“Shit. Is this place even open?” Sloane asks, sitting up and looking around.
“Let me check.” I get out and go to the front door, groaning when I read the hours. Not open for another hour.
Disappointed, I head back to the truck and let Sloane know.
“What did you plan on doing anyway? Sit here and wait in hopes that Lexi comes by? Even if she was coming, if the bakery isn’t open yet, then they wouldn’t have anything baked for a while.”
“I couldn’t sit in the hotel room anymore,” I mutter, staring at the window.
This place truly is beautiful, with the mountains surrounding us on all sides.
“Well, I could have used a few hours of sleep in a real bed,” he mutters. “My back is killing me, I’m tired, and I have to piss.”
Getting out of the truck, he walks over to a nearby tree and whips his dick out before he begins to piss.
“What are you doing?!” I hiss, sticking my head out his window.
“When you gotta go, you gotta go.”
“Stop that!”
“No can do. It's already mid-stream,” he calls back.
“You are going to get us kicked out of this town! What if someone sees?”
And because the world hates me, two older ladies walk by.
“Howdy, ladies,” Sloane greets when they look over at him, gaping in horror as he continues to piss. “Mighty fine morning today, isn’t it?” He gives his dick a shake when he’s done and tucks himself into his pants. “A wee bit chilly. Makes my dingle berries want to go hibernate, if you know what I mean.” He winks. “Anyway, have a good day.” He waves before swaggering back to the truck.
“What?” he asks when he sees the look on my face.
I growl, my hand shooting out the open window and hitting him right in the throat.
He lets out a choking sound, grabbing for his neck. “Fuck,” he grunts. “You throat punched me!”
“You’re lucky I don't do more than that!”
“Fuck. That hurt.”
“You done fucking around?” I’m growing irritated with his bullshit fast.
“Yes,” he growls. “Can we at least go somewhere else and not sit in the truck like a couple of creepers?”
“Oh, so now you’re worried about looking like a creeper?” I narrow my eyes. “You just had your dick out for the world to see.” I wave my hand in the direction he was just in.
“Not the world. Just two ladies.” He rolls his eyes.
“Who you most likely scarred for life.”
“Please,” he snorts. “I probably made them cream their panties.” He grins wickedly as he cups his junk.
“You’re giving off frat boy vibes. Rein it in. Have you taken your meds today?”
He grunts and opens the truck door, opening the glove compartment and grabbing a bottle of pills. He opens it up, taps one out into the palm of his hand, and pops it into his mouth, swallowing it dry. “Happy?”
“Yes, actually.”
Sloane has severe ADHD. If he doesn’t take his meds regularly, he’s much worse than this. At home, it’s fine. I love his crazy, impulsive ass. I find the way he can talk my ear off entertaining, and when he squirrels from one topic to the next, it’s cute.
