WhiskeyBottleLover
Page 24
He reached out, dug through the dirt and pulled. Out popped an old, filthy bottle. They both stared at it. Chance could barely breathe. It resembled his bottle, not exactly but close enough to send her into a panic.
“No, no, no.” She shoved at him, dragged herself out from under his body and sat up. “Get rid of it.”
Hayes gripped the bottom of his shirt to wipe the dirt away. Fear made her shackle his wrist in her hand. “Please don’t.”
“It’s just an old bottle, darlin’.”
Yeah, that’s what she thought seven months ago. Look what happened. Nope. She didn’t want to risk it. One genie was enough. “Please, Hayes. Don’t touch it.”
“It feels warm,” he muttered, holding it up toward the light. “I can’t see through it.”
With her heart lodged in her throat, she spared a hesitant glance. Oh hell. Did she see a glowing light in there or was it the sun reflecting through the foggy glass?
“You could clean this up and sell it at the shop.”
“Yeah, sure.” She snatched it out of his hand before he rubbed the glass. “I’ll do that. I’ll just put it in the car so I can take it in later today.” Chance scrambled out of the loose dirt and rushed toward the car where she opened the door and tossed it on the seat.
When she turned, Hayes stood there, his arms crossed and a suspicious look fixed on his handsome face. “What?”
“You think that’s a genie bottle.”
“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. I’m not interested in finding out.”
“Do you know what the chances are it is?”
“Too damn good for me,” she muttered.
“One in about five million, Chance. You have a better shot at getting’ eaten by a shark than you do findin’ another genie.”
The humor in his voice irritated her. “Those are damn good odds if you ask me,” she murmured. “Let’s just forget about it, okay?”
“Was I that awful as a genie?”
Oh he was having fun with this. “Okay, let’s rub it and see what pops out. Maybe it’ll be a tall, dark, handsome, sexy genie who caters to my every whim and falls at my feet, swearing to bring my deepest, darkest desires to life.”
“Never mind,” he grumbled with a frown. “Leave the damn thing in the car. I get your point.”
She stepped up to him, lodged herself against his body, reached around and gripped his toned ass. “Don’t worry, farmer man. I’ve got everything I could ever desire right here. No genie is going to make me want more.”
“Still, I think you should take it to the shop and give it away.”
“Now why didn’t I think of that?” Chance smacked her forehead.
Hayes swept her up in his arms, stomping toward the house.
“What are you doing?” Not that she minded being carried by him.
“Your sarcasm turns me on. I think it’s time to stretch those muscles a bit.”
* * * * *
Later that evening Chance drove into town with a goofy grin plastered on her face. Hayes worked her muscles, all right. He stretched and massaged every inch of her body for nearly two hours. After forty-five minutes of begging him for release, it dawned on her his extra loving attention had more to do with proving he could please her better than any other genie than working out her stiff muscles.
Maybe she shouldn’t have teased him so soon after being freed from his bottle, but hell, if that’s what he did she might tease him more. The bottle they’d found rolled on the floor, bringing her attention back to current matters. That thing had to go.
Sure, the chances of it being a genie were slim to none but she wasn’t about to test the odds. Some other unsuspecting soul could find out. She’d done her time with all the rules and magic.
Chance parked in front of the shop, grabbed the bottle and hurried inside the store.
“Whatcha got there?” Jenny asked.
“An old bottle Hayes found digging his garden. I thought I’d sell it.” She placed the bottle on a shelf, dirt and all.
“Why didn’t you clean it up?”
“I thought the dirt added charm.” Chance did a quick inventory of what she had, moved a few things around and ten minutes before she closed, a man strolled in.
“Am I too late to browse?” he asked politely.
“Not at all. Take your time.” She never chased a potential customer away, even if she was locking the door. While the man browsed, Chance pulled up her website and checked her sales.
After a few minutes, the man approached the counter with the bottle in his hand. “This is interesting. I love old bottles. How much is it?”
“A dollar.” She almost said free, anything to make it go away.
“That’s all?” The man pulled out his wallet and tossed a ten on the counter. “Keep it. Something tells me this old bottle is worth much more.”
“Would you like a bag?” A pair of oven mitts, maybe a metal box to keep it in?
“No, thank you. Have a nice evening, and you have a wonderful shop.”
“Thanks,” she whispered as the man strolled out the door. She plopped down in her chair and blew out a long breath. Gone. It was gone and she didn’t have to worry about it now.
Nope, no worries for her about anything other than how she and Hayes were going to spend the evening when she got home. A wicked grin spread across her lips. Maybe tonight she would see how he felt about bondage.
About Robin Leigh Miller
Robin Leigh Miller lives in central Pennsylvania with her wonderful husband, three children and two German Shepherds. A retired dirt-track driver, Robin now gets her adrenaline fix by putting her characters through their paces.
Robin welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Agents of Mercy 1: Black Smoke
Agents of Mercy 2: Boomer’s Fall
Pirate’s Passion anthology
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Ellora’s Cave Publishing
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Whiskey Bottle Lover
ISBN 9781419946042
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Whiskey Bottle Lover Copyright © 2013 Robin Leigh Miller
Edited by Beverly Horne
Cover design by Valerie Tibbs
Cover photography by Kostudio, Dusan Zidar/Shutterstock.com and Dreamstimes.com
Electronic book publication April 2013
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