by Lori Garrett
I pulled to the side and watched as she bit her lip nervously. I put my hands up to let her know I wasn’t planning to do anything stupid. “Hey, darlin.’ I saw you pulled over and wondered if you needed a hand.”
“I can’t get ahold of my father,” she said, shifting her weight from one foot to another. Her body was all sweet curves covered with a tiny sundress, light green and ruffled. She had on sexy cowboy boots, and kept pulling one foot out and rubbing it along the back of her calf. Her blonde curls tossed around her shoulders whenever the breeze picked up. “I don’t have the number for AAA in my phone. I don’t even know what’s wrong. It was in the shop the other day, so I don’t get it.”
“Mind if I take a look? My brothers are hardcore mud boggers, so I may be able to help.” I watched a smile of relief break over her face, and I decided right then and there I was gonna fix this damn Jeep no matter what it took, just so I could see her smile again.
One glance under the hood, and I knew it was the spark plug wire. Fool auto shop monkeys must’ve knocked a wire loose. It would be a two minute fix.
Two minutes, and she’d be back on the road.
“Is it something you can fix?” she asked.
“Sure can,” I said. I debated telling her it’d take awhile. Or that I needed her to ride to the parts store with me to get some part I’d pretend to use. Or that I couldn’t fix it, but I could give her a lift wherever she was headed.
Any of those would’ve fit my usual scenarios with a pretty girl. But I shocked myself by reaching in and fixing it, and even double checking to make sure everything else looked fine.
“Well, this sure as hell isn’t some beater you’d mud bog in, but a Jeep’s a Jeep, and this one is good to go.” I slammed the hood and wiped my hands on my jeans. “Wanna start her up?”
The girl nodded, ran to the driver’s side, and turned the key. The engine roared to life, and she grabbed the wheel and hollered, “Woot!”
Her excitement loosened something in me, and I found myself not wanting to leave. But I had to. This gorgeous girl in her shiny new Jeep didn’t need me in her life. That was for damn sure.
“Glad to help.” I smacked the hood and tipped my hat at her, then walked back to my car. I was about to pull out when I saw her door swing open and she came running.
My heart stopped in my chest, and I sat, not knowing what to expect.
“Hey,” she said, leaning down and into my opened window. “Um, thank you. I didn’t say ‘thank you.’”
“You didn’t have to run back for that,” I said, looking her up and down. “But I’m damn glad you did.”
“My name is Harlow. Harlow Mills.” She stuck her hand in my window.
I took it and pressed it to my lips, loving the way her cheeks went all red. “I’m Gunner Hunt. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
She tugged her hand back and bit her lip, and my brain went crazy imagining every naughty thing this angel-face might be capable of doing.
Naked
In my bed.
“So, um...I never, ever do this. But....here.”
She shoved a napkin into my hand and, before I could register what it was, she ran to her Jeep. I hardly had time to watch that fine ass before she was in her Jeep and peeling out, leaving me staring into a cloud of dust.
I looked down at the napkin crumpled in my hand. It had a phone number with a message scrawled in bubbly letters underneath: “I love a guy who can get his hands dirty. Call me sometime.”
I held the napkin to my nose and inhaled the pomegranate and amber scent I was about to know very well...on every inch of that sexy skin.
I took my phone out and dialed.
I never made it back with the beer that night.
I’ve got to end this. Again.
“We aren’t friends. You shouldn’t have come. And I don’t want your money,” I say, shoving the crinkled ten dollar bill I pulled out of the tip jar back into her palm.
“We used to be friends. More than friends, Gunner. Was it really so bad?”
I try really fucking hard not to, but I can’t help but let my mind flashback to how things were with Harlow before they got so damn complicated.
“You look good,” I say, shaking away the images before they make me rock hard back in this storage room. Because what the hell else am I supposed to say right now? That I don’t regret walking away from her? That she never should have tracked me down? Maybe I should say all of those things, but I’m weak and she’s so close.
“You too. And I’m sorry for just showing up like this, I hope I didn’t get you into any trouble. I’m sure your boss isn’t thrilled.” She thinks I just wipe counters and pour beers. Good. That’s all she needs to know. “I know you need to get back, but maybe when you get off, we could talk for a little? Just catch up?"
I run my palm across the scruff of my five o’clock shadow.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Harlow.”
“Come on, I don’t bite,” she says, with a small smile.
“The reasons we can’t be together haven’t changed,” I say. “I’m still the same loser I was back then, kitten. And you’re still a goddamn princess.” A goddamn sexy princess. And if she knew all of the new reasons that there can never be an us, she’d definitely run the other direction. She needs to get over this bad boy fantasy, and go back to the family she loves.
“I’m not asking for us to get back together, Gunner. I’m just asking for one night.” She swallows hard and that vein in her neck is throbbing like certain parts of my anatomy are right now.
“Please.” She bites her bottom lip in that way that screams sex and innocence all at the same time, and she knows I can’t fucking resist it.
“You shouldn’t have come,” I say. But it’s a lie.
I link my arm around that delicate waist and pull her in. Her skin is hot like she’s been out in the sun all day, probably in some skimpy ass bikini. She perches up onto her tiptoes and runs her mouth slowly along my jawline. She was eighteen the last time I saw her, and at the time, I didn’t think she could get any hotter. But right now, she’s all woman, and she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
“My bike is out back,” I say, knowing it’s a fucking stupid idea the minute it comes out of my mouth. But I’ve had stupider, and I’ve done alright for myself. “We can take a quick ride, but I gotta be back for last call. Alright with you?”
Her eyes are wide, sky blue, looking at me like I’ve got the answer to every problem she’s ever had. Too bad she doesn’t realize this ride is about to toss one more big ass problem at both of us.
Because I’m going to fuck Harlow. It won’t be sweet, but it will be good as hell. And when it’s done, she’s going to walk like she just rode a horse ten miles bareback, and I’m going to tell her that all I’m good for anymore is a fuck and a pour, anytime she needs either.
I didn’t turn into the man she imagined I would. I hate that about myself, but I hate it even more that those big blue eyes look so hopeful. Especially because I’m about to let her down hard and fast. Maybe I’ve got more money, but my life is even more fucked up, and I’m not about to get her involved in any aspect of it.
But I swear on all that’s holy, I’ll give her the fuck of her life before I cut her off. It’s not much, but it’s what I do well, and I’ve never done it better than when I’ve had my dick buried in Harlow’s tight little pussy.
“Yes. I mean...I’d love to. Um.” She looks uncertain, like she wants some kind of confession of love from me, or at least some sweet words, maybe.
I hate the hurt on her face when I keep my expression blank, but what I’m about to do is stupid enough without adding extra emotional complications in.
“Let’s go,” I say, jerking my head to the back door. “Jared! I’m out till last call.” Jared scowls at me, but he doesn’t say anything, because he knows I’ll throw him all tonight’s tips plus triple pay. I know it would break Harlow’s heart to know, but this isn’t
the first time I’ve ditched the bar for a fuck.
“I have to tell Daisy,” she says, turning to find her friend in the smoky crowd.
“Forget it. You can text her.” I’m already walking out the door, fast, not looking over my shoulder when I go.
A big part of me hopes she won’t be there when I get to the parking lot. But she is. I look her up and down in the glow of the streetlight. She has her arms crossed over her tits and she’s biting her lip again. But this time it isn’t because she wants to drive me crazy with lust. This time it’s because she’s nervous. She looks up at me from under those crazy dark lashes, her eyes a little scared and a little sad, and she might as well have punched me in the stomach.
“Just go back inside,” I say, my voice tight.
She shakes her head. “No. Gunner, I’ve wanted you so bad for so long. I’ve missed you. Haven’t you missed me?” She reaches a hand out to touch me, then pulls back.
Dammit, I’ve missed the feel of her hands on me. I didn’t realize how badly until this minute. The kid I was three years ago would spit in my face if he came across me today, here, in the parking lot making plans to fuck this girl—to fuck Harlow—senseless.
I knock that kid out of my head and pull her close around her waist.
“Listen, kitten. I’m not that guy you knew back then. I don’t do sweet. I don’t do nice. And you should be done screwing around and wasting time already. You need to be looking for a guy you can settle down with. Someone to put a ring on that pretty finger of yours. Not some soulless asshole that’ll use you and leave you like me.” Our faces are so close, I can smell the sweet bubblegum of her breath as she pants, excited or scared, I can’t tell which.
“I know that isn’t true,” she says. Her pretty pink lips part and she darts her tongue out, licking the top, then the bottom with a slow slide. “I know you don’t mean that for a second.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Harlow.” I crush her close and speak low and slow. “It’s not gonna turn out that I peel your panties off and come out the other side of this fuck a changed man. If we do this, it’s about me scratching an itch that’s long overdue. And once it’s scratched, you and I have no business together anymore. Got that?”
Her pretty face is turned up to look at me. I can’t see the blue of her eyes anymore, because they’ve gone black with need. “Got it,” she whispers.
“No strings attached. You understand?” I demand.
“I understand,” she repeats, her cheeks turning pink like she’s embarrassed.
“This is just sex, Harlow. Just sex between two people who know how damn good it can be. Say it. Say, ‘This is just sex.’” I stare down into her eyes, careful not to fall in and drown in their pure beauty.
I shake my head. I haven’t gotten soft like this over a girl in years. This is not a good sign.
“This is just...sex. Gunner.”
That pause. The soft way she says my name. I may have flunked out of high school English, but I’m no dummy. I know she’s using words, looks, anything. She wants what she can’t have. She expects to snap those manicured fingers and get any damn things she pleases. Even me.
Maybe this idea isn’t so stupid after all. Maybe what Harlow Mills needs is to have her romantic dreams crushed under someone’s boot heel so she can grow the hell up and stop pining for the bad boy she wants to save. I’m no rescue dog; I don’t need saving, especially from the likes of her.
“Let’s go, then.” I stalk to my bike and throw a leg over. It’s started and almost rolling when I feel her jump on the back, her chest pressed close to my back, her arms wound tight around my waist.
The night is cool and calm, the kind of night we used to wish for that summer. This was the kind of night we would have spent skinny dipping or rolling around in the hayloft on a blanket she brought tucked under her arm. This was the kind of night where Harlow would curl on my chest when we were done screwing like wild things and force me to look away from her and up at the stars.
“Gunner, what would you wish for, if you could have anything?” she’d ask. Her voice was lazy, her head tilted back, silky curls spread over my chest.
I wound a gold curl around my finger and traced the line of her shoulder, so soft. So beautiful. Goddamn, that girl could kick the breath out of my lungs.
“Nothing.”
She rolled onto her side, the blanket slipping down off her nipple and just the sight of that little pink mound got me hard and ready for her again. “Nothing?” She frowned. I loved the way her lips pouted when she frowned. “That’s boring.”
“What kind of idiot would wish for a damn thing when he had you in front of him?” I gathered her in my arms and spoke close to her ear. “You’re every wish I could make, Harlow. You know that?”
She turned in my arms and kissed me quiet.
I’m glad the roar of my bike competes for attention with the memories going through my fool head. By the time we pull up at my place, I’ve pushed that one aside, trampled it. No good remembering what couldn’t be and still can’t. I was a dumbass, and it’s embarrassing to dwell on it.
Harlow swings one sweet little leg off my bike and starts off toward the barn. I catch her hand to stop her. She looks down at me holding her, then up at my face, confused.
“You want me. Right?” she asks.
Her voice is killing me. We haven’t taken off a single stitch, and I feel horny as hell. “I want you so bad, my dick’s about to tear through these jeans, kitten. But I’m done with getting my skin rubbed off in the hay.”
She looks around like she’s expecting a cheap motel to pop up and entice us with its hourly rates. I forget how much has changed in years we’ve been apart.
And I take comfort in how much hasn’t.
“Get over here,” I say. She follows me like a shadow while I go up the steps to the door of the big farmhouse.
The owner, Mr. Daniels, was one of the nicest guys I ever met. I know he knew damn well I was bringing Harlow to his hayloft the summer I worked for him. I had no choice; there’s only so many positions you can comfortably manage on the bench seat of an old Ford.
Old Daniels just pulled me aside and said, “If the missus finds any lacy little panties when she’s feeding her horses, I’ll have hell to pay. And if I have hell to pay, so will you, son.”
So I made sure to always collect Harlow’s panties and anything else after we finished.
When the missus died a year back, he came to my apartment, hat in his hands, and said it killed him to have to sell, but he’d feel so much better knowing it was going to good hands.
Good hands.
Old Daniels was a good guy, but no doubt he was soft in the head.
“Um, I know Mr. Daniels moved, but we can’t be here. Someone might be keeping an eye on things and see us,” Harlow whispers. “We can go to my place if you like. My apartment is only fifteen minutes away, and Daisy is never around this time of—”
I take out a key and stop her little ramble in its tracks. She flashes questioning eyes my way, but I’m not in the mood for questions. I lead in and she follows, looking around bright and curious.
“Gunner? Is this...yours?”
I try not to mind the amazement. “It is. After Mrs. Daniels passed, Mr. Daniels wanted someone trustworthy to take care of the place.”
Her face looks relieved, like she just figured something out. “Oh! So you take care of this place for Mr. Daniels.”
She doesn’t phrase it as a question, so I don’t offer an answer.
I also don’t admit, even to myself, how hard it sucks that it doesn’t even cross her mind I could have bought this place.
She walks past me, stepping on the shiny oak steps, her hand on the railing. She gets all interested in some picture of horses on the fifth step, and I get a clear view up her skirt.
There’s not a scrap of fabric under it. She’s asking me some crazy question about the one horse’s name or something, but my mind isn’t mine anymore. I’m u
p the steps before I have time to think and my hands are on her thighs, the skin warm from the sun she’s always worshipping.
I kiss down her neck, suck on the skin almost hard enough to leave a mark. I hear her pull her breath in and drag my mouth away. She isn’t mine to mark.
“You used to get soaked if I told you all the dirty things I wanted to do to you. That still hold, kitten?” I ask kissing along her neck and loving the way she braces one hand on the wall and one on the bannister.
“I’m, uh, not s-s-sure,” she stutters. “No one’s talked dirty to me since you.” She leans back into me and rubs her ass against my hands.
It makes me glad to know I’m the last one who talked dirty to her. I’ve gotta accept that that probably doesn’t mean she’s been celibate, only that the guys she was with didn’t know how to turn her on.
“I’m gonna guess that panties aren’t the only thing you forgot tonight?” I push one hand under the hem of her shirt and, sure enough, the soft, heavy swell of her tit rests against my fingers, her hardened nipple tight under my palm. I kiss her neck and push my other hand up under her shirt. She grinds back into me, moving her ass against my dick.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” I say. “I miss watching that ass when I’m fucking you from behind.” She moans. “You remember that time you got on your hands and knees for me in your daddy's kitchen? He could have come back any second and caught me dick-deep in you.”
Her laugh is low and throaty, cut short on another moan when I squeeze her nipples between my fingers. “I r-r-remember that. I still can’t get a midnight snack at my parents’ house without wanting to feel you in me. I’ve missed it so much, Gunner.” The last words come out on a whimper that makes my head spin.
My hands squeeze her tits, then turn her around. I pull her shirt over her head and her tits bounce, smooth and round in the moonlight. I feel like I’m a starving man staring at a banquet table.
I dip my head down and suck one nipple in, pulling at it with my tongue and grazing softly with my teeth. Harlow holds my head and her fingers tug at my hair.