Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
The four-wheeler engine shut off, and I heard, “Need a hand?”
I nearly jumped at the sound of the voice, turning to see Cohen hopping off Walker’s four-wheeler.
“You must really be in my head to have known where I was,” I said, his ride already making me suspect that wasn’t the case.
“Eh, it was kind of unfair. Got tipped off.”
“Which rat told you where I’d be?” I asked, which came out more bitter than I’d intended.
Cohen neared, and something about him being close helped soothe me in a way he couldn’t have after I’d blown up that morning. Fucking lost it in a way that had even surprised me.
“I’m sworn to secrecy, especially now that I’m behind enemy lines and liable to be shot by Big Daddy himself.”
“Big Daddy’s not too keen on guns. He’d rather fuss at you to death.”
As I said that, he got a strange look on his face, but he shook it off before looking me over. “Speaking of guns, you always come out here shirtless and chop wood when you get a little angry? Maybe I need to be in charge of the O’Ralley Instagram account, after all.”
I hadn’t really thought about it, but as I glanced myself over, I felt a little cocky. “Must be nice to get a wet gun show. You should see these muscles in action when I get to chopping.”
“I could see them from afar, but happy to watch them work up close.”
I showed off on the piece I’d been about to chop before he arrived, then relaxed the head of the maul on the ground and wiped the sweat off my brow. I, of course, made as big of a production of it as I could manage, taking Cohen’s eye roll as a slight and compliment all at once.
“If you keep eyeing me like that, gonna be a different sort of wood I’m dealing with,” I warned.
“Looks like you’ve already got that covered too,” he said, eyeing my crotch since my cock had apparently already perked up.
He smiled, and as much as I wanted to keep brooding, I couldn’t help laughing. He had a way of making me crack up even when I was pissed.
“Wanna talk about it?” he asked.
“My hard-on?”
“I’m being serious. And don’t worry. We have time to deal with the hard-on later. Now, do you want to talk about the prime-time drama breakdown you had over breakfast?”
“Probably about as much as you wanna chop wood.”
“How about a trade? You hand me the ax and show me how to make this happen, and then you tell me whatever’s on your mind.”
“Lesson one of chopping wood: what I’m holding is a maul, not an ax. But since you were so generous with skilling me up last night, I guess I can do the same for you here.”
I wasn’t eager to chat about anything that had happened that morning. Hell, I’d planned to do the O’Ralley thing and just keep all that anger stored up for weeks, maybe months, if I could manage. But it was hard to resist Cohen’s charm or natural ability to make me want to open up.
“Okay, I’ll see what we can work with, but take off your shirt. No city-boy farmer tans out here.”
“Just trying to get me out of my clothes again. I mean, if you need me to take you against a tree to get some of this anger out of your system, I’m all yours.” He winked, and sexy as it was, I knew he was just being playful. I clearly was beyond being cheered up with a quick fuck.
He threw off his shirt as I removed my gloves and retrieved a mini bottle of sunscreen from my pocket. Handing him the gloves, I went ahead and got to work lathering him up with sunscreen.
“Look at you, being so considerate,” he noted.
“Trust me, this pasty flesh of yours will regret it if I miss any spots. Gotta take good care of your skin down here. You don’t think all this beauty is kept up by being careless, do ya?”
“Apparently not,” he said, laughing, as he glanced over his shoulder.
Had I not still been all wound up, I would have leaned in and kissed him, but the tension made me feel a certain distance between us, even with my fucking greedy hands groping him up and down, taking liberties as I enjoyed massaging my fingers across his body. I finished with a good rub of his abs before telling him, “Now I’m gonna make you show me how you think you chop wood first, so I can make fun of you, and then I’ll show you the right way.”
“Sounds like a good way to make you laugh.”
He gave it a whirl, doing all the wrong things I’d already suspected, even making it big and overdramatic, like he wanted to give me a good chuckle, pull me out of that O’Ralley shell I’d crawled into.