Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
For a mountain of a man, Grizz doesn’t make much noise when he walks. I risk a glance over my shoulder. Instantly, I wish I hadn’t. He looks too good today in his tightfitting blue jeans and old blue flannel that clings to his biceps. If there were a lumberjack calendar, Grizz would definitely be featured. Hell, they could make a whole calendar of this man, and women everywhere would line up to buy it.
Meanwhile, I scraped my wild hair back in a bun, and I know that my cheeks are probably bright pink from exertion. I’ve sweated off every bit of makeup I put on today, and I’m wearing an old farm T-shirt that’s three sizes too big. Baggy jeans and black boots complete my working farm girl look. Ugh, why does he have to look like a model right now?
“Doesn’t matter. The job had to be done,” I answer lightly. This is one of the things about living in a ranching community. You get used to working hard early in life.
I reach for the next box to load it onto the dolly, but Grizz puts a hand on my arm. “Let me. You take a break. Get some lunch.”
I should stay and keep helping. But I’m exhausted and in need of a rest, so, I give him a grateful smile. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Take your time,” he answers easily as he reaches for a stack of boxes. For a moment, I’m rooted to the spot, transfixed by the sight of this strong man, lifting three of these boxes while barely breaking a sweat. He’s so strong. I bet he could pin me against the alleyway wall and hold me there with his body while thrusting deep inside of my pussy.
The image creates a low pull in my belly. I want that. I want Grizz to show me how strong he is. I want to be held in his arms while he bounces me on his cock.
Shaking my head to clear the thoughts, I hurry back into the shop.
I take a working lunch, editing some of the audio for my podcast while mom plays a word game on her tablet. The matching hot pink cases were an impulse buy online. Mom and I might be farm girls, but we share a love of all things glittery.
When I’m done with my sandwich, I make two for Grizz and take them outside to him. My ovaries were not prepared for the sight that greets me. Grizz has stripped off his flannel, and he’s in a ribbed, white tank. It’s soaked from his sweat and clinging so tightly that it outlines his back as he works. There’s just something about watching his big broad shoulders that has me panting.
He turns as if he could sense my lust-fueled thoughts.
I make a squeak and thrust the paper plate at him.
He accepts it and takes a seat in the cargo area, his denim-clad legs dangling over the edge. He drains the first water bottle I pass him and wipes the droplets from his beard. His thick, red beard. I’ve always wondered what it would feel like beneath my fingertips. Is it soft and silky? It looks like it is. What would it feel like between my thighs?
No, bad Ginger. I can’t be thinking like this.
“Take a seat,” he growls at me.
I’m not taking a seat next to him. As it is, just being around him, tests the boundaries of my self-control. Because whenever I’m around Grizz, I want to touch him. I want to touch him all over. Why doesn’t he have a girlfriend? It’s been years, and I’ve never seen Grizz with anyone. Maybe he’s more of the one-night stand type. The thought makes something in my chest hurt.
I have to get out of here before I say or do something stupid. “Mom needs to go home.”
One of the hardest parts of multiple sclerosis is the exhaustion. She doesn’t have the energy she used to, and even though she tries to push through, everyone can see it’s hard on her now. “I’ll be back later to finish up. You don’t have to stay.”
Grizz finishes his second sandwich and stands. “I’ll help with her chair.”
He follows me into the shop and stops to talk with Mom. “You look pretty today, Mrs. M.”
She beams at him. When she learned that Grizz doesn’t have a family, she unofficially adopted him. He’s now a staple at all of our family gatherings including Thanksgiving and Christmas. Last year, I swear he got more gifts from her than the rest of us did. My brothers teased him, saying he was the favorite son. “Ginger did my makeup before we left the house.”
I duck my head, embarrassed. I grab my tablet and shove it into my oversized bag.
“No, you’re a natural beauty,” Grizz insists to my mom.