She laughs, the sound light and melodic, and for a moment, the tension seems to crackle with a bolt of electricity. My cock aches, pressing hard against the fabric of my work pants, the need for relief the only thing on my mind. It’s been years since I’ve felt this desperate, like a horny kid again, but damn, she’s got me feeling just that way.
My cock throbs, swelling with every second, growing harder with every thought of her. Finally, I turn and adjust myself to ease some of the pain she’s caused. I grip quickly, taking a long moment to press my dick against my hand, my mind full of her.
The way she looks at me, eyes sweet and warm and soft. Her little sighs as she exclaims about each of the plants in my woods, her hips swaying as she walks, her back arching like some kind of temptress when she bends to smell a flower. The scent of her skin, sweet and intoxicating, like she’s daring me to touch her. Her lips, soft and full, so close but just out of reach. Those lips are made for me. Everything about her is Heaven sent to drive me insane.
A groan slips out of me as pleasure pulses from deep inside, sending waves of heat through my body. My balls tighten, my cock twitching with the need to explode, I imagine hot jets of cum spilling from me and across her round ass cheeks, my muscles trembling with the force of the thought. I can’t remember the last time I felt this desperate for a woman. Maybe I never have.
I let go of my cock, my body still humming for release as I turn back to her. She’s bent over, her ass popped in the air and begging for my touch. I groan, pushing a hand over my beard thinking she’ll feel a helluva lot more than she bargained for when I finally get between those sweet thighs of hers.
“Whaddya say we have dinner together tonight? I’m making spaghetti and I always have leftovers for days, I can’t eat it before it goes bad.” Her smile is warm, inviting.
My eyes flick over her form, landing on those dark irises that are clinging to mine. My cock throbs in protest at being caged behind the zipper of my jeans. Frustration coils in my balls before I grunt in reply and turn on my heel, stomping off into the underbrush, her sweet ass dancing behind my eyelids with every step I take.
Chapter Nine
Barron
The door of the Copper County Café swings open the next morning, the familiar jingle of the bell announcing our arrival. I’m the last one to step in, my boots heavy on the worn wooden floor, mind tangled in thoughts ofher. Tamlyn. The kiss. Our morning walk. Damn it, I can’t stop replaying it in my head, over and over. It’s like she’s embedded in my skin, and no matter how much I try, I can’t shake her loose.
Ahead of me, my brothers fill the space with their usual energy—rowdy, loud, impossible to ignore. Creed leads the pack, a smirk already tugging at his mouth like he’s been waiting for this. Judge, Pope, Knox, and the rest of the crew pile into our usual corner booth, the scent of greasy burgers and coffee wrapping around us like an old friend. The café is packed, as always. Locals crammed into small tables, waitresses weaving in and out with plates balanced on their arms, everyone throwing glances our way because in a town this small, the Steele brothers never go unnoticed.
Betty, the café’s unofficial matriarch, waddles over with her coffee pot in hand, her apron worn and faded from years of service. Her knowing grin says it all—she’s heard the gossip.Hell, the whole town’s probably heard by now. I take my seat, keeping my eyes down, hoping if I stay quiet enough, maybe I’ll avoid the worst of it.
Fat chance.
“So, Barron,” Creed leans over the table, voice dripping with amusement. “Heard you’ve been keeping company with a tree-hugger.” His grin stretches wide, lighting up the whole damn table like he’s been waiting for days to drop that line.
Pope chuckles next to him, adding fuel to the fire. “An environmentalist, huh? You sure you didn’t just get lost in your own woods and stumble into her? ‘Cause she sounds too smart for you, brother.”
Heat rises in my neck, but I don’t look up. I swirl my coffee, watching the black liquid spin in lazy circles. “It’s not like that,” I mutter, knowing damn well that nothing I say is going to stop them.
Creed doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh, come on, man. You can’t expect us to believe it’snotlike that. Word is you two were seen getting pretty close in those woods.”
I clench my jaw, fighting the urge to throw the cup at his smug face. The problem is, they’re hitting too close to the truth, and it’s starting to worm under my skin. Tamlyn isn’t just a passing flirtation. I know it. She knows it. And that’s exactly what’s messing with my head.
Knox, always the one to keep it light, leans back in his chair, crossing his arms with that cocky smirk of his. “I don’t know, man. Word around town is you’ve gone all soft for this activist writer. You planning to start writing love letters on recycled paper next?”
Arrow, ever the instigator, elbows Knox. “Maybe she’s converting him. Next thing you know, Barron will be out there chaining himself to trees.”
Their laughter fills the café, a sound I’d normally join in on, but not today. I should fire back, give them hell like I always do, but instead, my grip tightens around the cup until my knuckles turn white. It’s not the teasing that’s getting to me—it’s the doubt. The nagging voice in the back of my head telling me they might be right. That I’m too damn simple for someone like Tamlyn.
Before I can even gather myself to respond, Betty swoops in, her eyes twinkling as she tops off our mugs with steaming coffee. “You boys leave Barron alone,” she scolds, but there’s no real bite to it. She’s enjoying this as much as the rest of them. “He’s found himself a nice girl. About time one of you settled down.”
She winks at me, and I force a tight smile. “But seriously, sweetie,” she says, nudging me lightly, “is it true? This Tamlyn gal’s got everyone talking.”
My grip tightens, and for a split second, the noise around me fades. The smell of bacon, the warm chatter of the café, the clinking of dishes—it all disappears under the weight of that damn question I can’t stop asking myself. Can someone like her—a woman with her head full of big ideas and her life too fast for a place like this—really belong with a man like me? Simple. Set in my ways. Stuck in a small town with my feet planted firmly in the dirt.
I take too long to respond. I can feel the smile on my face slipping, the hesitation cracking through the surface.
Archer, sitting across from me, notices the shift. He always does. His sharp eyes zero in on me, and the rest of the table quiets down just enough to catch my next words. I clear my throat, trying to push through the knot tightening in my chest. “It’s… complicated,” I finally say, my voice rougher than I intend.
“Complicated?” Knox leans in, raising an eyebrow. “What’s so complicated about it? You like her or you don’t. Simple as that.”
“It’s not that simple,” I snap, sharper this time. The frustration I’ve been trying to bury all week claws its way to the surface. I shove my coffee aside, the cup scraping against the table with a harsh sound. “She’s different. Not from here. She’s… smart. Fast-paced. She’s got plans, a life, a career. I don’t know if she?—”
I stop myself, realizing I’ve said too much. The last thing I want is to pour my heart out to these assholes, especially when I haven’t even figured it out myself.
Judge lets out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair. “Damn, Barron. Didn’t know she had you all twisted up like that.”
