Wild: A Small Town Romance (Love in Lone Star Book 2)

by Ashley Bostock

  “That makes two of us.”

  “Mama, is he going to be my new daddy?”

  We turned toward Thayer who sat on top of my counter space with peanut shells littered all around him. Shavings from the shells sprinkled the front of his black shirt and a foreign feeling in my chest spread down to the pit of my stomach taking up shop. Was I going to be his daddy? That was my plan, wasn’t it?

  My eyes darted behind him to the desk where the will lay open to the passage I’d highlighted. That foreign feeling quickly turned to pain as I watched the eager look on Thayer’s face.

  “Do you want him to be your daddy?”

  “Yep. We have fun, yes, Thatcher?”

  “Thatcher?”

  I took a few steps back, putting definite space between Abby and I. What the hell was happening to me? What was I doing? I’d thought I could keep my two agendas separate: do what I needed in order to claim the money from the will and create a family with Abby and Thayer. Essentially having my cake and eating it too.

  “What’s wrong?” Abby asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “I feel like I have. I’ve been thinking about my grandfather a lot today. The way you spoke to Thayer now, it really made me think of him is all.” I lied.

  “Oh.”

  Thayer scrambled down from the counter and began running up and down the aisles while she began sweeping his mess into the wastebasket. I inconspicuously reached around the counter and grabbed the will and flipped it over. As I did this, I saw the machinery rental income reports from this year and last year of Deer Creek lying there was well. Not the same rental income as last year. Not even freaking close. In fact, a quick glance showed me how far gone the store was in March of this year compared to the same month last year.

  Some of my grandfather’s money would help defray the cost of losses for the rental equipment. I could sell it or since the equipment had already been paid off, keep it for what it was worth and rent it to the small, loyal customers I had. I could turn around and buy inventory to have Thatcher’s Feed at Deer Creek become a mothership to hold inventory for my father’s metal business.

  Screw that. I wasn’t sure where that idea even came from and when someone patted me on the back, I jumped.

  “Jesus, Thatcher, what’s gotten into you all the sudden?”

  Abby’s eyes were filled with concern and the tapping of Thayer’s boots echoed in the background. Man, I was zoning out. Was this a mid-life crisis?

  “You’re scaring me.”

  “I’m sorry. Nothing is wrong. I was just thinking about my grandpa again and how he used to love eating peanuts. Making a mess much like Thayer just did.” I grabbed her wrist, forcing myself to look at her, to look her in the eye. “I was also thinking about those sweet lips of yours and wondering if you’ll allow me the pleasure of doing that again sometime. Soon.”

  She laughed, and her hair swung side to side. “Maybe if you read me an entire chapter tonight of our book instead of only four pages like last night, you just might get your wish.”

  “I’ve been reading in small amounts because I want to prolong our nights together.”

  “Is that right?”

  Crash! We jumped toward the sound, just as Thayer came running toward us. A box of washers had fallen and the round discs were now rolling around all over the floor in the center aisle.

  “Am I in trouble?” Thayer asked as he ran to Abby, his little arms clutching her legs.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “I was touching them.”

  “It’s okay. It was an accident. Right, Buddy?”

  He wiped at his eyes, nodding as Abby patted his back. “You’re okay. Why don’t we help Thatcher clean all these washers up, okay?”

  “Okay, Mama.”

  We cleaned up the spill and speaking of the devil, my dad’s sparkling silver truck pulled into the feed store parking lot. He stepped out, his white cowboy hat pulled low on his head matching his white, double-breasted pocket shirt. The theme song to The Good, The Bad and The Ugly rolled through my mind like it did every time I saw the man. And just like every time I saw him, I tensed up and put up an impenetrable shield of armor around myself.

  “Wait here,” I told Abby and Thayer as I walked outside and met my father in the parking lot. The sun was low in the sky but it was still plenty warm out. You wouldn’t know with my dad’s long sleeved shirt on.

  “Dad. What brings you by?”

  “That anyway to greet your old man?” His voice was still the same crotchety sounding voice it’d always been. Like he’d smoked cigarettes all his life.

  I extended my arm, holding out my hand for him to shake. He grasped it firm. Too firm. Like here we were in the middle of my parking lot and he had to show me he was superior to me.

  “How’s Mother?”

  “The same as always. I suspect you’d know more if you called or showed up every now and then.”

  His skin was tanned, slightly wrinkled and there was no denying Walter Patterson was a handsome man. His piercing blue eyes stood out amongst his tanned face and white hat. His grey hair was cut neatly beneath his Stetson like it’d been for the past thirty years. The man’s appearance never changed nor did his contempt for his only son.

  “I’ve been busy with the feed store. I sent you a message about not being able to attend your party. Didn’t you get it? I’ve been helping a friend out whose house burnt down a few weeks ago.”

  “Abigail Murphy. I got the message, though I still don’t see why you couldn’t have showed up. Disappointing to have a nice party and your only son can’t be bothered to attend.”

  “They’ll be more parties, I’m sure. I had extenuating circumstances.” Damn. The man didn’t change and in the back of my mind, I always wished he would. Stupid thought but it was always there. Thinking that maybe he would show some pride, be proud of me in some way for something I’d done. Hell, I’d be happy if he told me what a great job I did merely kicking a rock across the parking lot.

  “That’s always been your problem, Thatcher. You’ve never taken any matter as pressing. Urgent. Always brushing stuff off in the hopes you may get to it someday.”

  “That’s not the truth. My priorities are simply different than yours.”

  “Like your friend and her son?” He nodded toward the feed shop and through the glass I could see Abigail and Thayer looking through a picture book. A weird feeling overcame me. Like, I wanted to prove to them I could be better than the man standing next to me. Or maybe prove it to him. To myself.

  “They’ve been my priorities lately. She’s needed some help-”

  “Where’s her husband? Don’t you know better than to keep another man’s wife in your house?”

  “Adrian knows she’s staying with me. Besides, they got a divorce.”

  “I suppose that makes the situation a little better. I’ll let your mama know so her friends can be sure to spread it around. Don’t want anyone in this town thinking my son is taking up with a married woman.”

  “There are so many other things to worry about Dad. Don’t you think?”

  “Not in this town. You grew up here, I won’t have any of my associates thinking my offspring is taking up with a married woman. When will she be moving out of your place?”

  I wanted to tell him that Thayer was my son and I was falling in love with Abby but something held me back. Maybe it was his tough-as-nails exterior or the way he didn’t seem to care about me as much as he did about the gossip. Maybe it was the old emotions I still harbored about him that made me keep it from him.

  “They are staying with me indefinitely. Insurance just called her today so I imagine at some point, she’ll want to make other arrangements. Why’d you come here, Dad?”

  “I wanted to see how you were getting along.”

  “That’s bullshit. You haven’t asked one thing about me: how I’ve been or how the feed stores are doing.”

  His eyes hardened, “You’re still m
y son. I won’t have gossip following me around this town whether it concerns you or anyone else in my family.”

  He turned back toward his truck to leave and I resisted the urge to remind him what an asshole he was. Wouldn’t do any good. Wouldn’t change the fact that I would never be good enough for him, that I would always be his disappointing son. How could I have thought less than ten minutes ago I could ever sell anything tied to his name at the Deer Creek store? Aside from being made to feel like shit, the old man would probably laugh in my face at what I could possibly do for him from a business standpoint.

  Given that the store was failing, his probable questions wouldn’t be so far off.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Abigail

  Ever since Thatcher’s father stopped by the feed store yesterday afternoon, Thatcher couldn’t get over his grumpiness. He was short and to the point. He never read to me last night, which after our blazing kiss, I had been looking forward to our time alone. That hadn’t happened. I’ve asked twice now what his dad had said and what he wanted but both times he’d grunted and busied himself with something else.

  I’d only met Walter a time or two but he’d always been a gentleman to me. With Thatcher’s revelation of abuse from the man, I found myself flummoxed at the picture he painted on the outside for the world to see, when on the inside he was a nasty human being. At least he used to be. If Thatcher’s attitude was any indication the man still had something up his butt.

  I had half a mind to call the bastard myself and give him the what for about his son. I knew that wouldn’t sit well with Thatcher but it’d make me feel good. Give me a peace of mind to have the man know I had his son’s back. With Thayer asleep, I figured now was as good as time as any to get Thatcher to speak.

  The kitchen lights were on but he wasn’t in there. I couldn’t see him on the back porch either. I glanced toward his bedroom door and a dim light peeked out from underneath. The two weeks that we’d been here, I’d avoided going anywhere near his room. Because I knew that look in his eyes when we were together. I knew what he would do to me and so help me, I wanted him to do everything his eyes promised. I hadn’t been ready what with the divorce and the fire. After our hungry kiss yesterday, I was ready. I was beyond ready. I craved the feel of his hands on my body in places that have been ignored for far too long.

  If I wanted answers tonight, I would get them. I knew, however, that I’d give him my heart in turn. I rolled my eyes at myself and inched forward toward his door. Maybe he was asleep and I was getting myself all worked up over nothing.

  I knocked.

  “Come in.”

  I held my breath and turned the brass knob, pushing the door open. Thatcher lay half-naked sprawled out on top of his bed. He was mouthwatering. He blew hot and handsome away. He was downright dangerous for women to look at. I couldn’t help but to give him a once-over before I took in my surroundings. His room was bathed in light from a lamp that sat on the nightstand next to him. A large photograph of a moose standing near a creek hung on the wall at the head of his bed. My eyes darted back to Thatcher’s. He was hard to read like this. Like he was still crabby and I wasn’t sure if he wanted my company or was being a courteous host.

  “What can I do for you, Abigail?”

  The timbers of his voice sent shivers down my spine. My nipples ached as I watched his fingertips run along the edge if his phone. How should I answer? There were so many things he could do for me right now. Talk to me about his father. Give me an orgasm. Or two. Reassure me that my heart was safe with him.

  “Is this a bad time?” His gaze roamed over my pajamas, my bare legs and back up to me.

  “As good a time as any. I’ve been in such a bad mood, why would you want my company?”

  “Since you didn’t hang out with me and Thayer last night, locking yourself inside your office, I thought we could hang out now.”

  He smirked, “And do what?”

  “Talk.” Bite nipples.

  “‘Bout what?” He pulled himself out of his bed and stalked toward me, not giving me a chance to answer. His large hand grasped mine and tugged me toward his bed. His hands came up and gently pulled my glasses off and set them on his nightstand. He pushed me down and wedged his large body between my legs. With his elbows propping him up some from the bed, he wasn’t entirely heavy.

  “Tell me what you really want, Abigail.”

  “This. You.” I raised my hips suggestively into his, locking my arms around his neck. I shamelessly rubbed against the bulge in his pants conveying my desire.

  “I wanted to give you space.”

  “Are you done? I’ve been running around here hoping you’d take the lead. Hoping we would have an opportunity to be alone. I want you, Thatcher. So bad.”

  His lips found mine and I slowly perused his mouth with my tongue, enjoying the way his stubble brushed along my skin. Oh, God, I’ve been waiting for an eternity for this man and like I dreamt about, his body fit perfectly with mine. He kissed me with passion and hunger. His kisses were so much better than what I remembered. More experienced. More aggressive. Much hotter than ever before.

  He pushed into me, the denim of his jeans scraping my over-sensitized legs. The slow rhythm are bodies naturally made together was nearing me toward orgasm. It was like the stairwell all over again. I was going to explode and the man hadn’t even touched me yet.

  “Don’t come, Abby. Not this time. Not like this.” He unlatched my arms from his neck and pulled my pajama top off and over my head marveling at what he’d just uncovered. His thumbs grazed slowly along my ribs and I watched at how enamored he seemed to be by all of this. He took his time pulling my bottoms down, lifting my legs one at a time to get me out of them.

  “It hurts,” he whispered as he placed kisses along my ankle.

  “What hurts?”

  “Your beauty. It’s like I can’t breathe.”

  I shivered at his words and tingles spread through my entire body, curling my toes as his mouth made love to my legs. He’d place a few kisses on one leg and then move to the other. His stubble felt amazing along my bare skin. I clenched my lady parts together trying to will an orgasm even though he wasn’t touching me there.

  “Touch me, Thatcher,” I pleaded.

  He glanced up, mid-kiss, his mouth still along my leg as he quirked an eyebrow, “I am touching you.”

  “Not there. Here.” I brought my hand to my center, touching myself against my panties to show him where exactly I needed him to touch me.

  “Don’t touch. Have patience. When I’m done with these fine legs, I’ll make my way to your pussy, Abby. I can see how wet you are.”

  He could? My hips gyrated against nothing as I tried desperately to satisfy the burning need inside me. His mouth finally made its way to my inner thighs, where he began nibbling and sucking on the skin there. It was a strange mixture of pain and pleasure. His teeth dug into my skin. His tongue seared me. I was so turned on; I was reveling in the bites of pain as he nibbled and sucked the sensitive skin. His deft hands grabbed my butt, pulling my legs wide apart and he kissed me there. Finally. Through the white lace of my panties, his skilled mouth found the spot that had been dying for attention and I arched on the bed.

  “Ohhh.” I couldn’t help it. I was a lightweight. How could I last through any sexual encounter with him when he hardly touched me and I was already so close to the precipice?

  “You’re making this so easy for me. God, Abigail, I’m barely fucking touching you. Take your bra off. I want to see your tits as I bring this wet, pink pussy of yours to orgasm with my mouth.”

  I managed to remove my bra despite my shaky hands and Thatcher went back to giving me attention. His undivided attention between my legs. He hooked his thumbs inside the waistband of my panties and pulled them down past my knees and I shimmied out of them.

  “Perfect.”

  I wasn’t perfect but the idea that he thought I was, even after I’d bore his son, made me feel golden. The p
ureness in his eyes assured me that he wasn’t feeding me a line of crap and when he trailed his finger along my sex, sparks marred my vision.

  “So ready for me. You know what I’m going to do to you?”

  His dirty talk was making me wild and I couldn’t get past the lump in my throat so I simply shook my head.

  “Torture you. Slowly. Inch by inch. I’m going to stick my fingers in you, followed by my tongue…”

  My breath hitched. Did he not know this was torture already? Couldn’t he see me quivering?

  His fingers strummed my clitoris as if it were a violin and once again, I was on the brink…one more flick and I-

  “Why did you stop?” I whined, “I was so close.”

  If his mischievous grin wasn’t handsome as hell, I very well might have smacked him. Not answering, he leaned down and pressed his lips to the sensitize bud and I latched onto his shoulder. He treated it much like the nipple biting: intense, to the point and potent. He was merciless, unwilling to fail at my needs. I exploded quickly, gasping his name as my nails dug into his shoulders.

  I’ve been missing this, this long?

  “Open your eyes.”

  I blinked them open and watched him undo the button fly on his blue jeans. He was rock solid, large beneath the cloth and I couldn’t wait for more.

  “Look what you do to me? Every damn night woman, I say good night and I come in here and jerk myself off, envisioning what it would be like to have your flesh wrapped around my cock. Every fucking night since you guys moved in.”

  “I didn’t know,” I said innocently. I guessed. The moments when I could hear his bed moving, I imagined him stroking himself. The night of our date when Thayer was at my mom’s, I’d played with myself hearing the shake of his bed. I didn’t know, I guessed, even hoped if I was honest with myself. Now I knew.

  His jeans got thrown on the ground and I devoured him. His boxer-briefs and how they clung to his muscular butt. The curvatures in his legs and how meaty they were, ripe for sinking teeth into. From running. A runner’s body. His stomach was lean and trim, something I’d been too shy to marvel at before. But now, in the dim light of his room, I drank him in. It seemed fitting I should give this gift to myself. I didn’t know when or if there would be another time.