Big Man

Doesn’t matter. I’ll work on something else in the meantime. Anything to get me out of this house and away from that asshole.

Drawing attention to yourself could make it hard to avoid bending your sexy ass over and fucking you.

I shiver. Dammit. Why are my panties so fucking wet at the thought of that? What kind of asshole talks like that to his business partner?

That’s what we are after all. That’s all we are here. Business partners, trying to be professional while fixing up this hellhole and selling it to the highest bidder. He has no right to assume anything about me, to talk about fucking me, just because…

Just because you perved on him in the shower?

I grimace. All I did was peek a little. I was curious. So sue me. But he’s way out of line.

That’s what I tell myself, anyway, as I hole up next to the rosebush that’s taken over the tool shed out back and start to work trimming away the weeds that have interwoven between the thorny branches. If I don’t trim this thing back, it’ll take down the walls of this shed in a summer or two. So I sink myself into my repair work, and do my best to ignore any thoughts about the asshole I left standing beside his stupid truck.

5

Grant Werther

Fuck. I probably took that too far. But what the hell was I supposed to say with her sitting right there in my truck smelling the way she does, so fucking intoxicating, and dressed in those barely-there booty shorts that make me hard just looking at her.

It was hard enough shopping today without getting so hard I’d draw stares from every mile around. I had to keep avoiding her in the hardware store and again at the grocery, because the way her sexy, tight little ass played peekaboo in those jean shorts made me think about how tight she’d be if I bent her over the backseat of my truck and thrust my thick dick inside her wet little pussy…

Fuck. There I go again.

Dammit, Sasha. She drives me insane. No matter how much I try not to think about her, I can’t stop.

Probably because she’s always right there in front of me, wearing some sexy, skimpy little shorts, bending over and flashing that pert, perfect ass of hers, or pouting in that way she has when she’s debating which tile she wants to lay where…

Damn. Here I go again.

I clench my fists. I’ll jerk one out in the shower later—the same way I’ve been aching to ever since I caught her peering through the shower door at me, trying to catch a glimpse of my dick. Seems like she caught a peek of more than she bargained for, to judge by the way she ran inside after I called her out in the truck.

Well, good. She should run. I’m more than she can handle. In more ways than one. Size-wise, country-man-wise, hell, just every way. She’s not ready for a wild man. She likes tame, placid little city boys.

She should run back to those boys before she winds up getting hurt. Before I wind up hurting her. Because I would. A city girl like her, god, the things I could do to her… She’d be in way over her head, and she’d lose her head, and then where would she be left? Pining for a country man who she never wants to see again, because just like this whole town, Sasha Bluebell has always been too damn good for me.

I shake my head and finish hauling the last load of groceries and hardware supplies inside. Out back, through the little window over the kitchen sink, I spot Sasha out by the shed. She’s abandoned the roofing for now, probably because I still have all the nails she needs in here, and she’s clearly not ready to be in the same room as me for a while, let alone talk to me.

But she’s still working, I’ll give her that. City Girl has some backbone after all. Not to mention some work ethic.

For a moment I hesitate at the sink, just watching her reach up to yank down the stray vines growing in and between the rose bushes. She’s cutting back some of the roses too, but in a careful way, shows she knows what she’s doing. I’m surprised. I didn’t think that girl had any of her Mama in her—only her runaway Daddy. But watching her now, I can see the Maryanne my Pops was best friends with. The woman who owned and ran this whole farm by herself, without asking anyone for help. Even when Pops bailed her out of the hole she wound up in after a few too many crop blights, Maryanne was proud. She swore she’d buy the other half of the farm back off him one day.