Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
“Fuck, woman.” Ford tugged the towel out of my free hand and wrapped it around my waist, grabbing the two ends and holding them in front of me. When I turned, I’d given Kennedy my backside.
“You’re the one who stole my pants. If you’ve got a problem with my bare ass, then maybe you shouldn’t have done that.”
“I don’t have a problem with your bare ass, but I have a problem with Kennedy seeing it.”
“My bare ass is not your responsibility.”
His dark eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched so hard I wasn’t sure how his back teeth didn’t crack.
“Can we stop saying bare ass? Also, every inch of you is my responsibility.”
I glared. He glared. He had no reason—or right—to be protective.
“Since when? If I remember correctly, you didn’t want anything to do with my bare ass or any other inch of me.”
“Your eighteen-year-old, barely legal ass that was in my bed?”
My cheeks flamed and shame swamped me.
I grabbed the towel and kept it wrapped around my waist. “Give me my pants, and I’ll put them on just as fast as I did that night. I wouldn’t want Mrs. L–your grandmother–to see me like this.”
“It’s okay for Kennedy, though?” he countered.
“I didn’t know Kennedy was even here.”
“I have three other men living here now. And Gram’s off on some senior group field trip.”
Four men on the property?
Kennedy came over and stood beside us. “All right, you two.” His hand went between our bodies like a ref at a boxing match. “Sweetheart, it’s raining something fierce out there, as you well know. Let’s get your clothes dry, and I’ll drive you back to town.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll grab one of my shirts, and you can wear that in the meantime.”
“No fucking way is she wearing one of your shirts,” Ford countered.
Kennedy only smiled.
“You want her to wear a towel or blanket until her clothes dry?”
I liked Kennedy more and more by the minute.
“She’s not wearing your shirt,” Ford snapped.
Kennedy sighed as if trying to have a conversation with a stubborn preschooler. “Fine. Top of the stairs is the linen closet, sweetheart. There are some flannel sheets and you can grab one. Bathroom’s across the hall. Bring your wet things down, and they’ll go in the dryer.”
While Kennedy lived in the bunkhouse–Gramp’s workshop that had been newly converted–he’d spent a few months while the work was being done upstairs.
I nodded. The faster my clothes dried, the faster I could be out of here.
I took the steps to the second floor but paused at the top when I heard their voices.
“Sweetheart? What the fuck? She’s Buck’s little sister!” Ford snapped.
“She’s not little. She’s all woman. Every inch. Believe me, I saw.”
I thought I heard Ford growl again, but it didn’t carry well up the steps.
“You’re not touching her.”
“Why? Are you going to tap that?”
Tap that. I was now a that.
“Nobody is going to tap that.”
Nobody? Excuse me? My sex life was none of Ford’s business. He certainly didn’t have a say in whether I slept with Kennedy or the two other mystery men staying here or anyone else. He missed his chance at being a part of that, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to take over the controlling big brother act now that Buck was gone.
“Why the hell not?”
“She’s Buck’s sister.”
“You’ve said that five fucking times. She’s what, mid-twenties? A grown-ass woman who can speak for herself. Besides, I’m sure some other guy claimed that sweet prize since you didn’t.”
They really were a bunch of foul-mouthed sailors. I wasn’t thrilled about my virginity being a topic of their guy talk. I had planned to give it to Ford that night, but instead, gave it to a guy in my dorm a few months later, in the first semester of college. If Ford hadn’t wanted it, then I hadn’t cared who took it, only that it was gone.
“Fuck, Kennedy. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Me? You stole her fucking pants.”
I didn’t stick around for more. Tiptoeing, I found the linen closet and the soft sheets Kennedy mentioned. While Ford was military precise, I had a feeling it was his grandmother, Mrs. L, who’d made the linens so organized.
I needed out of this house. Ford brought back memories I didn’t want to resurface. Same went for the room just down the hall. Not only because he’d been so close to Buck, had been there when he’d died, but because of how I’d loved him—or imagined I had. I knew now it was a schoolgirl crush. I’d been naive and stupid.
I wasn’t either any longer.
I stepped into the bathroom initially to just shuck the wet t-shirt. Once I had it off though, the shower seemed to be calling to me. I removed my sports bra and panties, hung the wet clothes on a towel rack, and turned the water to hot. I stepped in and quickly rinsed the mud from my skin.