Big Man's Bride (Big Men Small Towns 1)

The welt on my leg is, frankly, huge. It looks like I suddenly decided to start growing a baseball out of my shin. Barely brushing my fingers across it makes me wince and grit my teeth. This really wasn’t a part of my plans. I don’t like to be stuck. I like the freedom to do what I like. Though I guess I’ll have a chance over the next few days to enjoy the new, very large TV that I had installed in here.

I’m restoring the house to its original plans, but that doesn’t mean that I have to live without any modern convenience. There are plans for other, seamless and invisible improvements as well. Ones that I’m not entirely sure that Ally would approve of.

“Basically, I’m telling you that I don’t care how much you paid. I want you to sell me this house because it means way more to me than it does to you.” She speaks to me across the house while she bustles around the kitchen. I kick my jeans to the side and groan, leaning back on the couch. Fuck, I need a drink.

“That’s the way the universe is supposed to work,” she insists. “You work fucking hard for something, and you get it. You’re not interrupted by men from New York who think they can take whatever the fuck they want at the drop of a hat.”

I take a deep breath and let it out. The words sting, and I push it away. It’s not the first time she’s said that, and it grates. “You have a dirty mouth. And you don’t know anything about me,” I say, trying and failing to keep the darkness out of my tone.

She turns and takes a step toward me and freezes, a few of the ice cubes in the dishtowel go clattering across the floor as she sees that I have taken off my pants. Her eyes travel down my body, from my face and down my shirt to my boxer briefs and bare legs. I resist the sudden urge to take off my shirt and show her exactly what I’m working with under it, but I think that might be pushing things too far. This situation is strange enough without getting even more naked.

Ally seems to shake off her surprise, and that confidence is back as she strides across the room to me, carrying the towel full of ice. “Your mouth is dirty too, and I know that out-of-state developers like you have been buying up land around Nashville for years. Taking plots of gorgeous forest and historical sites and turning them into condos. So no, I don’t know anything about you,” she says, “but I know enough about your type.”

She crouches down by my leg, glancing at me to warn that it might hurt. And it does. I lock my jaw to keep from making a sound as she presses the towel to my injured leg. The pressure is painful but the cold feels nice. Hopefully it will help the angry swelling go down just a little bit.

“You know my name,” she says softly, and a bit less angry than before. “Who are you?”

“Caleb Staunton,” I say.

She gasps, like she’s heard of me, but when I look down, her eyes are focused on her hands. Ally moves, shifting to her knees in order to keep the ice pressed firmly against my leg, and it’s the shift that makes all the difference.

Suddenly she looks up at me, and that shot of green from her eyes sends my blood pounding through my veins. Seeing her on her knees in front of me makes me wish that she was on her knees for an entirely different reason. I barely know this woman, and yet there are already images in my head of her lips wrapped around my cock and sucking like it’s what she was born to do.

My cock stirs and I have to focus very hard on something else, anything else except these filthy images that are flashing in front of my eyes. Wood rot. Yeah, that will do it. Rotting wood. The damp smell that comes with it. The task of figuring out how far it’s spread. The frustration of trying to pull out boards and having them turn to pulp under my prying tool.

It’s working, but barely. The way that she’s looking at me right now isn’t helping—like she’s seeing me for the first time and wants to consume me whole.

I would let her.

The distractions need to keep working, otherwise, I’m going to fuck Allison Hollis on this floor, and I have a looming sense that crossing that line wouldn’t leave me the same.3AllyHow did I end up here? When I woke up this morning, I imagined myself right here. In the living room, looking over the old woodwork I know so well, assessing the improvements I’d need to make, just reveling in finally being home. I didn’t imagine being in the living room, kneeling in front of a man this gorgeous, wearing only his underwear, wondering how the hell I’ll convince him to sell me my house back. I swear that being this close to him is doing strange things to my heart and blood pressure.