like the rainbow mane.”
“The paint is a little sloppy since I was in a hurry,” she says, grinning up at the multi-colored spikes she’s affixed to the head. “But I kind of like it. The messiness is working for me.”
“Me too, but you didn’t have to rush. I’ve got lamps in the shed. We could have turned them on and kept working after dark.”
Cassie turns to me, threading her fingers together in front of her paint-spattered cut-off jeans, holding my gaze a long moment before she says in a softer voice, “I didn’t want to keep working after dark.”
My pulse leaps in my throat. “No?”
She shakes her head as she starts across the grass toward me, every step making my heart beat faster. “No. I wanted to do…other things after dark.”
“Toast marshmallows over my fire pit?”
She shakes her head, stepping deliberately over a hammer I missed during clean up. “Two guesses left.”
“Help take George for his evening walk?” I ask, my voice going husky as she stops in front of me, close enough for me to count the specks of blue paint scattered across the bridge of her nose and dotted on her glasses. She’s so cute, it’s almost painful to look at her, and I have to fight the urge to imagine her wearing those paint specks and nothing else.
I’m pretty sure I’m reading the look on her face correctly, but I don’t want to make any assumptions or do anything to pressure her into making a decision she’s not ready to make yet. I want this to be her call.
“One guess left,” she coos, clucking her tongue. “Really, Ryan, you’re pretty awful at guessing games.”
“I am.” I tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger on the delicate skin behind it before I pull away. “Maybe if I had a hint?”
“A hint…” Her lashes sweep down, fanning across her flushed cheeks before she looks back up at me, a Mona Lisa smile on her face. “What has two arms, two legs, and would like to wrap all of them around you as soon as possible? Hint—her name isn’t George.”
“Could it be Cassandra Mae Sunderwell?”
She nods, her face going pinker but her gaze never wavering from mine. “It is. Take me inside? I’m ready to learn what all the fuss is about.”
“You’re sure?” I ask, fighting to keep my hands to myself until every shred of doubt is swept away.