“You haven’t come to see your mother, and you haven’t called, either.”
“Sorry, Mama. I’ve been pretty busy,” I murmur. “But, Rylan is getting married on Friday, I thought you and Dad would like to come,” I say as my peace offering.
“He’s getting married?” she rasps. “He hasn’t known this girl for long,” she points out.
I nod, as though she can see me. “He hasn’t, but you’ll like her. She’s good for him, hell, they’re good for one another.”
“Language,” she scolds.
I chuckle because hell isn’t even the tip of the goddamn foul language iceberg I possess and she knows it. “It’s at the courthouse after we get off work. I think he’d like y’all to come,” I continue, ignoring her scold.
“We’d love it, we’ll be there,” she states, answering for my dad. “Now, what about you?”
I hum, not wishing to get into detail about my personal life, not yet at least. If I tell my mom something, she’ll run with it. Me and Exeter just aren’t there yet. She’s too fucking skittish, and my mom would probably scare the hell out of her, although maybe not, Mom’s a lot like her MawMaw.
“I gotta run into HEB, I’ll see you Friday,” I call out.
My mom tries to keep me on the phone, but I end the call right before I turn my steering wheel into the parking spot. Jogging from my truck into the store, I head straight for the bakery, hoping they have some fresh garlic bread still. Sometimes if you come later in the evening, they’re completely sold out, same goes for fresh tortillas.
It doesn’t take me long to grab what I want for tonight. Jogging back to my pickup, I throw my bag in the passenger seat and shift my truck into reverse as I call my real estate agent.
“This is Cindy,” she says, bright and cheery.
“Hey, Wyatt Johnson, it’s been a while,” I murmur.
About a year ago, I had her looking for a house on some property for me. I didn’t find what I wanted, so I called off the hunt, but this time it’s different.
“Wyatt, how can I help you?” she practically purrs.
I grimace, remembering the time we fucked. It was only once, but she obviously remembers. It was a mistake. Sammi and I had a fight and Cindy happened to be the first woman I’d run into. She was showing me a house that night on about five acres of property. I fucked her against the front door, hard and fast. I didn’t call her again, not until today.
Clearing my throat, I inhale a deep breath before I speak. “I’m going to be renting out my house to my cousin and his new wife. I need a new place, preferably on acreage. Maybe a Barndo?”
“Barndominiums are a hit right now, I have a few listings that I think you would love, and one ranch style single story.”
“You got anything by Ford Matthews’ place?” I ask.
Not that I want to live right next door to my friend, but it would be nice to have someone I know nearby, especially when I’m gone on storm work for months at a time. It would be reassuring to have someone I know be able to check on my place for me.
“I have two that are only about a mile down the road. One on one side of him, and one down the other direction. One is a Barndo, the other is the ranch house. Unless your price range has changed, they are both doable,” she rambles excitedly.
“When can I see them? What’s the acreage?”
She goes over details of the homes, one is on ten acres, the other on twelve. Both are newer and surrounded by foliage, whitetail deer heavy, just like everywhere in our area.
“I can meet you now,” she offers.
I glance at the clock. It’s six-thirty and there’s no way that I can go out to where these houses are, look at them, and come back in time. I make an appointment for tomorrow after work and she’s all too happy to meet me out there.
After I hang up, I throw my phone in the passenger seat and let out a groan. I don’t want to deal with Cindy tomorrow, not if she’s going to think there’s more than there is between us.
Fuck.
A thought pops into my head, but I shake it out, then I decide that I’m going to do it. I wonder if Exeter would want to look at those houses with me. If all continues to go well with us, she’ll be living in whichever one I buy, I want her input.
Pulling into my driveway, I’m surprised to see Exeter’s car already parked against the curb. Climbing out of the truck, I walk over to the passenger side and grab the bag along with my phone. I walk over to her car and open the driver’s side. She’s got her head tilted down, and she’s holding a book in her hand.
“Sugar,” I murmur, trying not to scare her.
She’s fucking focused. She doesn’t move so I gently wrap my hand around her shoulder and give her a small shake. Her head pops up and swings around to look up at me, her blue eyes wide and scared.
“You scared me,” she exhales.
I smile, looking down at her. She’s so fucking cute. “Exeter, I opened the car door, I even called out your name. Good book?” I ask.
EXETER
My face heats immediately at his question. Good book? Yeah, it was a really good book, or at least the part I was reading was excellent. The heroine had just been kidnapped by the hero and he was fucking her from behind, in the ass, pulling her hair back and looking into her eyes from above. It was hot. Really hot.
Much to my horror, I’m too busy daydreaming to realize what’s happening before it’s too late. Wyatt reaches for the book in my hand and is holding it in his own. I watch in complete frozen shock as his eyes scan the pages that I’ve been reading.
“Exeter,” his voice rumbles.
My face feels about three hundred degrees just from the way he says my name. I know he’s reading the part where the hero guides himself into her tight rosebud entrance. The way she is so tight, it’s viselike and squeezes him to almost the point of pain.
“Would you want to do this?” he asks, and I detect a note of hopefulness in his voice.
“It’s just a book, Wyatt,” I state as I place my feet on the ground and slowly stand.
I reach out, trying to take my book from him, but he holds it too far away from my grasp. He’s got my book in one hand and a plastic HEB bag in the other. I can’t look at either though, all I can do is stare into his eyes, wondering why they look like they’re sparkling as he watches me.
“But, you like reading about it. Would you want to try this, have you done it before?”
“Stop embarrassing me,” I hiss, my face so hot that I know for sure he sees how red I must be.
He shakes his head once, his gaze focused nowhere but me, and I hate that we’re in the middle of his driveway, in the early evening, the sun still out and talking about this. Anyone could hear. I would die.
“Sugar,” he says, and it sounds like a pained groan. “I’m not embarrassin’ you. I’m curious if this is what you like, if it’s something you want to try, or if you’ve ever done it. I want to give you everything you could ever want, and if this is something you want, I’m damn sure willing to give it to you,” he says, his lips turning up into a cocky grin.
“I bet you are,” I mutter.