Page 60 of Hand Picked
“Come on, baby,” I urged, and something about those three words—maybe the lust in my voice or the unconsciousbaby—worked like a magic incantation, because he came all over me, his release coating my abs and even my chest.
Luke groaned and collapsed against me bonelessly, heedless of the mess, tucking his face into the crook of my neck with a sigh, and even though I could feel the weight of a hundred different responsibilities pressing against me again, I pushed them back and let myself enjoy that one perfect moment.
“Well,” he said, voice crisp and businesslike a moment later. “I… I certainly feel warm. So, thank you for that.” The fact that his voice was still muffled against my skin sort of ruined the effect, though, and I laughed out loud.
From the protective circle of my arms, Luke laughed with me.
Despite just coming harder than I had in years, I wanted him again. And nearly as much as I wanted him, I wanted to keep him warm and satisfied. To keep him happy… which was scary as fuck.
But it was way too late to put the genie back in the bottle, just like it was impossible to un-blow the damn Unity Bugle, so I thought maybe, just maybe, I’d try to hold on to it for a little while…
Even though I knew it could only be temporary.
ChapterThirteen
LUKE
It was funny how the smallest decisions could profoundly change your life.
Like answering an ad in a fiber arts magazine, for example.
Or blowing a bugle with your hot, grumpy lumberjack-ish neighbor on a cold, drunken winter’s night.
Or spending an entire afternoon frotting with that grumpy neighbor after he helped you drag yourself out of a freezing cold pond and saved you from hypothermia.
Because once you made any (or all) of those tiny, slightly crazy decisions, you might find yourself living a life where your lonely Sunday morning got interrupted by two truckloads of Sundays—including that gorgeous, grumpy savior—who dragged you out of your camper wearing your baggiest jeans and rattiest sweatshirt and demanded you join them for breakfast at Panini Jack’s.
“Morning, Katie. Table for eight,” Webb said as Gage, Knox, Emma, Marco, Drew, Aiden, and I piled into Panini Jack’s after him one Sunday morning, about a week after my fall into Pond Pond.
I still wasn’t quite sure what was happening here. Why had they included me in the Sundays’ Sunday breakfast outing? Was it a friendly neighbor thing, a “we’re glad you didn’t die in our pond” thing, or a “you touched my penis and I’d like you to do it again” thing?
All of those were fine, but if asked, I’d definitely be able to state a preference for which I hoped it was.
“Eight?” Katey repeated, frowning. “But Hawk’s not with you all, and… Oh, I see.” She pursed her lips when she spotted me but grudgingly asked, “You doing alright, Luke?”
“Yeah, heard you took a nasty plunge last week.” Norm Avery turned on his stool at the counter to look me over, and his bushy mustache twitched. “Happened to me a time or two when I was younger.”
“Same,” an older lady agreed. “Not pleasant at all.”
I gave them all a bright smile. I wasn’t used to being the center of so much attention, but I didn’t want to seem rude and awkward. “True! No harm done, though. Webb took care of me. But thanks for asking.”
As well-meaning as the inquiries were, it was overwhelming to be the center of attention for the whole town. I could see the townsfolk, not to mention Webb’s family, wondering why I was the only non-Sunday there. If only I had the answer myself.
“Glad to hear it.” Norm reached over and thumped Webb on the shoulder. “Take care of yourself, because this one needs someone around to keep him in line.”
“That’s the damn truth,” Knox said wryly.
Webb gave me a look that was part amusement, part… something hotter, and my palms went damp.
I wished I could read whatever thought was running through the man’s mind. He hadn’t seemed regretful or weird about us hooking up last weekend—on the contrary. He’d given me a long, thorough, reallypromisingkiss before he’d climbed back into his 4x4 to drive home across the dark orchard. He’d texted me sweet, silly things every day since then. He’d been his usual—well, thenewusual—friendly self when he’d picked up Aiden on Thursday from spelling bee practice, shooting me a hot, sexy wink and a smile.
But…
I wanted more.
More of his warmth and his scent. More of his arms around me. Moretalking, since his voice was the most soothing thing on the planet… and also since I could not bring myself to text the actual questions I wanted to ask, like “Hey, so, was that the hottest sexy time in your personal history of sexy times, and if so, would you be amenable to repeating it?”
I knew he was busy, though. Maple sugar season had already peaked, and he’d been running tours all week, in addition to managing the orchard. I didn’t want to be demanding… but I also wanted him to know I was very, very interested.
