Page 40 of Space Cowgirl: Houston, All Systems Go
The mental imageof Jules riding my face as I kneel between her legs has me rooted to the spot.
That is, until the cough. A timid, female cough.
I take a deep breath, trying to slow my racing heart and stop the blood rushing to my crotch.
To myhard-on.
There, I can say it. Never mind that I didn’t say it out loud. It still counts. I can’t help it if I grew up not liking foul language. I heard it from my mother enough, I didn’t need to add to it.
And no matter what Jules thinks I think of her, she’s still a woman.
When I’m feeling halfway under control, I face the door to find Melissa standing in the open frame, clutching a bunch of binders and looking at the hardwood floor.
I take one step forward, trying to simultaneously shake my leg and adjust the evidence from my fight with Jules so it isn’t so noticeable.
“Melissa. Can I help you with something?”
I wonder how long she’s been standing there.
“Umm… I’m here to give Ray instructions for tomorrow?”
“Yes, that’s fine. Good.” I wave my hand ineffectually toward the kitchen, where I know Ray is working. “Thanks.”
Still looking down, she makes her way through the remodel landmine, moving quickly, as if the thunder of hammers and power sawing in the other room is the key to her salvation.
Yeah, she’d been standing there for quite some time.
My text message alert sounds and I have to wedge my hand in my back pocket to get it out. Say what you will about cowboys and tight jeans, but they serve a purpose. My phone would’ve slid out while riding Angelo if the denim wasn’t practically painted on my rear end.
One swipe of my thumb and I’m kind of wishing my phonehadfallen out.
An angry wail echoes down the stairs. “God damn it, Holt!” Jules’ screech has me hustling outside toward my truck.
I hit my number two speed dial, wedging the phone on my shoulder as I unearth my truck keys from another jean pocket.
“Did you like the pic I texted?” Rose asks, not bothering with hello. “Très romantique, big brother. That one is my personal favorite, but some of the others are swoon-worthy as well.”
“Others?” I wince at the high pitch of my voice.Don’t panic.
“Oh yeah.” There’s some shuffling and muffled voices. “Okay, okay, I’ll ask.”
“Ask what? Who are you talking to?” Getting the door open, I hop into my sun-baked truck.
“Trish. We’re getting our nails done. That’s where I got the Twitter alert on my phone. Color me surprised to see your face flash across modern day social media while getting my feet massaged.”
“Twitter?” I really thought Jules had been overreacting earlier about the reporters capturing the rescue.
“Trish wants to know how pissed Jules is right now.”
When the truck starts, warm air blasts my face. I adjust the vents before saying, “I don’t get it. You all are acting like I did something wrong. Isaved her life. Isn’t that a good thing?”
Rose scoffs. “Then you don’t know Jules. I’m pretty sure she would rather die than be publicly saved by anyone. Especially a dude. She’s working in a heavily testosterone dominated world, Holt. Plus, she’s got some weird bad press lately. It wasn’t much, and no one paid attention, but now this?” Rose hums ominously. “You think she wants to look like she can’t take care of herself?”
“Well, obviously, it would have been better if the reporters hadn’t taken that picture. But really, she can’t stay mad forever, right?”
My question is met with silence.
“I mean, I’m only asking because Jules and I have to work together on this wedding. That’s all. No skin off my nose if she wants to throw a fit over a silly picture.”
