by Knox, Abby
“Yeah, I remember that day.”
“It wasn’t long after that I was staring at your giant boner on display in those cute-ass tight swim trunks.”
She gives my cock a hard squeeze and I suck my breath in through my teeth.
“I remember, Shermer.”
“Good. Then you know there’s only one sausage I crave.”
“Dirty girl.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“Really? What else you got?” I ask, playfully suspicious.
She hops off me and trots over to the nightstand and pulls out three objects: my Greenbridge trunks, my clipboard and my whistle.
I laugh. “What am I supposed to do with all of that?”
“Boss me around, Coach. Just the way I like it.”
THE END
Acknowledgments
Credit and thanks to Alexa Riley for permission to use the line, “Woman, you ain’t a parking lot. No way I’m pulling out.”
#blessed
About the Author
Abby Knox lives a dual life. Fantasy Abby would love to live on a farm with goats, bees, chickens, donkeys and alpaca, making her own soap, yarn, honey and cheese. Reality Abby has no desire to do actual farm work. So, the ever-pragmatic Reality Abby keeps Fantasy Abby happy by putting her into adorable little works of romantic fiction with her pretend hobbies. Both Abbies hope you enjoy her sweet, sexy — sometimes a little over the top and weird — storytelling.
Keep up with the latest news with Abby’s newsletter!
Say hello at
[email protected]
Also by Abby Knox
From the Small-Town Bachelor Romance Series
(each can be read as a stand-alone, but if you want to read in order … this is the order)
Take Me Home
Game Face
Written in the Stars, a special Christmas edition
Walk With Me
Stay the Night
I’ve Got You
Come And Get It
The Windy City Holiday Duet
Pumpkin and Spice
Comfort and Joy
Beach Avenue Babes
His Vinyl Vixen (a stand alone for the rock ’n’ roll nerd in all of us)
Her Hi-Fi Hunk (Dusty and Jed from His Vinyl Vixen)
Stand alone short reads and novellas
Fencing Her In (A bad neighbors to lovers story. With a lot of dogs. You need this in your life.)
One Good Woman (a stand-alone mistaken identity/conspiracy/political drama)
Naughty Irish Heart (a time-hopping Saint Patrick’s Day Romance — two couples and two HEAs in one book! part of a four-author themed collection!)
Sweet Jane
(An over-the-top amnesia story about being lost, and then found.)
The Christmas Pickup (a holiday short read full of feels, quirky characters and one damn hot tow truck driver!)
Saved for Me
(a special Holidays with Alexa Riley story)
Matched for Me (A Valentine’s Day story with Fletcher from Saved for Me)
Off-Season Stud (a fun and sexy vacation trope with an OTT ending!)
The Sisters of Enchantment series (a paranormal collection of stories about … yes … witches. I know you want more of these … they’re coming!)
Some Basic Witch
Witch, Please!
An excerpt from the next story in the Greenbridge Academy collection….
Grumpy Dad
Vince
The number isn’t familiar, so I hit decline.
I’ve done enough people-ing today.
People suck.
I had a meeting with my court-ordered counselor right after dropping off Max at school, and I was almost late to it.
And now I’m all talked out.
The plan is to spend the rest of the day driving my classic Mustang around town looking at available office spaces until it’s time to pick Max up from school. If I don’t figure out a way to make some money soon, I might have to sell this sweet ride, which represents the entirety of my inheritance from my hardworking parents, may they Rest In Peace.
I grab some burgers from a fast food drive through and ponder the properties I’ve looked at so far. The notes on my legal pad do not look promising.
The first one, downtown, was cool and looked like an old fashioned private investigator’s office right out of an old movie. But it was too expensive, and the plumbing was for shit, no pun intended. I mean that; I hate puns.
The second one was so small it barely had room for a small desk and a laptop, let alone my ass. Of course, my ass could do with fewer burgers for lunch, if I’m honest.
I’m mulling over whether it’d be unsafe for Max if I worked from home as a PI when the phone rings again, same number.
The only reason I answer is because it’s local.
“Yeah,” I grunt.
“Mister Cole! Hi! So glad I finally got hold of you!”
It’s a woman. A loud woman.
“OK,” I say, waiting for the sales pitch, more interested in watching a couple of squirrels scampering in the street in front of my parked car.
“This is Ms. Fairhope calling from Greenbridge. I wanted to see if you could pop by for a minute?”
The woman with a voice like an overexcited Disney princess wants to meet with me. On the first day of school. Pop in? I may amble, mosey, drag ass, schlep, roll in, or, on the rare occasion that I’ve drunk too much tequila, shamble. Never in my life have I “popped in” anywhere.
Then it hits me. Shit. This better not be about some PTA fundraising shit because no can do, lady.
“I’m kinda busy,” I reply, speaking through a mouthful of my quarter-pounder with cheese.
I worry for a second that maybe she’s calling because the Greenbridge gatekeepers have found a problem with the scholarship application. Everything had been kind of rushed to get Max in, and he’d been bumped up to the top of the waiting list due to his special circumstances.
But, dammit, I filled out every line of that 87 page scholarship packet. Well, with the help of Shelley, who knows about that kind of shit.
Shelley and her husband Barry are about the only people in my life still talking to me after I lost my job, and fully supported Max coming to live with me when many other people thought it was a bad idea. With their combined knowledge and connections, and the court’s permission, they insisted on me sending Max to Greenbridge, despite my grumbling on and on about that fancy school. Those two made sure every “t” was crossed and every “i” dotted.
What more does this school want? A DNA sample?
“Max won’t eat lunch, so I thought maybe you could offer some insight. We all have to have full bellies and focused minds for Legos and Latin this afternoon!” The woman still sounds chipper but her voice is now tinged with concern.
Did she say Legos and Latin? I have questions.
This is really cramping my style of avoiding other humans. But hell, if Max needs me...
“Be right there.”
I toss my uneaten food back into the grease-stained paper bag and speed the black Mustang toward the school. I rarely have a reason to drive my muscle car with any muscle behind it, but Max is more than enough reason to exceed the speed limit.
Guess I’ll have to show Snow White and her little birdies at that fancy school how it’s done.
