I slipped a hand in his and he walked me to my car. Outside, he opened my door for me, waiting until I climbed in before closing it. Once I turned on the ignition, I rolled the window down. “I’ll text you when I get there.”
Leaning in, he placed a slow, lingering kiss to my lips. “Call me.”
I gripped his collar, holding him in place. “You know the town will talk. I’m sure someone just saw you kiss me.”
“Tomorrow, everyone will think we eloped because you were pregnant with my baby.”
I giggled. “Or Laura hit you in the head with her shoe because she found out we were having an illicit affair behind her back.”
He cracked up. “Right.” He kissed me again. “I don’t care, though.” Stepping away from the car, he waved. “Drive safe.”
As I drove away, I thought about last night, about the wish I’d made out loud and the silent ones I’d been too scared to voice. For the first time, I thought all of them might be within reach. And I couldn’t be happier.
Chapter Six
Snow in the Crack
JUKE
“Agentleman would at least take a woman to dinner before he fucks her.”
Growing up with a granny that had no filter had prepared me to handle anything. That particular piece of advice hadn’t been asked for or received well. What fifteen-year-old kid wanted his grandmother to talk about fucking or anything related to his dick? But that didn’t stop Julianne Lee Bush from saying anything she wanted to say—at any moment.
The lesson stuck with me, though. Which was why I didn’t take anyone to bed lightly. Sure, I’d had my fair share of pussy, but for the most part, I didn’t enjoy sleeping around. The older I got, the more I realized I wanted what Bryson had with Jordan, what Parker had with Kennedi, what Brooklyn had with Carter. I wanted to come home to someone at the end of the night. I looked forward to foot massages, middle-of-the-night sex… babies.
Is Ronnie that person for me? Sometimes I wondered if she was too good to be true, if she would morph into someone I couldn’t stand—like Laura had. But the part of me that had fallen hard for Ronnie knew she was everything I thought she was.
In fact, the only doubt I had now was…Italian or Steakhouse? It had been a week since I’d asked her out on a date. Officially. While she was in Indianapolis, we’d talked often. We’d even eaten dinner together on a Zoom chat.
One night, she’d called me in tears because of some family thing. I spent hours trying to make her laugh. Eventually, we watched a movie together on Netflix. She’d fallen asleep, though. And I’d listened to her soft snores until I did, too.
Early this morning, she’d texted me to let me know she was on her way home. I’d responded with an invitation to dinner. Whether we ended up in her bed tonight or mine remained to be seen, but I would be lyin’ if I said I didn’t want to be with her. My hands itched to explore her body in ways that I’d dreamed about. But I’d let her set the pace. I was down for whatevershewanted. Because my granny had taught me gentlemanly manners.
If only the weather would hold up.
The bell above the door rang, and I looked up to see Mr. Mays had shuffled in, covered in snow. “Hey, Old Man,” I called.
“Juke! How the hell are ya?” he asked, shaking his hat off. “It’s cold out there.”
Carl Mays had owned CM Market for years, until the local Walmart put him out of business. His wife, Mildred, and my granny were best friends. And they’d died within months of each other. We’d supported each other through that time, and I continued to be there for him whenever he needed me.
I poured him his usual. Grapefruit juice on ice. No gin. “What are you doing out today?”
At eighty-years-old, Mr. Mays was still on the go, driving his pick-up truck through town, walking his dog in the park every single day. “Looks like we’re going to get a snow storm,” he mused, taking a sip of his drink. “Six to eight inches. I came down here to get a few things, in case I’m snowed in for a few days.”
Frowning, I picked up my phone and checked the forecast. Sure enough, what had started out as scattered flurries had now been upgraded to a damn-near blizzard.Shit.
I leaned my elbows against the bar. “Hopefully, it passes by.”
“You know how it is, son. We live in Michigan.”
Chuckling, I nodded at a couple as they walked out of the bar. “Have a good evening,” I told them. My waitress was on lunch, so I hurried to their table to clean it off.
I set the couple’s used dishes in a bin and wiped the table off. On my way back to the bar, I asked Mr. Mays, “Need me to help you with anything? You still have Sheriff Walker’s grandson taking care of your home maintenance?”
“I’m fine,” he grumbled. “You need to worry about yourself.”
I blinked. “Huh? Something I should know?”
