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Wordlessly, he grabs our bags from the back of the truck and motions for me to follow him. Which I do because, hello, it’s dark as hell out here, and I don’t really know if cows murder people.
I should Google that. I’m sure there have been documented cases.
Or maybe these crazy Kansans have covered it up. Maybe it’s this huge scandal.
Shit.
I follow him closely, trying not to trip over the random rocks poking through the grass. My teeth chatter, and I feel my fingertips start to grow numb. I did not dress appropriately. It’s March for Christ’s sake. It’s spring. Why is it cold? In San Diego, it’s a nice balmy seventy degrees. Maybe in the sixties if we’re really getting dramatic. You definitely don’t see your breath puffing out in front of you. Not that I can see my breath now. I can barely see two inches in front of me. It’s just dark, the moon occasionally peeking out from behind the clouds and the stars winking at us.
When Bennet finally comes to a stop, I nearly run into his broad back, and then I’m stunned for a whole new reason.
“Here? We’re staying here?” I ask as I take in the rusty old trailer sitting on a slab of concrete before us. A small yellow light flickers near the door, attracting moths and other bugs.
Oh gods, when I really look at it, this trailer is smaller than the truck we rented. We are so going to have to share a bed.
“No. No way.”
“Come on, Jasper. I’m fucking exhausted. Please don’t be dramatic,” Bennet sighs as he pulls the rusty metal door open. It squeaks ominously. I wonder when I got my last tetanus shot. Goddamn, I hope it was recently. I am not cut out for prolonged periods of pain. How’s that for dramatics, Bennet?
And then my breath leaves my body because as soon as I step inside, I’m hit with the smell of what I can only assume is bleach and the 1970s. This trailer isold. The dim yellow light flickers above us, and I swear to the gods, I’ve just traveled back in time.
Everything is brown and green and weirdly floral. Where are the hookah and the record player? And why is it still so cold when the heater is groaning and puffing through the vents? It should be a cozy sauna in here based on the amount of effort it’s putting in.
What the hell did I get myself into coming all the way here? I was not expecting this.
“Don’t be a snob,” Bennet says, and I get all ruffled at that. I’m not being a snob. I’m just being observant. And how can you not observe it when it’s so in your face?
At my irritated huff, Bennet runs a hand down his face and sighs. “Never mind. Fuck, I didn’t mean that. You’re not a snob. Just…” He points to a rickety-looking wooden table next to a window. It has bench seats and a cracked tabletop. Then he gestures toward the back.
“There are actually two beds in here. One back there, and then the table folds into one. You just lower it and then add the cushions on top.”
I look at him, horrified, because I didn’t know that was a thing. “You’re kidding.”
He shakes his head and rubs at his eyes. “I’m not, but can we please just both take that bed in the back for tonight? I don’t feel like dealing with anything right now, and I don’t want to fold myself into a pretzel to sleep there. Haven’t fit on that table since I was eight.”
Of course, he has to go and be some kind of annoying gentleman once again, offering the bigger bed to me.
But he’s right. There’s no way he will fit, and my pride won’t let me ask him to fold that table down for me. I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Tables should never be beds. Period.
“One night,” I say, holding up my finger. “One.”
Bennet just nods his head, whipping his shirt off and heading toward the back. And goddammit, does his body have to be so fucking perfect? I just hate looking at it. Just despise it, really.
I wipe a bit of drool from my mouth. It’s not my fault he has these wide, strong shoulders that are just as sculpted as the rest of him. Or that his biceps have these bulging veins that aren’t over the top, but prominent enough to be traced with a tongue…
I slap my face lightly. No. Nope. Not going there.
I willnotstare at the stacked muscles of his back as he kicks his jeans off and crawls onto the bed.
I also refuse to look at the briefs that are hugging the globes of his perfect, round ass…
Refuse.
“You don’t have anything to put on? I think I packed you pajamas,” I bite out, my feet planted on the peeling linoleum floor. My dick is twitching between my legs traitorously, and I want to give it a good spanking to bring it into line.
“You’re lucky I’m keeping my underwear on. Quit being a pain in the ass and come to bed, Jasper. It’s been a long damn day.”
I drop my hand from my hip, annoyed and a little turned on. But I can be an adult about this. It’s just a silly bed and it’s only Bennet. I mean, we’ve had sex. What’s the big deal about crawling under the covers together? Plus, he’s tired and wrung out. I can give him hell when things are a little calmer.
