Rock Bottom (Dawson Family 6)

I look into her green eyes and feel something I haven’t felt in years. Blinking, I look away and think about how hard her nipples must be right now since she’s cold. Even that visual isn’t doing it for me, and I can’t shake the feeling that this is the ending of a really good first date.

What the fuck?

“My car is right over here.” I dig my keys out of my pocket to hit the autostart and warm it up as we walk the rest of the way, which is what I should have done as soon as we stepped outside. But Blaire is a bit distracting.

She watches the headlights come on and smiles. “You drove a Mustang in the snow?”

“The roads are mostly clear.”

“Mostly,” she laughs.

“I have a truck, but it’s full of tile samples at the moment.”

“Tile samples?”

“I’m a contractor.”

“Oh, cool.”

I keep a hold on her as we walk, and when we get to the car, it’s hard to take my arm from her. There’s something about her that’s different.

Refreshing.

She’s not trying to impress me, and her confidence is sexy as hell. I open the car door for her, feeling something inside me tell me this is bad idea. That I should just take her home. Or back inside, buy her a burger, and make sure she’s good enough to drive before I leave and go home alone.

I don’t want to feel more than physical longings to push my cock inside of her, feeling more than thinking. That’s the whole point of this no-strings thing I have going on.

And I do want to fuck Blaire.

But I wouldn’t mind hanging out and talking a bit more either.

Dammit.

“Do you live nearby?” she asks when I get into the car and turn down the music enough for us to talk over.

“Not too far.” I pull my seatbelt over my lap and click it in place. “Two corn and one soybean fields away.”

She laughs and tosses her head back. Her hair cascades in a wave over her slender shoulder, and her breasts rise and fall. The black dress she has on hugs her curves in the best way, and the deep V-neck leaves little to the imagination.

“Right. That’s how you measure distance in a small town.”

“Eastwood is actually big in terms of space,” I say as I pull out of the parking spot. “Since we have a lot of farmland.”

“Do you have more cows than people or am I stereotyping?”

“You are, but we do. The Langers have a large cattle farm. You might smell it as we drive by.”

“I look forward to it.” She settles back in the seat and I turn on the seat warmers for her. “Thanks,” she says and reaches forward, turning the music back up. Free Falling is playing, and it’s one of my favorites. “I like this song.”

“Me too.”

“Obviously.” She turns, smiling at me, and I’m hit right in the middle of my chest by her beauty. “It’s your playlist.”

“Hah. Valid point. You’re a Petty fan?”

“I’m a fan of a lot of things, and it changes depending on my mood. Or what genre book I’m reading.”

I laugh, not sure if she’s being serious. She is. “What’s on the current playlist then?”

“Right now, lots of Billie Eilish, Ruelle, and Hidden Citizens.”

We chat about music the rest of the way to my house, and this night is turning out very different than how I thought it would go.

I rarely enjoy talking to the women I bring home. I think the same can be said for them, as it’s apparent we’re leaving together solely to hookup. And that’s all this is.

A hookup.

No strings.

No feelings.

No attachments.

If I’m lucky, I’ll never see Blaire again. Though the chances of us running into each other in passing is likely in a small town.

Dammit.

I hit the garage door button and slow when I get to my driveway. “Should have taken the truck,” she says when the Mustang’s tires spin going up the slight incline of the driveway.

“Shhh, Betty can handle it.” I pat the dash.

“Betty? You named your sports car Betty?” She bursts out laughing. “I thought you’d give it a sexy name like Francesca or something.”

“It’s a white car.” I put the Mustang in park.

“Oh my God. Your car is named after—or in honor of—Betty White?”

We both laugh. “It started as a joke,” I tell her and close the garage door, not wanting her to get hit with another blast of wind when she gets out of the car. “But it stuck.”

“That is awesome. I always thought people naming their cars was kind of silly, but Betty White has swayed me in the other direction.” She makes a face. “And that is something I never thought I would say.”

I go around the car to the door leading into the house and enter the password to unlock the motorized deadbolt. Running my hand up the wall, I flick the light on and step inside, going through the mud room and into the kitchen. I kick off my shoes, and Blaire follows.