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“Nah, sweetheart. You’ll only get to seethatif you ask really nicely.”
I tug at the collar of my T-shirt. “I’m supposed to be meeting up with Keller, but I’ll text him and cancel.”
“Ah, shit, don’t worry. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking,” I point out. “There were a couple of us going over there tonight, so he won’t miss me.”
“You sure?”
“Yep.” Even if I wasn’t, I told myself I’d say yes if he asked to hang out, and every part of me wants to follow through on that. If I blew him off and went to Keller’s, I’d have spent most of the evening trying to get it out of him what his plans were anyway.
“Okay, well, I close up here in an hour or so, then I can swing by your place and pick you up. Does that give you enough time?”
“Plenty.”
“Sweet. Wear clothes you can get dirty in.”
“Should I be worried?”
“Always.” I can picture the dangerous grin I assume he’s wearing. He hangs up before I can question him further.
* * *
“So let me get this right.”
Ford hums from the driver’s seat of his truck,Momma T, as he calls her.
I stare out at nothing but blackness. “We’re driving somewhere you can’t tell me.”
“Yes.”
“In the middle of nowhere.”
“Kinda.”
“And I’m supposed to trust you aren’t going to dismember me and leave my parts for the wildlife to find?”
“Correct.”
“Okay.” I settle back into my seat. “I’m glad we got that cleared up.”
“Me too.”
“I guess I should probably let you know I’m not afraid to fight dirty. I’ll pull hair and gouge eyes like nobody’s business.”
“Noted.” Ford’s lips twitch. “And oddly turned on by that imagery.”
“By me kicking your ass?”
“Uh-huh. But in my mind, you’re doing it naked.”
“Good to know you’re not opposed to a few participation awards during sex.” I don’t register what I’ve said until the words are out there, hanging in the silence between us.Good to know? Fuck, Orson, why?Whyis that good to know?
Ford’s tattooed hands tighten on the steering wheel, and for the first time maybe ever, he doesn’t seem to know what to say.
“I have no idea why I said that,” comes out before I can stop it, but thankfully, it relaxes him. Good for him, at least. My heart is still hammering madly behind my sternum at the implication that … that I need to know anything about Ford’s sex life.
I keep slipping. Keep flirting and having these out-of-body reactions to the man beside me, but even picturing sex with someone who has a cock is kinda blowing my mind. My mouth is too dry for me to continue any kind of conversation, but I wish Ford would break the silence. Because I think I’m attracted to him—IknowI like him a whole lot—but the thought of a hard dick doesn’t do anything for me. Is it possible to like the guy but not all his … bits? And even if it is, what the hell do I do with that information?
