What if she’s here to meet someone tonight?
It would kill me, but maybe it’s the slap of reality I need to stop this unrelenting craving to touch her. Last night, as I stared up at the stars, I employed every tool in my kit, but the more I tried to forget what her body feels like in my arms or those little sighs I overheard from her bedroom that night weeks ago, the harder I got. The obvious solution would have been fucking my hand in the shower but the only shower is downstairs and I wasn’t about to risk waking Meg. So I tried to think of something else. Anything not remotely connected to her. But it’s like every thread took me straight back.
“I could be your fake date for your dad’s retirement party,” I say.
Where the fuck did that come from?
She shoots me a look but it’s too dark out here to read it. “Oh. You’re serious?”
I shrug. “Why not?”
“Gosh, Linden.” She looks awe-struck. “If you really want to.”
I ball my fists then force them to relax. “I’ll get your dad to tell me all of your embarrassing moments.”
She laughs. “Hmm, maybe thisisn’tsuch a good idea.”
It’s a fucking genius idea. “I don’t drink too much, I know the fox trotandcountry swing, and if you’re a really good girl, I’ll even pretend kiss you in front of your ex.”
What alien has taken over my mouth?
We’ve entered the glow from the house lights, so the hint ofmischief in her expression is plain as day. “If I’m good, huh? What will you do if I’m bad?”
A surge of heat cascades all the way down my spine.
“I’ll add tongue,” I say while all the blood in my arteries diverts straight to my cock.
Laughing, Meg levers herself up the stairs.
“Do we have a deal?” I shove my hands in my pockets to keep from touching her.
She traps her bottom lip between her teeth. “Deal.”
When we reach the covered porch, two guys I know from C shift give me a nod from the right side, where one is smoking a cigarette.
On the left side of the porch, rocking gently in a porch swing, a couple are alternating between talking and kissing, his low, sultry tone and her giggle just audible above the din of the party going on inside the house.
I pull the front door open for Meg, and she swings past me.
The main room is packed with bodies. It’s loud with conversation and laughter and music pumping from somewhere. Though it’s not dark, the lights are definitely low. To the right is an L-shaped forest-green couch, both sides occupied, and a coffee table is covered with a board game no one is playing as well as a collection of red plastic cups.
To the left is the dining room and a table covered with party food: pizza boxes, bean dip, several bowls of potato chips, crackers and a veggie platter. Stacks of napkins and soda cans are wedged in between everything. All around the table, partygoers are snacking and talking, laughing, drinking. I recognize a couple of mechanics from Finn River Ranch with their wives and girlfriends. One of them, Sawyer Reed, glances up and gives me a welcoming nod. I try to smile but it feels tight. It’s too loud in here.
A tall woman with auburn hair swept into a loose knot andwearing a silver nose ring weaves toward us from the kitchen. She wraps her arms around Meg and squeezes.
“How are you feeling?” the woman asks when she steps back, concern in her eyes.
“Better,” Meg says over the noise just as the woman turns to me. “Annaleise, this is Linden.”
She narrows her brown eyes and points at my chest. “You never returned my calls.”
Meg’s curious gaze flicks from me to Annaleise.
“Uh, hello!” Annaleise sings at me. “You’re the hero of Meg’s rattlesnake bite story and you couldn’t even throw me one measly quote?” She scoffs.
That’s who’s been blowing up my phone lately?
Like I would ever talk to a reporter. Any time a firefighter ends up quoted or pictured in the paper, we owe our crew ice cream. If that isn’t bad enough, my siblings would have a field day. “Must have slipped my mind.”
