As much as I hate to admit it, Minnesota Walker has starred in far too many fantasies and I don’t see how that will fare well for either of us. Her life is complicated and my desire to never commit overshadows whatever attraction we have.
Now that I’ve successfully emptied my body of any tension I may be holding, I quickly finish up my shower and exit the bathroom wrapped in a towel. Once I’ve dried off and pulled on some boxers, I look at my phone—I shouldn’t. Or should I? Maybe just a quick text. What could it hurt?
Not allowing any time to talk myself out of it, I pull up my text messages and Minnie’s contact.
Me: Just wanted to check on you. Headache better?
That’s casual and friendly. She won’t know I just envisioned her giving me the best blow job of my life. I wonder if she knows that daydream Minnie is a master with her mouth. I’m pulled from my thoughts as my phone vibrates in my hand. I throw myself down on my bed as I open her response.
Minnie: It’s fine.
Well, that’s not very friendly.
Me: Are you pissed?
Minnie: Nope.
Oh, I speak chick enough to know that’s bullshit. One word answers and a four-letter word that speaks volumes—nope—means she’s more than pissed. I quickly tap out a response telling her I know she’s full of shit when, on a whim, I hit the little phone icon instead. It’s three torturous rings before she answers.
“Hello?”
“Why are you pissed?”
A long-frustrated sigh is her response.
“Minnesota.”
“Owen.”
“Don’t mock me.” My tone is teasing, but I’m serious.
“Fine, I’m not pissed, okay. Have a good…”
“Nope,” I cut her off, and I can envision her rolling her eyes at me, frustrated and annoyed. Good. “I’m not letting you off the phone until we work this out.”
“I could just hang up, you know?”
“You could but you won’t. Come on, Min. We were having fun. At least, I thought we were. What happened? You went from checking out my pecs to shooting daggers my way.”
She gasps in response. I don’t know if she was looking at my pecs, but it sounded good and maybe I was right. I chuckle a little to let her know I’m teasing. She releases another sigh. This sigh seems to be laced with her resolve that she is going to talk to me and not one of frustration.
“First, I wasn’t looking at your pecs so get over yourself.”
“We’ll agree to disagree on that. Continue.” I settle into my pillow and pull the covers up to my waist. I look down to see that they are slightly tented. How that’s even possible when I just blew a load in the shower, I’ll never understand.
“I just … I didn’t think it was appropriate for you to flirt with that waitress in front of me. I know we’re just friends and it wasn’t a date or anything but it was slightly humiliating. There. Now, I’m going to go and drown my embarrassment in a pint of ice cream.”
What is she even talking about? I wasn’t flirting with anyone. And, no, I didn’t consider it a real date, but it was more than just platonic, if I read things right.
“I honestly have no clue what you’re talking about. I wasn’t flirting with anyone. Maybe you, but that’s it.”
“Yes, you were. That girl, Alyssa, had her hand on your arm and you didn’t move it and then you winked at her. That’s flirting, Owen.”
“I really don’t understand women. I was not flirting with, whatever her name was.” Minnie cuts me off to tell me the girl’s name again. “It doesn’t matter what her name is because I wasn’t interested and I wasn’t flirting. I’m a lot of things, Minnie, but I wouldn’t do that to you. And, you’re right, it wasn’t necessarily a date, but I invited you out, I was enjoying your company, and thought you were having fun.”
I can hear some rustling around and Minnie groaning in frustration. Somehow since meeting this woman I have become quite the visualizer because suddenly I can see her in a tight tank and pair of panties, her fantastic ass cheeks exposed, rustling around in bed. Of course, her lips are still the brightest pink.
“What are you doing?” I ask, the curiosity killing me.
“I’m trying to get comfortable. I just washed my sheets and I have my pillows in the wrong order. Nothing is more frustrating.”
Now it’s my turn to groan. My frustration is completely different from Minnie’s, as mine is specifically of the sexual nature. My dick once again jumps and I wonder when I reverted to puberty with the ability to constantly remain hard. I clear my throat to distract the conversation.
“Look, I think there was just some miscommunication or something. I wasn’t flirting with anyone and I’m sorry if you thought I was. If I ask a woman out, that’s who I’m with. Sure, I’m a flirt by nature, but it doesn’t mean I’m constantly looking for a hookup.”
“Yeah, well, that’s not what this town says.” I barely pick up what she says but I hear her loud and clear.
“Minnie, I didn’t take you for one to believe town gossip. But now that you’ve said that, explain.”
“I met this woman the other day at the park. Her name is Felicity something or other. I think there were two last names, I don’t know. I was baffled how dressed up she was at the park. I mean, I had at least changed out of my work clothes but she was all done up like she was heading to a business meeting.” Minnie pauses and I roll my eyes in response. Remember she can’t see me, I clear my throat.
“Felicity Remington-Thorne. She’s a bitch. Don’t believe anything she says.”
“Well, I don’t know if she’s a bitch, but she did feel it was her duty to tell me all about you, Jameson, and the rest of the guys within five minutes of finding out I was single and living here. Of course, she didn’t stop there. She had some not-so-nice words to say about Piper and Ashton, too. I let her say her piece and then kindly told her I had to leave.”
“Yeah, she’s not the biggest fan of Piper. By default, she and Ashton have never gotten along. I’m not sure what her hard-on is for Pipe but it’s ridiculous. She tried to sink her claws in Ben when he came back to town and it was even worse when Ben and Piper got engaged. She’s a bitter snob and you’d be better off never talking to her again.” There’s a warning in my voice and I know by the silence I’m greeted with, Minnie is processing what I’ve said.
“Isn’t she married?”
“Yep. Anyway, what did she tell you about me?”
“Just that you’re a player and I should steer clear of you. So, maybe when I saw that waitress flirting with you, those words kind of rang through my head. It wasn’t fair of me to be so rude to you and especially when we’re barely even friends.”
“Come on now, we’re friends,” I say playfully. “I mean, I have tasted your toothpaste so I figure we’re at least that, right?” I tease her and she laughs. I like making her laugh. I’d rather know she is laughing than the alternative—her being pissed at me. I’m not even going to try and figure out what that means.
Over the next hour or so, we talk and laugh more. Minnie asks me more about my brew system at Dad’s. When she yawns three times in a row, I decide it’s time to call it a night.
“I should let you go, it’s late.” Another yawn fills the air.
“Sorry, I am sleepy. Plus, the girls will be home early tomorrow. I want to spend some fun time with them. Thanks again for today and I really am sorry I overreacted.” Her sleepiness is evident and the huskiness of her voice as she mumbles has my dick hardening again. Seriously, I need to get my shit together.
“Don’t apologize, it’s all good.” I hope my nonchalance of this entire thing puts her at ease. “Sleep well, Minnesota. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Goodnight, Owen. Sweet dreams.”
The line goes dead and I place my phone on the nightstand before clicking off the light. Knowing damn good and well I’m not going to sleep anytime soon, I pull down the covers from my waist and pop my dick out of the waistband of my
boxers. The precum is already dripping like I’m a damn teenager so I take my finger and rub my shaft. I begin stroking to the vision of Minnie again. I realize how badly I need get laid, this is almost pathetic, just as I increase the speed of my strokes and cum all over my stomach.
After cleaning up and laying back down in bed, I pull the covers up and turn on my side. I need to stop talking to Minnie outside of the office and I need to find a way to release some of this sexual tension with an actual person and not my newly founded daydreams.
I’ve said it before but I’ll continue to say it again and again. How do women do this? I’m exhausted. The only difference between this week and weeks in the past is that this exhaustion has little to do with the kids and more to do with me. I blame Owen Butler for my lack of rest. Of course, it’s really my own damn fault, but it seems so much sweeter blaming someone else.
After the awkward ending to my non-date with Owen on Saturday, and our late-night conversation, I didn’t sleep well. I tossed and turned all night, rising with the sun and not able to fall back asleep. Since I had committed to the girls coming home early, I didn’t have a chance for a nap and thus began my ongoing exhaustion.
When my mind is full and my thoughts are running a mile a minute through my head, I don’t rest while I sleep. I’m certain I never actually succeed at a full REM cycle. To say my mind is full of chaos would be an understatement. My reaction to Owen and the waitress on Saturday is still eating at me. He truly didn’t do anything wrong and I feel horrible for my treatment of him.
Of course, he didn’t know I had met that Felicity woman a few days before and she had me doubting why he was even taking me out. When she first approached me, I thought she was just another working mom, or mother figure, at the park. After ninety seconds, I knew she was anything but, and I was floored by how easily she spewed her prejudices and dislike of people who have become my friends.
When she began her tirade about Jameson and subsequently Owen, I was baffled. Her description of Owen as a “second-tier” player caused me to break out in laughter. I assumed she was joking. There is nothing “second-tier” about Owen. Hell, he walks around town giving Chris Hemsworth a run for his money with zero effort. And, believe me, that’s hard to do.
But, none of that mattered when I found myself watching the waitress flirt with him and him doing nothing to dissuade her. Of course, one may call that kindness and him being a gentleman. Regardless, I overreacted and acted like a fool. A jealous fool.
Since Saturday, Owen and I have texted throughout the day and spent hours talking late at night. Our chats are about nothing and often we’re debating music and movies, but it’s always light and friendly. Of course, the thoughts I have after we hang up are anything but friendly. They’re usually sexual and I’m searching through my panty drawer for my battery-powered stress reliever.
Dakota has found a lot of humor in all of this and told me in no uncertain terms last night that I needed to get over myself and use Owen instead of my B.O.B. (Battery-Operated Boyfriend) before she gets home in a few weeks. I respectfully flipped her off and told her I wasn’t that kind of girl. She laughed and told me maybe that was my problem.
I’ve just finished processing a few invoices and returning calls when my phone pings with a text message.
Ashton: Are you in the office?
Me: Yep.
I wait for a response and when one doesn’t come, I set my phone on my desk and walk to the mini fridge and pull my frozen dinner from my lunch bag. Once I’ve placed the processed chicken meal in the microwave, I step away to use the restroom. While washing my hands I note the luggage under my eyes—we’ve surpassed bags at this point, I’m carrying luggage for a month-long trip. I really need to sleep. Tonight, I won’t answer Owen if he calls.
Liar.
I pull a few paper towels from the dispenser before opening the door. The moment I do, I scream and jump.
“Dear God, Ashton! You scared the shit out of me!” My hand flies to my chest to calm my racing heart.
“Sorry, I thought you heard me. What is that awful smell?”
My eyes widen in response since I just came from the restroom.
“Broccoli? Are you microwaving broccoli? Gross, Min. Here, I brought sandwiches from the café. Throw that microwave shit away.”
I stand for a minute watching Ashton make her way to the conference-style table and pull two sandwiches and napkins from a paper bag. A sandwich sounds a heck of a lot better than whatever gross thing I have sitting in the microwave. So, I do as instructed and toss the plastic container in the trash and grab two bottles of water from the fridge before sitting down with Ashton.
“Thanks for lunch. What’s the occasion?” I ask while opening the paper my sandwich is wrapped in.
“It’s turkey, I hope that’s okay. If not, I have ham. I figured you’d like one of the two.”
“Turkey is perfect.” Ashton opens her own sandwich and it’s quiet for a few minutes while we both take a few bites of our sandwiches.
I’m still uncertain why Ashton is here. Not that I don’t appreciate the company, but it just seems unfounded for some reason. But, while it may seem that way, it’s also nice.
“This is really good. Thank you again. I don’t know what I was thinking with a frozen meal for lunch. Nobody really wants to eat those things.” Ashton laughs and nods in agreement.
“So, umm, I wanted to invite you to something.” Tilting my head, I wait for Ashton to continue. “If you’re busy that’s totally fine but, umm, so Saturday a bunch of us are going out and I’d like you to come.”
“Oh? To Country Road?” There are a few little dive bars in town, but I know that Country Road is the preferred hangout for this group and where Ashton works.
“Uh, no. Actually, it’s a few towns over but Ben has offered to be our driver and I want you to come. You haven’t been out other than that one night, have you?”
“Not really. I mean, I took the girls for pizza one night and my mom and I went to that wine bar for a glass one night, but otherwise I haven’t been out.”
“Good. I mean, not good that you’re not being social. You should be social. Anyway, yeah, so, it’d be great if you would come out with us. My friends own the bar we’re going to and I think it’ll be lots of fun.”
I take in Ashton’s demeanor as she talks. She’s nervous and perhaps a little shy. Neither are words I’d use when describing Ashton. I won’t pry, but my curiosity is peaked for sure.
We spend the next thirty minutes chatting and finishing our lunch. She excused herself and says she’s taking a sandwich to Jameson on a site and she’ll touch base before the weekend. Once she’s gone, I clean up our mess and then place a quick call to my mom to confirm she’s still taking the girls this weekend. Next week she and I will travel with the girls to visit Dakota. We’re meeting with Dakota and her recovery team to discuss her transition home and what is expected of us over the next few weeks and months. I’m beyond excited to hug my sister and for her to see how much the girls have grown. We’re all relieved to know she’ll be home in time for Cali’s first birthday. She’s really pushed herself to be ready and I think, as worried as she is, she’s ready.
The question is, am I? Selfish, I know. I would never voice my concerns to Dakota or my parents, but somehow found myself confiding in Owen last night on the phone. He was understanding and didn’t pass judgment at all. That’s what I needed. I realize that the first I’ll likely see him since last weekend will be Saturday with Ashton and everyone.
Part of me, specifically the horny part, hopes he offers to take me home. Dammit, just thinking that sends my imagination running and I’m shifting in my seat. Lovely. And pathetic. I really need to get my act together.
I’ve managed to try on and discard almost everything from my closet. Dakota gave up on me three outfits ago and declared me a lost cause before signing off. Lost cause is right. Pathetic and ridiculous is also correct. I’m going out to a bar called �
�Doris’s Tavern” and I’m acting like it’s a red-carpet event.
In typical girl fashion, I texted both Ashton and Piper earlier to ask what they were wearing and neither were much help. Piper said jeans and a top while Ashton replied with “not jeans”. Gee, thanks.
This will be my first time out with this group, and while the only two I don’t really know are Ben and Landon, I know they will be easy to be around just from everyone else. I glance at the clock and see I only have about fifteen minutes until Ben will be here to pick me up. I’m riding with him and Piper since Jameson and Ashton decided to drive themselves.
Finally settling on a pair of dark-wash skinny jeans that I know make my legs look a mile long, I pull out a pair of open-toed lace-up booties that show off my newly painted red toenails. Still uncertain which top to wear, I stare at two shirts hanging from my closet door. A sleeveless cobalt-blue top that matches my eyes almost exactly. I love the back of this top because it’s cut low to mid-back with four skinny straps crisscrossing across the top from shoulder to shoulder. The other is a flowy, black, off-the-shoulder top with intricate stitching across the bottom. Regardless of which one I choose, my hair is up in an intentionally messy high pony.
Since we’re going out at night, my makeup is a little heavier, but regardless will complement each top. My phone signals a text, which I quickly pick up from the bed, still standing in only my strapless bra and jeans. Too bad I can’t just go like this. Ha, can you imagine?
Piper: Be there in 5
Martinis & Moonlight (A Country Road Novel - Book 3) Page 14
