Page 81 of When It's Us
Hank.
Luckily, it’s dark out here, and even with Hutch’s size, he’s able to make letting me up off the railing as simple as shifting his weight.
I glance up at him, fully aware that I’m lust drunk and shivering and loathing the loss of his body heat and his filthy words.
I’m so in awe of him. I know from how he handled me on that zip line that he’s got a surprisingly tender heart, but he’s got an even filthier mouth, and the contrast isso fucking sexy.
“Meat about done?” Hank asks, gaze flicking from us to the grill.
“Uh, yeah,” I say, stepping around Hutch and nodding toward the grill. “I was just about to put the asparagus on.”
Hank keeps his gaze on Hutch, and something passes between them. I’d laugh if I wasn’t worried Hank mightactuallybe pissed at Hutch. This was exactly why we needed to be discreet.
“I’ve got it,” Hank mutters. “Thanks, Red.”
“I’ll go see if Wren needs any more help,” I say with one last glance at Hutch, who is grinning at his brother.
I don’t know when or how it will happen, but as I head back inside, the promise of more with Hutch is undeniable. I only hope I can survive it and emerge unscathed.
Hutch
Thesecondthedoorcloses behind Ginger and Hales, I want to go after her. I’d wanted her to come home with me. But what was home? A shitty mattress in the back of the Vanagon? It was that or the old ass couch in my shop, neither of which was the prime location for what I wanted to do with Ginger.
The van was cramped as fuck. Sure, we’d made it work on the road, but that was because we’d had to. I’ve always known she was a control freak, but now that I’ve gotten a glimpse of the real Ginger, the one that pushes me until I take that control, the one who craves my dominance, the van with its low ceilings and lumpy bed isn’t going to cut it.
As I listen to Hudson rant about the four-way inspection we’ve scheduled for his house this week, my mind settles into making plans for a permanent bedroom in the shop.
I’ve got plenty of space for a bed—king-sized, even, if I want—and a dresser. The skylights will add a nice touch at night. I designed it that way on purpose so that when I eventually did move in, it would still feel like I was sleeping under the stars.
That shit’s romantic as fuck, too.Wait.Why the hell am I thinking about romance? I mean, Ginger deserves that, right? Not that I’m the guy to give it to her. I mean, there was nothingromantic about humping each other till we came, or the horny shit I whispered in her ear, my cock so hard I thought it would punch through the front of my jeans.
“You listening to me, dickhead?” Hudson asks, pulling me from the full-blown conversation I’m having with myself in my head.
“Everything will be fine, man,” I tell my brother, glancing up to where Finn is nestled against him on Wren and Hank’s couch. I’m not sure where they went off to. Either fucking somewhere or getting their girls down for the night. Probably the latter.
“I’m gonna take off,” I say, pushing off the couch and shrugging on my flannel.
Once I’m outside and driving away from my brother’s house, I still can’t get Ginger out of my mind. Hank and I live out in the sticks, but at opposite ends of the Timber Forge valley. So when I hit Main Street, I turn in the direction of Hales’ place instead of heading West. Oakley went out before I left this afternoon and he should be fine for a couple of hours. He has an outdoor run he can get to via the dog door if he needs to go out while I’m gone, so I don’t worry too much about leaving him alone.
When I finally pull up to Hayley’s, all the lights are out.
I sit in my truck, idling at the curb, and peer out at the house. I don’t know for sure which room Ginger is staying in, but both guest rooms are on the second floor, with Hayley’s on the main level. I figure I’ve got a fifty-fifty shot of finding the right window on the first try.
Climbing out of the car, I shut the door quietly and make my way up the driveway, bypassing the porch to the side yard. Both windows to the bedrooms are dark. Glancing at my watch, it’s after ten. I could text or call her, but I don’t want to risk waking Hayley up on the off chance that Ginger sleeps with her ringer on in case her kids need her.
Casting my glance around the darkened yard. My eyes land on the flower bed at my feet. I bend over and pick up a handful of smallrocks, big enough to make a sound when they hit the window, but not big enough—hopefully—to break the glass.
I probably look ridiculous wandering around in the dark in the yard, throwing rocks at her window like some lovesick teenager. But I don’t give a shit. That conversation on the deck has my gears turning, and honestly, I’d do just about anything to get Ginger’s attention at this point. Why? I don’t fucking know, but here we are.
Taking one last glance out to the street, I pull back my arm, aiming for the window, and let one of the pebbles fly. It hits the window with a muffledtinkand then drops back down, barely missing my head.
I wait a beat or two, but when there is no movement from the curtains, I try again, throwing the next pebble a little harder. Maybe it’s too quiet? It’s also possible that I have the wrong window.
Still nothing.
Moving to the other window, I’m about to chuck the next pebble when the curtain moves and I see Ginger peering down at me. I can’t make out much of her features, but I can see her moving to unlock the window.
She flips the latch and slides the window up. The movement exposes her stomach in a little crop top, the tight points of her nipples clearly visible against the light fabric, even from the ground.
