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“Sounds good to me.” Then he groaned when Sol undulated against him, making him aware of his own hardening dick.
Sol chuckled. “So much for being in our fifties.” He snaked his hand between their bodies and curled his fingers around Butch’s shaft. “I know exactly where I want this to go.”
Butch smiled. “I think we’re on the same page.”
Finally.
Monday, October 31
Butch and Diana sat on one of the couches in the living room, the air filled with laughter as everyone gathered to watch Walt bobbing for apples. There was only one left, and he was the last to take his turn.
Diana chuckled. “I think that apple is proving to be a slippery little sucker.”
On every table a pumpkin sat, eyes glowing, and candlesticks stood on the mantelpiece, fake cobwebs draped from their slender stems, the flames flickering. Logs crackled in the fireplace, and the smell of mulled wine lingered. The three guests for the week had joined in the festivities, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.
Butch glanced across the room to where Sol, Toby, and the boss sat around the fire, deep in conversation. Sol would be leaving the following day, and Butch was already dreading it. He knew Sol would return as fast as time—and packing—allowed, but he also knew he’d be counting the days.
Minutes.
Seconds.
Diana’s warm hand covered his. “Have I told you how happy I am for you?”
He chuckled. “You might have mentioned it once or twice.”
She lifted his left hand and peered at the ring. “This is beautiful.” She lowered his hand and laced her fingers through his. She’d made an excellent recovery, and Butch had a feeling it wouldn’t be long before she’d be back riding Blackheart.
He sighed. “You know what occurred to me this past week?”
“No, but I think you’re about to tell me.”
“I was thinking about us.”
She rolled her eyes. “Talk about ancient history.”
“Hear me out,” he remonstrated. “It was never supposed to be you and me. Newt’s the right man for you. The good Lord had someone else in mind for me.” He gazed at Sol, his heart light. “And he’s standing right over there.”
“The Lord clearly has good taste,” she quipped.
Sol glanced at him, and beckoned him to join them.
“Looks like I’m wanted.” Butch freed her hand and got up from the couch, accompanied by a roar of delight.
Walt had apparently gotten his prey.
The boss smiled as he approached. “We’ve been talking about you.”
“Thought my ears were burning.” Butch joined Sol on the small couch, and Sol automatically reached for his hand.
“Things have changed,” Toby began. He glanced at their joined hands and smiled before continuing. “You’re not single anymore.”
“What gave it away?” Sol said with a chuckle, squeezing Butch’s fingers.
“What Toby istryingto say is that you can’t live in the bunkhouse anymore,” the boss declared.
Butch frowned. “But… I’m in charge of the bunkhouse.”
“That part won’t change,” Toby told him. “You just won’t sleep there anymore.”
