Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
He was so sexy. He didn’t look how I figured most businessmen did. Whatever his past was, which I knew was in some kinda city, Emerson also had experience working a farm, or at least working land.
This wasn’t how I’d expected to find him, though.
I killed the engine and got out of the truck. He didn’t turn around as I approached him, and dread made each of my steps heavier than the next. Something was wrong. I couldn’t say how I knew, but I did.
“What happens when frogs park illegally?” I asked, hands shoved into my pockets. Jesus, I was an idiot. I didn’t know why I continued to tell him those dumb jokes. Probably all it did was remind him how different we were, that I was a small-town boy who wouldn’t hold his attention. Still, I added, “They get toad. Get it? Towed.” Another minute of nothing but him groaning and digging went by. “I guess we don’t have to talk to fuck, but I gotta admit, I was hopin’ for a little conversation.”
“Didn’t think you were still coming. Would have thought you’d be with your girlfriend.”
My… Molly? “Ah, hell. That’s why you’re actin’ like someone shit in your shoes?”
That stopped him. Emerson turned, frown on his lips, sweat dripping down his temples. “Shit in my shoes? Is that an actual saying?”
I shrugged. “Don’t know. Just came out. I thought you didn’t want to be my boyfriend.”
“I don’t, but I’m also not going to spend my weekends fucking you when you have someone at home who loves you.”
Jesus, this guy. “Maybe before you go getting yourself all worked up, you should talk to me next time. Molly knows I’m here and exactly what we’re going to be doing. Hell, I can call her right now if you want me to. Molly’s not my girlfriend. She’s my…beard? I think that’s what it’s called. Other than you and the guys I’ve hooked up with, she’s the only person in the world who knows I’m gay.”
I thought maybe his cheeks pinked slightly, but that could’ve been from the sun. Still, he shoved the shovel into the ground and leaned on it. “Is she in love with you? Does she want something from you that you can’t give her?”
Those were interesting questions, like maybe Emerson had experienced his own version of what he was asking. Had he had someone who wanted more than he could give? “She loves me, and I love her, but not that way. She’s the best friend I ever had. The most important person in the world to me. Everyone thinks we’re together because it’s what’s best for both of us. She doesn’t want any kinda relationship either. Feels weird to her, but that’s not really how it works around here. People expect her to find someone and settle down. They expect the same from me. So we’ve found a way to give ’em what they want.” Emerson watched me for a moment, and I was pretty sure he was feeling some embarrassment. I cocked a brow and crossed my arms. “You done pouting and being a grump now? Next time you got a question, just ask.”
“I wasn’t pouting.”
“Oh yeah you were. First you were takin’ it out on the poor ground, then you looked at me like someone pissed in your Cheerios. You were real miserable thinkin’ about not being able to have sex with me.”
Emerson shook his head. “That’s not what it was.”
“I’m pretty sure it was.”
“No, it’s…” He trailed off, maybe because he was having fun with me, and for whatever reason, Emerson couldn’t handle that unless it had to do with orgasms.
He walked over to me, dirt smudged in the moisture on his forehead. He smelled like he’d been working hard, all salt and sweat, and damned if that didn’t get me boned up. While Emerson was surely one of the prettiest things I’d ever seen, he was also masculine in the way I liked. The one that made me hate myself when I was young because I wanted muscles and hard edges, not the softness of a woman.
He reached for the hem of my shirt. When he started to lift it, I let him, even raised my arms so it was easier. Emerson tugged it over my head, looked around like he needed somewhere to set it, but I just took it out of his hands and dropped it to the dirt. I didn’t give a fuck about that.
And when he reached for the button on my shorts, I damn near came right then and there.
“Yes?” Emerson asked.
“You have my consent for the whole weekend. Fuck and suck me when and where you want. I ain’t complaining.”
That almost earned me a smile, and it seemed like he had to work real hard not to give it to me.