Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
His lips press together for a beat. “So, what are your life’s aspirations?”
I like him so much. This slow burn is starting to feel like an inferno.
“Well,” I brush past him toward my trailer, “after we play fetch, I want to learn everything I can about welding so we don’t have to talk about me and my erotic concoctions on our date. But other than that, I’m pretty open to whatever life wants to send my way. I’m a proud underachiever.” I open my trailer door.
“If you need help with your welding research, call me. I can help you bone up on that before your big date.”
Koen’s quick wit and unyielding confidence are just two more things to add to the rapidly growing list of traits that make him irresistible. Just like my new perfume, it’s a perfect combination.
It’s foreplay.
“Come in,” I motion with my head.
“Scrotum and I will wait—” He stops.
He should have kept going. I might not have noticed his error. Was it an error?
I slip out of my Birkenstocks, keeping my eyes on him while he stands unblinking with half his body inside and half outside.
“Did you say—”
He bites his lower lip and nods. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “I found him on a camping trip in Wyoming. He was taunting a mountain lion. I’d never seen anything like it. Eventually, the lion ran off. My brother whistled and said, ‘That dog’s got big balls.’ When we found no identification or a chip on him, I brought him home. And my brother said I should call him Ballsy.” Koen bobs his head a few times. “And perhaps he was right. But I thought Scrotum would be a better name because … well, a scrotum has balls.”
I snort, cupping my mouth.
“I quickly discovered women don’t find the name quite so cool, so I call him Scrot for short.”
I have no words, so I duck my head to hide my grin while I shove my feet into my sneakers. “Well, he’s the most adorable Scrotum I’ve ever seen.”
“Is that saying a lot?”
While I finish tying my shoes, I glance up. “Are you asking if I’ve seen a lot of scrotums?”
Koen scratches the back of his neck and chuckles. “I might be.”
“I’ve seen a handful.” I roll my lips between my teeth while I step closer, and he backs out my door. Koen carries a rugged scent, one of those just-for-men soaps that go for a cedarwood but end up smelling like a mix of leather and campfire. He wears it well.
After I close the door behind me, he cups my wrist and lifts my arm.
“What?” I ask.
“Just seeing how big your hand is.” He releases it. “So you’ve seen like … two scrotums.”
I like him so much I can’t stop smiling.
CHAPTER SIX
IT’S EASY TO LOVE A GOOD MAN. IT’S HARD TO LOVE TWO GOOD MEN.
Scrot chases the Frisbee for over twenty minutes. I try to outrun him a few times, but I fail. Koen’s grin swells a little more each time I return empty-handed and out of breath.
“One more chance,” I say, bent at the waist, catching my breath.
“You’re really going to race him again?”
I nod since I can’t talk.
Koen chuckles. “Okay.” He fakes a throw, so Scrot heads off in one direction, and then he flings the Frisbee in a different direction to give me a head start.
“I threw it too far. Let it go!” he yells.
I have the edge. Why would I let it go? With a big jump, I nab it out of the air.
Victorious!
Except, the ground disappears and it’s replaced with water.
Icy water.
Air fills my lungs when I surface, but they won’t release it again.
“Shit! Scottie, I’ve got you.” Koen holds out his hand, and I take it while Scrot barks. He pulls me out of the pond, which appeared out of nowhere.
“C-cold.” I shiver, and everything smells fishy. I don’t know if I’m tasting or smelling it.
“Crap. I’m so sorry.” He removes his hoodie and his shirt.
“What are y-you d-doing?”
He removes his jeans. “We need to get you out of these wet clothes. It’s only forty degrees tonight.”
“I’m f-fine.” I hug my shaky fists to my chest.
“You don’t sound fine. Here.” He peels off my sweater.
“My shirt—” I try to keep it from going over my head with my sweater.
“It’s wet, too.” Koen overpowers my weak resistance. “Can you put your arms through?” He works his shirt over my head and helps guide my arms through the holes.
“Ko-en …” I fail at protesting as he peels my jeans down my legs, sliding off my sneakers and depositing the wet denim beside me.
“Can you hold the waist to keep them up?” He guides my hands to the waist of his jeans once he has them up my legs.
I nod quickly. “You’re naked.”
He guides my feet back into my sneakers. “I’ve got on underwear. And I’m not wet.” He holds my clothes in one hand while wrapping his other arm around my shoulders as we walk back to my trailer.