Ben nibbles my shoulder from behind me in his bed. “What are you doing?”
“Shh.” I need to concentrate as I type an email on my phone. I read aloud as I clack out the words. “‘Just a reminder that I have PTO today and Friday. If it does not rain, I will swing by before dark to make sure the sprinkler system is targeting the flower beds by the entrance gate. Thank you again for being’ … what word should I say here?”
I roll over to face Ben, who lies on his side, shirtless and smiling. I love sleeping over at his house, and not just because he has air conditioning. It’s lovely to wake up with him and Maurice, drinking coffee and preparing for our days at work. He always falls asleep with an arm wound tightly around me, and I always love the possessive safety of that contact.
“Flexible,” Ben says. “Thank them for being flexible with your schedule and then kiss me properly.”
I nod and finish the email, stretching and smiling at him. I rub my fingers along his lips, enjoying the feel of him here. “Today’s the day.”
“I’m still waiting for my kiss.”
“It feels surreal. The harvest and the kissing and all of it.”
The past six weeks have been like a fairytale. The cemetery called me in to interview the day after I applied and I was able to start immediately. Which meant within a week, I had an honest to goodness salary, something called a 401k plan, and a boyfriend to hold my hand each time I freaked out about any of it.
Ben rolls on top of me, supporting his weight on his forearms. His hair tickles my forehead as he leans close. “I promise, I’m real.”
I lift my face to meet his mouth, and he kisses me softly, tenderly. He’s so … steadfast. So sure of his feelings for me. Each day that I get to enjoy that support and affection brings me closer to being sure of him as well.
Ben makes a low sound in his chest and then sinks onto my shoulder, giving me most of his weight. I love the pressure of it, the strong security of him physically and emotionally. “I can’t believe you took off work to help me.”
He twists in my arms, meeting my eye. “Why? I wouldn’t miss it.”
I bite my lip. I started therapy as soon as my health insurance kicked in. Esther’s friend Sam hooked me up with an amazing female therapist, and I’ve been going every week for a month. The sessions leave me raw, like a frayed wire. But I’m learning how to talk about my feelings. “I’m not used to people supporting me, seeing things through.” He opens his mouth and I touch his lips with my fingertips. “And you’ve done so much to show me you’re here for me. I see you. I’m just saying … it’s new still.”
He kisses my shoulder again. He knows how new all of this is, from preventative healthcare to a regular paycheck … not to mention having a boyfriend. “Should we get going?”
I smile and nod, hopping out of bed. Ben made room in his closet for my collection of overalls, and while I love the look of them barely clinging to hangers next to his tidy polo shirts, I can tell the situation isn’t sustainable for my boyfriend. Soon, I’ll have enough cash flow to buy myself a chest of drawers to keep here, to make things more organized.
I tug on a tank top and cut-off overalls with a pair of sturdy boots and a huge hat, since Ben and I will be in the sun the entire day picking hops by hand. He dresses quickly as I make my way to the bathroom to deal with my hair.
I hear the microwave beep in the kitchen, and I round the corner as he hands me one of the egg sandwiches we made in bulk and froze together last Sunday.
It seems boring to enjoy mundane things like food prep, but there’s something so soothing about making an assembly line and carrying out a task with Ben’s help. I spend more time here than at my house these days, but even when we are at my place, he helps me with laundry and dusting and all the normal things couples do on television. It all just feels so stable, and that gives me a bigger thrill than showering with my spider plants.
There was a time when even a whiff of stability made me uncomfortable. But that was before Ben. He’s just relentlessly there for me. For Maurice. For my ideas. I suck in a happy breath and chew my healthy breakfast.
Ben carries Maurice to the car, and we drive to Garfield, where I have all my supplies set up and ready to go—labeled bins for the cones, a gentle rinsing station to knock off any debris.
Ben looks at me expectantly as I reach up to pluck the first of my precious plants. I wait, almost surprised nobody comes by to yell or shoo me away. But this is my project, and I am officially sanctioned to be here, harvesting these amazingly fragrant plants.
“Do it,” Ben chants. “Pick it.” Maurice yaps in agreement.
With a grin, I yank down the furry cone and drop it into the bin. Ben cheers and I join him with a loud whoop. And then we get down to business, picking in earnest.
By the time we break for lunch, I estimate Ben and I have hundreds of pounds of product loaded into the back of Eden’s van.
Midway through the afternoon, Eden surprises me by dropping by the lot to help with the harvest. She says she’s in between honey harvests, but I suspect something else is going on when Eliza also “drops by” on her way to check on one of her goat crews. I stand with my hands on my hips, shaking my head when Eva and Esther stride into the lot with spare sunscreen and a jug of iced tea.
“What are you all doing here? Don’t you have shit to do?”
Esther hands me a glass of tea. “We thought we’d lend a hand. Smell this aroma you’re always yakking about.” She grins and gestures toward the remaining empty buckets. “Tell me what to do.”
I should tease her about getting to boss her around for once, but I’m too overwhelmed and I cough, the words stuck behind a lump in my throat. Ben demonstrates how to pinch the cones from the bines and with six of us working, we have the entire lot done and dusted in a matter of hours.
I stare at the utility van, stuffed to the brim with food grade bins of a crop I spliced and nurtured. One thousand pounds worth of hard work and support from the people currently jockeying to hug me in the golden sunset. I stop trying to hold back the tears and just let them streak through the green-gold dust on my cheeks.
Ben is at my side in a heartbeat, tipping my chin up so I meet his worried gaze. “Are you okay, Eila?”
I shake my head no, because okay is the wrong word for how I feel right now. “I’m …” I flap my hands around and Ben nods, waiting patiently for me to continue. I clutch at my heart. “I’m supported.”
“Yes, definitely.” His smile is warm and he’s back lit by the orange and purple clouds.
“That’s a new sensation for me,” I wail as Ben continues to nod. I feel the impact of the work I’ve done in therapy coming at me like a burst of wind, blowing away lingering self doubt. Today was a huge fucking day for me, and the people I trusted with that information came through. I cry in relief until I laugh, and then I’m just sort of making hysterical sounds as Ben rubs my back and my sisters make themselves scarce.
Eden climbs over the fence into our yard, checking on her hives. I hear her whispering softly to them that she hopes they’ve appreciated the new plants next door. I let her words distract me for a moment, thinking about how the hops might influence the flavor of her next batch of honey, but I don’t have the energy to tell her that right now.
Ben’s voice appears by my ear, his breath warm on my skin but not in a way that makes me sweaty. “You know everyone is here with you because we all love you, right? You know that I love you?”
I stiffen. Ben and I haven’t used that word yet. But he’s right. Of course he is. I knew it months ago when he asked to woo me and I realize I know it down to the soles of my garden boots. “I … do know you love me, Ben.” He presses a kiss to my temple and smiles at me, like he wants me to say it back but can wait for an eternity while I get myself ready.
Except … I don’t want to wait to be ready. I don’t need to worry that Ben will slink off in the night when a better opportunity comes knocking. He is here, with me, at my worst and today, at my best. And I love that about him.
I gasp, realizing, and then I blurt, “I love you, too, Ben.”
His smile could melt honeycomb and the arms that pull me tight feel stronger than the clingiest plant vines I’ve ever tended. His lips press into my hair, his hands on my arms, tugging me close like he’s trying to splice me into his own body. “I love you,” he whispers again.
I don’t know how long he holds me in the middle of the once-vacant lot we transformed together. Long enough that my tears dry and Maurice starts to lick my legs. With a final kiss on my cheek, Ben releases me and crouches to make sure Maurice has water.
I wipe at my face and turn toward my scattered family. “You guys coming along to the bar to make the drop?”
Eliza glances at the sky. “Nah. I gotta check on the girls. Eva, you want a ride or you going with Esther?”
My youngest sister shrugs. “I could feed a goat.”
“You’re not feeding them. We need them to eat the weeds.”
“Whatever. Pet them. Visit. Let’s go already.” They climb into Eliza’s truck and rumble away.
Esther offers me a salute. “I’m going to go shower and make sure Tilly has a handle on things at the bar. You’ll let me know when the brewery has a keg ready for me?”
I wave her off, grinning. I turn to Ben. “It’s just you, Maurice, and me making the delivery, I guess.” He nods and we climb into my sister’s van to make the short trip to the brewery in the east end, near his friend Cash’s house.
They agreed to buy the entire crop for a wet-hop IPA they plan to name Eye of the Storm.
I leave the delivery entrance a few thousand dollars richer and happier than I can ever remember feeling. Ben leans against the van, waiting for me outside. He snaps a picture of me with his phone and I glance down, confused why he’d want to document my sweaty mess.
“This is the face of a triumphant woman,” he says, smiling at the phone. “Look at you, successful urban farmer.” I lean against him and look at the picture, trying to see what he sees. And … he’s right. Despite the leaves in my hair and the dirt streaking my arms, I’m glowing. There’s no other way to describe the look of satisfaction and pride shaping my face. “What’s next, Eila?” He raises his brows.
I bite my lip and wiggle my own brows at him. “Next, I’d like to defile your shower.”
His jaw drops and I giggle as I hop behind the driver’s seat of Eden’s van. I drive faster than I ought to back to his house, where he hurriedly serves Maurice his dinner while I strip in Ben’s living room. My shirt lands on the arm of the new sofa Ben ordered, my socks hitting the new coffee table.
By the time I peel off my undies, Ben is sliding across the floor on his knees, colliding with my body and palming my boobs with a growl. “How do you manage to look sexy and like you’ve just escaped an avalanche?”
I shrug and moan as he licks my nipples. Ben has shown me—repeatedly and thoroughly—that he excels at gentle lovemaking. He can strum my body like I’m his keyboard, but I’m feeling like something a little different today.
“Ben.” I tug on his hair to pull his dark head back from where he’s doing excellent things to my nipples.
“Mm?” He can’t seem to remove his hands from my belly, thumbs tracing up and down my sides and sending shivers of delight through my spine.
I summon my remaining strength and shove him backwards, straddling him as I rip off his clothes in a frenzy. “I want to be wild with you,” I growl. His eyes widen as I tug his belt free from his cargo shorts. Inspired, I tug off his shirt and lift his arms above his head. “I’m going to tie your hands to the piano bench,” I declare, eliciting a groan from the man who works so hard to earn my trust.
I see every ounce of that reflected back to me as he lets me loop the belt around his wrists and tie a loose knot around the leg of the bench. He’s always so tactile and I can tell this act of restraining his hands is a huge demonstration of his trust for me.
I’m electrified by the intimacy of this, of the power I hold right now. I nod at my shoddy restraint work and lick my lips as I drag my hands down Ben’s toned, hairy torso. He moans, my name in his mouth, and I feel incredibly powerful as I explore this body I already know so well.
“Oh shit, Eila. What are you doing to me?” I slide my center along his body, feeling the wet drag of my folds against his skin. I reach for his throbbing length and kiss the tip, holding his stiff cock in my fist.
“Today’s one week since I got the IUD,” I tell him, rubbing his pre-cum with my finger and enjoying the way he wriggles beneath me. “Are you cool if we raw-dog it?”
“Anything, Eila.” I lean down and kiss the silky tip of his length. He nearly chokes. “Fuck, fuck, fuck I want to touch you so much.”
“Hmm,” I smile at him, really loving the way he’s surrendering himself, giving me all the power right now. I love how much he trusts me to understand his sensitivities, to make this feel good for him, too. “How about if you just watch me take you bare?”
I hover above him, lining myself up. Our eyes lock as I slide down his body, the velvet steel filling me in a hot rush that takes my breath away. “Eila,” he whimpers. “Look at us.”
We both stare as I spread around him, placing my hands on his chest for balance as I find a rhythm that feels good. This is the sexiest thing I’ve ever done, and I want to savor it as much as I want to tear his hands free and fuck him frantically as he digs his fingers into my back.
I opt for the latter, knocking the belt loose from the piano bench and sighing when Ben’s hands find purchase against my hips. Both of us grunt and growl as I move and the angle is so perfect, the pressure so right that he doesn’t even need to touch me before I’m throbbing and pulsing around him.
“I want to feel you inside me all the time,” I mutter. “Please, Ben. Let me feel you come.”
His eyes flash and an anguished moan tears from his throat as he stiffens. He swells even larger inside me, and I throw my head back, coming in a massive wave as I feel the heat of his release flooding me.
“I love you, Eila. I love you so damn much.”
I collapse forward onto his chest, sinking into the afterglow, enjoying the intensity I once cowered away from. “I love you, too, Ben.”