With me cradled in his arms, my husband smiles softly. “Not a chance…”
“Hard ass,” I retort.
He’s quiet for a while, seeming to soak in the feel of me in his arms. “Where has the time gone?” He whispers.
I sigh. “I was wondering the same thing.”
He climbs the hill effortlessly without putting me down. He’s so strong. I’m officially turned on. I lean closer and kiss his shoulder, his neck, his jaw as he carries me along the jagged path back to the palace.
“You’re making me weak in the knees, Reese.”
That doesn’t exactly sound like a complaint.
I bring my lips to his ear. “How easy would it be for me to lure you over there into the bushes for a minute?” I jerk my chin toward a cluster of trees just off the path.
His face lights with surprise. And arousal. “Sex in the woods? It’s all fun and games until somebody gets a mosquito bite on the ass…”
I laugh, knowing fully well he’s not about to turn me down. Sex in the woods is on his damn bucket list.
His eyes trail down my bikini-clad body. “But then again, I’m willing to sacrifice a whole chunk of my ass to a mosquito, if it means I can get a taste of your body.”
My happy, happy laughter fills the air as Leo turns off the beaten path and ducks into the bushes with me in his arms.
Sophia & Archie
Sophia
When I step out of the bathroom, my husband is lying, shirtless, in the middle of the plush, four-poster bed.
"Hey,” I say as I make my way across the room to him.
He takes off his reading glasses and sets them on the table beside the bed. “Hey.”
“What are you reading?”
He shifts across the mattress to make room for me. “Just looking over the itinerary for tomorrow.” He hands me a thick sheet of stationery with the royal crest printed at the top.
I take the piece of paper and snuggle close to him. My eyes scan the list of activities Sadie’s office has planned out for us for tomorrow.
A visit to the Official Prehistoric Monument…
Lunch at the Tower of Folkshire…
A tour of St. Jude’s Cathedral…
I squint my eyes at the paper. “Visit to the National Park to see the mating of the Brown Bottom Geese?” I give Archie a perplexed look and he shrugs.
“Xavier made it sound like a really big deal. Apparently, it’s a national event.”
I laugh. “Well, damn.”
“When in Ridgeland, do as the Ridgish do, I guess,” my husband says sagely.
My eyes move around the room. An ornate crystal chandelier hangs above the bed. A handcrafted desk sits in the corner next to the fireplace. The stone walls and floors are practically pulsing with history. I snuggle against my man and sigh. “This place is breathtaking, though. I feel so lucky to be here.” I ease back to look into his dark, beautiful eyes. “With you.”
He leans in and kisses me. “I’m the lucky one, Daisy.”
I still shiver with delight every time he calls me that.
“The past few years have been a wild ride. And I’m just so glad to spend every day of it with you. No matter where we are.”
He’s right. Our life together has been an adventure. Even with two young daughters, we managed the chaotic world of running a successful daycare for several years. Once River and Skye were finally both in school, we sold the daycare for a decent amount of money so that Archie and I could really pursue our dreams.
Yes, Archie is the most supportive husband ever and he backed me up fully with the daycare but I could always see that he wanted something more, he wanted something for himself. As soon as we offloaded the daycare, he went into business with his two best friends. Now, he’s one of the owners of Hartley-Montgomery-Jones Construction Inc.
As for me, I finally got to finish my degree. Today, I teach grade three and I absolutely love every minute of it.
We live a simple life and it isn’t without its challenges, but it’s the life we always wanted.
My husband eases out of bed. I watch him as he pads over to the arched doors leading onto the small verandah.
Damn—he’s so sexy, with that body carved from stone and that chiselled face that still makes my pulse flutter at the base of my throat. He looks like something that should be on display at the Ridgeland National Museum of Art.
He pulls the doors open and moonlight pours in. Turning with a smile slowly climbing his lips, he extends a hand to me. “Come ‘ere.”
With an accelerating pulse, I go to him. Our fingers intertwine. And on the balcony, beneath a perfect, starlit sky, he holds me to his chest, he sways me to the sound of our hearts beating in sync. And I know beyond any semblance of a doubt that my life turned out exactly as it should have, with this man by my side, facing every storm, enjoying every sunrise.
He pulls back and points toward the sky. “Look—a shooting star,” he whispers into the night. “Make a wish.”
I press my lips to the center of his chest. “There’s nothing left to wish for, baby. You’re my blue collar dream come true.”
Bonus: Pretty Boy
The Blue Collar Bachelors Series Bonus Novella
Pretty Boy (The Blue Collar Bachelors Series – Bonus Novella)
Copyright © 2018 Cassie-Ann L. Miller
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents appearing therein are products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be interpreted as real. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status of the various products referenced in this work.
Created with Vellum
About “Pretty Boy”
Jason and Siobhan met in Dirty Farmer (the Dirty Suburbs Book 6) and unbeknownst to the people around them, they started a sexy affair. In Pretty Boy, they finally seal the deal.
Pretty Boy is a steamy, laugh-out-loud older woman/younger man romance set in small town Illinois. It is a short novella in the Blue Collar Bachelors series.
Chapter One
Cruz
"Click! Click!"
I glance over my shoulder and glare at my boss's reflection in the mirror. He's got both big, tattooed hands up by his face, fingers angled as if he’s pointing a camera in my direction. The smirk on his mouth is downright annoying.
"Very funny, Clinton," I snarl as I finish moisturizing the stubble on my chin and set down the tube of beard pomade on the counter. "Beauty like this doesn't come without effort." I turn to face him, running a palm down my cheek in illustration of my exceptional good looks.
A full-bodied laugh rumbles in his tall, lean frame. He wears a mocking expression as his fingers flit across his hard jawline in tender strokes. "Beauty like this is all street fights and strong genes. Hashtag, No Filter."
I barely hold back a laugh. "Keep your jealousy under wraps, Alvarez."
He isn't bad-looking—for a dude—but he has his share of scars and it's obvious that he's had his nose rearranged a couple of times on the streets. He may be a regular small town barber today but once upon a time, Clinton Alvarez was neck deep in the motorcycle club lifestyle.
His lovely fiancee comes up in front of him and, leaning against his torso, she wraps his arms around her baby bump. "Clint—would you stop teasing the poor guy?" She turns to me with reassuring eyes. "Don’t mind him. You're very handsome, Jason."
I flinch a little. The way she says it, it's almost like she pities me. I guess I am sort of pathetic...Sometimes, it seems like my good looks are all I've got going for me.
Every other good thing in my world came crashing down right before I moved to this town. Months later, I'm still trying to make sense of it all. I'm trying to understand how it all happened. One minute, I was flying high. The next, I hit the ground, pinned down beneath the weight of my regret and disappointment. I told myse
lf that moving to Copper Heights, a small town that no one's ever heard of, was the perfect solution but unfortunately Regret and Disappointment have followed me here to continue torturing me.
Anyway, I can't take offense with Vivian. I know that she has the best of intentions. "Thanks, Viv. Takes a beauty to know a beauty." I toss a wink her way and her blush is instant. Regardless of the turmoil inside, I refuse to let my brash persona slip even for a second.
She buries her face in her man’s chest and giggles girlishly. "Thank you."
Clinton's nostrils flare and his arms tighten protectively around his girl. His dark eyes narrow on my face. "Hey, would you stop it with all your sex voodoo seduction shit! The woman's carrying my baby, for chrissakes."
Despite the grin shaping her lips, Vivian rolls her eyes. Spinning around and grabbing him by the collar of his coat, she pulls him down to her level and plants a wet kiss on his mouth. She speaks facetiously. "Okay, Mr. Caveman. We get it—I'm your property. Now take me back to your lair. I'm hungry, my feet are killing me and I know you don't wanna miss the beginning of Real Housewives." She takes a step toward the door and yanks on his arm.
Clinton sneaks an embarrassed look in my direction. "Babe, I don't watch the Real Housewives."
"Yeah, sure." Vivian takes another step, her tone derisive as all hell. "Good night, Cruz."
"'Night, Viv." I snort back laughter over Clinton's shamefaced expression.
He throws me a quick glance. "Hold down the fort, man." His hand comes up in the air and claps against mine in salutation.
"Always," I assure him as he slips out the door into the blizzard-like conditions with Vivian leading the way.
I watch after them as they trudge across the icy parking lot, arm in arm, laughing between themselves. I find myself missing the time when I had that sort of companionship, a partner in crime. Most men are afraid of being domesticated, tied down to one woman. Me, it's not a relationship that I fear. It's the reality that I'll never be with the one person I love that most scares me.
My chance came and went. I let it slip through my fingers. When I should have been fighting to make her stay, I let her walk out. When I should have been trying to work things out, I decided to give her space.
And now I hear she's moving to a whole other continent. Is that enough space for you, asshole?
Growling out my frustration, I grab the mop bucket and drag it across the room. In my cloud of misery, I swipe the mop half-assedly across the floor a few times. I'm almost done when the front door swings open, letting in a rush of cold air and wayward snowflakes. A little man with a beard down to his chest and a head full of dreadlocks stumbles in.
"Hey man. We're closed." I nudge my chin in the direction of the little red sign stating as much on the door.
"You sure you can't fit it in one more?" he implores with his hands clasped in front of him. "Won't take you more than five minutes."
My eyes rove over his mass of hair. Yeah, right.
Today—like every day—the barbershop was busy. I barely got the chance to take a piss. It's like the men in this town have a special gene that makes them hairier than the rest of the country. It's good for business, I guess, but it means that Clinton and I have to work at double-speed all day just to keep the line from stretching out the door. And after a day like the one we just had—with my face aching from forcing my smile for 12 hours straight—I just want to get home to drop down on the couch with a six-pack of cheap beer. There's no way I'm tackling this particular customer. "Sorry man. We open at nine tomorrow morning."
After a few minutes of begging, he finally gives up. "All right," he says, throwing a hand up in disappointment as he turns on his heel and hits the road.
Clinton would be pissed to know that I turned away a paying customer but I just couldn't bring myself to deal with it. I'm not in the mood for anything really right now. I was supposed to have a date tonight. I called her and cancelled at the last minute. She's a really nice woman, a pretty blonde with big tits. She teaches at the local elementary school and does volunteering some place or another. I could hear the disappointment in her voice when I'd made the phone call. She'd been eager to get me all to herself tonight. I'm pretty sure she would have gone out of her way to please me.
But I just couldn't do it. Although her soft curves and her plush lips were calling out to my baser instincts, there's just this feeling in my chest today. It's stronger than usual. I can't simply get lost in a soft random body to erase it. I can't just ignore it this time.
I'm sad.
There. I fucking said it.
I'm sad because the only woman I really want is moving her whole life half-way across the globe to be with another man. A man who's my opposite in every way. And it's tearing me apart on the inside because for the first time in my life, I actually care. I actually want her so much that it's bigger than anything and everything else. She’s all I think about. Every day. And the fact that she’s really, truly, definitively moving on keeps replaying in my head.
I couldn't stay in Philadelphia to watch it unfold in real time. So I came here.
There's this old TV show. I don't remember the name. The tagline is something along the lines of wanting to go to a place where everyone knows your name. Well me, I moved to a place where nobody knows who the fuck I am and that's just the way I like it. Because the man I used to be is dead. Jason Cruz—world-famous male model—died when the woman I love chose someone else and I let it happen, I let her convince herself that her stupid excuses were valid.
Why the fuck didn't I fight for her?
I'll admit that I'm not used to women turning me down. So when I confessed that I wanted to be with her and she said no, it threw me for a loop. I didn't know how to react. My pride kicked in and I let her go. That was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.
As I'm on my way to store the bucket and mop in the narrow storage closet, I yet again find my attention drawn to the mirror. I stare into my face and berate myself for the millionth time. How could I be so stupid? I should have made it clear how I feel about her.
The bell above the door chimes, announcing the arrival of a very unwelcome newcomer. Again? Don't people realize it's a snowstorm? Who the hell gets their hair cut in a snow storm? You have to wear a hat anyway!
I spin around to announce that the shop is closed for the night and to offer the customer an appointment for tomorrow but before I can open my mouth, the words get stuck in my rapidly constricting throat.
The tall, elegant woman floats into the room, slipping the hood of her coat off of her lustrous brown hair. A nervous hand flicks snowflakes off the front of her coat. "Hello Jason."
My chest goes rigid at the sound of her voice as the memory of the long, toned limbs and sweeping expanses of warm olive-toned skin beneath those layers of clothing plays out in my mind. Still in disbelief, I say her name. "Siobahn? What are you doing here?"
Chapter Two
Siobhan
My gut is in knots. My breathing is shallow. My fingers are trembling.
Jason runs his thumb along the plush flesh of his bottom lip as he observes me silently and intently. And, oh boy—I'd better find a seat because my knees are beginning to go weak just looking at him.
I didn't expect that seeing him after all this time would affect me so deeply on a visceral level. But Jason Cruz always did have the power to turn my body into a throbbing maelstrom of lust and commotion.
That's the reason why I was so afraid to come here. It's also the reason I couldn't stay away.
The stated purpose of this visit is business. When my associate fashion editors telephoned me in a panic, claiming that our magazine’s favorite male model had abruptly fallen off the grid, I felt a very real pang in the pit of my stomach. I was worried about him.
I quickly brushed off the anxiety and jumped into action. I went to his apartment, contacted his agent, spoke with his roommates, all while wearing the hat of a concerned client desperate to track down her favorite
service provider. Nobody thought anything of it. Even when I asked the tech guy at work to track down his coordinates, nobody batted an eye. After all, Jason Cruz has been Hectic Magazine's go-to male model for a while now. As far as everyone else is concerned, it's all business.
But in my heart, I know just how personal it is. I couldn't imagine stepping on that plane and moving to Europe without even seeing his face again...
The unstated purpose of this visit is to say goodbye.
A heavy-set bearded guy shows up at the door and my eyes stay peeled to Jason’s wide, muscular back as he goes to turn the man away, telling him that his crew-cut trim will have to wait until tomorrow. After a bit of shameless pleading, the man leaves begrudgingly, plodding away in the heavy snow. When Jason spins back around and his dark eyes fall on me, his stare feels like an actual weight on my chest, making it hard to breathe.
No words are exchanged. We just stand there, face to face in the silence. He devours me with his eyes, those intense brown irises blazing a trail from my face, down over my chest, my curves, my thighs. It was that gaze of his that got me in trouble the first time, making me want things that are wholly inappropriate.
I know better than to interpret his gaze as anything meaningful, though. This is Jason. He's potent, virile, passionate. A woman can easily mistake his attention for genuine romantic interest but really, it's just his testosterone-driven, larger-than-life persona that starts messing with your logic.
The Blue Collar Bachelors Box Set: The Complete Blue Collar Bachelors Series Page 128