AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I pause for a second, wondering if I’m reading too much into what’s going on between us. Maybe he’s just being friendly since we’ve found something we’re both interested in. Or maybe he’s the kind of person who just isn’t friendly with people he works with and I’ve finally broken him down. Whatever it is, I’m glad he’s cool with being around me now since I actually like being around him too.
“You still going to be a grump?” I ask with a hint of playfulness in my tone as I hit him with a hard stare.
“I can’t make any guarantees,” he shoots back, smiling and gives me a wink as he walks away to grab another shovel, but before he gets too far away, he calls out, “You have dirt on your face.”
I quickly pull my t-shirt up at the hem and wipe at my face. I’m sure it’s covered in dirt considering what my hands look like. Tommy’s still watching me and he shakes his head.
“I think it was better with the dirt on it,” he says with mock disgust in his voice.
I roll my eyes and yell, “Don’t be a jerk!”
This is all so very weird, weird but fascinating.
Chapter Ten
Tommy
I’d like to say I behave myself outside in the heat helping Penny dig a pond hole for our bees, but I’d totally be lying about that.
I mean, sure, on the outside, I’m the perfect gentleman, but on the inside, holy shit, that’s a whole other story.
It’s bad enough that her shirt is soaked in sweat and clinging to her body, worse still that it’s now practically see-through, meaning I can tell she’s wearing a black bra, but the way she keeps jamming that shovel into the ground…fuck me. Her tits literally bounce with every jab and when she bends over to lift the dirt, giving me a perfect view of her ass, I have to bite the inside of my cheek just to stop myself from groaning out loud.
I’m blaming the damn matchmaker app and the conversation Wine Queen and I had going on last night. Despite having no clue what each other looks like, no clue even what any of our body parts look like, her words and messages to me had me hard as a rock and coming like a teenage boy when I finally logged off and took care of myself.
And once again, I find myself wondering who this mystery woman is and what it would be like if we were to meet in real life. And as I get an eyeful of everything Penny has on display, my brain seems to decide it’s going to merge the two people into one person. Which means a whole lot of dirty shit featuring Penny in a starring role is going on inside my head right now.
“Tommy?”
I look up, shaking my head to try and get my mind out of the gutter and back to the present. “What?”
Penny smirks at me and I get the feeling it’s not the first time she’s called out to me. “I was wondering if it’s deep enough?”
If it’s deep enough?
Jesus, just those words have all my dirty fantasies moving straight to Penny and me and the two of us plastered against the wall of the shed, her legs wrapped around my waist as I thrust into her and ask her the exact same question. Fuck me, what the hell is going on with me today?
I clear my throat. “Ah yeah, think it should be good. Wanna put it in and see?”
Oh, fuck me, what am I even saying at this point? Wanna put it in?
Right now, I wanna punch myself right in the face.
“Sure,” she shrugs, leaning her shovel against the fence post as she bends over and reaches for the pond. She winces as she tries to move it though and when I get a look at her hands I see why.
“Fuck, Pen, stop,” I immediately say, walking over to her. She drops the pond and straightens as I take her hands in mine. “These are a mess,” I say quietly, my thumb brushing gently over her palm.
“Thanks,” she replies with a huff.
I look up and find her watching me, her gaze unreadable. Turning back to her hands, I slide my fingers up to her wrists. “We should have gotten you some gloves.”
She shrugs. “Couldn’t find any.”
I shake my head, dropping one of her hands as my other remains curled around her wrist. “Come with me,” I say, gently pulling her toward the cider house.
“Tommy, wait,” she says, trying to tug her arm from my grip. I don’t let go, just glance back at her. “It’s too late for gloves now,” she says.
“We’re not getting gloves,” I reply, as we head toward the tasting room. Inside, the place is surprisingly empty, and I make my way past the bar and back toward Jack’s office, calling out his name. “Jack?”
