by Snow, Jenika
For five long years, I’d pined after her. I watched her from afar, thought only about her, hell, fantasized about Landry when I was alone. And for five years, I’d stayed celibate, because Landry was the only woman I wanted in my life in every way.
My self-control when it came to her should have won me a medal, but that tightly reined in desire had slipped and I was done holding myself back.
So I told her I needed her help—her talents in making my place livable. What she didn’t know was it was just to get her to my place, to tell her, show her she was always meant to be mine.
Landry
When I realized it was Big who wanted my services, I didn’t know if I could go through with it. I loved him, had for years, but I was inexperienced in all things romantic, so being honest and just telling him how I felt wasn’t an option.
But when I found myself in his home… with him watching me, I knew I’d fail miserably at trying to act like I didn’t want him.
And when things come on hard and fast, I know there’s no going back. I’m about to give Big every part of myself, including my virginity, but then again, I know that’s what he wants.
Me, in his life, as his. Forever.
Chapter One
Big
They called me Big, because of my size. But also because of what I was packing between my legs. It wasn’t that I went around showing my cock to everyone or that I even slept around. It was because I’d gotten the nickname in high school, when, on a dare for charity, I streaked during a football game, my family jewels on display on the big screen.
Still, it was a stupid, drunken adolescent act, but it had stuck with me my entire life. And honestly, I just rolled with it now.
“Hey, Big. You getting more supplies for winter?”
I glanced up at Rick, the town idiot. I wasn’t saying that to be an asshole either. He was legit an idiot in the way he had absolutely no common sense, didn’t realize living in the mountains meant you had to prepare, stock up on supplies, and know how to survive, all year.
I looked down at the butcher-paper-wrapped steaks, the bag of lettuce, the six-pack of beer, and the small watermelon that wasn’t even in season and that I was spending way too much on but wanted it regardless.
I glanced back up at Rick and lifted an eyebrow. “It’s January, Rick. Winter is done here. I was stocked up before fall even breathed down our necks.” I smirked. “This is my dinner for tonight.”
He started chuckling awkwardly and rang me up, not saying anything else.
I grabbed the paper bag Rick put all my stuff into and gave him a chin tip before heading out. I was about to walk out of the store, when I looked at the large corkboard that had random business cards on it. There were babysitting flyers, help wanted ads, and notes from people selling their shit tacked to it. But it was the cleaning service flyer that instantly grabbed my attention.
It always grabbed my attention.
Landry Shepard.
I’d known of her for the last five years, a new implant to our little mountain town. Although I’d never actually spoken to her, I sure as hell wanted to. She seemed quiet, reserved almost.
I asked around when she first came here, curious about who she was, why she’d picked Stone Creek as her new residence. It wasn’t like we were massive on the map. The majority of the people who still lived here were generations old, born and bred down the line.
I’d found out she was single, had no children, and had moved here from a neighboring state. Maybe she wanted to live in the middle of nowhere, to get away from the hustle and bustle of people in city life. Hell, if my family hadn’t been generations-long residents of Stone Creek, I might have searched out a place just like this to set up shop.
Landry.
I said her name over and over again. God, it sounded good.
I didn’t know what it was about her, but from the moment I’d seen her all those years ago, I thought about her, wanted her. I wanted to talk to her, get to know her. I might be a huge motherfucker size wise, but the truth was, I felt like to the right woman, and under the right circumstances, I could be brought down to my knees.
And Landry was the only woman who had ever piqued my interest. Hell, I’d been celibate for more years than I cared to count, and it was all because of her, because I only wanted her.
I looked at that cleaning service ad, at the little hand-drawn cleaning lady vacuuming, at the soap bubbles all around the edges of the paper. I didn’t need to write down the phone number of her business. I knew it by heart. I saw this ad every time I came to town, came to the grocery store, stopped at the library, hell, picked up a cup of coffee at the town square. I had her phone number memorized, because I wanted to call her.
But I was a chickenshit, maybe afraid of rejection, maybe afraid she was hesitant of me and that’s why she never said anything, never introduced herself. But the truth was, with every passing day, it was getting a little bit harder. I was getting a little bit more frustrated with myself. I was a grown-ass man. I had a business, my own home, ten acres I called my own. I shouldn’t have been some wimp who couldn’t even talk to a woman he wanted. The first woman I’d wanted in God knows how long.
So long.
In fact, I didn’t even need to come to town, not with how much I had stocked up for the winter, not with all the supplies I had. I was so prepared I would’ve survived the apocalypse for a good couple years with everything I had stored up. But I came down here hoping I’d run into her, hoping like hell that this one time I’d have the balls to actually say something to her.
But the times I had seen her, albeit from a distance, I’d been too much of a chickenshit to go tell her, to ask her out, admit I needed her to be mine.
But that needed to change. I was lonely and I wanted her. Only her.
And it was time I actually started acting like it.
Chapter Two
Landry
It should’ve been illegal, immoral, or maybe just downright creepy that for five straight years now, I’d been obsessing over one man, wishing like hell he was mine. Wishing I was strong enough to actually just go up to him and tell him what I wanted.
Big.
Although that wasn’t his real name, it fit him to perfection. Muscular and tall, strong and confident. He was everything I’d envisioned a man was, a real man. But maybe it was all of that prowess that made me feel intimidated? Maybe I was just too worried about rejection to actually go up and let him know what I wanted… and that was him.
Beckett Harden. Even his name was attractive.
I leaned back in my chair, looking at the invoices and paperwork scattered across my desk, trying to actually focus on work instead of imagining what Big was like in bed.
This week alone, I had four jobs. One was the church, and another was Mrs. Henderson’s house, who I knew was capable of cleaning her own home, but she was too posh for all that. The third was Mr. and Mrs. Franklin, an older couple who left when I was there to do their daily walk around the block, matching windbreaker suits and all. And the last was Rodney, who I had a feeling hired me every week because he liked sitting on the couch and watching me scrub his walls.
I didn’t even think it was sexual for him. I honestly thought he just legit liked watching someone pick up after him, even if he was paying them to do it.
But he could watch me all he wanted, as long as he didn’t try to get something else from me, and that meant anything remotely sexual. Besides, if he wanted to pay to watch some random chick sweat in her uniform as she washed the grime and cigarette smoke off the once white walls, I was cool with that.
I was about to get started on that paperwork for the week, but I found my focus trained outside the large picture window. I rented out a little office in the center of town, a tiny space that was basically just something where I could keep supplies, paperwork, and have an actual face for my company. And the truth was, I was here more than I was at my one-bedroom apartment on the outskirts of town.
I
watched the townsfolk walk around, the cobblestone sidewalks a classy touch, the dream-like village almost like a world of its own. Although I’d never really lived the big-city life—I had lived in the suburbs. And even that had been too much for me.
Stone Creek was so different than what I was used to, with the intimacy of neighbors, everyone knowing everything and everyone else. There were no secrets. But I liked it. And when I visited Stone Creek on a whim all those years ago, just a little road trip I’d taken to the neighboring state, I realized I was living a dead-end job, had nothing and no one close by—what with my family states away—and that I wanted a change.
So, I emptied out my savings, broke my apartment lease, and started The Soapy Bucket Cleaning Company.
In hindsight, it was probably such a dangerous move, hoping like hell things didn’t crash and burn in a fiery inferno. But I told myself I only lived once. And what was the point if you weren’t living your best life and actually happy?
And so I decided to see if I could make this different way of life work. I wasn’t going to lie; it was hard as hell at first, starting a new business, getting the reputation where people trusted me. I’d been working out of my one-bedroom apartment for a year before I was making any kind of profit and finally took the plunge and leased this office. And by then, people knew, respected, and trusted me.
And who knew there were so many people in this small town who didn’t want to clean their own houses?
As my thoughts wandered, I realized another major part of me wanted to stay here, made me want to make this work in any possible way. It wasn’t just because of my job, but also because I had this hope that I would have a happily ever after, a fairytale romance. Surely if it happened to all those made-for-TV movies with a city girl who moved to a small town and fell in love instantly with the local lumberjack, that could happen to me, right?
I snorted as I thought that. This wasn’t a romance book, and it certainly wasn’t one of those movies. This was real life, where the girl who’d been called chubby all her life now cleaned other people’s houses, was a literal virgin, had never properly been kissed, and had dreamed of a romance that had her toes curling.
Hell, it wasn’t like I had been properly touched either. Or ever. But I was okay with that. A twenty-five-year-old virgin was something to be proud of, because I was waiting for my true love to come along and sweep me off my feet.
Or maybe that was just some fairy tale that would never come to fruition.
But I didn’t—wouldn’t—just give myself over to the first guy who promised me the world. I wanted my first time, my first real kiss, to be with a man who looked at me with total adoration, who, when I hugged him, I could rest my head on his chest and hear his heart beat fast because of me. And I wanted that with Big.
But I’d been here for five years and not once had he talked to me; not once had he made any kind of effort like he was interested. But then again, neither had I.
And I was too afraid of rejection to go after him myself, to admit that for five years I’d watched him from a distance... fallen in love with a man who I didn’t even know the sound of his voice, what his background was, his likes and dislikes, or anything like that.
I was a wimp, but I was a wimp who’d fallen hopelessly in love, and nobody else would compare. No one would ever compare to Big, and I didn’t know if that made me insane, obsessed, or just plain hopeless.
I straightened in my seat, grabbed my phone, and pulled up the website for Big’s cabinetry company— BH Custom Cabinetry.
It wasn’t like I could use his service, given the fact that I was in a rental, but God, I wanted an excuse to talk to him. Would it be completely ridiculous if I called him for an estimate on a house that wasn’t even mine? I snorted again and should’ve put the phone down, but instead I went to the About Us section.
The header image was a picture of Big with three other men and an elderly woman. I knew she was their receptionist, one of the men was the financial aspect behind the company, and the other guys and Big actually worked on the cabinets. But my gaze was focused right on Big, how he towered over the rest of them. God, he looked like a real man, one who I’d always envisioned and fantasized about.
He was tall, easily six and a half feet, and he was bulky, with wide shoulders and defined muscles. His broad chest tapered down to narrow hips, and although he wore a shirt, I could imagine he had a six-pack. In fact, I would bet anything on it.
The jeans he wore were faded and worn in, and because his flannel was tucked in, the very clear bulge I could make out had my mouth drying. I was such a pervert for the things I thought when I stared at his crotch.
And his face. God, his face was almost harsh with signs of doing manual labor outside, sun-kissed, and not at all classically handsome. In other words, he was so damn attractive to me. His dirty-blond hair was short and swept to the side. He had a beard a shade darker than his hair, gruff and mountain-man in appearance.
I exited out of the website, because I felt arousal start to rise up in me. I set my phone down, but it was as if my thoughts conjured the very man himself. I watched as his large SUV pulled to a stop right across the street.
The local hardware store left much to be desired, with basically selling nuts and bolts, small tools, and household items. But it was the only one in town unless you needed actual stuff to construct something in your house. Then you’d have to go to the next town over to the big chain home construction store, where you could get slabs of lumber, power tools, and hell, even cleaning supplies.
I sat up straighter as I watched him climb out of his SUV, his legs long and thick... thick like tree trunks—sturdy and stable. I was five-foot seven, which wasn’t small, in fact above average size for a woman. But compared to him, I was so small and petite. I bet he could easily pick me up, my legs wrapped around his waist, my frame slight as he held me and fucked me up against the wall.
Oh, Lord.
My thoughts turned dirty pretty damn quick, and I felt myself blush despite the fact that I was alone. And it wasn’t like anybody could see or hear what I was thinking.
I cleared my throat and rubbed my palms up and down my thighs as I watched him walk around the front of his vehicle and toward the entrance of the hardware store. And then he stopped and looked over his shoulder, and I swore he was looking right at my store, right through the front window, and could see me sitting here. I doubted it, given the position of the sun and how there was probably a glare on the glass, but it felt like he was staring right at me.
The feeling of him looking at me was so pronounced I actually felt tingles race up and down my arms, felt goose bumps form along my skin. I had this effect every single time I saw him. My body instantly reacted, my nipples hardening, my pussy becoming wet and uncomfortably sensitive. I felt my panties become saturated, soaked with my arousal.
There was something seriously wrong with me, but I felt like it was a good kind of wrong, the kind that had you doing things you normally wouldn’t do and not regretting it. And all the things I wanted to do with Big were those good kinds of wrong, the kind that made things permanent, the kind that had me being his.
Chapter Three
Landry
I was about to run myself a bath, pour myself a big-ass glass of white wine, and put on some Netflix as I did nothing but soak and relax, when my cell ringing stopped those plans for the time being.
Because the business calls were forwarded to my cell phone, I always answered in a professional manner, even if it was my mom on the other end. “The Soapy Bucket Cleaning Company. How may I help you?” There was a moment of silence, and I pulled the phone away thinking maybe there was a disconnection or a hang-up, but then I heard a gruff voice as a man cleared his throat.
“Yeah, I’m thinking I need someone to help with my house.”
Although the man sounded extremely masculine, he also sounded pretty nervous, as if he were asking something dirty and he didn’t want his mom to hear. But I was us
ed to it. A lot of people felt uncomfortable asking someone for help, especially cleaning their house, even if they were paying for it.
“Well, I can certainly help you with that. I’ll just need some details and then I can let you know what we have to offer and if anything suits your needs.”
He cleared his throat again, and I knitted my brows. I had this tingling on the back of my neck, although I couldn’t quite place why I was having this funny feeling. “Or, you’re more than welcome to check out the website.” I rattled off the Internet address, but I had a feeling he wasn’t writing it down.
The way he spoke in a rough timbre kind of led me to believe maybe he wasn’t a technology type of guy. I didn’t know anything about him, so I was generalizing, but I was pretty good at reading people, even over the phone, and he was screaming a man who probably did manual labor and was only indoors when it was time to eat or sleep.
“Yeah, I don’t need to look at your website, ‘cause I’m all thumbs with that tech stuff.”
I knew it.
“I actually saw your flyer at the grocery store.”
“Oh.” Paper flyers were pretty much a thing of the past, given technology, but the little town of Stone Creek wasn’t like the rest of the world. I’d come to find that out as soon as I moved here. People relied on the bulletin boards posted all over town and seemingly in every single business.
I’d felt silly at first, tacking them up to the corkboards, feeling like I was back in the nineties, but when I did the survey after I was done cleaning a house, one of the questions asked how they heard about my business. And every single person said a flyer at a local business was how they found me.
I probably didn’t even need to keep my website up and running, but it looked professional, was easy access, and was a point of reference if I ever wanted to have anybody check it out.