I already know why he’s asking. Truthfully, I wouldn’t mind him being there. I don’t know this guy, and when I say he’s weird, I meanweird.
“The Italian place on Main. Six o’clock.”
Reed nods once and slides his calloused pinky into mine. “I’ll give you until the weekend to renegotiate things with yourfather. After that, I’m saying something to him. At the very least, you’ll get the majority of my sale, or I won’t use his brokerage.”
I know my father isn’t going to care about a small sale like this, but I appreciate Reed’s kindness, and lean into his solid chest for a hug, trying not to notice the masculine, woodsy scent on his chest.
God, why does the man have to be so enormous, and why do I have to feel so safe in his arms?
His big hand wanders my back, and he growls low under his breath. “I’d do anything to keep you safe, kitten. You know that, right?” He’s still holding the hug. The big, warm, solid hug that I want to melt into. The one I’ll think about when I’m lying down tonight, when I’m touching myself.
“I know,” I whisper, not bothering to pull away until our bodies have been pressed together for an awkwardly long time.
“Good,” he groans, kissing my forehead gently. “I’ll see you later.”
“Later,” I say, swallowing hard, panties sopping wet, my mind in the gutter…again.
Chapter Two
Reed
I’m fucked. Completely fucking fucked.
What kind of grown ass man gets a fucking hard-on for a woman twenty-three years younger?What kind of grown fucking man jerks his cock to thoughts of that same girl on her knees, lashes flickering up as she sucks his cock? What kind of man has these thoughts for years and keeps them hidden away like some sick, twisted fucking caveman.
Me.I’m that fuck.
I tighten my fist and the urge to put a hole in the wall overtakes me, though I restrain myself knowing there’s a cash paying asshole coming to look at the place this weekend. Then again, maybe I should put a few holes in the wall just so he knows the kind of guy he’s dealing with. Dinner with my kitten is a fucking privilege, and he needs to know what happens to him if he steps out of bounds.
I can’t imagine property damage would go over well with Nikki, though, and Lord knows I’d do anything to keep that girl happy. How could I not when she looks to me for comfort and guidance, when she looks to me for stability?
Jesus Christ. There are a million fucking reasons telling me that I shouldn’t jerk off to pictures of her in the bikini she wore last weekend at the lake. Even more screaming that I shouldn’t have taken the pictures to begin with. However,despite the repeated and deafening voices saying I shouldn’t fantasize about her ass up on the end of my bed begging me to touch her, lick her, take her thick curves as my own, my mind won’t waver. It’s all I’m thinking about.
I scrub my hand down over my face, grab another cup of coffee and my map out of the junk drawer, and sit down at the kitchen table to plan my trip. I know everyone loves GPS these days, but that shit is the devil. Or at the very least, it’s the way the government keeps tabs on your ass. No one needs to know when I stop for gas or how many fast-food burgers I enjoy. That knowledge is just for me, and my kitten, if I could ever convince her to spread those full thighs and ride off into the sunset with me.
It’s the fantasy to rival all fantasies, but there’s no way in fucking hell that’s ever going to happen. For one, she hates my bike, and she’s constantly telling me how dangerous it is. Two, I doubt her father would give her the time off. He keeps her working non-stop. Three, I’d bet a cross-country bike trip with her looks a hell of a lot different to her than it does to me.
In my version, we spend a lot of timeenjoyingeach other, nowhere near the bike.
I draw in a deep breath, grab my highlighter, and unfold the map for the hundredth time as I sprawl it out onto the dining room table. It’s an older version and very outdated, I’m sure, but it’ll give me a general idea of where I’m going, which is all I need considering I’m just going where the wind takes me.
There’s only one stop I have to make on the way out, and that’s to see a buddy who’s got a part for the 1929 Indian Scout I’ve been remodeling. He owns an outfitting company and a bit of land for camping down by the creek. It’ll be a good spot to stop for the night, and it’ll give us an opportunity to catch up. Lord knows there’s plenty to catch up on. I haven’t seen him since he opened the outfitters, and that was nearly two years ago. Sincethen, he’s brought some people in to help, and everyone in town has something to say about the place. Some good, some not so good. I’m curious to get his take on the gossip.
I follow the old highway with my finger, tracing the path that leads toward Salt Lake City. I’m not sure what trouble I’ll find out that way, but that’s what this trip is about. Heading west with no plans on the horizon. It’s been fucking ages since I’ve taken a trip like that. Partly because of the construction company I own with my buddies and partly because I’ve always hated leaving Nikki.
How could I leave knowing she was going through hell here with her mother gone, and a father who’d lost his way. She’s been lost for so long. I’ve always wished I could have done more.
Instead, I had to stand by and watch my buddy make a mess of everything while trying to clean up the trail of shit he left behind. We met way back in grade school and remained friends since, though I don’t think I saw the real Pete until after his wife died. It’s almost like she was the one thing holding him back. After she passed, he became the person he’d always wanted to be.
A tyrant.
I called him out a thousand times over his bullshit, but nothing ever changes the way he treats Nikki.
She deserves better.
I scrub my hand down over my face, shove the map back into the drawer, and make my way to the back room to grab a button-down shirt out of the closet. I’m not sure how nicely I’m supposed to dress to beat a guy’s ass, but it’s a nice restaurant, so I’m opting for my nicest shirt. Bonus… it’s also my fishing shirt, so I can stop at the creek afterward and dip my pole in the water.
I’ve tried fishing off the docks at the lake house, and I’ve had no trouble catching trout, but I need brassy minnows to lure them, and they’re a dime a dozen down at the creek.
