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Sam ended up on top of me again, groin against groin. The hose fell to the side, Sam looking down at me, mud all over his face and in his hair. He tangled his hand in my locks, and I knew he was making even more of a mess of me. “You’re fun,” he said.
“I didn’t use to be.”
“Neither did I,” Sam replied.
“Somehow, I don’t believe that.”
“It’s true. I’m Sammy Joe Saunders. People come to me when they need somethin’. I’m not the guy they go to for fun.”
“Their loss.” I leaned up and captured his mouth with mine, rolled us over so Sam was on his back. I tasted mud in our kiss, my cock hard as I rutted against him.
I could come this way and was close, my orgasm teasing me, when I heard, “What in the hell is going on here?” and immediately tensed up.
The bubble had burst, and everything was about to change.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Sam
My heart damn near beat out of my chest at the sound of another voice. I felt Emerson stiffen on top of me, and all I could think was that someone had caught us. That someone in Ryland knew my secret, and once it was out to even one person, there would be no containing it. That just wasn’t the way things went in a town like this.
“Bentley…are you…playing in the mud?”
The second I heard the name, it hit me that this wasn’t someone from around here. I looked up and around Emerson’s head just as he rolled off me. “Jesus, Charles. What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Coming to see you. I was worried. You haven’t sounded like yourself the last few times we talked. Then you avoided my calls all week, and I’d told you I was thinking of coming out anyway, so I thought I would make sure you’re okay. Clearly, you’re not. I’ll call the doctor right away.”
Call the doctor? Huh?
“You’re an idiot, and I’m hoping if I close my eyes, you won’t really be here,” Em replied.
“So you’re suffering from hallucinations along with your unexplainable and sudden ability to have fun?” The man’s gaze landed on me next. “Who are you, and what did you do to my friend?”
He was wearing slacks, a polo shirt, and had his hair done up all fancy. The guy looked like I imagined Emerson had before he’d come to Ryland—important and like he was made of the kind of money I’d never seen. “Emerson’s always been fun.”
“Oh, wow. He just defended your honor. How sweet,” he said. I already didn’t like the guy.
“Shut up,” Em told him, and stood. He held his hand out for me. I took it and let him pull me to my feet. We really were a mess, both of us shirtless and caked with brown goop. Emerson’s hair was everywhere and just as dirty as the rest of him. He was even pretty like this, but I managed to pull my attention away from him, to the newcomer.
“I’m Sam, Em’s…” What the fuck was I? Emerson’s weekend booty call?
The guy’s chocolatey eyes widened, making it look like something was clicking into place.
Emerson had told him about me. That he was fucking me, and probably that he was paying me for it too. Anger scorched down my spine. But then, it’s what we had been, and Molly knew it as well. Things felt different from the other side, though, when it wasn’t my friend and when I didn’t do the telling.
I said, “That’s it. I know I left the sentence hanging, but there ain’t no more. I’m just Em’s.” Because I was. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to be. He’d break my heart. I knew that. But while we kept our weekend arrangement, I was Emerson’s, and I wanted this fancy man to know that. I also wasn’t gonna look at Emerson because I didn’t want to see if his eyes said I was reaching, that he didn’t want me as his, and I sure as hell hoped he didn’t say it.
“Sam—” Emerson started, but Charles held his hand up.
“Shut up, Em.”
“Don’t call me that,” Emerson told him, but Charles just smiled at me, the kind that kept going for days and lit up his eyes.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Sam. I’m Bentley’s—Emerson’s—friend Charles from New York. I think you and I are going to get along just fine.” Oh, I hadn’t expected that. “Anyone who can get Emerson playing in the mud is a friend of mine.”
“I’m real good at getting him to do things.”
“You should keep it up.”
“I plan to.” As long as Emerson would have me, but I didn’t add that part.
“Are the two of you done talking about me like I’m not here?”
“Nope,” me and Charles answered at the same time, then laughed, and Charles said, “I’m gonna grab my things while you two clean off. I assume I should put them in the spare bedroom? Never mind, ignore that. That’s where they’re going.” Charles went to the car I hadn’t even heard pull up when we’d been wrestling.
