Wet E-Book

Ashley Bostock

• Herausgeber: Ashley Bostock
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

Miranda 
I thought working hard and becoming a reporter would cancel out the juvenile delinquents acts of my past. But that’s not how things work in Lone Star. 

Here, they’ll never see me as anything more than the troubled girl from the wrong side of the tracks. Thankfully, I’ve learned not to let that stand in my way. I know who I am now, and go after what I want. 

Which is exactly what I did when I ran into Ryan John in a dark hallway. He’s carved perfection teeming with good ole boy charm, and I ached to indulge in our sizzling attraction. 

I knew I was playing with fire, but he was worth risking the burn.  

Ryan
For two months, I’ve avoided Miranda. But the taste of her lips and feel of her body against mine hasn’t left my mind for an instant. 

Everyday is a fight against temptation as I focus on my farm and raising my brother and sister. Yet when a mysterious letter arrives, announcing a company wants to buy my water rights, I know I need her whip-smart reporter instincts to help me get to the bottom of this. 

The fact that it gives me a reason to spend another night with her is just icing on a deliciously inviting cake. With my life overrun by family obligations and responsibilities, all I can allow myself is one night. 

One taste...is exactly what I need.

And what I should avoid.

Leseprobe

Wet

Love in Lone Star

Ashley Bostock

Copyright © 2017 by Ashley Bostock

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are being used fictitiously. Any references to such are entirely coincidental and are used for merely the telling of a fictional story.

eBook ISBN: 978-1-948402-03-3

Bonnie West

You mean more to me than you know.

Sharon Morgan

Sometimes it only takes a second to know someone is meant to be in your life.

Ryan J. Bostock

There is always Mexico

Contents

Not To Miss!

1. Miranda

2. Ryan

3. Miranda

4. Ryan

5. Miranda

6. Ryan

7. Miranda

8. Ryan

9. Miranda

10. Ryan

11. Miranda

12. Ryan

13. Miranda

14. Ryan

15. Miranda

16. Ryan

17. Miranda

18. Ryan

19. Miranda

20. Ryan

21. Miranda

22. Ryan

23. Miranda

24. Ryan

25. Miranda

26. Ryan

27. Miranda

28. Ryan

29. Miranda

30. Ryan

Wild - Chapter One - Thatcher

Irresistible Billionaires

Not To Miss!

Also by Ashley Bostock

About the Author

Not To Miss!

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One

Miranda

“He can’t keep his eyes off you.”

“Trust me, I’ve noticed. I can’t keep my eyes off him. But every time I catch him looking at me, he looks at me long enough to make me swoon and then looks away. Why won’t he come talk to me?” I asked Phil as I reached across the mahogany bar top to retrieve my drink.

I’d known him my whole life, and he was currently the bartender for my coworker’s wedding. Phil and I had always been good friends, and I didn’t have many of those. Lone Star was a small town, and behaving as badly as I had during my younger years tended to burn a lot of bridges. Even when I was older.

We both looked around the community center, which was brimming with people. Lights had been strung up on the steel beams that lined the ceiling, intermingled with a white tulle, which, for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why, reminded me of a pincushion—the kind women used for sewing. People sat around the dinner tables that had been decorated in white linens and flowing table skirts. I turned my attention back to Phil.

“That usually means we don’t want to get involved.” He snorted.

“Great. Wouldn’t be the first time a good guy like him would be afraid of me,” I said just as the groom’s grandmother gave me a disapproving frown.

“If he’s as good as everyone says, then he’d judge you on his own. Not take someone else’s word for it. Take my advice, Miranda—if he does that, he ain’t worth it.”

I raised my eyebrows, took my beer, and headed back to my seat, pondering Phil’s words.

That was the case: Ryan was good… too good. He was too good for the likes of me. Everything he did was good. Honorable. Kind. Fair. Smart. He helped old ladies cross the street. In short, he was a decent man, the kind of man I wanted in my life but never managed to have. He was a man whom I was sure could please me sexually, as well as intellectually. He knew how to farm. He knew when the rain would fall and in which direction the wind would blow. His dark hair was cut perfectly against his neck, just where growing it even an inch more would have been too much. As he tilted his head back, taking a swig of his beer, my fingers itched to run through that hair. His jeans fit beautifully along his lean legs and tight butt—more than what I had ever been used to in a guy. Most of the guys I had been involved with had worn ill-fitting pants that hung lower than their waist. But Ryan’s jeans molded his long legs and butt.

And God, did he smell good. He smelled like the rain, the wind, and leather—which I had been pleased to discover when I’d ponied up behind him in line to the bar earlier while he was ordering a drink.

I was, hoping, wanting, and needing him. God, how I wished he would take me into the corner of the bar… well, at least lead me down the hall into the quiet and tell me how much he would like to have his way with me. I knew he wanted me. No one could tell me that the way he smiled at me and the way his eyes glistened and roamed over my chest wasn’t giving me the slightest hint that he was into me. We had something—a connection of some type that I’d never experienced with anyone but him. It was as if all of the attraction and all of our thoughts could be conveyed to each other through these looks.

I’d worn a simple royal-blue minidress that came up above my knees, and he couldn’t take his eyes off me. I’d danced all night, hoping he would come and talk to me or dance with me. He hadn’t done either. It was as if he’d been warned to avoid me, as if he knew in his heart of hearts that I wasn’t much like those out-of-town women he dated—the cliquey-prom-queen kind. Yet his quick glances and the way his lips parted when he was watching me told me he was thinking about me.

Ryan wasn’t a bad boy, not like all of the bad boys who had breezed through my life. Nope, this one was good, and I had somehow managed to snag his attention. He was good because of the things he hadn’t experienced in his life, like I had, by the time he was eighteen. No, by the time I was eighteen, I was working full-time, had already experienced the joys and pain of sex and heartbreak, had been involved in illegal activities, and had done more things than any one person should experience in their lifetime.

But not him. Maybe that was why he’d been avoiding me all night. It’d been too long since a man had touched me. Bad girl that I was, I knew what had to be done. I watched him until he took off alone down the darkened hall of the banquet room, and without thinking of potential consequences, I followed him. I stood on the edges of the darkened hallway and waited until he came barreling out of the bathroom. Then I threw myself into his arms. Literally. He’d caught me, just like I’d caught him by surprise. His muscular arms were already around me, balancing me so we wouldn’t fall together, even though the naughty-girl part of me would have been okay with that. His smoldering gaze bored into my soul, and neither of us spoke a word. The attraction was definitely there.

Up close, I could see the five-o’clock shadow on his cheeks, a tiny scar above his left eyebrow, and the small freckle on his cheekbone. He opened his mouth to speak, and I took that as my invitation to dive in. I closed my mouth over his hot lips. His grip on me tightened as I shoved my tongue into his mouth hard, right down his throat. His heat was melting my insides, making me wish his hands were under my dress instead of around my waist. He gave as good as he got. The fire that had burned between us all night was finally coming to a close…or maybe to a new beginning. His mouth was hot, minty, and tasted faintly of beer as his tongue mingled with mine. We had managed to move ourselves inside a door off the darkened hallway. I don’t know if that was my lead or his, but we’d gotten into a space—someone’s office, from what I could make out with the light off. He propped me up against a desk, and when a sheaf of papers fell to the ground, I wondered idly if those were papers for the wedding. We were at least hidden from view if anyone wanted to use the men’s bathroom.

My pussy was soaking wet from his kisses. They were exactly what I envisioned they would be, how we would be together. His muscular arms made my breath hitch. His rough hands felt like silk, and I couldn’t believe I was going to do it—actually, I could. Brazen girl that I was, I slipped my hand down the front of his denim jeans and cupped the thick bulge I knew was because of me.

He groaned into my mouth, and soon his kisses were all over my lips and cheek, along my neckline and collarbone. His warm breath teased my skin as he went from my neck to my ear and back. Finally, his hands made their way to the hemline of my skirt, and in one swift movement, he pulled it up my thighs, exposing my bright-purple—and now soaked—panties.

For being a good guy, he sure knew how to be bad. His hands were experienced; that was for certain. He didn’t even hesitate by sticking one finger in then two. He just shoved two of his fingers inside my waiting heat and had me begging for release. His fingers were big; they stretched me achingly good.

I wanted more. I wanted his cock inside me. Now. I fumbled with the buckle on his jeans long enough for him to gather his thoughts. He wasn’t going to fuck me here, and if I weren’t being so selfish, I too would’ve had sense enough to realize this stranger’s office, where anyone could walk past the open door, was not the right place.

He stopped with the kisses, and his Southern drawl groaned in my ear, “Can’t. We don’t have a lot of time. Just come.”

His voice alone had brought me closer. His palm rubbed my clit in short strokes as he finger-fucked me like I had never experienced before. I came faster than I ever had, clinging to him like he was my savior, wishing I could take his cock out of his pants and return the favor. His warm breath was in my ear, his lips teasing and tasting my skin, and my knees started to buckle. How could that have felt so intense or that good? Our bodies had some crazy magnetic attraction that molded us together on some crazy, climatic level.

He grabbed my hips with his strong hands and pulled my dress back down to an appropriate level. “Be clear, Miranda, that was a one-time thing.”

What? Hell no, it better not have been. What about him? Didn’t he want me to satisfy him? What did he mean by that? Was I not good enough for anything more than a finger-fuck, honestly? I tried really hard to ignore the sudden anger rising up in my chest. “What do you mean a one-time thing? I’m not good enough for you?”

His hard stare had me guessing what he could possibly be thinking. A quick glance downward told me he was still as hard as ever. I wanted to erase the words he’d just uttered from my mind—and his. I reached down to grab his erection, and he latched on to my wrist.

“Miranda, don’t. I didn’t say you were or weren’t good enough for me, what I said is this isn’t happening again. Ever.”

If he hadn’t been telling me exactly what I didn’t want to hear, I might have enjoyed the way his Southern drawl said my name, the way it flowed from his mouth like it belonged there, but he had me so mad, I didn’t know what to do!

“What the fuck was this then? Why did you do that to me?” I gestured downward toward my dress, still slightly wrinkled from being bunched up around my waist.

I looked up into his icy-blue eyes, waiting for an answer. For a second, I thought he wasn’t going to answer.

Then in a low, hard voice, he told me, “You’ve been looking at me all night, begging for it. Swaying your ass practically in my face. I did it because you wanted it. I’ve got to go.” He left so fast, my head was spinning.

Livid, I picked up all the papers that had fallen to the floor, and without trying to crumple them due to my fury, I threw them haphazardly back on top of the desk. I was reeling. My chest heaved with short, angry bursts of breaths. I felt used even though what he’d done to me was exactly what I’d wanted… well, not exactly, but good enough for now. I had asked for the sexy encounter. Was I already thinking wedding bells for us?

My heart was still beating fast from the best orgasm I’d had in a long time, coupled with the added rage he’d just brought out of me. I wanted to storm after him and twenty-question him on who the hell he thought he was and why the hell he’d gone along with that episode. He clearly wanted me as much as I did him—if only for a few moments. Instead of storming out there, I counted to ten. This was a wedding reception, and loads of people were still milling around. I would only make myself look foolish, not to mention selfish, and I didn’t want to ruin the bride’s special day.

I went into the women’s restroom, restored order to myself, and checked my hair and make-up before I walked back into the banquet hall. Of course, the first thing I noticed was that Ryan was nowhere to be found. Thatcher Patterson—looking mighty fine in a button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up his forearms—sat next to an empty seat. His hair was a tad darker than Ryan’s, and a close-shaven beard and mustache lined his face. The guy was gorgeous, but he didn’t compare to Ryan. At least not in my opinion. I rolled my eyes in resentment. Ryan must have hightailed it out of there as fast as could be, running from the likes of me.

Now, fast-forward two months later, and there I was, sitting at a city council meeting, listening to the council members discuss the firing of the city manager, Arthur Yates. Town rumor, and Arthur’s stance himself, was that he had been fired because of his sexual preference for men. Most likely, he had been the one to start those rumors, but as it was, it had gotten the council members to hold a public meeting. In fact, all the council’s meetings were public, but only a handful had been as popular as the one tonight. The city had to prove and show documentation that they had fired Arthur because of his repeated absences and tardiness to work.

Thoughts of what we’d done together the last time I was here for the wedding had my attention completely. The community center was packed to the gills with people. Instead of the round tables that had been on display for the wedding, rows and rows of chairs were arranged for people to sit. In the front of the banquet hall, a rectangular table with seats was set up for the council members. I had arrived early because I was the reporter and photographer for the town’s newspaper, and it was best to be up close. And who was I kidding? I had to see Ryan. After he’d left me satisfied and equally hot and bothered two months ago, I’d been dying to even catch a glimpse of him since then. Since I was the town’s reporter, I probably should have bumped into him more than I had, but he was good at hiding. Perhaps he was avoiding me.

Ryan—Mr. John, as he was known in the meetings—sat on the city council. At thirty-one years old, he was the youngest member. And though my opinion was biased, I thought he was also the smartest.

The meeting was due to start any moment, but there wasn’t a city council member in sight. They were probably conferring, getting their facts straight, and making sure they presented a united front. I scribbled down a few more questions I had, should they not get answered during the meeting. Then, like everyone else, I waited.

Finally, the five council members and the mayor walked in. My heart beat so loudly, I could hardly hear the murmurs of the people around me. I could hear only the pounding of my pulse and my erratic breathing.

Ryan was the last one who sauntered out of the room, and as if some cosmic force were at hand, he glanced up and looked directly into my eyes. I didn’t waver. I didn’t move. I held his gaze, and my panties got wet, right there in the front row inside the packed hall of the community center. Why did he affect me so? He didn’t smile at me or show any type of emotion, but I was sure he could see the lust in my eyes. I glanced at his cock, wondering if perhaps he might be thinking of the last time he’d seen me and wondering if I just might drive him as crazy as he did me. I couldn’t see a thing, though. Then, when I glanced back up at him, I was certain there was the smallest of smirks on his face. He knew what I was thinking! My cheeks heated, and I finally managed to look away.

The council got down to business pretty quickly. A small portion of our community believed Yates had been wrongfully terminated. The majority felt it was within factual bounds of the rules for employment with the city. Of course, the city had all the documentation to prove his termination had nothing to do with his sexual preference and only to do with his repeated tardiness and absences, even after he’d been put on probation.

It was my turn to ask questions, so I walked to the podium. I could feel his heated gaze following me. I knew it without confirmation because I’d felt the exact same way when he’d pulled me into that room and kissed me. Same electricity. Same feeling deep in my belly. I took my mind out of the gutter in order to do my job. What a sucker I was!

“Good evening! Mr. John, do you have potential candidates for the open position?”

He ran his hand through his hair. “We have a few candidates that have begun the interview process.”

“When can we hope for a new city manager?”

“We hope as quickly as possible, ma’am.”

Ma’am? He’d finger-fucked me in a dark room sixty days ago and had the nerve to call me ma’am?

“Mr. John, how hard has it been these past two months since you’ve been, well, hard-up to find someone else to get the job done?”

I was toying with him, and by the look on his face, he knew I was. My double entendre had us both eyeing each other—him silently, no doubt thinking of an answer, and me, trying very hard not to be pulled to him by the invisible force I could feel between us.

He took a drink of water, deliberately slowly and calculating. I waited, resisting the urge to press my fingertips against my clit, because he already had me in knots, and I needed release. I momentarily forgot the mass of people in the hall before he spoke again.

“It’s easy when you can take matters into your own hands.” He chuckled, and a few of the council members laughed with him. They were all thinking one thing, while he and I were clearly thinking something entirely different. I was giddy with excitement, imagining he hadn’t found another woman, maybe someone with more class than me, to satisfy himself with. The desire in his eyes was there as he spoke to me, just like it had been that night.

He went on. “The position will be adequately filled by the proper help soon enough.” He emphasized the word position, and it made me think of him putting me into position—any position he would like. “With the new candidates that are going to interview, I am confident we will have someone in the next few weeks. Thank you.”

My time was up, and I wanted to toy with him more. Oh, he pushed my buttons. How many women did he give Earth-shattering orgasms to and then blatantly ignore? He had underestimated me. I would not take no for an answer. He was going to end up in bed with me sooner or later, I vowed.

Two

Ryan

She wasn’t good for me. She fucked with my brain. Had me thinking about sex more than I already did. Had me wondering what color panties she was wearing underneath her skirt, if she wore any at all. Whether or not she’d let me stick my cock in her mouth. Too many naughty things came to my mind when I thought about Miranda. I had to avoid her, because if I didn’t, my mind was going to become mush. If I became mush, who would run the farm? Who would take care of my baby sister and my little brother?

With my parents gone, my brother and sister, thirteen-year-old twins, were my responsibility, and every time I saw that woman, I wanted to forget responsibility and remember what it was like when I’d had none. It hadn’t been that long ago. For five years, going on six, I’d been Brianna and Alex’s sole caretaker.

But then Miranda happened, and she made me forget everything.

God, when I had stuck my fingers into Miranda’s pussy and all of her wetness soaked me, I had been… too taken. Her sweet wildflower scent and the way her breath hitched in her throat as I brought her to orgasm had my dick harder than it had been in, well, five or six years, since I’d been allowed my freedom to come and go as I pleased—no pun intended.

One thing I didn’t need in my life was a woman, especially this woman. She could raise hell with one single come-hither of her perfectly painted fingernail. I had too much going on with the farm, as well as Brianna and Alex. There was no way in hell I could allow myself to even toy with Miranda, despite what my cock wanted. She was completely off limits.

She was bad. I didn’t even know much about her on a personal level. Only the rumors that had plagued Lone Star since… hell, I couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t a topic of someone’s conversation to the full extent of gossip or someone having to throw her name in like someone throwing pennies into a bucket. On a professional level, she was a bulldog when she wanted something, and because she was the reporter of Lone Star’s only newspaper and I held a seat on the city council, I wasn’t going anywhere near her… at least in an official capacity.

I shook that thought out of my head. No, just never. No matter how tight—or wet—her pussy was, I couldn’t go near her, ever. I had my siblings’ reputations to worry about. My parents’ upstanding reputations. Our farm. My reputation. I didn’t want to jeopardize my image as a city council member because it gave me the respect I needed. The last thing I needed was Miranda Phillips reversing all of the hard work I had done to earn the respect I had after we lost our parents.

Before they died, everyone in town still thought of me as just a kid. Even though I was twenty-five when they were killed, all of the older folks—whom I now did business with—never gave me the time of day. Never took me too seriously. I was just Joanne and Darrel’s oldest son. It’d taken me six years to earn their approval and trust. I couldn’t throw that away just for some quick pussy. A-fucking-mazing, wet pussy or not.

Although, the more I thought about it and the more irritated I got with myself for even thinking this far ahead, who would ever find out? Since the wedding, where she’d let me finger-fuck her—which proved how out-of-control she made me, and I knew she would have let me take her then and there—I’d somehow known in my heart of hearts that she would keep this between us. Whatever the fuck this was. As I watched her scribble down her notes, I had no doubt she was hot and bothered by fucking with me with her questions, which I knew she was asking on a sexual level. She was most likely as wet as she’d been those few short months ago. The faint blush that had crept up her pale chest, and she scribbled furiously onto her paper as if she were trying to forget something. And then there it was. She glanced up at me, the tip of her pen resting on her bottom lip, her mouth forming a pout around the pen as her heavy-lidded eyes gazed into mine. Fuck.

I’d never felt any female that soaked before. I had my own list of women I’d fucked—none lived in Lone Star—who wanted it just as badly as I did. But none of them could hold a flame to Miranda. Watching her take her seat, her legs slightly parting as she sat down and retrieved something that had fallen to the ground, I knew she would be a hell-raiser in bed. Just thinking about what she would do to me with those lips, her tongue, her hands… if I would let her, made my dick hard. I refocused my attention from Miranda to the crowd.

But they seemed to only want to look in one place—back to Miranda. She bewitched me. She caught me staring at her, and she actually smiled at me. I glared back. There was no way I was going to give her any indication that we had a relationship or that I was okay with what we’d done in someone’s fucking office at a wedding. It shouldn’t have happened.

I knew what her reputation was all about. Her parents couldn’t have given a shit where she was while she was growing up. She’d been running around with the wrong crowd, getting involved with drugs and alcohol, no doubt sleeping with any man—young or old—who gave her attention. Oddly enough, I didn’t hold any of that against her. It didn’t bother me that she’d slept around or had done drugs. In fact, if I were totally honest with myself, she intrigued me more than she scared me. But I knew how Lone Star worked. If I were involved with her, everyone would hold it against me. Even if she was no longer the run-around juvenile delinquent she’d once been, she was still bad for me. We’d simply grown up on opposite sides of the track. The people who lived in little towns didn’t forget things.

Once again, I had to refocus my attention back to the reason I was at the meeting. Jackass Arthur. No one gave a crap if he was gay. The meeting was a complete waste of time and couldn’t end too soon if I had anything to say about it. There was plenty of proof he’d been fired for being consistently late, having repeated absences, and generally not doing his job. More people took to the podium to voice their opinions, but no one was as intriguing as Miranda. Or as beautiful.

I glanced over at her, sitting in the front row, and Jean Yates, Arthur’s younger brother, was striking up a conversation with her. A smile spread across her face, and I could tell she was giggling by the way her hand fluttered to her chest. Something inside me snapped.

I wanted to kick his ass out of there. Not in a nice way. I literally wanted to grab his shoulders and knock the fucking smile off his face. His hand traveled to her bare knee, and I watched her pull it away in an obvious attempt to get his hand off her. Jean didn’t take the hint. The more I watched, the more I wanted to rip his eyeballs out of his head and shove them down his throat.

Take a fucking hint, Yates.

My jaw began to hurt from clenching my teeth together, and it was all I could do to stay calm while the city council meeting wrapped up. I even adjusted my seat, hoping that in doing so, it would change my line of vision. But it didn’t. I could still see him attempting to flirt with her, and his not-so-subtle attempts at touching her, out of the corner of my eye. Thank God this fucking meeting is pretty much done. I didn’t need to be the one to worry about her. But even as I told myself that, I worried.

As the town’s only reporter and main photographer, she would have a chance at the end to request photos of the city council or whatever else tickled her fancy, but I was getting the hell out of there. Or I would punch Yates and no doubt make a fool of myself. Somehow, that would really get Miranda’s goat going, questioning what the hell I was thinking.

Finally, relief. The bastard had no proof anyone on the board or anywhere else had canned him because of his preference or men. I stood up, collecting my belongings, and I could smell her wildflowers before I saw her. Her scent took me back to two months ago, when her pussy was tightening around my two fingers and her little mewls of pleasure were penetrating my ear.

“Mr. John?”

“Call me Ryan, Miranda.” Really, with the way I’d made her come, it made me feel like a nasty old man for her to call me Mr. John.

I ignored her breathy sigh as she started again. “Ryan, could I please get your picture with the mayor?”

Once I’d collected my belongings, I gazed down at her, and the fuck if I couldn’t see directly down her blouse. I was taller than her by a good foot, and without trying too hard, I could see she wasn’t wearing a bra. I couldn’t see nipples or anything exciting, just the soft mounds of flesh, which instantly got my cock’s attention. No wonder Jean wouldn’t leave her alone. Arthur’s asshole brother was standing behind her, clearly waiting for her to finish up. The crowd in the community center was thinning out, half already having left. I wanted to tell him to get lost, but I knew it wasn’t of my concern.

What’d she ask? Oh yeah, the picture.

“Sure.” I wasn’t normally as cooperative as I was right then, but Yates had me pissed, and I was going to take my sweet fucking time with the lovely Miranda. Maybe he would get bored with waiting and leave.

I followed Miranda over to the mayor, watching her tight ass swing to the left and back to the right as she made her way through the small crowd. Rich saw us upon arrival, and when the mayor didn’t acknowledge her waiting there for him, I took it upon myself to explain that Miranda wanted our picture for the paper.

“For the paper,” she emphasized, camera already pointed and ready to shoot.

We posed together. She snapped a few photos and double-checked her images. I enjoyed the grin that spread across her face way too much.

“Rich, would you mind if—” her voice trailed as he walked away and for a split second I saw the hurt in her eyes before she quickly plastered on a smile. “Well, thank you.”

I admired how easily she brushed off Rich’s dismissal, as if men flirted with her all the time. In her eyes, that same connection that had been between us at the wedding was still present, and I couldn’t help but feel bad about how it had hurt her. Unlike Rich, I remained a gentleman and bid her farewell.

No way was I sticking around her longer than I needed to, even if I wasn’t sure of Jean’s intentions. Miranda was a big girl.

Three

Miranda

He was saying his goodbyes to the few council members who’d stayed behind to visit, and I went back to my chair to gather up my few belongings. I was hoping if I were quick enough, I could go out the front door and maybe corner him in the night as he walked to his car.

“You had some great questions tonight, Miranda.”

Ugh, Jean Yates was behind me. He’d been trailing after me since the meeting ended. I was hoping he would take the hint and leave me alone. I wasn’t interested in him, and I’d tried to let him know in as nice as way as possible, but he still wasn’t taking the hint even when I avoided looking him in the eye.

“Thanks, Jean. Well, I’ll see you around.” I made a beeline for the front of the empty community center, hoping what I’d said would give him a clue. I opened my purse and fished the keys out of the bottom, then someone’s hand grasped my shoulder. I turned. Jean Yates. Ugh. The night was quiet save for the rustling of the maple trees that lined the sidewalk in front of the community center. The building was located a block from Lone Star’s Main Street, where almost all of the businesses were—the newspaper, three gas stations, the florist, a feed store, and other businesses a small town needed in order to save people from having to drive too far away.

“Let me walk you to your car.”

“No, Jean, really. I’ve got it. You can go.” I continued along the sidewalk then turned away from the main street, making my way to my car, hoping once again that he would figure out I didn’t want him near me.

“I’ll walk with you.”

What more could I say? Should I repeat myself? Be more forceful? I didn’t care for Jean or Arthur, but because of my career, I wasn’t in a position to necessarily avoid every person in town I disliked, so I tried to be nice to everyone.

“You don’t have to,” I said, hoping my voice sounded a little firmer than it had before.

I made it to my car and unlocked the door, loving the feel of the warm summer air caressing my skin. The moon looked full, but I knew it wasn’t. The temperature inside the community center had been turned to its max and would have been cool if not for all the people, but it had been hot and sticky. The humid air outside was only better because there was room to move. And the summer air smelled good, like a warm, grassy hiding place along the water. My favorite. I turned to say goodbye to Jean, but before I could open my mouth, he’d snaked his hand around my waist.

“Look, maybe we could go somewhere a little more private.”