How is it something as innocuous as a forearm can turn me on so much?
It’s not up for debate; forearms are the sexiest part of a man’s body.
Wes’ deep chuckle pulls my gaze from his arms to his face, and the entertainment dancing in his eyes is obvious. He totally noticed I was ogling him.
“See something you like, Red?” he teases.
I roll my eyes, pretending to be cool as a cucumber when, clearly, I am so far from cool. My body is reacting to his proximity, already aching to be filled because of the forearm porn, and all I want to do is pull him inside so I can have my way with him.
I’m saved from having to form a witty reply when Dixie flies onto the porch, her tail wagging so fervently that her whole body wiggles with it. Wes crouches down in front of her. “Hey, Dix. How are you feeling today, girl?” he croons in a gentle, sweet tone that makes me weak in the knees.
Dixie looks at him with those lovesick puppy-dog eyes. She’s a goner for Wes. That much is apparent, and it makes my insides turn to mush hearing him coo and sweettalk her the way he is.
“She’s been running around, herding the goats all day,” I answer since Dixie can’t speak for herself. “Completely back to herself, wreaking her usual havoc.”
“Good girl,” he murmurs into her fur.
I melt on the spot at those words, even though I know he was talking to the dog and not me.
Down, girl. Keep your lady bits in check.
He must feel me staring because he clears his throat and stands up, shoving his hands in his pocket. “Do you have some time to talk?” There’s a nervousness in the way he avoids my gaze.
Well, that doesn’t bode well for my body’s ideas of what we should be doing tonight. I step back into the warmth of my house and gesture for him to follow.
I snag the bottle of whiskey from the top shelf and grab a couple of tumblers because now that my head is laying out all the possibilities, I’m entirely too anxious. Wes arches a brow at me when I pour him a couple of fingers of whiskey, but he accepts the tumbler when I place it in his hand. I pour some for myself and sit at the table, leaving the bottle next to me. Just in case.
I take a long drink of my whiskey. “What’s up?” I ask.
He eyes his glass and takes a small sip. “Well, first of all, I just wanna say that I’m having a really fun time with you.”
I down the rest of the whiskey. “But?”
He winces. “But I’m still leaving at the end of this month.”
Oh.
My heart drops.
It’s a silly reaction. We aren’t dating, and I always knew this would only last for as long as he was in Cottonwood Creek. Regardless, this conversation is throwing me off balance. It’s not the direction I hopedthings would go tonight. I didn’t want to have to think about him leaving.
I square my shoulders. “I hadn’t thought your plans would change just because we fucked,” I reassure him, pouring my second and last drink for the night.
He winces again, whether at my matter-of-fact tone or because of the words I used, I’m not sure. I drink my second glass of whiskey slower, allowing Wes the time to find his words.
His thumb arcs around the rim of the cup as he nods absently. “Okay. Good.” He takes a deep swig of the amber liquid. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get the wrong idea after… the other night.”
Right, because he’d been vulnerable. He’d opened up by telling me he’d wanted to stay once. Something he’d never told anyone else. And then we'd… It had beenmorethan sex. It had been earth-shattering, but I knew it didn’t mean he was ready to stay now.
Iknewit.
And yet, it still smarts to hear him say.
I’m glad I grabbed the whiskey.
I laugh without any humor and finally meet his gaze. “This isn’t anything serious, Wes. We have always had an expiration date.Iknow that.Youknow that.The whole townknows that, as much as they’re trying to pretend otherwise.” The words taste sour on my tongue, even though they’re true enough.
He stares into his glass before downing the rest of the whiskey, cringing as the liquid burns its way down his throat.
