I’m not going to give it credence. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Emmerson. Whatever feelings I had for her have been shelved.
Chapter 3
Jack
Icouldn’thavebeenmore wrong. My feelings are not shelved. They’re not contained at all because there’s no damn bookcase in sight. My pages are fucking flapping everywhere.
Emmerson. I practically moan her name. Thank God I’m in my truck, and she can’t hear me from where she’s standing.
That woman is sex on a stick. She barely reaches my shoulder, yet I know we’d be the perfect fit. She’s leaning her cute little ass against her car sipping what’s probably her double layered chocolate hazelnut latte, and her small tits are driving me insane. My large hands could easily cup them and then some. Ya…there’s a lot of something I’d be doing to her beaded nipples.
Damn it. There’s a reason I’ve never invited her on a tour alone.
Before I get out of my car, I have to adjust my dick so I don’t embarrass myself in front of her.
This isn’t just going to be brutal. It’s going to be pure torture, and I’m either leaving this tour a saint or a sinner.
Welp. There’s no time like the present to face the gift of now. Ha! Whoever said that never had to resist Emmerson.
Busying myself at the back of my truck, I call out to her trying to sound calm, “Hey.” Oh shit. Is that my voice that sounds so hoarse? I clear my throat. “Hey Emmerson.”
Her head was down, buried in her phone. When she looks up, I think I see a slight flush. She’s probably embarrassed for me and my grown-ass-man voice crack.
Yes. Apparently it’s a thing that happens to me in the presence of awesome sexiness. A grown-ass-man voice crack. Kill me now. Maybe we’ll see a bear on the path before we start up and she’ll turn around so we won’t have to go through with the weekend. I know she’s terrified of those things.
One time we went on a hunt to find Big Foot—don’t ask—and she practically clung to me the whole time. That was…well, it was a mixed emotional experience. Let’s put it that way.
We called it quits when the Jenson boys popped out behind a tree and she produced the most blood-curdling scream I’ve ever heard on tv or otherwise.
I chuckle to myself, and then I realize she’s right next to me probably wondering about my sanity. I look down into her green eyes and almost forget what we’re here for. So I try to regain my composure by bringing up the memory. “Remember that time we hunted for—”
“Don’t even mention that.” Her eyes dart around as if Big Foot, a bear, or the Jenson boys might be hiding around the trees lining the path we’re about to take.
“But it was so funny when you screamed—”
Her hand is on my mouth. Her soft, warm hand is covering my lips. Shocked into silence, I watch her eyes widen. In fright, I’m guessing.
“Okay…anyway,” she slowly removes her hand from my face, “should we just get started.”
I nod to give myself a second to find some words. “Ya. Totally, man.” Man? Did I just call her man? “Let’s gear up and go.”
She gives me an odd look before returning to her car to grab her bags. “Are you taking your chocolate hazelnut latte with you?”
“Um…actually it’s a vanilla matcha latte.”
Apparently I don’t know this girl as much as I thought I did.
“Oh.”
“I’m…umm…well, ugh…this is so embarrassing. I’ll just say it.”
Okay…still waiting for her to finish that thought.
“I’m on a Say Yes! weekend.” She pumps her fist into the air on the word yes, like it’s some trademarked name and gesture.
And did she just say she’s on asay yesweekend? That does not bode well for me and all the ways I want to hear her say yes.
All the more reason to keep to myself.
