by Fiona Archer
“French.”
This man…. “Yep. It is. It means people of victory.”
“Hm.”
“And you’re Sam.”
“Yes.” He looks at me with curiosity. “How…?”
“I got your mail one day.”
“Ah, I see.”
Reaching out, I wrap my hands around Henry Miller and pull him in. “Well, sorry about this.” I nod toward the most wonderful cat in the entire world. “He usually stays close to home.”
Sam chuckles, and it’s a wonderful, rich sound. “I’d say this was close to home.”
“True.” I’m running out of witty things to say, so I turn toward the door. “Sorry again.” I walk toward the door then out onto his deck. “See you.”
“Hope so,” the man says with a grumble, and my body feels like it’s on fire again.
He hopes so?
Holy crap!
Chapter 3
Squirrels
I practically sprint home. The second my feet hit the grassy turf, I’m off like a shot. I have to get to my place so I can have the meltdown I so rightly deserve. The second I’m inside the screen door, I drop Henry onto the chair next to my desk, grab the bottle of wine, and take a big ol’ swig right out of the bottle. No big deal. Next, I bend over and curse myself for taking a big ol’ swig of wine because it was cheap and it was Chardonnay, and cheap Chardonnay burns like a bitch going down. I assume expensive Chard goes down smooth as silk, but I don’t know. I’ve never had anything that costs more than $7.99 a bottle.
Once that stuff finally goes down, I start the pacing, back and forth from my little galley kitchen to my office nook, all the while talking to myself—erm, I mean Henry. “O.M.G. I can’t believe that just happened. And look what I’m wearing!” I practically shout out that last part. “And Henry Miller––” I stop for a second to make eye contact with my feline, or try to make eye contact. Not easy to do with a breed of animal who’ll do just about anything to avoid any type of human contact unless they want it. No matter. “I can’t believe you just pranced your fancy ass over to his place.” Pacing begins anew. “And my God.…” I’m not sure how to finish the sentence except to say, “He was hotter close up by far, Henry. So. Damn. Hot. The things I could do to that man….”
“Like what?”
I freeze. This cannot be happening. Not twice in one night. Only this time it’s worse. Way worse. My back is to my screen door, so he can’t see the shock on my face, so I’ve got that going for me. Slowly, I rotate and spot Sam standing on my deck. “You heard all that?”
“Most of it.”
Why? Why does this kind of shit always, always happen to me? Like the time in eleventh grade when I wanted to ask Jimmy Carter (no relation) to prom. I rehearsed it a million times to my friends and alone. It was when I was alone, standing near my locker, that Jimmy heard the whole thing. Something about butterflies and young love, yada, yada, yada. You get the idea. And he wasn’t alone either. Needless to say, Jimmy declined my kind offer of a prom date, and the two of us never spoke again. In retrospect, I’m glad. I’ve seen his profile picture on Facebook. He hasn’t aged well.
I need to shake this off. I’m sure plenty of women have had this kind of reaction to Sam Griffin. With my head held high, I smile. “Just telling Henry….” Okay, now I’m admitting to the sexy-as-sin next-door neighbor that I talk to my cat.
Cue sad trombone.
“I was just talking aloud. I do that.” What a save, Colette!
His voice is deep and soft. “If it makes you feel any better, I was imagining all the things I want to do to you too.”
Cue lilting harp.
Ooh, no, wait, sexy soft porn would be way better right now.
I move a step closer to the screen door. “Oh yeah?” I mean, you only live once, so you need to grab the bull by the horns as soon as the horns are close enough. Am I right?
“I’ve had my eye on you, Colette.”
Jumping up and down is out of the question, right? “Oh?” I say as cool and collected as I can muster at this time.
“I’ve seen you in your sexy little dresses and sandals coming and going.”
Sexy little dresses and sandals?
He’s referring to my Old Navy dresses and flip-flops by the same store.
“I’ve seen you too. You really know how to wash your truck. You’re thorough.”
“You gonna invite me in, Colette?”
Oh shit. This isn’t real. I’m sleeping and this is one of my dreams, a good one. “You want to come in?”
“Yeah, sweetheart.”
“I’m not sure. I’m––I’m not sure I can just jump into bed with you.” It’s really not my style; plus, I haven’t shaved anything for a long time. I’m talking weeks. “I talk a big game, Sam.”
He chuckles and runs his hand through his hair, making it look smooth and sexy. How does he do that? “Then come on back outside. I’ll grab us a couple of beers. We can talk. It’s a beautiful night.”
“Okay.” I can do that. “Give me a few minutes.” At least I can change out of this stupid shirt.
“See you in a few, Colette.” I love the way he says my name. It’s crisp and clean, especially the way he emphasizes the t’s.
Turning, I literally run through my living room into my bedroom. I’ve so much to do. First, the shirt is getting burned. No, not really. Next, I need to shave everything, curl my hair, do a full face of makeup, and then lose twenty pounds. I peek at the clock next to my bed and realize there’s not enough time. So I do the next best thing. I throw on a black tee that doesn’t have stains on it and a clean pair of jeans. I brush my dark red hair and tie it up into a bun at the back of my head, pulling out some strands to conceal some of the roundness in my cheeks. I pinch said cheeks to make them rosy, even though I’m pretty sure my whole face and neck are red and blotchy. And lastly, I slip on some of those sexy sandals he likes so much.
I hope I don’t look like I’m trying too hard.
Back in my kitchen, I grab what’s left of my wine and two glasses. We might as well finish off the wine before opening fresh beer. And maybe he’s a wine guy. I doubt it. He’s a flannel shirt and jeans man—at least that’s what he wears every day when he leaves for work. I wonder what he does for a living.
I look out onto my deck, but he’s not there. Maybe he’s waiting for me at his place. I take the steps down, watching where I’m stepping and not where I’m going. That’s how I end up running smack-dab into him. “Sorry.” I wince with embarrassment.
“No worries.” He looks at my hair first then down, down, down. “You changed.”
“Decided I needed to lose the shirt.”
“That sounds fun.” His voice is husky.
“Uh, yeah.” It does. It really does. “Shall we?” I point to my little deck and realize there isn’t a good place for both of us to sit, so I look over at his place where he’s got two really comfortable-looking wicker chairs with cushions. “Maybe we should go to your place?”
“Sure.” Placing his palm on my lower back, he says, “After you, beautiful.”
Oh, man. This guy’s a smooth operator.
“You want some music? I’ve got speakers out here.”
“Okay.” You can tell a lot about a guy by the kind of music he chooses. He looks to be around my age, so hopefully he chooses wisely.
“Let me get my phone. Be right back.”
I choose the seat that’s farthest away from the door and turn it so it’s facing the other chair. I need to look at him while we talk. When he returns, he’s got his phone in one hand, a warm throw over his shoulder, and another bottle of wine in the other hand. “Put the beer away.” He peeks at my bottle. “You like white, yeah?”
“Yes.” This is surreal. He’s too perfect.
“I brought you this throw. It’s gonna get chilly.”
No. He. Didn’t.
I think I’m going to cry. He’s a sexy gentleman. I didn’t think they made those. At least I’ve
never met one. Heck, the last guy I dated thought manners meant not using up the last square of toilet paper. The problem was, he only left the last square, and he never refilled the roll.
“Thank you, Sam.”
“Shall we pour what’s left of yours before I open up this one?”
“Sure.” I hand him the bottle and realize there’s really only enough for half a glass. “Oops.” I giggle because I’m embarrassed, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Here, you choose the playlist while I get this other bottle open.”
I take his phone in hand and look at his music app that he’s already opened up. I read through his playlist and smile. He’s got one dated the year I graduated high school. I press on that one. “I think we may have graduated the same year. Where did you go to high school?”
“A town over,” he says while filling my glass the rest of the way and then his.
“Carmichael?”
Sam nods as he sips from his glass. “One and the same.”
“I can’t believe I’ve never seen you before.” And I would have remembered this guy. “I’ve lived here in Montgomery my whole life.”
“I’ve seen you around.”
“You have?”
“Hard to miss that gorgeous hair.”
My hand immediately goes to the top of my head. I hate my hair, always have. It’s thick and curly, making it unruly at times. But Sam likes it, so maybe it’s not all bad.
“So, Colette, tell me about yourself.”
Shit. This is not the way I wanted this to go. “You go first. I need to know what I’m up against.”
“All right.” He leans back into his chair. “I’m 32, divorced, no children.”
“Oh? I’m sorry.”
He shrugs. “She didn’t want kids. I did. It wasn’t meant to be.”
“I want kids.” Oh. My. God. Can I be any more desperate? “I mean, when the time comes.”
Sam gives me a kind smile. “Good to know.”
“Your turn. What do you do?” I know he leaves early in the morning, and like I said, he’s always dressed in jeans, tees, and flannel shirts.
“I’ve got my own construction company.”
“You do?” I love a man who can work with wood.
“I do.”
Blinking, I look at him, then at the duplex. “Why do you live here?”
“I’ve got some land just outside of town. I’m building a place; this is a short-term rental.”
“Oh.” I know that came out sort of whiney and sad. It can’t be helped. “I see.” I don’t, but what else can I say to that?
“What do you do?” he asks, thankfully, changing the subject.
“Freelance editor.”
“Which genre, or do you edit different kinds?”
“Mostly romance, but I’ll do suspense, mystery, and paranormal.”
Sam leans forward, resting his thick forearms on his knees. If I did the same, he’d be close enough to smell. “Paranormal? What’s that?”
“Oh, you know, people who can change into wolves, bears, things of that nature.”
“No shit?” he chuckles, and I like the sound. It’s deep and throaty.
“It’s really popular.” I sip my wine, doing my best to think of something profound to say. “If you could change into any animal, what would it be?” Okay, not so profound.
“Oh, wow.” He smiles then looks up into the sky like he’s really thinking. “Is an eagle out of the question?”
“Probably. I think you need to be mammal rather than an Aves.”
He looks surprised. “You know your species too.”
I shrug. “I read a lot.”
“Me too, but I prefer police dramas, fiction, and nonfiction.”
“I’ve edited some of those. I’ll jot down a list for you of some good ones.”
“That reminds me.” Sam stands up and walks back into his kitchen. Returning, he hands me my small pad of paper, the one with the squirrel drawing. “Is this your squirrel?”
Oh, my…. “You could tell it was a squirrel?”
He looks down at the drawing then points to a spot on the bottom. “Isn’t that a nut?”
“It is.” I swear to you, I want to cry. But that’d probably freak him out.
“I’ve changed my mind.”
Oh no. What did he change his mind about?
“If I could be another animal, I’d be a squirrel.”
His answer startles a laugh out of me. “Why?” I mean, squirrels are assholes.
“Because you seem to like them. You took great care drawing that one.”
“Oh.” That’s so sweet.
“This is a great song.” Sam smiles at me. Then I watch as his arm extends toward me. “Dance with me.”
I place my hand in his. He tugs me to my feet, and I’m in his arms where I belong. I run my hands up his chest to his broad shoulders. They feel perfect there. His arms wrap around me, pulling me close. I can feel my body come alive pressed against his.
“I’ve got a crush on you.”
I bet you thought I said that, didn’t you? Nope. Sam’s words.
“You do?”
“I do. Can I kiss you, Colette?”
“Please.”
I watch him bend closer while I push myself up onto my toes. When his lips meet mine, a sense of relief flows through me like I’ve been waiting for this my whole life and it’s finally here. I pull back just a bit so I can look at him. “Sam.”
“Colette.” His voice is husky as he moves back in to kiss me with such fierceness I need more. I crave it. Wrapping my hands around his neck, I use what little upper body strength I have to pull myself closer. Sam has other ideas. Wrapping me up tight, he pulls me down with him as he sits back onto the wicker chair. I rearrange myself so I’m on his lap. “Let me know if I’m too heavy.”
“Never.” Sam’s lips start kissing down my neck to my shoulder. I lean forward to do the same to him. When I nibble on his earlobe, he moans in a deep, rich tone.
“Want you in my bed,” he mumbles as his nose finds its way to my cleavage. I press my chest closer to him, encouraging him.
“Yes.” Please.
Chapter 4
Dream Man
I wake up with the sun shining through the French doors in the bedroom and a hand in my panties. “Sam?” I say with a raspy morning voice. He’s doing magical things with his fingers, making me wet and wanting.
“Mm-hm,” he says from right behind me.
“Whatcha doin’?” Whatever it is, please don’t stop.
He chuckles. “Helping you out. You were rubbing that sweet ass of yours all over me. You have that dream again?”
I smile then roll over to face him. “Pretty much. This time I drew a squirrel.”
His head falls back onto the bed as the laughs roll from his body. “A squirrel? Does that mean I told you, if I could change into any animal, it’d be a squirrel?”
I nod as I slide my hand down his hard chest, past his insane abs, and directly into his briefs. When I find his cock hard as steel, I push his briefs down so they’re out of my way.
“Did we do it on the deck at our old place again this time?”
“Almost. You woke me up before we got to the good stuff.”
Sam pushes me onto my back as his body moves between my legs. “I’ll give you the good stuff right here, right now.”
“Yeah?” I moan as he slides inside. This never gets old. “You gonna give my story a happy ending, Sam?”
“Don’t I always?”
“Yeah. Always.”
“Love you, Colette,” he says, pumping into me hard.
“Love you more, Sam.” I moan, and it’s louder than I intended.
“Hush, babe, before we wake the kids.”
“Hushing,” I hiss, but I do it quietly.
Copyright 2020 Kayt Miller
About Kayt Miller
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Outback Prince
&nbs
p; by
Khloe Wren
Chapter One
Cameron
Without taking my gaze off Zoe, I followed her up the dry creek bed. Every one of my senses was on high alert, aware we were courting danger by walking along the sandy death trap. Flipping her long, curly blonde hair aside, Zoe glanced over her shoulder at me with a raised eyebrow. Her baby blues sparkling with mischief summed up why I was there. She was my mate, and I hadn’t been able to refuse her invitation. Not that she knew that.
Despite the fact that Zoe grew up surrounded by dingo shifters in our rural community in outback, South Australia, she had no idea we existed. The secret was well guarded from humans. She had no clue I wasn’t human, and she definitely had no idea that she was destined to be my mate. Or how hard it had been on me to not claim her before now.
Even though she spent most of each year living in Adelaide to study, she was never far from my thoughts. It was both a relief and a fresh sort of torture when, at the end of each school year, she’d come home for the long summer break. Because, until now, my father had demanded I not only resist claiming her, but that I not spend too much time with her either.
It had gutted me over the years to not be able to cave in to the opportunities she’d provided each summer, when she’d flirt and try to entice me. Each time I resisted, I had to watch her walk away with the pain of rejection in her gaze, and it killed a little piece of my heart. I’d still watched her, listened to her interact with others around town. Learning how compassionate and caring she was made me want her even more. But this summer was different. She’d finished her final year of university.
If she got a job in the city, I doubted she’d come home much at all, which is what I’d told my father. I couldn’t hold off from claiming my mate any longer. Thankfully, my father agreed. Finally giving me his alpha approval to claim Zoe now that she’d be able to stay here with me permanently.
I quickened my pace until I was only a few steps behind her. Her denim shorts cupped her ass perfectly, and her tanned, toned legs were a thing of beauty. Watching the way her muscles flexed and moved as she hiked was enough to have my mouth watering. Her top half was hidden beneath a loose-fitting white button-up shirt that I’d wanted to strip off her from the moment I saw her earlier.