Each one-word answer felt like another nail in the coffin of his common sense. My jaw tightened as visions of every true crime documentary I'd ever watched flashed through my mind.
"Did you run a background check?"
"Nope."
"Do you even know the dude's name?"
Rhett's expression shifted slightly, like he finally caught wind of my mounting panic. He straightened his shoulders, that stubborn set to his mouth I'd known since childhood makin' its appearance.
"Of course. It's Calvin. He should be here any minute, actually. Thought you could help me show him around. Let's head up to the house."
The matter-of-fact way he delivered that last bit—like we were discussin' dinner plans instead of potentially welcoming a serial killer to his family business—had me questioning everything I thought I knew about my best friend's judgment.
"Cool cool. Sounds totally legit and safe. Not at all like we're 'bout to get murdered by some big, burly cattle-proddin' psycho."
Rhett and I made our way up to the front of the main house just as a truck pulled up the long gravel drive.
The first thing I noticed when Calvin climbed out of the black F-350?
Doc Martens.
My eyes continued up.
Tight black jeans sculpted to strong, thick thighs.
Flannel tied around the waist.
Perky tits under a white tank.
And the drop-dead gorgeous face of my mystery girl.
My viper.
Welp… Definitely not a big, burly cattle-prodding psycho.
CHAPTERFIVE
Wild Acre Ranch wasgorgeous.
Montanawas gorgeous.
And so was the man standing in front of me.
The moment I stepped out of the truck, I was greeted by crystalline green eyes that had widened every time I’d controlled his pleasure with a few clipped words and sharp touches last night.
My face heated as those same eyes widened on me now. I could still feel his tongue buried deep inside me as I came harder than I ever had before.
I squeezed my thighs together and shook it off.
I couldn't let his presence affect me. I wouldn't.
I was here for a job. A job I needed because I was out of cash. I'd used the last of it to get here. To Big Sky country.
Despite spending the last sixteen years on the road, it was my first time back to Montana since I'd been on my own. Before that, we'd only ever passed through.
But something had called me here. A tug in my chest that told me I needed to get back to my roots, remind myself of who I was.
Plus, I was tired. Bone-deep exhausted from constantly moving, never staying anywhere long enough to matter.
