Small Town Big Man

Laney turns on her heels as she talks, looking for a place to hang the towel. She settles on placing it on the edge of the countertop.

“Think you can take me home in a bit?”

No. Stay all day. I'd love to fuck you again.

“Uh, yeah, I can do that.” I don't say what comes to my head first, but my cock is begging her to stay.

“You sure? Even with all that snow out there, you think you'll be able to get me home?”

“I've got heavy chains on my tires, and a big truck. I can get you any place you want to go.”

She looks at me over her shoulder and smiles. And fuck me if that smile isn't enough to draw out every animalistic urge buried in my bones.

Take her! Claim her! Make her yours!

“Okay, cool.” She takes a few steps forward, her eyes dancing around the room. “This cabin is really beautiful. I've never seen anything like it.”

“Thanks. I built it with my father.” My heart stings for a minute as memories come to life. “We spent years carving all this out. I still think I have some splinters to prove it.” Chuckling, I run a hand over my head and through my hair.

“I can't believe you built this. It's incredible.” She touches one of the thick beams helping to brace the loft above.

Her slender fingers slip up down, and my brain goes back to how she stroked my cock. Blood starts to rush from my head to my dick, causing it to throb.

Sucking in a gulp of air, I quickly poor myself some more coffee, and look back out the window. “Yeah, my father was quite the woodworker.”

“Was?” she asks as she examines the spiral staircase up to the loft.

“He passed away six years ago.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry,” she apologizes as she spins back toward me and comes to my side.

Looking down at her, I smile with thin lips. “It's all right. He taught me everything I know, so I've been keeping up with the family tradition. I have my shop out back. You want to see it?”

Her face crinkles with apology. “I really would like to, but I should get home. I have work of my own to do, and a deadline that's coming up fast.”

Damn.

“No problem. I'll start digging out the truck. Take your time with the coffee. It’ll be a little while” My grin is slightly forced because I really don't want her to leave. I want her to stay.

“Thanks Anders,” she says, sitting down across from the fire. “Just let me know when we’re ready to leave.”

I pull on my boots and my heavy coat to head to the shed to grab my shovel. As I walk out the door of my cabin, I cast a glance over my shoulder, at Laney sitting on my couch, her feet tucked under her, staring at the fire and drinking her morning coffee. I’m filled with something that’s warm and comfortable and completely foreign to me. It feels like peace.

Thirty minutes later and we’re moving along, slowly but steadily. The plows have been out, but the snow keeps falling. It takes twice as long as it normally would to get to her place, but I deliver her there safely, just as promised.

She opens her door and is about to get out, when she looks down at herself. “Oh, I still have your shirt on. Do you—”

“No, keep it. I have plenty more.”

Giving me a smile, she reaches out and cups my cheek. Her thumb moves up and down my jaw, combing through my beard. “Thanks, Anders. I had a good time this morning, you know, so thank you for that too.”

Nodding cordially, I say, “Me too.”

Leaning over, she gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, and jumps out of the truck. Closing the door, I wait, watching her until she's safely inside.

My cheek sizzles where her lips just touched, and my heart is pounding in my chest.

I really did have a good time. Maybe a little too much.Tossing and turning in bed, I can't seem to get this girl out of my head. I was halfway home before I realized I didn't even bother trying to get her number.

Fucking idiot. Why didn't I ask?

Rolling onto my stomach, I cover my face with the blanket. I can still smell her there, the scent of wildflowers is faint, but unmistakable. She's still here, right here around me, working her way into my every thought.

It's been five days since our little tryst, and I still can't stop thinking about her. And I've tried. I've spent the last few days furiously working. I’m going through my to-do list so quickly I don’t think I’ll have a single project left unfinished by the weekend. My hands are full of blisters, the callouses I had before are now torn, and new ones are quickly taking their place.