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He’d leave it up to her whether she wanted to give it up and stay upstairs with him for the rest of her time in Manning Grove.
He sure as fuck hoped so.
Because those small bits he’d been giving her were about to grow.
Just like his interest in Shay had done.
Chapter Twelve
Trip jerked his head toward the back of The Barn. “Upstairs.”
Both he and Deacon, along with his American Bulldog on his heels, headed that way without waiting.
“Guess we’re doin’ this upstairs,” he said to Shay.
He glanced down at her when her fingers tightened around his. She was now wearing a black pair of shorts with a white sleeveless button-down blouse and some black sandals that showed off her sexy as fuck toes.
He’d tasted every single one of those toes last night. She had squirmed and giggled at first, but he kept at it until those giggles turned into serious moans and she melted into the mattress.
Yeah, she was not only stepping out of her comfortable box, he was helping break down the walls she used to create it.
After he made her breakfast—basic, but mostly edible—he’d secured her room for another night, then she had sat on his back deck while doing whatever work she needed to get done.
They’d even squeezed in another quick fuck before coming over to the farm for their meet with Trip and Deke. Since the weather was decent, they took his sled and she was able to sling her laptop bag over her back. He had removed his leather saddlebags once he’d settled into the apartment above the motel office since he no longer needed them. At least, until he hit the road again.
He wouldn’t decide when that was until Shay went back to Boston. While she was in town and in his bed, he wasn’t going anywhere.
He was no fucking fool.
As they worked their way up the steps, she was in front of him and he grabbed her ass, making her squeak in surprise, then warned her, “Eatin’ that ass tonight. Just sayin’.”
She stopped two steps above him and turned, placing her hands on her hips. “Now, how am I supposed to concentrate on my presentation after hearing that?”
“First off, ain’t gonna be no formal presentation. Just talk to them and tell them about what you can do. That’s it.”
“I have a PowerPoint that I show prospective clients.”
He snorted. “This ain’t no boardroom where you gotta impress a bunch of asshole suits. Deke and Trip ain’t gonna wanna see no PowerPoint.”
Her brow wrinkled. “How do you know?”
“I know ‘cause they’re simple.” Using her arm, he turned her around and slapped her ass to get her moving. “Now get up there so we can get this shit over with and head back to the motel to do what I just said.”
She sighed and continued up the last couple of steps.
As they entered the meeting room, Trip announced, “It woulda been better if we didn’t know your fuckin’ plans after this.”
Ozzy grinned and lifted one brow. “You wanna see a PowerPoint?”
Deke shook his head. “On eatin’ ass? Fuck no. No demo needed.”
Shay pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks. “I—”
“Oz is right,” Trip said, interrupting her. “We’re simple fucks. Don’t need anythin’ fancy, just give it to us straight.”
Ozzy moved around her and pulled out one of the chairs, settling himself into it and giving her the floor and the end of the table opposite of where Trip was sitting for her to set up her laptop.
“Okay, well…” She wiped her hands along the sides of her shorts. “I’m Shay—”
“They got that figured out already, sweetheart,” Ozzy said. He tipped his head toward Trip. “This is Trip, our prez, and that asshole there is Deacon. You can call him Dick for short. He prefers it. He’s the one that controls the scratch.”
“Scratch?”
“The green shit that pays the bills,” Deacon said rubbing his thumb against two fingers, doing the universal sign of money. “And if he hasn’t told you yet, he prefers Ozhole.”
Shay’s brown eyes flicked to him and then back to Deke. “I’ll make a note of it.”
Deacon grinned. “’Specially durin’ sex. The louder you scream it, the better.”
“Oh, we… we’re not…”
“Yeah, we are.” Ozzy answered. “Anyway, no PowerPoint needed to demonstrate my skills.”
“Yeah, we’ve all seen your skills,” Trip said dryly.
“On the bar, on the bus benches, on the picnic tables, against the wall, on the floor, on your sled, over the—”
“For fuck’s sake,” Ozzy yelled, drowning out Deacon. “Can we get to it?”
Trip yanked the bill of his black ball cap lower and tipped his face down as his body shook while Deke didn’t bother to hide his amusement.
Deacon lifted a hand and started ticking off names on his fingers. “With Angel, Billie, Amber, Crystal, Li—”
“She got the fuckin’ point!” Ozzy growled, catching Deacon’s gaze and holding it while shooting daggers across the table at him.
