That jolt hits me again as Tre teases me about being watched. Glancing towards the table where the four men sit, I try to seem nonchalant. I hope Sebastian does not notice how I also cannot take my eyes off him. It is the most peculiar thing. Never would have thought a rugged lumberjack would check all my boxes, but here we are.
I am nothing if not brazen. Writing my name—in case he forgot it since he neveraskedfor it—and number on the receipt, I drop it off with a smile. There is just something that makes me want to find out all I can about the handsome man that sent a shockwave through me.
Once I drop the receipt off, I make myself scarce. I find plenty to do to ready the bar for the dinner rush. I avoid the front as long as Tre lets me. I do was brave enough to pass my number to him after a little flirting, but I guess I am not yet ready to face him.
“He is gone, Scout,” Tre calls with a chuckle. “No need to hide.”
Ducking my head out from behind the swinging doors to the back kitchen, I make a face at her. I am glad we get along so well. I have Brielle and Lennon and the other girls, but working with Tre these past few days has been a good time. Brielle and the others are my closest, dearest friends—they just do not understand the struggles most of us have.
I am not working here because I love making cocktails or lobster rolls. It is a job that will pay the rent. While I have circled the world, I have worked a hundred different jobs. There were none I liked more or less, at least not yet. I guess as I was out there finding the world; I put in the work to find myself.
Really, I was running from myself, from my pain, from my loss.
Now here I am in this adorable city with its adorable mountains and cute shops, and big, beautiful lumberjacks. I cannot keep running. My mother would not want me to. I completed the trip she always wanted to. I have nowhere else left to go. No other places I want to see or experience.
Am I attracted to this lumberjack because I want a new adventure?
Chapter Three
Sebastian
I often wonder how the hell I survive the way I do.
Locked up in my cabin, the windows blowing in warm, dense air, an old baseball game on that I don’t even care about. It is a beautiful day out despite the heat swell, but here I sit all alone with no plans to change that. Even though I want to, I cannot stop thinking about the adorable waitress at The Rusty Nail.
Scout. Something about her has shaken me to my core.
For days I have looked at that receipt with her number on it, unable to make a move. Unable to gather the courage to text her or even call. I don’t know how to do this sort of thing. How to flirt, or even worse, how to date.
“Can’t find out if you’re too chickenshit to call the girl,” I mutter.
Considering this and how much I want to see her again, I decide. I might not like crowds or big to-dos, and yeah, I am a little grumpier than most, and I never try to make friends outside of my crew. It is no way to live life, to shut the entire world out because of a few bad experiences.
Yes, the first woman I was with—who I thought I might marry and have children with—chose someone else. And yes, my parents and I do not have the best relationship. Their constant infidelities set a terrible example of how to behave in a relationship. But I have watched several of the Felle Landing guys find wonderful women, start families, and get to have it all.
Could I have it all with Scout?
“How about you givesomethinga shot, you goofy fuck,” I tell myself before I push to my feet, my body aching from sitting for so long.
Heading for a shower, I try to clear my head. To think of something other than Scout. It has been impossible to shake my thoughts off her. Of that round ass of hers in those tiny shorts she wore that day. How her thick thighs looked so damn delicious I just wanted to be buried between them.
“Well, fuck,” I hiss at myself as my cock jerks to life, the hot water and filthy thoughts offering no relief. “Scout is a sweet little thing, I bet she would taste sweet. Sweeter than pie, that little slice of heaven between her thighs, I bet,” I grunt as I fist myself, tugging roughly at my hard shaft.
Pumping my fist faster, I almost punish my cock for how hard it gets just thinking about her. It is not the first time I’ve rubbed myself out since we met. All I can think about is how sweet she will sound when I fill her pussy with my thick cock. How wet she will get when I lick her for hours, eating every sweet drop of her cream.
Closing my eyes, I imagine her here with me, full, round tits soapy and wet, brushing against my chest. I imagine her rubbing that soft body against me, begging me to fuck her until she hurts. Until she comes on my cock and tells me she needs me, that she wants just me, only ever fucking me.
“Ah, fuck,” I grunt, coming as I imagine her sweet voice telling me to fuck her harder,harder, make it hurt. “That’s my girl. Fuck, that’s it Scout.”
Coming hard, I shudder as the orgasm works its way through me. It burns up my spine as my cum swirls down the drain, rope after rope of it. I want to come on her soft tits, on her pretty pussy, even on her beautiful face. I have never wanted these sorts of primal, possessive things with anyone before.
With her, everything feels different. I was so nervous that day at the bar. It didn’t stop me from going back half a dozen times since. I cannot help it. I am not sure I have ever felt what she makes me feel. At work, on the landing, I am confident. I am good at what I do. I am even good at leading a crew of roughnecks who sometimes behave worse than kindergarteners.
I am not good with people. I fumble over my words; I get anxious when I am in a crowd. I never much liked school because I never found where I fit. Once I got in the military and found others who struggled the same as I do, everything clicked. I had found where I fit.
Now I have no idea how to make these thoughts, these feelings about Scout, fit. All I know is I want to see her. I want to find out if she likes baseball or prefers football. I wonder if she would want to sit with me here in the quiet of my cabin, just letting me hold her while we watched a game or did nothing at all.
I want to find out if she can fit with me somehow.
