Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
“These are sexy as fuck, ya know?”
“I know.” They’re not a teeny-tiny, ass-chafing string, but I buy quality, with delicate lace that makes my cheeks smackable. I happen to like sexy underwear, especially for times like this. I take them from him, slipping them back on, followed by the rest of my clothes.
Jesse walks me to the front door, and outside, he heads for his truck as I go to my car. “See ya later?”
I nod and climb into my car. His truck roars next to me, and when I look over, he throws me a two-finger wave. We follow each other to the stop sign at the end of his street, where I turn left to head home, and he turns right to go play pool with the guys.
Chapter 1
JESSE
One Year Later
Friday night in Cold Springs is a hotbed of wild debauchery . . . if your definition is playing pool with your aunt, eating a greasy burger piled high with cheese and bacon, drinking a few beers with your buddies from work, and crashing into bed alone by midnight.
And if that’s not your definition, you’re shit out of luck around here, because that’s about all the excitement we’ve got in Cold Springs.
I lean over the pool table, hoping I can get at least a few balls in before Aunt Etta runs the table on me. I’ll be a good sport when she does, same as always. She taught me to play when I was a kid, and I’ve won only a single game against her in my whole life, and that was a couple of days after Gran passed, so Etta was definitely off her game then. Hell, I don’t know how she was upright, but that’s how she is. Strong, fearless, badass . . . just like my mom and sister.
Thank fuck. Because if I’d grown up surrounded by a bunch of Hallmark-movie-watching, wine-sipping, emotional women, I wouldn’t be who I am. And I’m awesome.
I flash a wink at Aunt Etta, just to taunt her. Another valuable skill she taught me. “You watching, ol’ lady? I’mma show you how it’s done.” I line up my shot, spreading my legs for any onlookers, and peer down the length of my pool cue at the red three ball. If I get it in, I’ve got just the eight ball, and then I win. I wiggle my hips and take a couple of practice strokes, steadying my breath. Ready and sure, I pull the cue stick back and push it forward sharply.
“Yeah, shake that ass. Show Charlene how it’s done,” Aunt Etta calls out right as I make contact. The three ball goes squirrelly, hitting the bumper a solid two inches from the corner pocket.
“Shit.”
I glare at Aunt Etta, only to find her already gloating. When I sniff in annoyance, her smirk only grows. “No wonder you always strike out with the ladies. No follow-through.”
“Oooh, burn!”
“She’s gotcha there!”
“Jesse, I think I’m in love with your aunt. That’s cool with you, right?”
I stare my buddies down one by one, and though they try valiantly to straighten their faces out, they fail miserably. “All of you are on cleanup duty on Monday.”
Mike laughs. “Dude, fuck you. I’m not even on your crew.”
He’s got a point.
We all work for Jed Ford’s construction company, but Mike’s an electrician while the rest of us work general contracting. Which means Roscoe and Alan are on the hook. They glance at each other and then back at me. Finally Roscoe declares, “Worth it.” He pops Alan in the gut, and they start laughing again.
“Hey, young ’un,” Aunt Etta calls, turning my age comment back on me to get my attention.
I sigh resolutely. She’s damn near run the whole table, and as soon as I look, she drops the eight ball in the side pocket, winning the game. Again.
“Good game,” I admit.
She hands her pool cue to Mike, letting her hand drift over his as she lets go and tells him, “You’re a cutie-pie, but a little inexperienced for a woman like me.” She pats his cheek a bit too hard and spins to walk away, her dark braid flinging over her shoulder. But I swear there’s a little extra pep in her step.
Mike’s tongue lolls out like a cartoon dog, but he manages to yell after her, “I can learn!”
Tayvious, Etta’s “HR complaint waiting to happen” cook, leans out of the food window. “I can teach you a thing or two, Mike. Things you never knew about yourself.”
Mike laughs good-naturedly. “Thanks, Tay Tay. Pretty sure the only thing I wanna learn from you is your famous fancy ketchup recipe.”
“You and everyone else,” he quips back. “But a man’s gotta have some secrets.” With that, he disappears back into the kitchen. Recipes are probably the only secrets Tayvious has, given that he tells everyone everything about his life—dates, what he bought at the local swap meet, and even the rash he got last month, which thankfully was just a bit of razor burn and nothing contagious, because I don’t think even unknown dermatitis would stop us from eating Tay Tay’s food.