Page 16 of The Best Kind of Bad

I splutter for a few seconds, realization dawning on me. Gus’s lawyer mentioned that the farm manager lived on the property. He never said the guy’s name, though. Or that he was six and a half feet of smoking hotness. “Oh. Shit.”

Well, now I’ve gone and done it. This was the guy that was supposed to walk me through selling the estate. I needed his expertise. I don’t know the first thing about auctioning off farm ground.

And I went and fucked him.

That’s perfect. Just perfect.

“You must be Marnie.”

I drag my hand over my face, feeling a headache coming on. “Unfortunately, yes. Marnie Black.”

“I’m Dusty Larson.”

We stare at each other for a few heartbeats. My brain is supplying me with a very visceral memory of what his lips felt like pressed against my hip. The scratch of his scruffy jaw on my skin.

I still have an ache between my legs that would be pleasant if I wasn’t so damn mortified.

This, right here, is why I hate small towns.

You can take a single step without crossing a cousin or fucking a neighbor.

Ed is watching us over his shoulder, his head cocked clownishly. He’s admittedly a smidge lovable. Just as long as there’s solid steel and glass between me and him. “I think your dog wants out.”

“He probably thought we were going for a drive. Not the brightest boy.”

I turn my gaze back to Dusty, trying to figure him out. “You lived with Uncle Gus?”

“When we were younger,” Dusty admits. “But now Sienna and I live in the barn.”

I tilt my head, confused. First of all, who the fuck is Sienna? Second of all… “You live in a barn?”

A smile tugs at his lips. “Gus and I renovated. It’s an apartment, now.”

“Oh. Gotcha.”

I’m relieved that I won’t be cohabitating with Dusty tonight, but still a little miffed that he already has a ‘roommate’.

That would have been nice to know before I let him fuck me.

12.

Dusty

I’ve made a lot of mistakes over the years.

Screwing up is sort of my specialty.

And while this isn’t the worst thing I’ve ever done, it’s got to be in the top three.

Gus wasn’t just my boss. I don’t want to say he was like a father to me, because I had one of those. Runner was far from perfect, but he had a heart the size of Texas, and us kids were the only thing he seemed to care about.

Gus was more like a raft on shaky water. I was a kid who was more or less drowning. Gus reached out and offered a hand. He set the example of the way a man ought to be. I respected the hell out of him. If I had known who Marnie was, that she was his beloved niece, I wouldn’t have gone anywhere near her.

He used to roll his eyes at my womanizing ways. I’m sure he’d be turning over in his grave if he knew I even got to poor Marnie.

God damn. What a fuck up.

“I didn’t know who you were.” I blurt.

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