Page 6 of Wild Oat Milk

Shelby continues watching me as she drinks, her eyebrows poised to react. Is she waiting for me to give her more information?

I sigh and take a few gulps of my beer before moving it away when it tastes too good. “One of us wanted to settle down andraise a bunch of kids, and the other one didn’t,” I explain with a shrug.

“Which one were you?” she asks.

She’s too fucking clever, this one. Could have me wrapped around her little black-nail-varnished finger in no time.

“Does it matter?” I ask back.

Why the fuck does the color of her nails excite me? Or is it the tiny silver hoop pierced through one of them that’s piquing my interest? The little heart dangling from it looks like it should jingle when it swings back and forth with every movement of her hand.

“It’s over,” I say flatly. “It’s been over for a long time. It doesn’t matter who wanted to sow their wild oats.”

“Women can’t sow wild oats — only grow them — so I’m assuming it was you who wasn’t ready to make babies.” She’s, still watching me, as she takes another sip of beer. “I’m not judging, but we’re using condoms, so there’ll be no oat-sowing here.” She gestures between us.

I give her a stern look. “That’s a given. We already saidno strings. Oats are stringy as fuck.”

She giggles, covers her mouth until she’s swallowed, and coughs slightly. “Where do you want to do this? In the alley outside?”

“Classy,” I mutter with a snort.

“Maybe I like things quick and dirty.” She finishes her beer and sets her glass on the table. “I didn’t trade my comfy jeans to wear this easy-access dress for nothing.”

I drag my hands down my face and scratch at my beard, as I look her up and down. I shake my head. “No back-alley quickies. You demanded effort, and I’m convinced you’re worth it.” I stand and reach out a hand for hers. “Plus, if I lick your slit until you scream in the alley, someone will think I’m attacking you. You’re young enough to need ID in a bar, but my beard isgetting its first silver streaks, so I’ll come off looking bad if we’re caught.”

She stares at me a while, then rests her hand on mine. “Where would you prefer to eat my pussy?”

“My place. The neighbors aren’t so close.” I lead her away from the table, before I turn back to meet her wide eyes. “I don’t mean that in a dangerous way,” I amend quickly when I recognize the panic in her face.

“You can do that thing where you tell a friend where you’ll be and all that, if it makes you feel safer. My sister used to do that. She lives on the same street, if that helps? Not because of some weird family thing — we’re not in each other’s pockets or anything; it was inherited land, and we each got a slice. I’m a good guy, I swear.”

I look over the sweet young thing I’m about to drag home and rebound-fuck because someone else fucked a baby into a woman I don’t even like that much and I’m an inappropriately jealous meathead.

I’m going to break the poor girl, and she clearly has no fucking idea it’s coming.

I drop her hand. “Fuck.”

She gives me a strange sideways look, and I shoo her away with my hands. “I just realized I’mnota good guy. I’m a filthy old fuck, who wants to forget myself for a while, by burying my cock in a pretty girl. You’re definitely far too young for me.”

Her eyebrows lift. “You think I’m pretty?”

I stare at her. “Is that a trick question? Those eyes? That ass and those tits? You’re fucking gorgeous. And you deserve better. Go home to your mom and pray for our souls, or something.”

She drops one eyebrow and hitches the other even higher. “I’m not religious, and I don’t have a mom. But you appear to have a conscience, which is more than a lot of men have, and I appreciate that. Take me home with you.”

I rub at my chin and study her serious face. “You don’t have a mom?”

“Two dads,” she says with a smirk, before the twinkle fades from her eyes. “Well, one now.” Her jaw stiffens, and she runs a hand over her stomach and fists it in the fabric of her dress. “Can we not talk about this? The loss has become a tedious daily ritual, and I’m trying really hard to feel young and carefree for the night. I want to feel alive foronefucking night, Gunnar.”

We’re both looking to forget ourselves?

I bow my head a little. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Shelby nods. She smooths out her dress and taps her fingers against her thighs, as she looks around. “Are you sorry enough to help me feel better or not?”

3

JEM

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