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Then, we head into the living room to unwind for the evening. I hope that involves getting inside that sweet pussy of hers, but she looks tired, so I won’t push.
She sits crossed-legged on the couch and takes her hair out of the high ponytail it’s been in all day, and curls spring free everywhere. Her fingers run through it as she massages her scalp.
“Come here,” I instruct, grabbing a pillow and gesturing for her to lay her head in my lap.
She eyes me up and down. “Is this just your futile attempt to get my head close to your penis?”
“You caught me. Now lie down,” I laugh.
She rolls her eyes but does it anyway.
Once she’s comfortable, I begin running my fingers through her curls, trying to be gentle and not hit any tangles.
“You’re pretty good at that, cowboy,” she says.
“I used to brush Jenna’s hair a lot when she was little, and you’ve seen her long curls. They’re not quite as wild as yours, but they’d get so matted after she’d been playing outside all day.”
“Such a good big brother,” she says with a squeeze to my thigh.
“Eh, I have my moments.”
We are quiet for a few minutes, just enjoying the comfortable silence.
Andi is finally the one to break it. “Hey, Joe?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for letting me work at the ranch.”
“Of course,” I lean down to feather a kiss on her temple. “Thank you for helping me out. I really appreciate it.”
“I’m happy to do it. And I’ll be happy to keep working here…no matter what happens.” Her last three words come out in barely more than a whisper.
My fingers stop rubbing, and I ask her what she means.
She angles her head to look at me. “Come on, Jonas. We both know the past few days have been incredible, but eventually, the fairy tale is going to end. My stuff will get here, and I’ll go back over to my house, and things will probably be different.” There’s a sadness in her voice, which makes me share in the emotion.
“Listen here, Andi Nicholson. I don't care if you go back over there. But if you think that the one hundred yards between our houses is going to stop me from being completely infatuated with you, you’re wrong. I’m still going to love on you every chance I get.”
She gives a weak smile. “You don’t feel like we have an expiration date?”
I shake my head. “Not at all. Why? Do you?”
“I don’t know,” she pauses. “I just tend not to get too comfortable.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I mean, every time I begin to get comfortable…or happy…it all gets taken away. I’ve learned not to get too invested in anything.”
It occurs to me that she’s probably talking about her time as a foster kid…and probably her marriage too. I hate that anything in her life has ever made her feel this way.
“I get where you are coming from, baby. But I’m telling you that you and I have something special between us. And it’s real. And I’m going to prove it to you.”
“Is that right?” She chuckles.
“Darn right. And you’ll learn this Southern boy doesn’t break his promises.”
She smiles again, but this time, it’s a bit more genuine. Maybe I’m starting to get through that thick skull of hers.
