by Heller, JB
My mind conjures the picture he sent me earlier today. Hell yes, I want that. But I just can’t have it. It’s a bad idea. Guys can’t handle me on my bad days. They don’t know what to do with me. That night at Elijah’s was just a fluke, a one off.
“Hello, Char, you in there?” Reagan clicks her fingers in front of my face.
I shake my head and focus on her. She tilts her chin, clearly waiting for me to say something to confirm her assessment. I swallow, then hold up my hand. “Hold that thought,” I tell her, then go to retrieve my phone.
Returning, I hand it to her, the picture already open. Her jaw drops.
“Right?!”
Her eyes eat up the image on the screen. “He’s got a six-pack.”
I snatch my phone back. “He has actual pecs too—not just nipples.”
Now that I’m looking at it again, I can’t stop. He’s so delicious. I wonder if he would be okay with a one-and-done arrangement. But no, he’s not the type. That’s pretty obvious. That and I’m, like, ninety-nine percent sure it wouldn’t be enough for me. His kisses proved that. His amazing kisses … I sigh.
Reagan raises a brow. “See? You want him. And if he sent you that picture, he wants you too. Even I can figure that much out. Why not go for it?”
I look at her like she’s lost her damn mind. “You know exactly why. I won’t do that again. I can’t. I’m only good for two weeks at a time. Outside of that and they freak the fuck out because I’m a completely different person when Lilith shows her ugly face.”
My bestie’s brows furrow in confusion. “You’ve lost me. Who’s Lilith?”
“Lilith is the demon who inhabits my nether regions every month. That’s what I’m calling her now. I thought I told you.”
Reags shakes her head. “I don’t remember. You might have, but I’ve got sex brain these days. Not much sticks.”
I close my eyes and shake my head. “Reagan, I don’t think sex brain is a thing.”
She whacks my shoulder. “It totally is. It’s all I think about, even at work. And you know how much I love my job. Yesterday, I was verifying if the velociraptor screech in the Jurassic Park movies was really a recording of tortoises having sex, then bam, I’m thinking about the sounds Rhett makes when we’re having sex.”
This time, I do spray her with wine. I cough and sputter. “What the fuck?”
“It is, by the way, the velociraptor screech …”
I burst out laughing. I love this woman so much. She always knows how to pull me out of a funk.
An hour later, I’m happily buzzed and my belly is full. Reagan and I are lazing on the couch, our wine long gone, when Rhett waltzes into my lounge room.
“Ladies,” he greets us, then strides over to Reags, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “You ready, honey?”
She smiles up at him and cups his scruff-covered jaw. “Yeah,” she breathes.
They’re so disgustingly cute. I divert my gaze when he leans down for a real kiss, only looking back when I catch movement from the corner of my eye. Rhett has swept her up in his arms, bride style. Reagan rests her head on his shoulder, staring at him all dreamy like, her hands wrapped around the back of his neck.
Her head pops up just before he exits the room. “Char, I think you should give Elijah a chance. He didn’t freak out on you when you had your flare-up out there—not in a bad way, anyway. I think he can handle Lilith.” She winks then lays her head back down.
“Later, Char,” Rhett says over his shoulder as they leave.
I grab my phone and open the picture of him cooking again. Maybe …
The second I pass through the dead zone on my way into town on the egg run, my phone starts going crazy with incoming texts. It goes off for thirty solid seconds. I pull over to see what it is. It has to be something important for that many texts to be sent, right?
My eyes widen when I see that every single one is from Charlotte, sent late last night.
The first is a picture. I click on the small, unintelligible thumbnail to see it better and about swallow my damn tongue. Boobs. It’s her boobs. At least, I’m assuming they’re hers, because I can’t see her face. The size is right, but there are tattoos stretching across her collarbones. I tilt my head, examining the picture closer.
She was wearing a long-sleeve dress thing that came up close to her throat when we met. Therefore, these could most definitely be her boobs. They’re encased in see-through black lace. My dick perks up at the sight.
The next message confirms that they are, indeed, Charlotte’s breasts I’m drooling over.
CHARLOTTE ~You’re not the only one who can send provocative pictures.~
I swallow. Hard.
CHARLOTTE ~I spent some quality time this evening with that photo you sent me. ;)~
CHARLOTTE ~Is that a six- or eight-pack you’re packing? I can’t quite tell. Too many clothes in the way.~
CHARLOTTE ~Who took that picture anyway?~
CHARLOTTE ~I want a money shot next time. If you’re going to tease me, do it right.~
Jesus. I read, then reread all her messages. A money shot? She doesn’t mean a … does she? I have never sent a dick pic in my entire life. I’ve never even taken a picture of my dick, let alone sent it to somebody.
My tongue feels thick in my throat. She wants a dick pic. It’s the only way that can be translated. My jeans suddenly feel too tight, constricting blood flow to my cock. Or maybe it’s my thought process doing that.
I run my palm over the surface of my jeans, over my dick. It feels so good. I want to stroke it, palm on flesh, but I’m sitting in a truck on the side of the road. This is not the time or place to rub one out. Damn if I don’t really fucking want to, though. I grit my teeth and throw the stick shift into gear.
I get the deliveries finished in record time. After the last drop-off, I go straight home with one thing on my mind.
Giving Charlotte what she asked for.
I wake with foggy wine brain. I found another bottle in the bottom of the pantry after Reags left me last night, and I drank it.
I’m tangled in my white sheets, blanket nowhere to be found. Peering over the side of the bed, I spot it crumpled on the floor. Makes sense. I’m a restless sleeper. It’s a miracle the sheet stayed on the bed, but that’s probably only because it’s twisted around my limbs.
Fighting my way out, I stumble to my adjoining bathroom. I turn on the shower, then do a quick pee while it heats up. When I step under the spray, my mind instantly begins to clear, the fog dissipating with each passing second. I wash my hair then shave all the important parts.
What to wear today … I stand in my wardrobe with one towel wrapped around my body and one around my hair, tapping my bottom lip as I peruse my options. Finally, I decide on a pair of light-wash skinny jeans with artful tearing at the knees. I match them with an off-white camisole with spaghetti straps and lace trim.
I grab an army-green sweater off the shelf on my way out and slide my arms in it as I make my way to the kitchen for my morning coffee.
I’ve been working for an hour or so when I hear my phone go off in the distance. Unsure where I left it, I go in search, finding it in the snarled mess of my sheets. A text from Reagan is waiting for me, asking me to lunch today. I shoot off a quick reply, telling her I’ll meet her at the café down the block from her office.
As I’m standing there, another incoming text beeps at me. It’s Elijah again.
Thank God for my bed catching my fall or I would have collapsed to the floor. It’s a dick. His dick, I’m assuming. Fully erect, veins pulsing, the head thick and purple. Holy-Prada-midseason-sale. This is so out of left field. I thought it might be another cooking shot, not his glorious spunk cannon.
This time he has attached a caption.
ELIJAH ~This what you wanted?~
My eyes widen. What is he talking about? I mean, yeah, it’s a pretty great shot. But did I want an unsolicited dick pic? Not really. It’s just rubbing in that he has an amazing p
ackage and I won’t be unwrapping it.
CHARLOTTE ~Yep, that’s a dick. While that is an impressive weapon you have at your disposal, I’m not sure why you’re showing me.~
ELIJAH ~You asked me to! Oh God. Is that not what you meant by a money shot?~
My heart rate has officially left the building. I quickly scroll through all our previous texts. Please, please, please … I chant on repeat. But there it is, right in front of my eyes.
CHARLOTTE ~Umm, about that …~
CHARLOTTE ~I may have had a few wines last night and … well …~
ELIJAH ~You drunk-texted me? So, you didn’t want to see my junk … I am SO sorry. I’m so fucking embarrassed. I swear I do not send random pictures of my dick to women. Ever.~
CHARLOTTE ~Yeah, I did. You have nothing to be sorry for. And you certainly have NOTHING to be embarrassed about. As far as dick pics go, that is a really good one. Trust me, I’ve seen some shockers.~
ELIJAH ~I’m just going to go dig a hole and climb inside it and die now.~
I laugh. He is genuinely embarrassed. How cute is that? And it’s kind of endearing too. Dick pics are a dime a dozen these days, yet here he is, feeling like a douche for it. So sweet.
CHARLOTTE ~Seriously, don’t feel bad. It’s all good. But in the interest of full disclosure … I’m adding that photo to my jill till.~
ELIJAH ~Jill till?~
CHARLOTTE ~You know. Rub hub, flick files, bean dreams, pole vault …~
ELIJAH ~So lost right now. What the hell are you talking about?~
CHARLOTTE ~You really don’t know? How long has it been since you got laid, dude? These are common terms. It’s the female equivalent of your spank bank.~
ELIJAH ~Jesus. Is it that obvious? I have never heard any of those. Also, in the spirit of full disclosure, that was my first dick pic. You popped my dick pic cherry. I’m pleased you find it jill till worthy.~
My smile is so big it’s hurting my cheeks. I haven’t talked to a guy in forever. It feels good, this playful, no-pressure banter. The guys on the hook-up app I use are all business, and that’s the way I like it. But I’m really enjoying this casual flirting.
CHARLOTTE ~Was it as good for you as it was for me? Lol~
ELIJAH ~Considering I used the picture you sent me as my inspiration, I’m going to say yes, yes it was. ~
I burst out laughing. And then his next message comes through.
ELIJAH ~You ready to go out with me yet? I mean, you have seen my money shot … I’m a catch, damn it.~
As mortifying as that whole conversation was, I can’t stop smiling. That could have been a lot worse. I swear my heart stopped beating for a solid ten seconds when I hit send on that picture of my junk. It took ages to get a decent shot, too. Who knew there was an art to taking cock shots?
I’m sitting in my car, parked on the side of the road just outside the dead zone, grinning like a fool. This is the most I’ve texted a chick in my life, and I’m finding I actually like it. If this is all she’s willing to give me right now, I’ll take it. I only sent that last message to mess with her. I know she’s not ready.
Over the next couple of weeks, I send her a picture each morning—not of my junk, but of me doing various things around the farm. Sometimes she responds; sometimes she doesn’t. This morning I sent her a picture of me with Uma Furman. She has a beautiful face and a fabulous hairdo—for a llama, that is.
Charlotte’s response comes through almost immediately.
CHARLOTTE ~Oh my God, look at her hair! She’s beautiful! Not like that overgrown rat you share your bed with. Did you put it in rollers just to take this picture for me?~
I chuckle. I may have suddenly become a selfie king these last few weeks, but I’d never stoop to doing a llama’s hair.
ELIJAH ~Uh, no. I’d lose my man card for that. She just has amazing natural curls. When the town throws its annual fair, Uma is one of the girls I take with me. Everyone loves her luscious locks.~
The fair is coming up in the next couple of weeks. I’d love for Charlotte to come with me. But seeing as she doesn’t want to actually date me—yet—I’ll hold off on asking her for now.
CHARLOTTE ~You take your llama to the fair? Also, I think you lost your man card the second you started sleeping with Satan’s mistress …~
I roll my eyes. She really doesn’t like Delilah. But Delilah clearly doesn’t like her either. I’ve never seen her react to someone the way she did with Charlotte. So weird.
ELIJAH ~Stop hating on my baby. She’s no fan of yours either. I think she might be a little possessive of me …~
CHARLOTTE ~I bet she has that berserk llama syndrome thing that Reags told me about. They think they’re a person and get aggressive and shit.~
ELIJAH ~It’s entirely possible that Delilah thinks she’s a person. She’s been inside with us since she was born. She’s not aggressive though.~
CHARLOTTE ~HA! Not to you! I’m the one with a hoof-shaped bruise on my beaver. Now tell me again she’s not aggressive.~
I burst out laughing. No way. There’s no way Delilah kicked her that hard … is there?
ELIJAH ~I’m not sure if you’re serious or not. You don’t really have a bruise, do you?~
Her reply takes longer this time. I tap my fingers on the steering wheel as I wait. Two minutes later, a photo pops up in our chat.
A photo of the bruise on Charlotte’s … I swallow. Right above her slit.
Jesus Christ. Calm down, man. It’s not like she’s flashed you her whole pussy.
She’s unzipped her pants. Her thumb is hooked in the fabric of her panties, holding them down just enough to see the offending mark my llama left on her.
I’m torn between being turned on and horrified, because technically, that bruise is my fault.
ELIJAH ~I am soooo fucking sorry!~
ELIJAH ~What can I do to make it up to you?~
ELIJAH ~I can’t believe she kicked you that hard!~
I’m typing another message when her response comes through.
CHARLOTTE ~Chill. It’s fine. It’s not like you kicked me in the crotch. In fact, I kicked you … Maybe your psycho llama was just getting one back at me?~
How is she being so cool about this? Why isn’t she pissed off? Wouldn’t righteous indignation be a realistic response?
ELIJAH ~I still feel responsible. I should have closed the bedroom door so she couldn’t get in the bed. I wasn’t thinking.~
CHARLOTTE ~Seriously, it’s okay. Don’t stress. It gave me an excuse to send you another sexy pic … minus the bruise—that kind of ruined it. Stupid llama. Anyway, I’ve got work to do, and you’re distracting me. Ciao.~
I send one last message.
ELIJAH ~You wouldn’t have to send me sexy pictures if you just let me see your pretty face in person … on a date.~
She ignores me, as she always does when I bring it up. But that’s okay because we carry on messaging like this for the next two weeks. Texting like a pair of teenagers. Maybe she was right to reject me when I first asked her out. This has been fun. I like that, with us, there is no pressure, no expectations.
I am getting antsy to see her, though. I’m just not sure what to do to show her how serious I am about her. She’s made it clear that she doesn’t want to go on a date. I’m going to have to get creative, because there is no way I’m letting this woman slip through my fingers.
* * *
It’s my turn to pick up our box of goodies from Aunt Kenna this week. After my last delivery, I park the truck out the back of her bakery. “Mornin’, Kenna,” I call as I come in through the staff entrance.
“Hey, honey,” she calls out from the front of the shop. “Just give me a minute.”
I spy our box of treats on one of the stainless countertops and make my way over to it. After lifting the lid, I take one of the apple pies and start eating it. It’s so good, still warm. Mmm.
“Couldn’t wait until you got home?” Kenna says, wiping her hands on the apron tied around her
waist.
Shaking my head, I grin. “Uh, no. They always taste better when they’re fresh out of the oven. Plus, I’ve gotta get my cut while I can.” I stride over and wrap my arms around my favourite aunt, giving her a big hug—the kind she’s given us since we were kids.
She chuckles and pats my back. “Your brothers tell me you’ve been talking to a young lady,” she says, waggling her brows.
I roll my eyes. “Of course they did.”
“Someone has to keep me in the loop. You boys are so secretive about your love lives.”
“That’s ’cause there’s nothing to tell.” Sliding my hand under the box, I realise there’s another one beside it. “Do we get two boxes this week?”
Kenna’s eyes land on the second box. She shakes her head. “That’s for one of my regulars. She usually drives out here to get it herself, but she’s not in a good way, so she called and asked me to have the courier deliver it for her.”
This piques my curiosity. A regular from out of town … I did almost run over Charlotte out the front of McKenna’s Heavenly Treats. And this is where she went after telling me off. I glance down at the box, then back to Kenna. “Do you mean Charlotte?”
My aunt’s eyes widen. “Yes. You know her?”
“Uh, yeah. We met last time she was in town. Hey, I can take these to her instead of you having to organise the courier. It’s no problem; I was heading into the city today anyway.” Big fat fucking lie.
“Really? That would be fantastic. You know I hate dealing with the courier service out here. They’re hopeless. I think the sneaky bastards take samples from the boxes before they deliver them. I was actually considering taking these to Charlotte myself. But if you’re already headed that way …”
I nod. “I’ll drop them off. No sense in both of us making the trip. Just pop her address on the box, and I’ll take them to her this afternoon.”
Kenna grabs a pen and scribbles Charlotte’s address on the lid. Then, as if it just occurred to her, she lifts her gaze to me, scrutinizing me.