“I have a packet of pens in my glovebox. You should never just rely on one pen,” Green childes him.
I have to admit that I do get a satisfied grin at how red the deputy turns.
“Of course. You’re heading out now, too?” He sounds hopeful and maybe relieved.
Green brushes his hand against my back, urging me forward. “Yes. I’ll have my phone on me.”
“Where are you going?” Smith blurts.
“Out,” is all Green responds with, leading me away. “I don’t pay you to smoke. Put it out and get back to work!” he shouts, and I feel the glare on my back the entire time we’re in view.
“You might not like him, but that guy is so into you,” I can’t help myself from saying.
Green grunts, but he doesn’t seem bothered to comment aloud on this.
“When did Gertie say your car would be fixed?”
I assume he’s talking about Midsummer’s only mechanic, since I can’t recall what she said her name was.
“She said the earliest she could look at it was Monday. I’m sort of weighing up whether I don’t bother with it and just get something more reliable.”
“You should wait to see what she says first. It might not be as bad as you think.”
I wonder if he’s hoping I’ll stay that extra day, or if he’s just being nice. The mood between us has definitely shifted again after the hostility of last night and this afternoon. Would a second night with Green be any different? I mean, the sex was incredible. It’s just the after show that needs work.
His hand brushes against mine, and electricity shoots up my arm and through my body. The air between us charges, and my mouth dries.
I sneak a quick glance at him, but he doesn’t appear anywhere near as affected as I am. With his gaze, he is assessing the area, his mouth quirking into a small smile at the people we pass in the street, and he occasionally waves to cars passing us.
Does he know he’s driving me crazy? Is he doing this on purpose?
He shifts his eyes over to meet mine, and I almost trip over my own feet from the intensity there.
“I don’t suppose you might be interested in going back to my place tonight? I could guarantee a nicer post-orgasmic experience.”
My breath catches in my throat and need burns through me. I’ve never felt this way about sex before. I might have enjoyed it, I might have wanted it, I might have had some amazing sex in my life, but never before has it felt crucial or left me so desperate.
“You mean, I might get three minutes to compose myself and get dressed instead of the two I got before?” I say this in jest, purely in the hopes of calming myself down.
This is just sex, nothing more. So, why is my heart beating so damn fast? Why am I beginning to wish this wasn’t just a one-time thing?
“I think I could spare you five,” he says seriously, and I laugh over the fact that he just joked with me.
“Damn, I might have considered if you had pushed it to six minutes and a thirty second cuddle.”
“Tough men don’t cuddle,” he continues to tell me just as seriously.
“What do tough men do, then?”
“They shield, protect, and keep their dicks close to their partner so they’re ready to handle that morning wood immediately.”
I laugh again, not sure if I should be worried that I actually find that somewhat romantic. I’m certain that Sheriff Green has never been accused of being romantic.
“Can you get morning wood when you kick your partner out of bed before the sun has even thought about rising?”
“I think, with you, I could get wood at any time.”
“I don’t know if I believe that. Prove it. How hard are you right now?” I ask jokingly, not expecting him to tug on my arm, pull me down a darkened side street, and shove me against the side of a building. Next step, he presses himself against me, and I feel the hard length that I only got a peek at last night.
“Believe me now?” he asks, not giving me time to answer before slamming his lips against mine hard enough that my head would have likely bashed into the brick wall behind me if he hadn’t cradled it, saving me from the concussion.
I moan into his mouth, feeling my own cock awaken as he rubs against me.
Before my thoughts turn to mush, I briefly wonder if the town sheriff can get in trouble for public indecency.
I place my hands over his chest, rubbing my hands upward and feeling the pounding pulse against my fingers when they graze over his neck.
Fuck, how can this man rev me up so easily? Do I have no shame? Right now, I don’t think I could say no if he turned me around and fucked me against this damn wall.
I had my crisis when I first turned thirty and told myself I needed to make some life changes. I needed to grow up. And yet, nothing about this situation screams that I’ve grown up. But, even knowing this, I can’t stop my response. I can’t pull myself away.
Maybe I’m still in the middle of my crisis, making bad decisions and not caring about consequences. Or maybe I’m just human and need to give myself a break.
He breaks away from my lips to trace his tongue down my jaw, his scratchy facial hair tingling against the wet kisses he leaves.
I full body shiver, reaching up to tangle my fingers in his soft hair, not sure what I want or need, but knowing it has to happen soon.
Unfortunately, a cell phone buzzing breaks us out of whatever spell we’re under.
Green pulls back from me, both of our chests heaving, as he glances down at his side where he pulls out his phone. He reads whatever is on there, but he doesn’t remove his front from pressing up against me, doesn’t give me the chance to step away and get some much-needed space.
“Shit,” he grumbles, placing his phone back in his pocket and reluctantly taking a small step back from me, still not giving me enough space to get out of his way. However, it does allow me a few, calming breaths. “There’s been an accident a few miles out on the I-30; head-on collision.”
I wince in sympathy. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“No. Look, I’m sorry, but—”
“It’s okay. I get it. You’re on call. Honestly, you fucked me so hard last night that giving myself some recovery time is probably best anyway,” I say lightly, not expecting the hard expression that instantly crosses his features.
“I hurt you?” Green looks furious, his eyes skating over my face so fast that I wonder what he sees.
“No, I just mean you have a huge fucking cock.”
A surprised bark of laughter erupts from him as he shakes his head. Finally, he takes a few more steps back.
“I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth sometimes.”
“Truthfully, I’m often surprised, too,” I admit, earning another grin from him.
Shit, the man is handsome when he scowls or stares intently, but when he actually smiles, he gets inexplicably hotter.
“Raincheck for tomorrow night?”
I nod, although, if everything goes to plan with Gertie and she can fix my car on Monday, then tomorrow will be my last night.
I suppose it’ll be fitting to have my last night happen like my first night … with hopefully a friendlier ending.
“Give me your phone.”
I hand over my cell, unlocked, and then watch him make a call. The phone in his other hand lights up, and then he ends the call.
“I’ll call you tomorrow. I want you to text me as soon as you’re at Love’s place, safe and sound.”
I want to roll my eyes at the protective gesture, but it’s actually sort of sweet.
I’m sure that is another thing this man has never been accused of.
With one last kiss that promises something he doesn’t have time to deliver on, he leaves me boneless by the curb.
Shit, am I really going to go there again with Green? I get the feeling I’ll probably hate myself later on, but I can’t give up another chance with him. And no matter what, I’ll be leaving Midsummer soon enough. Wha
t harm can one more night with the hot sheriff do?
Chapter Six
I wake up to the feeling of something suddenly covering my face. I shove my arms out and open my eyes to find a T-shirt resting over me. Feeling a new pressure hit me farther down my body, I take a look at the ripped jeans that were just thrown at me.
“Hey!” I grumble, glancing around the room to find Love ransacking my duffle bag.
Maybe this town has a thing about throwing clothes at people?
“We’re meeting my aunt in an hour. You need to hurry up and get dressed.”
“Why?” I groan hoarsely. I’m not nearly awake enough to be meeting family members. Besides, since when do you have to meet the family of new friends?
“Because she wants to see you,” she says as a new pair of jeans hits me in the chest. “These look better, actually, more dressed up.”
“It’s too warm to wear jeans,” I disagree, closing my eyes again. I still have the fan overhead on and the window open. The fresh air is a novelty here, one I don’t think I’ll ever take for granted after the polluted city air I’m used to.
Of course the heat I’m feeling could be attributed to the fact that Green left me hot and bothered last night. Not even a quick hand-fucking and cold shower last night could alleviate the heat sitting inside me.
“You can’t meet my aunt in shorts. First impressions mean a lot to her. Just wear these.”
I force my eyes open and look down at the outfit that Love has thrown at me. Dark jeans, a light-colored, button-up shirt—thankfully, short-sleeved—and then I see she’s holding up my Fendi biker boots, which has a slight heel to them. They’re comfy as fuck, but they’re also good for keeping my feet warm on cold Chicago days. Here, they’re likely to only give my feet a chance to sweat.
“Why do you care what your aunt thinks of me? You’re not suddenly in love with me, are you?”
“No, you cocky ass,” she says lightly, clearly not taking offense. “Just trust me; you’re going to want to make a good impression.”
“This isn’t some weird way of trying to set me up with your sheriff, is it?”
“By meeting my aunt?” Love says this like she thinks I’m an idiot.
“This is your aunt who is the town mayor, right?”
“Yes, but she strangely enough doesn’t have much sway when it comes to who Rocky dates. Now, are you getting up or not?”
I give myself a few more moments to enjoy my head resting on the soft pillow before I force myself to sit up.
I glance at the clock and realize that I got a decent sleep for once. After thoughts of Rocky left me unsettled and wishing I could have had the kind of release I clearly needed, I slept hard and deep for apparently nine hours.
“Why are you in such a rush? Isn’t your aunt’s office just a few minutes’ walk from here?” I recall her pointing it out during our tour of the town yesterday.
I might take a little more time on my appearance than most of my exes liked, but I can definitely make my look work in less time than the hour Love is giving me.
“Aunt June isn’t in the office today. It’s Sunday.” She stares at me like this should be obvious.
“Then, why doesn’t she just ask to see me tomorrow? Why the urgency?”
“Are you even going to be here tomorrow?” She glances away from me, dropping my shoes by the bed. I’m certain I saw something like sadness in her eyes before she looked away.
I like Love. In fact, I like her a lot. I could totally see us being good friends if I stayed here, but we also only just met yesterday—definitely no reason for there to be any sort of sadness at me leaving.
“Yes, because I have no idea what is going on with my car and, apparently, no one works on a Sunday here.”
“Some places are open, just not many.”
I finally take Love in while I pull the sheets off me and swing my legs over the edge of the mattress. Her short bob looks to have been properly straightened, there is even a small bow clipped at the front to keep it out of her face, and she’s wearing a light blue dress that is both conservative and shows off her slim figure. I think she might have even placed eyeliner on, although her beauty needs zero enhancing.
“You’re in a dress. You actually look nice.” I cringe, since that was as tactful as a bull in a china shop. “I mean, you looked nice yesterday. I just thought … I mean, I got the impression that …”
“Don’t stress, Conner. You look like you’re about to shit yourself. I get it. Yesterday, I hadn’t brushed my hair since last Sunday, I was wearing the exact same clothes you saw me in the night before, and I had zero makeup on. That is how I usually am, and honestly, it’s how I’m most comfortable. But there are rules here, and on Sunday’s for Mass, you brush your hair, you wear a dress, which has been recently washed and without food stains all over it, and you make an effort. This isn’t me.” She waves her hand over herself. “But it gets me less stares and less hassle from my parents. So I do what I have to, and then be myself the rest of the time.”
I take this in as I now stand from my bed, stretching. “Sounds like a lot of work to me.”
“It actually isn’t.”
“I guess. Whatever you say. Didn’t even realize people still do the church on a Sunday thing.” I certainly never have, and I don’t know anyone back home who does.
“The entire town goes to Sunday Mass.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep. You missed your sheriff there.”
I ignore the way she called him mine, since she clearly only did that to get a rise out of me.
“He’s religious?”
“Well, he goes to church. I think it’s more about his job and keeping everyone happy. Although, I don’t think everyone loves that he goes. He sleeps with men, after all, and some people are narrow-minded assholes. But, yeah, most of the town goes. Then, afterward, we have a weekly barbeque outside for a brunch. It’s tradition.”
I’m not sure how I feel that I’ve landed myself in a town so religious. I haven’t had a lot to do with religious people, but when I was still in school, I did sort of date a boy who was Catholic. He was so deeply in the closet that, every time he took a peek out of it when he was with me, he felt such shame that he would berate us both afterward for not being strong enough to resist our evil urges. We were only fourteen, or something like that, and the most we did was kiss.
Then, when I was in college, I dated a guy, and we were heckled at the movies. The group shouted Bible quotes at us like they were stating offenses we’d committed and informed us quite aggressively that we would be going to hell. The guy I was with laughed it off, but it freaked me out. Not because I believed it, but because their hate was so tangible that it scared me.
I know it isn’t fair to lug everyone in the same group, and I have certainly known people who do have faith in whatever their religion is and who’ve been accepting, but an entire town feels daunting. The chances that there are some assholes here who feel entitled and within their right to spill hatred and bigotry at me for being gay seems likely.
Feeling my inner turmoil, Love touches my arm and gains my attention.
“Rocky just likes to show his respect, and I guess it’s sort of a good way to gain favor with many of his voters, right? He’s not going to start quoting Bible passages at you or make you question your life choices.”
“Obviously,” I mumble, finally grabbing the clothes still on the bed and making my way to the bathroom. I need another shower if I’m expected to look awake for this meeting with Love’s aunt.
“This town isn’t perfect, but even with Rocky coming out, he was still voted in. We’re not a bad place. We just have the odd bad apple.”
I nod, because isn’t that the same everywhere?
“Do you have a nickname?” I call over my shoulder as I move out of the room and down the hallway.
“Not really. Why do you ask?”
“Because Love just feels … I don’t know. Weird. Like I’m a sevent
y-year-old nanna or something, who uses overly familiar, old-fashioned terms of endearment. I used to have an elderly neighbor who called me love, and I did not like it.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “I’ve been called Shorty, Lo, Fuller Shit … Um … What else …?” She taps her chin as I wait in the doorway of the bathroom, looking back at her.
“Okay, do any of those appeal to you?”
“Fuller Shit,” she states with such a straight face that I have to do a double-take since I already began to nod.
“For real?”
“No, you loser. I don’t like being called Fuller Shit. I’m just messing with you.”
“So, what you’re saying is that you were just full of shit?”
She laughs. “I don’t mind Lo. But, I mean, Love isn’t exactly long. Not sure why you care to shorten it.”
“But don’t you …? I don’t know. I’m pretty sure I would find that name annoying.”
“There are plenty of awful names out there, but I don’t think mine is one of them. My parents believe that I was created from their love, that my entire essence is love. They called me Love to remind them, me, and the world that something wonderful can come from love.”
“Well, guess I’m lucky my parents didn’t think like them. Otherwise, my name would be Oops, and my brother’s name would probably be Check the Expiration Date in hopes that my dad wouldn’t keep old condoms within easy reach.”
Love laughs. “Funny. Now hurry up and get dressed. I’ll get you something to eat on the way.”
I nod, shutting the bathroom door then running the shower while I wonder again what the mayor of this town wants with me. Since there is only one way to find out, and Love did promise me food, I get moving.
Once I’m ready, and completely overdressed for this weather, I grab my fully charged phones, check to see if I have any messages from Rocky, which I don’t, but I do have several others from friends. I consider checking my social media, but I’m not sure I’m ready to check those counts yet.
Last night, I was freaking out about the video I posted, but then Rocky kissed me and I think he might have sucked out a hell of a lot of my brain cells. At the very least, they pooled down to my cock. By the time I got back to Love’s house, I was horny, tired, and the last thing on my mind was how well or badly my video was doing. That was a first for me.
Stranded Page 8