by Zoe York
“You didn’t think I’d let you rot away in jail, did you?” The energy in the room shifted as she smiled. Not even the smell of ammonia mingled with the reek of Dewey’s wings could suppress the fresh scent Misty carried with her.
“You left.” I wrapped my hands around the bars separating us.
“I only went home to get some stuff so I could come back and stay longer.” She covered my hands with hers as she looked back over her shoulder. “And I brought him with me.”
A man wearing plaid shorts and a polo shirt entered behind her.
“Is that Judge Thomas?” I asked.
Misty nodded. “Dewey told me I couldn’t see you until you saw the judge. I got tired of waiting, so I brought the judge to you.”
“Your Honor”—Dewey swept his paper plate of wings into the trash can—“what are you doing here?”
“Seems we have some paperwork that needs to be dealt with right away.” Judge Thomas pushed his aviator shades up onto his head. “Can I see the file on this one?”
While Dewey shuffled through a pile on his desk, Misty turned toward me. “How did you manage to get yourself arrested? I wasn’t even out of town a couple of hours when I heard what you’d done.”
I lowered my head, not wanting to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry. I thought you decided to leave for good. It wrecked me.”
“And then you wrecked the Piggly Wiggly,” Dewey said. “That’s why he’s here. Malicious destruction of personal property, assault with a deadly weapon…there’s a whole stack of charges filed against you.”
Judge Thomas flipped through the file Dewey handed him. “Doesn’t appear to be a flight risk. Mr. Duncan, do you promise you won’t leave the county until we have a chance to meet in the courtroom?”
“Yes, sir.”
The judge handed the file back to Dewey. “Then you’re free to go. I’ve got the back nine waiting on me.”
Dewey snatched it. “Your Honor—”
“Are you questioning my judgement?” Judge Thomas glared at Dewey, challenging him to say something.
“No, sir.” Dewey glared at me as he pulled the keys out of the desk drawer.
“Good. I trust you can take it from here?” The judge slid his shades back over his eyes.
“Yes, sir.”
Misty turned her attention back to me. “We need to talk.”
“So you weren’t going back to Omaha?” My breath caught in my chest while I waited for her to confirm her intentions.
“No, you dumb ass. I want to be with you. For better or for worse. For richer or for poorer. For—”
“Incarcerated or free?” I joked.
She pressed her cheeks against the bars. “Give me some sugar.”
I leaned forward, meeting her lips with mine. Desperate to deepen the kiss, I strained against the bars. But being separated by steel prevented me from taking things any further.
Dewey cleared his throat. Misty and I broke apart. He looked like he’d just dropped his ice cream cone in the dirt and was about to cry as he unlocked the cell. “You’re free to go for now.”
“Not yet, he’s not.” Misty stepped in front of the doorway.
My heart stuttered. “What are you talking about?”
“Dewey, can you return Jake’s personal belongings?” She tapped her foot, one hand clamped to her hip while Dewey retrieved the manila envelope with my wallet, keys and the red jewelry box I’d had on me when I got cuffed.
“What are you doing?” I made a move to put an arm around her but she twisted away.
“I’m not going anywhere until you ask me what you were going to ask me yesterday before this whole thing got way out of hand.”
“Here?”
She nodded, her brows lifted in anticipation. “Here’s as good a place as any.”
I felt it necessary to point out the obvious. “We’re in jail.”
“Yeah.” She looked around. “How long do you want to stay here? The sooner you get this over with, the sooner we can leave.”
I grinned as I lowered onto a knee. “Misty Greene, we’ve been through a lot together over the years. There’s no one else I’d rather spend the rest of my days with. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Her eyes shone as she knelt down next to me. “Yes.”
I slid the ring onto her finger. She glanced from the ring to meet my gaze. “I love you.”
“Love you, too.” Then I did what I’d been wanting to do since Saturday night. I pulled her in tight, tilted her chin up and took her mouth with mine.
“Y’all can’t do that here.” Dewey interrupted.
“You’re right.” I got to my feet, pulling Misty up next to me. “Let’s go back to my place where we can finish what we started the other night.”
“Oooh, Mr. Duncan, I accept.”
“Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, Dewey.” I clapped him on the back as we made our way out of the stuffy building and into the sun. “You know, before we get caught up, I need to stop by Rob’s and apologize. The team got kicked out of the Piggly Wiggly. They didn’t make their fundraising goal, and I’m probably going to have to resign from the team.”
“No you’re not.” Misty still held my hand, and she pulled me toward her car.
“I’m not?”
“Nope.” She tossed me the keys. “I made up the difference by selling mama’s lemon tarts. Y’all are good to go to Columbia next month.”
“You’re amazing.” I reached for her.
She took a step back. “I do have one condition.”
Here we go again. Misty never could give up control for very long. “Oh yeah, what’s that?”
“I don’t want to be able to walk for at least three days. Think you can handle that?”
My blood heated. “Are you issuing me a challenge?”
She slid her sunglasses into place, but not before she gave me a wink. “Are you up for it?”
“Hell yeah. Three days you said? I bet I can make it five.”
“Mr. Duncan, you’ve got yourself a deal.” She held out a hand to seal the deal.
I wrapped an arm around her instead, dipping her low as I ran a hand up under her skirt. “You’ve got to tell me something.”
“What’s that?”
“Did you lose your underwear again?”
She giggled, a sound like fucking music to my ears. “Let’s go back to your place and you can find out for yourself.”
Misty
Jake put the pedal to the metal and with the help of my souped up V6, we made it back to his place in record time.
I’d barely had a chance to unbuckle my seatbelt before he’d raced around the car to open my door. As I stepped out into the afternoon sun, he wrapped his arms around me and lifted me off my feet. My arms went up behind his neck and our mouths mashed together. A happiness like I’d never known exploded within me. Heaven. This must be what heaven felt like. Or at least heaven on Earth.
He kicked the car door closed behind us as we stumbled toward the sidewalk. Now that we’d found our way back to each other we were both desperate to give in to the heat between us.
His hands molded to my body, pulling me closer. I couldn’t get enough of his mouth on mine, his fingers roaming over my sides, his tongue taking our kiss deeper. My heart revved as we reached the door to his apartment.
“Keys,” he mumbled against my mouth.
I couldn’t bear for him to take his hands off me, so I reached into his front pocket, feeling around for his keyring. Without breaking our kiss, I tried to fit one of his keys into the lock.
“Come on, Misty. Just slide it in.”
My sarcastic comeback died on my lips as his mouth paid homage to my earlobe. I stretched my neck, trying to give him better access to the spot behind my ear, the spot he knew would make me climb the wall with desire.
His hot breath brushed across my cheek as his tongue rimmed the shell of my ear. I arched into him, the keys long forgotten. They clattered to the concrete as I let out a low moan. It
had been a long time since I’d felt anything close to the carnal need Jake had ignited. My entire body burned with wanting.
My fist pounded the door as he eased a hand under my shirt. I could have dropped to the pavement right there. But I’d already flashed his neighbors once. I wasn’t about to give them access to a peep show.
“Not here, baby.” I writhed against his thigh. “We have to get inside.”
He nipped and kissed his way down my neck, across my collarbone, and lower as he bent down to pick up his keys. I couldn’t keep my hands off him. My fingers played over his scruffy cheeks, his ears, his hair…anything not to break the connection.
On his knees, he picked up the key ring and slid the right one into the lock. He turned the handle, and I tumbled through the doorway first. Together, we fell to the carpet. By the time he shut the door and turned back to me I’d wiggled out of my skirt.
“Damn, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” He crawled over to me, pulling his T-shirt over his head as he covered the distance between us.
My palms skimmed his pecs. He undid his belt, then his button. I helped him slide his jeans and his boxers over his sculpted glutes. Naked, he hovered over me. My body was more than ready for him, it had always been that way between us.
He lifted the hem of my shirt, working it up over my breasts. My skin pebbled under his touch. I sat up, unhooking my bra, needing to feel him skin on skin, everywhere at once.
Finally, he hooked my leg around his waist, sliding my lacy panties to the side and nudging into me. This is what I’d come back for. Being like this with Jake—so bare, so loved, so totally exposed—was what I’d been desperate to recover.
“We’re really doing this?” He met my gaze.
I panted, so completely, desperately hot for him I couldn’t take in a full breath. “We’re not doing anything yet.”
“I just want to make sure. This is all happening so fast. You sure you’re all in?”
I wanted to strangle him and smother him with kisses at the same time. “Are you kidding me right now? Of course I am. I said yes, didn’t I? Aren’t you all in?”
He smiled, the kind of smile he saved for me. It started on one side of his mouth then spread across to the other. Then he pushed in. All the way in. Filling me completely. “I’ve always been all in with you, Misty.”
A ragged breath ripped from my lungs as I clung to him, meeting him thrust for thrust until I exploded around him. As I rode out the crest of my release he joined me, his muscles taut, both of us suspended in that incredible drawn out moment I wish could go on forever. He cradled me against him until the last aftershocks subsided.
Completely spent, I let out a long, slow breath. “That was phenomenal.”
He nodded his head against my shoulder. “It was.”
Then he lifted his head and kissed his way down my body, between my breasts, and over my navel.
“What are you doing?” I cupped his chin, lifting his head, meeting his gaze.
“I bet I could make it so you wouldn’t be able to walk for days. That’s one bet I’m sure as hell not going to lose.”
“Well then, by all means, get to it, will you?”
So he did.
For exclusive giveaways and sneak peeks of future books and behind the scenes secrets, check out Dylann’s reader group on Facebook: Crushin’ It Crew. Or connect on social media at Facebook, Instagram, or BookBub.
* * *
Next up at the Lovebird Café…
* * *
If you enjoyed Lemon Tarts & Stolen Hearts,
you’ll love Sweet Tea & Second Chances!
The boy next door is about to rock my world...again.
* * *
And when I say "rock" I mean he's going to turn me topsy-turvy, leaving my head spinning and other parts of my anatomy aching for his touch. But there's no room in my new life for an old flame. Especially not when the sparks still smolder.
* * *
The only way to claim my big city future is by cutting ties with my small town past, and I find myself caught between a rock of regret and the hard planes of Robbie Jordan's chest.
* * *
I only need to survive until he fixes up my grandparents' house and I can cash out. But he's got a truck full of tools and knows exactly how to use them. Not to mention the things that man can do with a hammer...
* * *
Snag your copy of Sweet Tea & Second Chances today and relax into Swallow Springs, Missouri, where a cocky rooster rules the roost and all of life's problems can be solved while sipping on a nice cold glass of sweet tea.
Part XV
Accounting For Love
by Erin Wright
About This Book
Is she the answer to his dreams…or the person who will be forced to destroy them?
* * *
He’s a farmer, dammit, not a bookkeeper
* * *
When Stetson Miller inherits his father’s farm in Idaho, he’s too focused on crops and yields to pay attention to the financial side of things. The next thing he knows, he’s got a stack of unpaid bills, the bank is threatening to foreclose…and the auditor who’s come to examine his accounts is the sexiest thing he’s ever laid eyes on.
* * *
But she’s a city girl, just like the last one who left him at the altar. He’ll guard his heart – but he can’t help wanting her.
* * *
She’s checking him out…in more ways than one
* * *
Jennifer Kendall doesn’t mind a tough job, but the handsome Stetson is trouble of a different kind. When he isn’t making her mad, he’s filling her head with all sorts of forbidden fantasies.
* * *
The sparks between them fly even faster when the road washes out and Jennifer has to spend the night on the farm. But passion alone won’t pay the bills. Can Jennifer find a way for Stetson to save his farm?
* * *
And if she can’t, will he ever forgive her?
* * *
Accounting for Love is the first novel in the Long Valley world, although all books in the Long Valley world can be read as standalones. It has some strong language, and oh my, sexy times. Enjoy!
To my own cowboy:
Thanks for being my biggest cheerleader, and for putting up with me, even on launch week
Chapter 1
Stetson
July, 2016
Stetson Miller looked around his father’s cluttered office. Well, it was Stetson’s office now, although he was sure it’d feel like his dad’s office until the day he died.
Died like his father had.
Stetson pushed the thought away. His office, his father’s office…none of that mattered now. Not with the office, the house, and the whole damn farm about to be stolen from him.
Desperate to do something, even if it was wrong, Stetson turned towards his father’s desk, ready to start filing papers or straightening up or something.
Shit.
Piles were everywhere – piles on top of piles. He was pretty sure piles were having little baby piles every time he turned his back on ‘em. He picked up a sheaf of papers with a heavy sigh, thumbing through the jumbled mess. Hmmm…they appeared to be his heating bills for the cow barn this past winter…
Stetson looked up from the papers to stare at the rows of drawers to his right, all labeled in his father’s spiky, neat handwriting. Cow Expenses, the far right drawer label read, a little newer than the other labels. Not quite as yellowed. Not quite as faded. Stetson went to shove the papers inside when he noticed another drawer labeled Heating and Cooling Expenses.
He paused, eyes darting between the two drawers. The receipts really could go in either one…
Stetson dropped the papers on top of a precarious pile of receipts with a muttered curse that would have his mother spinning in her grave. He pulled his hat off and chucked it in the corner, shoving his hands through his hair.
This was ridiculous. The whole thing was ridicu
lous. Since when was a farmer supposed to like paperwork? Everyone knew that real work was done out in the fields, not in an office. Bucking hay, building fences, castrating cows – now that was a job well done.
Pushing papers around was for pansies. People who couldn’t hack it out with the real men.
Stetson’s eye fell on the letter in the center of his father’s desk. It sat there alone, unsmudged, no scribbled phone numbers or coffee spills on it. It mocked him with its pristine state of being, in such stark contrast to everything else in the office.
Thirty-one days. The bank had given him thirty-one days to bring his loan current. He didn’t need to re-read the letter to know what it said. Every word was imprinted in his brain, like a branding iron on his gray matter.
And it had been thirty-one days.
The month had passed in a blur, with Stetson considering and then discarding every idea he could think of, their outrageousness growing as the days passed.
He could sell his truck.
Except, what farmer didn’t have a truck? How was he supposed to haul hay or workers or rolls of fencing out to the pasture? How was he supposed to farm? And to add insult to injury, selling his truck wouldn’t actually solve the problem. That’d bring in $30,000, maybe. On a good day. Not $176,900.
Then came an even worse idea: He could ask Wyatt or Declan for a loan.
Which of course meant admitting that he’d screwed everything up from day one. Admitting that he was on the brink of losing the family farm.
