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The desperation between my legs grows wild.
I take out my phone and pretend to check something on the screen. “Oh, look at that; all my showings and meetings have been postponed for the day.”
Harley laughs. “All of them?”
I nod. “Every single one. Do you want to come to my place and hang out?”
“Guess we’re moving faster than paint drying,” he says.
I nod. “A little. I’d now compare this speed to honey in April.”
Harley’s brow furrows. “Why April?”
“Well, in winter, the honey’s crystalized and too slow. In the summer, it’s too runny.”
He laughs and nips my bottom lip, making my sex ache. I could kick myself for not dating him sooner.
No wonder the women of Fate are snatching up these Wood Brothers one after the other.
He takes my upturned hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing the inside of my wrist. “What if I like mine extra runny?”
And why does that make me think of filthy, dirty deeds I’ve had zero experience with?
“Let’s start with nice and sticky and see what comes up.” I cannot believe I, Charlotte, good girl, virgin, just said those words.
CHAPTERFIVE
Harley
Leaving her car at her office, we drive my truck to Charlotte’s condo.
The moment I step inside, I see and smell Charlotte everywhere. It’s not just another oatmeal-colored condo. There are splashes of personality everywhere: bold art, knick-knacks, and candle holders cover every surface. Plants, cozy textiles, and stacks of books take up more space than most people allot for those things.
Funny, I assumed Charlotte was a neat freak and a minimalist, but this place looks lived-in and cozy. This only makes me like her more.
While I remove my boots at the door, Charlotte pad into the kitchen and pours a glass of water. “Ice cream makes me thirsty. Want some?”
“Sure, thanks. I like the vibe here.”
She pours a glass for me and slides it across the counter. “Me too, but I’m bursting at the seams here. People love to tell me to get rid of stuff, but I don’t want to. I like my things.”
“I respect that.”
“Also, I’d backyard to myself. I don’t love yard work, but I’d like a private area for nieces and nephews to play.”
“No thanks. What about your own kids?”
She bristles at that. “I…can’t have kids.”
I feel like a jerk for bringing that up out of nowhere. “Sorry. It’s none of my business.”
I slide into the kitchen barstool next to her.
“Don’t be sorry. I’ve made my peace with it. It happened because … I’m sorry. I don’t want to trauma dump on you.”
“It’s not trauma dumping. I’m here because I want to get to know you.”
She nods slowly and sips her water. “Okay, here it is. I wasn’t raised … quite right. My parents didn’t believe in doctors. So, I didn’t have yearly checkups, and I wasn’t given any vaccinations. A wicked case of mumps forced my parents to reluctantly take me to the hospital when I was 13. I got better, but then as I got older, I learned that I was one of the rare cases of infertility due to that infection.”
