Page 65 of The Best Kind of Bad

“He likes to think he has the moral high ground. This, coming from a guy who licks his own ass.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about you doing what you’re doing with that hand while you talk about your dog’s grooming habits.”

“It’s dirty talk.” Dusty’s fingers graze my panties.

“You like a good play on words, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes.”

“You’re a pretty big nerd for somebody who’s so pretty.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

“Nope.”

He puts his hand around my shoulder and tugs me against his side. “I heard it. No take-backsies.”

“I changed my mind. I’m a very fickle person.”

He hooks his arm around my neck, forearm dangling over my chest. His hand cups my breast. “Are you sure you want to help with this? We could find some quiet country road instead.”

“And study wildlife?”

“I’d study something. Those thighs. These pretty little things…” He squeezes my breast.

“Little?”

“Petite?”

I frown, but a laugh slips out, giving me away. “Just drive, Romeo.”

42.

Dusty

She is small, but she is mighty.

I didn’t even consider turning her away when she offered to help.

We have equally vested interest in this year’s crop. She technically has more to gain.

And besides, I was just excited to spend some time with her. Touched that she would offer.

But I did not expect her to work that hard. Be that willing to get dirty.

By the time we finish the last load, she’s clearly exhausted, covered in a fine coating of dust, and grinning.

We’re too beat to cook, so we agree to get some dinner at Tia’s Bar.

She rests her head on my shoulder as we head into town, gliding her hand up and down my lap. “You’re sweaty.”

I’ve got my arm around her shoulder, and I tug her in, pinning her to my side. “That’s what hard work will do to you.

As we turn down main street, a thought occurs to me. “Should we stop by your mom’s memorial?”

“Her what?”

“The butterfly garden. It should be blooming right now.”

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