Chipper was right about me needing an ugly cry. I feel so much lighter after I sob over everything my mother is missing. I also give myself a pep talk regarding logic and its place in romance.

I matter to Chipper. He saw me in a crowded bar and cared enough to save me. I’m special to him. He took me into his home, offers me everything. Chipper saved my life in that bar. He’s my hero in a million ways. He takes charge of life and doesn’t settle, yet he wants me. Nothing about us has to make sense. Life can be impulsive. I can be impulsive. Chipper sure is. Why worry about what I should or shouldn’t do? Why not embrace Chipper and his life because it makes me happy? It’s so simple when I stop trying to control everything.

Returning to Chipper in a much better mood, I’m surprised when he wants to play a silly game. The fact that the game ends with us making out—and him shirtless—in his bed is the icing on a fantastic cake.

“You taste like my future,” he moans in a smooth, honeyed voice before his full lips latch onto my throat and give me what proves to be a very purple hickey.

“I’ll need a scarf,” I say, looking in the mirror after a long struggle to separate our entangled bodies. “I noticed you wore a turtleneck today.”

“Rednecks mark their women with hickeys. The women mark their men with tattoos. They might be banjo-listening, no-teeth bastards, but they have the right idea.”

“No teeth?” I ask, running my tongue over where I used to have two back molars.

“Many hillbilly folks lack dental care and end up with missing teeth. Do they not have rednecks in Florida?”

Rather than embarrassed, I’m offended by his mockery of people like me. Well, not the banjo part, but whatever. “I have missing teeth. Am I a redneck or hillbilly?”

“I don’t know. Do you listen to a lot of banjo music?” he asks, though his expression reveals he knows his foot ended up squarely in his mouth.

“Funny shit,” I mutter.

“Man, I get hard when you cuss.”

“Then I won’t cuss. I don’t want you thinking I’m low class. First, with the missing teeth and then with the cock teasing.”

Chipper refuses to admit he insulted me. In his world, no doubt apologies are a sign of weakness. “Why teasing? Is it because I mocked your love of banjo music?”

“Having crowns put in is expensive, Chipper. We didn’t have dental insurance. When one of my back teeth got messed up, I had the choice of a root canal and crowns or have them pulled. That’s a difference of thousands of dollars. You shouldn’t make fun of poor people.”

“Which side did you get your tooth pulled?” he asks, erasing the space between us so he can run his finger along my jaw.

When I tap my left upper jaw, he leans forward to kiss me. “My tongue wants to apologize personally for insulting your mouth.”

“Stop,” I mutter, fighting a grin.

“I need to lick your gums to make them mine. I licked your teeth so many times before. I must own the empty sockets.”

“You’re so weird.”

“You won’t be saying that when I lick your nipples,” he murmurs. “Or your pussy.”

Flushing red, I push him away. “You’re distracting me.”

“From the heat between your legs? Well, now you know how I feel with my constant hard-on. It’s a living hell, I tell ya, but worth every moment of misery to be close to you.”

Chipper traps my body against his, kissing me until he fully claims my mouth. I don’t resist his affections, even if he’s deflecting from his earlier faux pas. His kisses are as addictive as potato chips. I can’t have just one or even a dozen. I want more and more like a junkie needing her next fix.

Until I feel the huge erection pressing against my thigh. Red alert! Everyone to the lifeboats! We are under attack from a giant torpedo!

My body imagines his thick, hard flesh inside me, and my body instantly reacts by shutting down all my heat.

“Stop,” I mumble, pushing Chipper away. “I can’t.”

“I know.”

“What?”

“I don’t know. I just want to agree with you, so you’ll stop trying to flee.”

“I don’t want to flee, but I’m not ready. S.O.S. Nine one one. Just stop.”

Chipper’s hot body lifts off mine. Holding himself in this position, he smirks down at me. “Do you know what you need?”

“Therapy?”

“Mister Booze.”

“I can’t drink on an empty stomach.”

“You should have eaten at lunch.”

“I don’t eat much at lunch. I’m sorry if that ruins your dreams of the future.”

“I’ll adjust. I’m all about fucking compromise.”

“So how about I eat something, have a shot of something, and then try this again in the dark where you can’t see my freckles?”

“You can do and have whatever you want, Tatum. I’m not your—"

“Boss?” I say, giving him an out.

“I’ll order something for dinner.”

“Ugh, you spend too much money. Don’t you have anything in the fridge?” I ask, rolling off the bed and hurrying out of the room before Chipper can stand up and reveal his massive erection. “Like food I can make into a sandwich.”

“I have bread and some meat,” he says, already right behind me by the time I reach the stairs. I stare at him startled while he lists off more food. “Cheese too. Hey, I think I even have mayo. Look how shit all comes together. Much like we’ll come together tonight.”

Turning around to face him, I can’t keep my gaze from checking out his erection doing very little to hide in his jeans. “Do you want to handle that?”

“No. I’m saving it for someone very special,” he says and leans down until we’re lip to lip.

I give him a quick kiss and then make a run for the kitchen. His erection haunts me. How will it fit in my body? How deep is my body? Can I cry during sex? Is that allowed? What are the rules? Why didn’t I do more sex research when I was alone in my room? Oh, yeah, because I forgot my phone downstairs.

“Let me make us sandwiches,” I announce once in the kitchen.

“I should point out that if you don’t like something I do to your fine body, feel free to say you don’t like it. That’s how people learn. I’m sure you’ll be pretty fucking awful at blowjobs in the beginning. Shit, I can’t even imagine how much my dick will need to dodge your teeth, but practice makes perfect.”

Laughing with my head in the fridge, I’m relieved to have the cold on my burning hot cheeks. Chipper stands nearby, leaning against the counter and probably looking straight at my butt. Rather than worrying about his opinion of my rear end, I grab meat, cheese, veggies, and mayo from the fridge. In the nearby pantry, I find French bread.

“Where are your pans?” I ask, finally forcing my gaze on Chipper.

“Don’t cook. Just throw something together.”

“No, I want a warm meal to go with my cold booze.”

Nodding, Chipper finds me a frying pan and a cutting board. I chop onions and green peppers before cooking them in olive oil.

“What’s your booze of choice?” I ask after adding leftover beef strips to the pan.

“Whiskey made you puke. You did much better with the moonshine, so let’s stick to that for tonight.”

I glance over my shoulder and notice him watching me. “I’m very excited about seeing you naked.”

“You say that except are you cooking something that’ll make me gassy? Is this your way to get out of seeing me naked?”

“Nope, that’s not my plan at all.”

“Care to share then?” he asks, teasing the bare flesh between the seams of my shirt and pants.

“If you’re busy farting, you won’t notice if I’m farting or making weird noises.”

Chipper sighs loudly. “First, you’ve got us fucking in the dark. Now we’re fucking in a cloud of gas. You have some odd fantasies, Tatum.”

Laughing, I turn away and continue cooking. “I’m so nervous I could puke. In fact, maybe I should call your sister for sex advice.”

“That would be bad. Her advice would mostly consist of telling you to do butt stuff with your fingers.”

“Your butt or mine?”

“Does it matter?” he asks, laughing.

Giggling at the thought, I take the pan off the burner. Soon, I’ve covered the bread with meat and veggie goodness. We take our plates and two mini-jugs of peach moonshine to the living room. I sit on one end of the couch with Chipper on the other.

“You never put on your shirt,” I say, stating the obvious.

“What’s the point when you’ll have me naked soon?”

“That’s true.”

Studying Chipper, I’m struck by how perfectly sexy and confident he always is while I remain a bumbling dork. I wish I could talk to a girl about my feelings and what I should prepare for with sex. I even wonder if I need to wax or at least shave above the knee.

“You’re too quiet,” he says after telling me the sandwich is “fucking fantastic.” “Say something. Anything.”

“Was Chevelle your first?”

“No, these two were,” he says, flashing his hands. “You know those wives’ tales about masturbating leading to blindness or hairy palms. Neither is true, or I’d be a blind bear.”

I know he’s trying to distract me with humor, but my nerves have me focused on the competition. “But she was your first girl, right?”

“Yeah.”

“When did you start dating?”

“Let me see,” he says and leans back on the couch, so his feet rest on the table. “I met her when I was nine. We’d lived in White Horse a few months and Mom was already hooked up with Hayes. No, I think they were already married. Anyway, Bonn started working for Hayes, and Ruby bonded with Mom. That’s how Chevelle became friends with Cricket and me, but I didn’t think of her as the girl to pop my man cherry with until I was around fifteen.”

“Were you a late bloomer?”

“No, my balls dropped on time,” he says with great bravado, and I instantly roll my eyes. “But, no, I didn’t rush into girl obsession or want to date. Without attending school, there was no pressure to have a girlfriend. I didn’t feel any pressure to do anything really. Yes, my dick made me feel fucking outstanding. And, yes, I thought grown women were very interesting with their boobs bouncing everywhere. But, no, I wasn’t interested in a girlfriend especially Chevelle whose boobs barely bounced at all.”

Taking a gulp of my moonshine, I ask, “Why were the other women’s boobs bouncing so much? Do women around here not wear bras?”

“I don’t know. It’s possible I was thinking with my balls at the time.”

“But eventually you noticed Chevelle had boobs, and she was your girlfriend. Was your first time together good?”

Rubbing his head hard enough to muss up his thick hair, he exhales in a strangled way. “Do you really want to know about me with another girl?”

“Yes, because I want to know about you when you were awkward. Tonight is my first time, and I won’t know what I’m doing. You’re always so confident and talking about licking stuff. So I want to imagine a time when you weren’t so confident.”

“Licking what kind of stuff?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Hairy balls maybe?” I say, wiggling my eyebrows.

Chipper grunts. “Mood killer.”

“Tell me about your first time, and I’ll stop talking about hairy balls.”

“Well, you feel free to talk about my hairy balls all you want, Tatum Dole.”

“Thank you very much, Chipper Wilburn.”

“Fine, our first time was great. I was a stud for all of a minute and a half. Chevelle told me I was awesome, and I believed her. You know, until I did it better the next time and realized I was fucking awful the first time. She didn’t know any better, though, and probably thought I was great. I’m sure she now realizes her error.”

“Describe fucking awful.”

“Fast and sloppy. Lots of bad sex talk too. ‘Ooh, that’s so good, baby. So good.’”

“Was it ‘so good’?” I ask, fighting laughter. “Wait, what kind of sex talk do you use now?”

“I grunt a lot and compliment the pussy.”

I know laughing is wrong, but he’s so clearly messing with me. Besides, I’m nervous as hell about tonight and no doubt my face is super red at this point. Somehow, though, his teasing calms me. Chipper has a way of making the awkward seem smooth, weird seem normal, and painful feel invigorating. I hope his talent to soothe me continues when we’re between the sheets.

“Did Chevelle just lie under you and stare horrified because that’s what I’ll probably do?”

“I don’t remember really. I was pretty focused on my dick at the time. Oh, and no way will you just lie there. I imagine you’ll wiggle around, making crazy noises. It’ll be fucking wild, and you’ll love it.”

“And if I don’t?”

Chipper kisses the palm of my hand. “Money back guarantee, Breezy.”

Laughing, I can’t stop wondering about his first love. “Do you miss Chevelle?”

“Sometimes,” he says as his hand caresses my knee. “We were friends more than anything else. I miss that part, but Chevelle’s no longer that girl, and she hasn’t been in a long fucking time. She’s a woman now with a husband and a kid while I’m a man with a soon-to-be-wife and soon-to-be-kids.”

I reach for him and take his hand in mine. After a long internal conversation, I force myself to place his hand on my right breast.

“I want to wiggle and make crazy noises.”

“And I want that for you,” he says as his hand gently squeezes my breast. “I want you to forget about everything except you and me and our sweaty bodies.”

I’m so ready to take our flirting to the naked next step. The booze keeps me nicely buzzed, but not so much that I don’t know what’s happening. I’m very aware that I’m about to enjoy Chipper’s fine body after eyeing his chest for the last hour. The booze makes my nerves tingle with lust rather than fear. Without a doubt, sex is going to be fucking awesome!