AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And maybe that explained why I’d been mad back then, but it didn’t explain why I’d reacted with anger when Charlie came back. I was old enough now to know that no one should be held responsible for the stupid stuff they did as a fourteen-year-old. And hearing that he might have done it because he was “sweet on me” made it particularly hard to stay angry… or to think about all of the reasons Charlie and I shouldn’t finish what we’d started in the barn.
When we finally got the last of the desserts out of the oven and left them cooling on the counter, the sun had sunk below the tree line on the far side of the property. I stretched out my aching shoulders and smoothed a hand over my beard. “I’m about ready to head home,” I said to no one in particular. “Long day, bad sleep. I feel rode hard and put away wet.”
“Too much Dickel will do that,” Alana singsonged, and I gave her a disgruntled look.
“You should go home, sweetie,” my mom agreed. “You can’t go to the Johnsons’ Prep Party looking like that.”
“Shi—shoot. I forgot Prep Party.”
Cindy Ann Johnson’s so-called Black Friday Prep Party had been conceived as a chance for all the bargain hunters of the Thicket to pore over Cindy Ann’s super-secret early copies of the Black Friday sales circulars that would appear in the following day’s newspaper. In theory, savvy shoppers would spend time mapping out a battle plan for Friday’s shopping, with a goal of knocking out their Christmas gift purchases in one fell swoop.
In reality, the party was mostly a gossip session—as though the Thicket didn’t have enough of those—and a chance for anyone football-minded to make predictions about the big Thanksgiving games, while Black Friday shopping continued to be a chaotic hot mess with zero strategy.
“Count me out,” I said, leaning in to kiss my mom’s cheek. “I’m whipped.”
Mom pinned me with a glare. “Did I mention it’s a command performance? I insist on having both of my children there.”
Great-Aunt Selma chimed in. “It’s a tradition.”
“Yeah, bro,” Alana parroted. “Tradition.”
The problem with this particular tradition was that Cindy Ann Johnson was besties with Katie-Bird Nutter—back when they’d lived in the Thicket, Katie-Bird, Cindy Ann, and my mom had been inseparable—which meant Charlie would likely be at the Prep Party. And if he was there, I’d be right back into blue-ball territory, only this time, I’d be painfully, awkwardly hard while in front of my entire family.
“Sorry, I’m bucking tradition,” I called as I headed down the porch steps. “See y’all tomorrow.”
But if I thought avoiding the party would mean avoiding Charlie, I was dead wrong.
Chapter Seven
CHARLTON
I left the Jackson place with blue balls I hadn’t experienced in a very, very long time.
As I adjusted my hips in the hard seat of my uncle’s side-by-side, I muttered a curse under my breath. It wasn’t the first time Hunter Jackson had caused such a physical reaction in me.
Fortunately, the cold air on the drive back over the hill to my uncle’s farmhouse worked wonders for clearing my head and calming me down. Though my muscles ached pleasantly after the time spent sanding the floor, I knew the physical labor would help me sleep tonight…
Because sleeping was exactly what I’d be doing.
I’d told Hunter the—whatever it was—between us wasn’t over, but that was my dick talking. The idea of me turning up at his place later to resume our hookup was pure foolishness.
For one thing, I wasn’t sure how I felt about the man. Oh, sure, he was every bit as handsome and compelling as he’d ever been, and the very sight of him triggered a response in me that felt like it had been hardwired back in middle school. And when we got to talking—in the moments when Hunter forgot he was angry, at least—I could see glimpses of the boy I’d once liked better than anyone. That easygoing boy who’d loved his family and his town with a steadfast devotion had grown into an ambitious, successful man, but he still had an inner core of kindness that made him respect a person’s chosen name and worry their legs might be chilly, even when he was angry enough to parade them around in a turkey costume to settle a grudge. He was the sort of person anyone would be proud to have in their life.
But maybe because we’d known each other long ago, that man knew exactly how to get under my skin. In the moments he remembered he was angry—about Dolly Parton, no less—he had an uncanny way of poking at spots I hadn’t known were tender. He riled me up more than anyone ever had… and, I admitted to myself, made me think about things I’d been carefully ignoring for a long while, like how satisfied I really was with my life in Chicago. Which wasn’t particularly helpful since I’d be going back to that life in three short days.
