“What’s that?” I asked, distracted now that I’d followed him and gotten closer, and could smell something – other than him – that had me doing deep inhales.
“Late lunch. But… it’s for after.”
“After what?”
He gave me a dry look, crossing his thick arms in a way that made his tee shirt stretch quite nicely across his chest. “After we make these damn candles. So come on. What did you say the first step was?”
“I don’t know,” I shrugged, earning myself an even more scolding look.
“You telling me your ass hasn’t watched every video on YouTube about making these damn candles?”
“Not every…”
“T… cut the shit.”
“You can call me Temp now.”
He smirked, shaking his head as he approached me, his larger frame dwarfing me in a way that would’ve made me wary back when I was still in service to the Garden. No matter how well-trained I was, that disparity in height and weight was a disadvantage to me, something I had to be mindful of in case I needed to defend myself.
That awareness would likely never go away completely, but now?
It was far, far at the back of my mind.
At least with him.
His arm snaked around my waist, drawing me close against his body as he tipped his head down. “Temp…,” he murmured against my lips, “…you’re not gonna distract or charm your way outta doing this.”
“Ugh,” I grunted, pushing away from him as he laughed. “Why are you doing this? I was perfectly fine to spend my rainy day binge-watching other people do this.”
“You’ve spent enough time watching other people do what you want to be doing, I promise,” he teased. “You’re not gonna progress any further by doing that.”
“Did anybody ask you?”
“Nah, but I’m telling you anyway,” he countered, throwing his hands up. “So… come on, Temp. Where the wicks at?”
I couldn’t help laughing, even though I was… feeling something I couldn’t quite identify.
Nervous but excited but irritated but happy but overwhelmed but… willing.
Contentedly.
“Over there, in those boxes.”
“And the jars?”
“In those boxes,” I answered, pointing to a different spot. “And there are tools… um… spacers, I guess, that fit over the jars. To make sure the wick is centered.”
Tristan nodded. “Okay. What else?”
“The wax flakes are in those cartons. It has to be melted to a specific temperature, and the fragrance oil has to be heated too. Not a lot, or you’ll evaporate the fragrance. But if you do it right, it helps everything bind together, so you don’t have any separating, or caving, or discoloration of the wax,” I said.
“What else?”
“Then you let it cure. For at least three days, to let the fragrance oil really settle in. After that, you can do a test burn.” I stopped talking when I realized how hard Tristan was staring at me, enthralled. “Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked.
“Like what?”
“Like… that,” I countered, gesturing at his face like I’d actually given more information. “Like you’re… mesmerized or something.”
“Shit, because I am. You really know this stuff, and that’s… sexy.”
“Knowing about candles is sexy?”
“No, the fact that you committed to something and learned all this stuff about it is. Now… let’s see it through,” he said, smoothing a hand through his beard. “I mean… unless you’re gonna be pussy about it.”
My head snapped back. “Me? Pussy? No sir. Never been that.”
“I’on know… you seem a lil’ bit pussy about these candles, but that’s just me,” he challenged with a shrug and a smirk.
I started to threaten him with withholding my pussy, but that wouldn’t work when he wasn’t pressed about that anyway. I also considered kicking him out, but he’d probably take the food with him, besides the fact that I would probably seem even more like what he was accusing me of anyway.
I only had one real option – holding on to that willing feeling from a few minutes ago, instead of letting myself continue on the emotional rollercoaster.
“Grab a box of jars, some wick holders, some spacers, and some wicks. And get to loading,” I told him, moving to the gas range to turn it on. “I’ll melt a batch of wax for us.”
A huge grin spread over Tristan’s face and he opened his arms, gesturing for me to come to him.
I rolled my eyes about it, but obviously I went, and lost my battle against returning his smile as he squeezed me into a hug.
“Let’s fuckin’ go,” he chuckled as he released me, then moved to follow the directions I’d given. I had this weird, unshakeable feeling in my chest as I grabbed the notebook I’d been using to jot down steps, tips, best practices, whatever… and then put it down, because I’d reviewed it so much I already knew exactly what to do, and had to stop stalling.
It was time to just make the fucking candles.
Even if I messed it up.
I… didn’t though.
At least, I was pretty confident in thinking so by the time we followed all the steps I’d created from watching and reading countless tutorials and articles. We kicked our shoes off and worked, stopped to eat, then worked some more, then got everything cleaned up. And then… I stepped back from the ten candles we’d made, lined up on the worktable counter, and… blinked back happy tears.
Definitely turning into a sap.
“I believe you now,” Tristan said, approaching me from behind to wrap his arms around me.
“Huh?”
He leaned in, propping his chin on my shoulder. “You said you weren’t pussy. I can believe it now.”
“I should kick you out, now that I’ve proven my non-pussiness,” I told him, turning my head in his direction.
“You’re too interested to kick me out,” he shot back, moving in to nuzzle against my neck, and make me laugh. After a moment, he stopped being silly to press a kiss to my shoulder. “Seriously … I’m proud of you.”
“Me too.”
I… really had actually done something.
Of course, it
