by Cat Johnson
“Yeah, I guess we have to.” He buttoned his jeans as I checked my own, before he grabbed my hand and led me back to the sidelines.
I eyed Petunia, her leash being held by a member of the cheer squad, and wondered if I could talk Red and Cash into walking her home with Agnes after the game.
Of course, with Cash being Stone’s brother and Red being my best friend, they would likely guess why I wanted to leave early.
Bethany had arrived with Brandon. I saw her walking over to us and knew without a doubt they’d all guess why, if Stone and I tried to sneak away. Especially since Stone and I had just come stumbling out from behind the bleachers.
We probably looked like we’d done pretty much exactly what we had done.
Who knew how many other people would notice? Life in the Mudville fishbowl definitely had its disadvantages.
Stone leaned low. “You wanna get out of here? I can get Cash to bring Petunia back. The house will be empty. I saw Agnes selling raffle tickets at the Rotary table.”
I glanced up and saw the flicker of mischief in his eyes as he voiced what I’d been thinking.
Who cared what everyone thought? Not me. At least not right now as Stone looked at me with that need in his eyes and a renewed bulge in his jeans.
An empty house. A horny boyfriend. I could see the potential and I liked it.
“All right.” I nodded.
The night had definitely turned around. And I had high hopes it would only get better.
Boone could make all the questionable decisions he wanted, but Stone and I were fine.
SIX
Stone
In a shocking turn of events, Boone’s engagement didn’t cost me my usual Friday night loving with Harper.
On the contrary, she was like a woman possessed. On a quest to prove . . . something. Exactly what that was, I didn’t ask.
I happily accepted her creative enthusiasm without question as she pulled me by the hand up the back stairs to her attic room and toward the king-sized bed.
I’d found the old brass headboard stored up there when we’d cleaned out the space last year. She’d purchased a new mattress and box spring and by all indications we were about to put it to good use.
Like a woman on a mission, possessed by some driving force I didn’t quite understand, she shoved me backward onto the bed and knee-walked her way over me.
“You going to stay the whole night?” she asked as she reached for the fly of my jeans, opened them and slipped my cock out.
“That what you want?” I asked. Maybe some sick part of me wanted to hear her beg me to stay.
“That’s what I want.” She nodded, then slid down and slipped my length between her lips.
I sucked in air between my teeth. “Yeah. I’m staying. All night.”
Things got pretty loud after that, but the most amazing part of tonight was that no one was home to hear us.
Sure, behind the bleachers at the game had been hot, but using every inch of that big mattress was even better. I came in her mouth and flipped us both over.
With me on top now, I pulled down her pants and went to work. I had her coming with my mouth in moments. By then, I was hard again, plunging inside her until she came, around me this time.
It felt kind of like when we’d first started dating and I couldn’t get enough of her, no matter how many times I had her. And I had to admit it was a work-out, even for me who was used to hard physical labor.
Finally, still panting, I rolled off Harper and flopped onto my back, very glad I didn’t have to get dressed and go anywhere.
Good loving made a man sleepy.
As Harper went to the bathroom to clean up, I could have easily just drifted off into dreamland. I was starting to do just that, when I felt her get back into bed. Then the blue glow of light seeped through my closed lids.
Cracking open one eye, I saw Harper propped up on the pillows with her giant iPad in her hands.
“You’re working? Now?” I asked.
My ego was a tad bruised. Hadn’t I worn her out? I’d have thought I would have at least distracted her from work for a little longer than thirty seconds after we finished.
“I’m always working,” she huffed, then she glanced at me. “I started something new.”
“A new book?” I asked, excited.
“No. This is more for marketing. Well, that and revenge.”
I debated if, floating on a cloud of sex hormones and Harper’s pillow top mattress, I was ready to open the can of worms that this conversation would no doubt turn into.
Finally, I asked, “Who are we getting revenge on this week?”
She pulled her mouth to one side and narrowed an eye at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing at all.”
After evaluating that for a moment she said, “The old ladies in town are calling me Ms. Naughty.”
Even as my lips twitched into a smile, I knew I’d be in trouble for it.
Her eyes narrowed further.
“Sorry, but I think it’s cute. I like you when you’re naughty.” I reached out one arm to pull her closer, even as she resisted.
“Well, I’m tired of them judging me for writing the most popular book genre in the country, so I’m doing something about it. I’m going to show them how naughty I can be.”
“How are you going to do that?” I asked, genuinely interested in how naughty she could be myself.
“I’m taking over the Mudville forum.”
I frowned. “The online bulletin board? Where people post stuff for sale?”
The one I’d been spending much too much time on lately.
Although, I did find a great pair of almost brand new work boots on there in my size for only ten bucks, so my time wasn’t completely wasted.
“Yes.” She nodded.
“How are you going to be naughty on the Mudville forum?” I found the idea as intriguing as it was disturbing.
“I’m going to answer questions. About dating and sex too, hopefully. There’s some asshole man on there now doing pretty much the same thing. Ugh. He makes me so mad. He’s getting a ton of interaction and not one person has even commented on my post. And his advice sucks.”
It hit me suddenly, just now, when I should have realized it immediately, as soon as she’d said Ms. Naughty. Harper was the one commenting on all my posts. Which meant the asshole man she was so angered by, was me.
“Harper?” Agnes’s summons came up the staircase.
I jumped, startled. Not to mention naked. “I thought we were alone.”
She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “The game must be over. I guess we took longer than I thought.”
Longer than she thought? I couldn’t decide if that observation was an insult or a compliment to my masculinity and sexual prowess. And I didn’t have time to worry about it.
If Agnes decided to come looking for Harper herself, I had exactly the time it took her to climb two flights of stairs to get my clothes on or be caught naked and embarrassed.
Yes, she was in her seventies, but she was as spry as a woman half her age and I wasn’t going to take a chance she’d catch me with my pants down—literally.
Harper tossed the iPad onto the covers and scrambled to gather her clothes off the floor.
“I’m upstairs, Aunt Agnes,” Harper yelled as she headed for the little bathroom I’d built for her up here.
“Can you come down here, please?” Agnes called.
“Sure. Just a second!” She looked at me, panicked. “I have to dress and get downstairs. Why do I feel like a teenager who got caught with a guy into my room?”
I glanced at the sex rumpled bed. “Because except for the teenager part, that’s pretty much exactly what happened.”
She paused at the bathroom door, her clothes in her hands when, for the first time, I wished they were on her body. “You sure I don’t need to move into my own place?”
I paused with my hand on the zipper of my fly. “I�
��m sure.”
“But—”
She seriously wanted to discuss this now?
“Harper, can we talk about this later? Before Agnes thinks we were still in the middle of . . . you know.” I tipped my head toward the bed before reaching for my boot.
That spurred her into action. “Be right back.” She disappeared into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.
She emerged from the bathroom a minute later while tugging her Hogs shirt down over her hips as she ran to the corner of the room to shove her feet into slippers.
Finally, we were both dressed.
“Ready?” I glanced at her.
She nodded and we headed for the stairs and Agnes downstairs, my cheeks probably as red as they felt.
Yes, I’d been in Harper’s room countless times. Yes, Agnes knew Harper and I had sex. But we usually waited until she was out. Or after she’d gone to bed. We’d never snuck away from a game because we couldn’t wait any longer—because we couldn’t control ourselves—until tonight.
As the stairs creaked beneath our feet and the sound of our footsteps echoed off the walls and ceiling, I tried to decide if making an excuse for our abrupt departure from the ball field would make things better or worse.
That became a moot point when I stepped through the doorway into the kitchen behind Harper and saw my brother’s grin.
“What are you doing here?” I asked Cash.
“We walked with Agnes and Petunia, like you asked us to,” Red answered.
“Somebody had to make sure they got home safely.” Cash cocked a brow.
I kept my fuck you to myself and said, “Yes, I know. But what are you doing inside, here in the kitchen, now?”
“I asked them to come in when we saw this tacked to the front door.” Agnes held a paper in her hand, an unhappy expression on her face.
“What is it?” Harper asked, stepping forward.
“It’s a notice of a zoning violation.” Agnes handed the paper to her.
Harper frowned down at it. “For what?”
“Your little library,” Red answered.
“What?” Harper glanced up, frowning and confused.
I was pretty confused too. “Can I see?”
She handed the paper to me and I saw for myself.
“Mother fuc—” I cut off the cuss out of respect for Agnes.
Boone had instituted a swear jar at the farm last year. But with Boone basically living with Sarah in town instead of at the farm, Cash and I had put our foot down on being censored and the penalty jar was no more.
I glanced around the room. “How can they claim it’s not legal? It’s on private property. It’s in Agnes’s yard.”
“I had a little more time than you to read that notice, since I wasn’t otherwise occupied upstairs like you were.” Cash smirked.
I cocked up a brow, wanting to say so much and squelching all of it.
He continued, “What it looks like is that they’re pulling out some code that’s been on the books since the town was founded. It says any structure or business used by the public can’t be located on private property.”
“Why is that even a law?” Harper shook her head.
“Honestly, I think they originally wrote it to keep whorehouses from popping up in the big houses in town.” Cash shrugged.
Harper’s frown deepened.
“Whatever the original reason, the town continues using it to keep out businesses they object to. You should have seen the hoops I had to jump through to open my shop. I had to get the property rezoned from residential to commercial,” Red told us.
“Why wouldn’t they want your cute little resale shop in town?” Harper asked.
“Good question.” Red scowled.
“It’s not you, Red. The village board objects to everything. They won’t let the family who bought the old Hampton house use it as an Airbnb. They even have a code about when we're allowed to decorate outside for Christmas,” Agnes said before turning to Harper. “Leave up your little library. I’ll gladly pay any fines.”
“Thank you, Aunt Agnes. But I can’t let you do that for me. If there’s any fine, I’ll pay it, even though I hate to give them even a penny. This law is ridiculous. They don’t deserve to make money from it.”
“You can appeal at the next zoning board meeting,” Red suggested.
“And get shot down. They’re using this to get back at me. Because they hate me. Just because I write ‘naughty books’.” Harper used air quotes, looking more annoyed than before. “Now they’re going to make me take down my little library, which, by the way, half the villagers borrow books from since the stupid town library has no romance books and they’re hardly ever open.”
I could see she was getting madder the longer she talked—and she could talk for a long time, I knew. I stood by, deciding if I should hug her or cuss someone out for her.
But then she went quiet and her eyes narrowed. It was the look she got when she was plotting something.
“Uh oh,” Red mumbled. She’d obviously recognized the look too.
“Whatcha thinking, baby?” I asked, rubbing my hand down her back.
“I’m thinking I’m going to get myself on a board. Zoning board. Planning board. Library board. Any one of them. Hell, all of them. How do I do that?” Harper glanced around the room.
“There are no vacancies on any of the boards right now. And the regular election for village trustee isn’t until next year,” I told her, a bit relieved by that.
I could only imagine the heated interactions between Harper and the board members. Hopefully she’d have calmed down by next year when the election rolled around.
“But you could run as a write-in candidate for mayor. That election is coming next month. And the mayor sits on all the boards,” Cash informed her.
My gaze whipped to Cash. “Mayor? No. That’s crazy.”
I glanced at Harper and saw she didn’t agree.
Harper’s eyes lit with excitement. “No, it’s not crazy. It’s brilliant. And I’m gonna do it.”
“All right then.” Cash rubbed his palms together. “Looks like we got ourselves a race.”
“Yes, we do.” Harper nodded, then frowned. “So what do I have to do to be a write-in candidate?”
Cash leaned backed against the counter, looking as if he was settling in for a nice long discussion.
“Well, let’s see. I’d get a sign printed up for the front lawn telling voters exactly what to write on the ballot. The printer just out of town can probably make a sign for you,” Cash suggested.
“Perfect.” Harper nodded. “I’ll drive over tomorrow and see how fast they can turn around a sign for the front yard.”
“Get a few printed. We’ll put one up for you at the farm market. And Red can put one at the shop. And Bethany can put one at the bakery. I bet Brandon will let you put them up in front of the diner and Mudville House.”
Harper donned a familiar, crazed look of wild-eyed, adrenaline-fueled excitement I’d seen in her before—usually before she went all in on something. She’d throw herself at this project and ignore everything else until it completely consumed her.
She spun to me. “Stone, what do you think?”
“Me?” My brows shot up before I controlled my reaction.
What I thought was that Cash should have kept his mouth shut instead of encouraging her. That nothing good was going to come of this. And that I couldn’t admit any of that to her.
“Um, I think if this is really what you want to do . . . then I guess you should do it.”
“Thanks, baby.” She stood on tip-toe and pressed a quick kiss to my cheek before she turned to face Agnes. “Aunt Agnes?”
“I think it’s a big undertaking . . .” Agnes hesitated. “But it’s a sin against democracy that man has run for mayor unopposed for a decade, so I agree. Do it.”
“Red?” Harper spun to her friend. “What do you think?”
The redhead pressed her lips tight as she was put on
the spot for an opinion about this crazy scheme. “Well, I think if anyone can pull this off, it’s you.”
Harper beamed. “Okay. Let’s do this. I’ll design the signs tonight. Get them printed hopefully tomorrow. Oh, and I’ll have to set up a page and an event on Facebook. And put pictures of the signs all over town on my Instagram.”
Her eyes narrowed as she plotted. I could see she was so deep in her own head, she might as well have been alone in the room.
“A direct mail campaign to voters in the village might be worth it,” she continued before sucking in a breath and looking as if she’d had an epiphany. “Oh, my God. I can target a Facebook ad to people just in this zip code.”
That was that. My super competitive girlfriend was running head on and full speed into the race for Mudville mayor.
I glanced from Agnes to Red. We, all of us except for Cash and Harper, wore the same wary expression.
No doubt we all had the same thought too. We, and the townspeople of Mudville, were about to be in for one wild ride.
SEVEN
Harper
The aroma of fresh brewed coffee drifted up the staircase to my room in the attic.
The scent reminded me that I hadn’t had any coffee yet this morning. I’d opened my eyes early, hours before the sun would rise, and had reached for my laptop on the nightstand.
I’d been so engrossed in reading all the comments Anonymous and his ridiculous posts were getting on the community forum, I’d never gotten downstairs.
Thank goodness for good old Aunt Agnes. Always up and at ’em early.
She’d put on a pot of coffee and no doubt had already showered and dressed. I was sure I’d find her looking like she’d stepped out of a Ralph Lauren ad. Casual but perfect. Ready for anything.
I glanced down at the PJ bottoms and oversized sweatshirt I’d slept in and decided it was good enough for my trip to the kitchen to fill a mug with coffee. I’d get dressed in something more presentable later.
Downstairs, Agnes was, as expected, dressed and ready for the day in cocoa-colored tweed wool trousers and an ivory turtleneck, all finished off with short brown leather boots with a low chunky heel.
Happy that my sweatshirt didn’t clash with my pajama bottoms, I ignored my brief feeling of inadequacy and headed for the coffee pot on the counter. “Good morning.”
