He clicks his tongue. “What are you doin’ here, Hollis?”
“Aw, would ya relax a little, Cap?” I tease, setting the pizza down on the counter and grabbing a slice. “August mentioned you were bringin’ in a bunch of boxes earlier. Thought I could offer my assistance and feed you. Now, turn around. Let me see that dump truck of yours.”
“My what?” he hisses, but gives me a spin anyway.
“Fuck,Cap…” Biting my knuckle, I say, “You’ve got such a fine ass. Next time, I wanna fuck you.”
Ford spins around quickly, his jaw tight as he clears his throat, but I don’t miss the flash of heat in his gaze that he’s quick to school. “That ain’t happenin’”
I chuckle. “You say that now, but you’ll be singin’ a whole different tune once I got my tongue in you.”
He groans with exasperation, rubbing his temple. “My god, must you talk like that all the time?”
“Oh, please.” I snort. “You sure don’t seem to mind the way I talk when I’m makin’ you come.”
Rolling his eyes, he grabs a piece from inside the box beforetaking a large bite. As he walks off, he mutters over his shoulder. “Don’t need any help, but thanks.”
I scan the living and dining room, noting the various unopened boxes of furniture all over. “Yeah, the state of your place would beg to differ.” Then I ask, “Isn’t the closest Ikea, like, five hours away?”
He nods, looking completely bored with this conversation. “Yes. Drove there this mornin’ to pick all this up. It’s the first weekend I’ve really had time to do any of this since movin’ in here.”
“Ikea furniture is a bitch to put together. Quit bein’ stubborn and accept my help; otherwise, you’re about to be here all night.” Getting a closer look at everything, I ask, “What were ya gonna do next?”
Ford stares at me for a moment, his brows furrowed and his lips pinched, before heaving a sigh and gesturing toward one of the boxes. “The end tables.”
“That’s more like it.” I wink, flashing him a grin before bringing the box to the living room, where all his tools seem to be. “Really sprucin’ this ol’ cabin up, aren’t ya?”
He grunts. “Hopin’ to find a place to rent sooner rather than later, and then all this will already be done.”
The idea of him moving off the ranch leaves a bitter taste in the back of my throat, but I can’t put my finger onwhy. Obviously, he’ll move. Ford’s a grown man; there’s no way he’d live in a cabin in the back of a cattle ranch forever, but still, having him a short drive away is nice…and convenient.
Yeah, that’s what it is… Convenient.
Ford and I are in a new situationship—or would it be friends with benefits?—and having him close by allows for easy access. Since the night a little over a week ago when he gave mea fucking incredible blow job at the lookout, we’ve fooled around a couple more times.Definitely convenient.
That has to be why the idea of him moving is twisting my stomach.
“Why’d you give your ex the house?”
Shrugging, Ford says, “Didn’t want it.”
I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. Maybe he doesn’t like talking about it, and I should probably let it go, but I can’t…or don’t want to. The few times he’s opened up to me have felt so good. I want to get him to open up to me more.
“Just didn’t like the house or…?”
Ford glances up at me from beneath straight-set brows, and I swear I can hear him griping at me in his mind. I half expect him to tell me to fuck off, or just get out altogether, so I’m surprised when he breathes out a sigh and says, “No, I loved the house.” There’s a sadness in his tone that surprisingly makes my chest ache. “I was the one who found it, and did most of the renovations, but…I don’t know. There were too many bad memories in that house, on that property, and over time, I started hating it.”
“I can understand that,” I offer, not really knowing what to say. I’ve never been married, nor even experienced a long-term breakup, but the urge to comfort him is overwhelming. “Why’d you get a divorce in the first place? He cheat?” Then, realizing how shitty that sounds, I add, “Or did you?”
Ford huffs out a small chuckle. “I shouldn’t be talkin’ to you, of all people, about this.”
My face twists up. “Why not?”
“I don’t talk about this to anyone, really, and I don’t know… That’s not what this is. It’s fun, right?” His stormy eyes meet mine. “That’s what you said last week.”
“Well, yeah, what we’re doingisfun, but that doesn’t haveto be all that it is.” I shrug. “Sometimes you just gotta get shit off your chest. Who knows, maybe I’m the best kind of person to tell.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “How do ya figure?”
