It didn’t take long to get a response.
Waylynn: What are you…seventeen? No!
Me: Come on. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours
Waylynn: What exactly are you wanting me to show you, Mr. Turner?
My dick instantly went hard.
Me: You could show me your pinky at this point. I’m pretty sure my hand is going to be getting a work out while thinking about you. I thought a picture might make it a little better.
Waylynn: So you want me to send you a picture of myself that you can jack off to? Is that what you’re asking?
Me: You said it…not me.
When a photo attachment appeared on my phone, I held my breath. Holy shit. She sent a picture. The second it loaded, my mouth dropped open.
“What in the fuck?”
Me: A turtle?
Waylynn: Night, Turner. Sweet dreams.
Me: My dick is now limp as the noodles at a bad Vegas buffet. Thanks a lot.
Waylynn: Note to self. Turtles make Jonathon unable to copulate.
Me: You slay me. Night, Parker.
Setting my phone down, I let out a chuckle as I headed to the shower. Oh, yeah. Waylynn Parker was going to be a handful, and I couldn’t fucking wait.
Chapter Four
Waylynn
I woke up anxious the day after I talked to Jonathon. I needed an outlet for these emotions, and I knew exactly what I had to do.
“How am I supposed to ride you if you won’t cooperate with me?”
Nothing.
No reaction at all.
I’d lost my touch.
With a sigh, I tried again. “Come on, boy. I want to ride you.”
My bay horse, Copper, stood in his stall, staring me down like I was some sort of disease.
“No? You’re not in the mood?”
Copper bobbed his beautiful head up and down.
I let out a groan as I shut the stall door. “Fine. But I’ll have you know, if I said that to any other man, they would be all over it!”
Copper nickered and went about eating his hay. With a sigh, I placed my hands on my hips. “You’re really hurt my feelings, boy. I was looking forward to a good run in an open pasture.”
“Do you always make a habit of guilting your horse?”
I didn’t bother to look at my brother, Mitchell. I let out a huff and put my saddle up. “He hates me.”
“No, he doesn’t. Copper’s never been a fan of cold weather.”
I shook my head as my brother took the saddle and made his way to another stall.
“Mitchell, these horses are spoiled. They are in a climate-controlled barn, for Christ’s sake. You’re telling me that little prick doesn’t want to go outside because it’s sixty degrees out?”
He faced me. “Yep. That’s exactly what I’m saying. If you want to ride, I can give you a damn good horse to ride who likes the crisp fall weather.”
I brushed it off with a wave of my hand. “Never mind. I don’t feel like riding now. Nice to know I have a pussy for a horse.”
Mitchell grinned and headed to the tack room to put up my saddle. He shut the door and draped his arm over my shoulders.
“Talk to me, Waylynn.”
“It’s nothing. I only wanted to get out for a bit.”
“I’ve got an idea, if you feel like hanging out with me for a bit.”
Smiling, I nodded. “I’d love to, Mitch.”
We were soon sitting in the Mule, driving out through the west pasture. “Where are we going?” I asked.
“You’ll see,” he replied with a crooked smile.
“You do know that pretty boy smile doesn’t work with me, Mitchell Parker.”
He laughed. “Pretty boy smile?”
“Yeah. All my brothers have the same one. You got it from Daddy.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep. You smile, show your dimples, and maybe give a wink, and any girl does as you wish. It doesn’t work on kin, just so you know.”
“I never thought it worked on you or Amelia. Both of you are too damn stubborn. It does, however, work on our mother. And you have the same smile, big sister.”
Grinning, I looked over the passing fields. It didn’t take me long to figure out where Mitchell was taking us. “The tree house!”
He chuckled. “Yep.”
“Oh, my gosh. I haven’t been there in forever. How do you know it’s even still standing?”
“Steed showed it to Chloe. He replaced a few boards and made it sturdy again. He said Chloe loves it. She wants to furnish it!”
Tripp, Steed, and Mitchell had built a tree house when I was around twelve. At first they said I wasn’t allowed in, but after I promised to supply them with chocolate chip cookies for an entire year, I was allowed to use it. We dragged beanbags, a table, and Lord knows what else into that thing. As the years went on and we got older, it became our own private getaway and not so much the fort it once was. It was the place we went when we were upset with our parents, or when the football team lost, or when our hearts had been broken for the first time. I couldn’t count on my hands how many times I had sat up there with my brothers or friends and cried, laughed, and screamed.