Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 22762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 114(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 114(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
“Mittenville is doing a tour of homes for Christmas. My barn is one of the stops, and it has to be a fancy tea party. I figured you’d know all about that fancy shit living there.” I stand up from the booth, and it’s then I realize just how much I tower over her. “I’ll buy everything and pay you real good.”
Her mouth drops open and then snaps shut before opening again. Nothing comes out as she blinks, and then she shakes her head. “I don’t think you want me,” she finally admits.
Pulling out my wallet, I peel off a few big bills and drop them down the front of her apron. “That’s where you’re wrong, little star. I want you real bad.”
I tip my Stetson at her before I turn around and walk out of the diner. My cock is too fucking hard for me to sit there any longer, and I don’t want to jerk off in that nasty-ass bathroom. No, I’m gonna go home and push my jeans down my thighs as I take my thick length in my hand and imagine guiding it into her. I’m gonna cum while I think about Sabrina moaning my name and her heavy tits bouncing in my face.
Chapter Three
Sabrina
I stare at Booker as he makes his way out of the diner, sure that I hadn’t heard him right. Everyone else is watching him too. The man has some kind of pull where he makes everyone take notice of him without even trying.
He left his coffee untouched, but I reach into my apron and pull out the money he slipped inside. I let out a small gasp when I see it’s two hundred-dollar bills.
Did he mean to leave them? There is no way. Then again, Booker isn’t the kind of man to make a mistake. Guilt eats at me because I don’t want a handout, and that’s what this is. He knew who I was, so maybe he feels bad for me. Everyone assumes I’m exactly like my father, and I won’t let him think that too. I also don't want anyone to accuse me of stealing.
When I take off after Booker, I hear George call after me. I ignore him and blurt out an apology when I almost run into someone. As soon as I’m outside, I spot the giant black Ford F-250 truck as its engine roars to life.
“Booker!” I call after him, but I’m not sure he hears me until the engine dies back down. I reach the side of his truck just as he's opening the door.
“Careful,” he grits out right as I lose my footing on the slippery gravel. I don't know how it happens, but he's out of the truck with his arms wrapped around me before I can fall. "You always this clumsy?"
If I wasn't already embarrassed, his comment would have sent me over the edge. My cheeks are already warm, and I know it's showing. It’s too bad I don't have an adorable blush. Instead, my face gets giant red blotches across my cheeks and neck. Sometimes on my chest too.
"Kinda," I admit. Booker stares down at me, but neither of us says a word. He doesn't release his hold, and his earthy scent, tinged with a hint of mint, envelops me.
"Sabrina!" Joy calls my name, breaking me from whatever spell Booker put me under.
"Sorry." I push on Booker's chest so that I can step back, but he doesn't release me. In fact, his fingers tighten before he finally lets me go. "I'm good," I call back to Joy, who is watching us. "I'll be right in. He just forgot something." She nods before heading back inside.
"I didn’t forget.”
"Oh." I hold up the crumpled hundreds so he can see them. They were nice and crisp before I almost fell. "I thought maybe..." I trail off.
"The money?" he asks, like that's not what I was talking about.
"Yeah." I hold the money out to him. "You didn't even drink the coffee."
"I got what I came for, little star. Now get back inside," he orders.
"Yes, sir," I respond before shoving the money into my apron pocket and making my way back to the diner.
I don't hear the roar of his truck's engine until I'm back inside. I watch his truck pull out of the parking lot, and for some reason I can still feel his touch lingering on my hips.
“What was that all about?” Joy asks.
“I really don’t know.” Now I’ve got more questions I want to ask him, but when he told me to go back inside, I obeyed. “He gave me a giant tip. Does he always do that?”
“He doesn’t come in here, but he’s generous with things around town. Even though he’s standoffish.”
That must be it. He’s just generous. I guess I’d rather think that than him seeing me as pathetic.