Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Why now?
Why Palmer?
I pull into Sunflower Park, and my stomach grumbles just seeing all the food trucks set up. “I’m starving.”
“What are you going to get?” Palmer asks.
I glance over at her just in time to watch as she licks her lips as she stares through the front window at all the trucks. “Everything.” My voice is gravelly, but I can’t seem to stop it. Watching the tip of her tongue trace those pretty pink lips is like leading a man to water in the middle of a drought in the desert.
“There’s like ten trucks here.” She pulls her eyes from the trucks to look at me.
“Did you miss the part where I said I was starving? I think I could eat an entire cow right now.”
She tosses her head back in laughter. “Well, come on then, hungry man. We don’t want you withering away to nothing.” She reaches for the door handle and effortlessly hops out of my truck.
I do the same, rushing to the front of the truck to catch up with her. I rub my hands together. “All right, where are we starting?”
“How about we divide and conquer? Meet back here at the truck, or if we can find a picnic table?”
I point an index finger at her. “I like the way you think, beautiful.” The endearment slips off my tongue without thought. It’s true. Palmer is beautiful. This time I get to see her flush, and my cock lets me know he appreciates the pink hue of her cheeks as well.
She clears her throat. “I want pulled pork for sure.”
“Yep.” I nod. “I’m going to need some of that.”
“French fries too.”
“Get a big bucket, and we can split it.”
“Done.”
“Corn dogs?” I ask.
“Is that even a question?” she challenges, making me laugh.
“How about this: You take the left side, I’ll take the right, and we’ll meet back here, and if we can’t find an open picnic table, we’ll drop the tailgate?”
“I’m in.”
I turn to walk away. I wasn’t bullshitting. I’m starving.
“Wait.” She reaches out and grabs my arm. My skin tingles where her hand still grips me. “Drinks are on my side. Sweet tea or lemonade?”
“Both. Get the large, and we can split them.”
“I don’t think I can carry all of this.” She laughs.
“Okay, we might have to do this in shifts,” I tell her. “Grab the drinks, and anything else, maybe the bucket of fries. They have a handle. I’ll grab what I can carry. Then we’ll either have to go back for more or eat, then go back for more.”
She holds her hand out in front of her, and I laugh as I place mine on top of hers. “Readyyy break!” she calls out before turning on her heel and making her way to the lemonade booth.
My chest is shaking with laughter as I watch her walk away. When a loud grumble sounds, I realize my stomach won’t let me stare much longer. The sooner I get our food, the sooner I can be next to her again. I turn and move to the pulled pork booth first. My mouth waters as I stand in line.
I manage to grab us both a pulled pork sandwich, two corn dogs, an order of onion rings, and an order of mozzarella cheese sticks. My arms are full of food as I make my way back to the truck. Palmer is already there with the tailgate dropped. Two large drinks, a huge bucket of fries, and something else I’m not sure what it is, is next to her.
“What’s that?”
“Deep-fried pickles,” she moans. “So good.”
Ignoring the way my cock twitches against the zipper of my cargo shorts at the sound, I start unloading my hands with her help before hopping up and taking a seat, the food piled between us.
“How in the world are we going to eat all of this?” Her eyes widen as she takes in the food.
I point to my chest. “Entire cow.”
“I thought you were exaggerating.”
“I’m a growing boy.” I smirk.
“Well, you better save room for funnel cake because I’m not passing that up.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”
We both dive into our spread, not bothering to keep the conversation flowing. I’m too hungry to talk right now. I do, however, watch her from the corner of my eye. She’s eating, and I love that. So many times, women I’ve dated think they can’t eat or be who they really are with me. That’s just wrong on so many levels. You have to eat to live. I’m thrilled to see that she’s enjoying this as much as I am.
“So good,” she says, covering her mouth while she chews. She swallows, takes a hearty sip of the sweet tea, and smiles. “This was the best idea ever. I’m going to have to do this again sometime.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her she can’t come again without me, but I don’t let the words out of my mouth. Instead, I nod, grab a deep-fried pickle, slide it through the cup of ranch dressing, and take a huge bite.