WE ONLY TALKED for twenty minutes before he fell asleep, but it was the best twenty minutes of my day. I didn’t know how much I missed his voice until I heard it, and now I can’t wait to hear it again.
I’m exhausted this morning, having stayed up another hour after our conversation thinking about him—wondering what had him so upset when he answered my call. He said that he didn’t mean to yell at me, and he hinted at the fact that he thought that I was someone else. I wish I knew who that someone else was. Whoever it was, it would break my heart to be them. I don’t think I could stand being on the receiving end of that ire. It scared me at first. Then he realized that it was me on the line, and it was gone in a second.
“O-M-G, Jill—you will not believe what happened to me last night,” Ruth cries as she breezes through the front door, five minutes late.
“What’s that?” I call out from behind the counter.
“I went to Finnigan’s with a couple of my girls, and guess who was there?” Before I can answer, she blurts out, “None other than a few of our hot, bearded, construction-working friends.”
Finnigan’s is the place in town where everyone goes. It’s basically a family restaurant that doubles as the place to be after nine o’clock. There’s a bar, where something sports related is always showing, and they serve really great hamburgers. It’s been around forever—the inside on the cusp of being completely outdated—but it’s got that homey, small town charm that makes it inviting for everyone, even the out of towners.
“Of course, I had to go over and say hello; and when I did, one of them asked me out on a date!” She squeals, and I grin at her, her excitement contagious.
“That’s awesome,” I reply, truly excited for her. “Which one is he?”
“He’s the tall one—kind of skinny, with the overgrown, dirty blonde hair.” She lifts her eyebrows at me, asking without asking if I know which one she’s talking about. “Kind of scruffy beard? Oh, he’s the one always wearing the green trucker hat.”
“Ah, trucker hat guy,” I say, feeling suddenly enlightened.
Giggling, she informs me, “We’ll call him Monte from now on.”
“Will do.”
I hand her her apron, and she takes it from me, quickly looping it over her head before she asks, “So, did you call Henry last night? He wasn’t with them at Finnigan’s.”
My lips part open in an O, suddenly remembering that I didn’t call Henry. While that was never actually my intention, knowing that he’ll probably show up this morning makes me feel a little guilty.
“Jill—what did I tell you?” she groans, sighing dramatically.
“I’ll have you know, I followed your advice,” I say, playfully lifting my nose up at her. “I did call a hot guy last night. Just not that one.”
“Shut up!” she comes to stand right next to me, propping herself up on her elbow as she rests on the front counter, her gaze focused intently on me. “There’s another hot guy?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes.”
“Oh-kay, I need details. Now.”
“I don’t want to jinx it,” I say with a shake of my head, and I mean it. I don’t really know what’s going to happen with Leo and me. The line that we drew between us is now blurry. Until I’m sure of what that means, I want to keep what’s building between us how it’s always been—which is just between us.
“Fine,” she grumbles disappointedly. She straightens and then chuckles wickedly before she says, “Though, you might want to figure out what you’re going to do about Henry, pronto. Looks like he’s our first customer this morning.”
She nods toward the store front window, and I look out to see him in the pale light of the early morning sun. My stomach clenches when he steps inside, and I somehow know that in another life—a life where I never met Leo—Henry would be that hot guy who came through town and swept me off my feet.
Funny how timing is everything.
“Good morning,” he greets with a warm smile as he approaches the register.
“Good morning. How’d you enjoy your coffee yesterday?” I ask in an effort to be casually friendly.
“Enough to come back, even though the pretty blonde didn’t call.”
“Sorry,” I murmur, not sure what else to say. “I wasn’t…hungry.”
Chuckling, he slides a couple bills across the counter. “Well, the offer still stands in the event that you change your mind. And I’d love another cup of your house blend.”
“Sure thing. Coming right up.”
I GET UP early and head out for a run, hoping to get in a few miles before the temperature gets too hot. Luckily, Ashley has a late start this morning. Corie has a photoshoot and an interview of her own in upstate New York, and he wanted to stick around to make sure she got off okay. Gigs like this aren’t really her thing, and I don’t blame her. In fact, the humble way she wishes to stay out of the limelight is one of the reasons why I like and respect her.
Thinking of Corie gets me thinking about Jill. I dozed off not long after I settled in on the couch to talk to her, then woke up sometime in the middle of the night and dragged my ass to bed. It wasn’t boredom that took me out, but the end result of a long day followed by the crash that follows a spike in my adrenaline. My anger, striking mere seconds before I heard her voice, took me to a place I don’t like to go.
I can’t remember the last time I sat on the phone with a woman—or the last time I wanted to. I’m not sure what it is about Jill that makes me curious about her, curious and tolerant enough to want her body, but to willingly settle for her voice over the phone instead. There’s just something pure about her. Something innocent and untouched. Something beautiful. It makes me want to shield her from all the shit that I know; and yet, I can’t cut myself off, making me a fucking hypocrite.
I like her. She’s young, but I can tell she’s smart. Like Corie, she’s friendly and down to earth. She’s easy to be around and not annoying to talk to. She doesn’t fill silence with senseless chatter, and I appreciate that about her. Much more, it’s not lost on me that whatever it is that’s going on with us, it’s organic. Most girls who know what I do for a living think they can somehow use me. Not that I give a fuck. When they come-on to me, they don’t know that one night in my bed won’t get them shit. That’s not to say that I don’t sometimes take advantage of the easy lay, but it’s not like that with Jill. She’s not chasing some high profile life.
When I return from my run, I head straight for the shower. Under the spray of water, it doesn’t take much for my thoughts of Jill to shift in a different direction. Remembering the way it feels to have her wrapped around me as she takes my dick, I grab hold of myself, stroking my hard-on, in need of a release. I think of the sound of her voice and the way she moans when she’s on the brink of an orgasm. Closing my eyes, I hear her begging for me to spank her ass—painting her pretty, pale skin red. I hear her calling my name, Lee, her fingernails digging into my flesh as I bite into hers.
With a groan, I squeeze my dick harder, imagining her as she writhes beneath me. I pretend that I can smell her, the sweet musk of her tight cunt filling my nostrils. Pressing a hand against the shower wall, I pump my hand faster, the familiar tingle at the base of my spine assuring me that I’m close. My dick swells, filling up with my seed as I remember the pitch of her scream as she came so hard, she forced my dick right out of her pussy, squirting all over me.
“Fuck,” I grunt as my climax finally hits, my seed spilling onto the shower floor.
I squeeze the head of my dick as I start to go limp, and then I let go, pressing both hands against the shower wall. I let my head drop, the spray of the water beating down on the back of my neck, only one thought left on my mind.
This damn wedding can’t come soon enough.