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I peer over at Jimbob and nod. “It’s fine. I don’t want his apology.”
“Well, he’ll give you one nonetheless. He’s just pushy and odd, and he has a way with his words. He doesn’t mean to be offensive. He just is.”
Jimbob grabs the donkey’s lead and tilts his head toward his place.
“Come on. Let’s go sit by the fire. We don’t have to go to the bar tonight. We can just hang out. Just you and me.”
He seems suddenly unsure, and I nod. “Yeah. Okay.”
We walk in silence, the donkey trailing near Jimbob and when we’re back at his place, he takes a seat on the chair he’d previously occupied, and I take the one right next to him. Jimbob grins at me and then leans back in his chair, the fire popping before us.
“A real nice night for this. Not too hot but not too cold.”
“Here we go again with the weather talk. What is it with you guys and the weather?”
He peers over at me and chuckles. “We do love our small talk. I’ll give you that.”
I huff and then fold my arms across my chest.
“Well, what do you want to talk about then? What’s on your mind?”
I shrug and then wet my lips. “I dunno. Just want to talk about anything other than the goddamn weather.”
“Fair enough.”
But neither of us says a word. My heart is in my throat as I contemplate my next move, and before I can really overthink it, I make my way over to his chair and straddle his strong thighs.
“Enough talking, James Robert. Just shut the fuck up.”
seven
. . .
braxton
Alright,so I wasn’t thinking about much when I plopped myself right down on Jimbob’s lap, but at the same time, can you blame me for just going for it? It’s almost like I couldn’t help myself. So much happened today, a long-drawn-out chapter of my life, and I’m not ready to go home to my mom and all those goddamn memories.
Memories reminding me of who I am and what I deserve.
Thankfully Jimbob wanted to cancel plans to go out to the bar with his friends. Honestly, I don’t know if I was up for it.
So, I figure that right now I just want to sit on his thick thighs and forget everything for a little bit. It’s surprisingly easy to do with Jimbob. He just stares so calmly at me with his wide, innocent eyes, licking his lips as he waits for me to make the next move.
“Telling me to shut up? That’s kinda rude, Braxton,” he says, his voice deep and cracking slightly, showing his nerves.
“Yeah, well, I meant it, and I don’t mince words.”
“What should we do besides talking?” Jimbob asks.
“I dunno. Something besides chatting aimlessly about the weather. How about that?”
“Hmmm,” he hums, almost like he’s thinking about it, but I suddenly feel his thumbs sliding up under my shirt, tickling my overheated skin. It makes my breath hitch as I lean into him a little more. The chair squeaks under us, and I gasp slightly.
“I don’t know if this chair is going to hold us. And if my memory serves, you don’t have the best track record with chairs.”
“It’ll be fine,” he says as he wets his lips again.
My eyes are drawn to them, pink, plump, so fucking right. So I lean in and seal his lips with mine. It’s soft and sweet. Too sweet. Just like him. This is not what I’m used to. I’m rushed, hurried, frantic almost, but he’s not. His big hand slides around my nape and he cups the back of my head, his fingers spearing through my hair. And despite not wanting to, despite wanting to remain rigid and aloof, I just melt into him.
