by Cat Johnson
“I just asked if you were coming to the shop with us after this.”
The shop, where the exquisite cape I knew I’d love was waiting to become part of Sarah’s wedding ensemble.
“Oh. Um. No, I don’t think so. I should get to work.”
Red narrowed her eyes. “Writing? Or stalking the forum?”
“Writing,” I promised, and unlike sometimes in the past, I actually meant it.
Suddenly I had the urge to kill off someone else in my fictional town. Maybe the wedding planner this time . . .
THIRTEEN
Stone
I sighed as yet another notification flashed onto the screen of my cell phone where it rested in the console of my truck.
There it was, another forum private message announcing itself in big and bold letters for anyone to see, including Harper if she’d been here in the truck with me.
I needed to figure out how to turn that shit off. Maybe I’d delete the whole damn app from my cell and just use the iPad to log in.
At least it was a generic alert. No actual text from the message itself showed on my lock screen. Even so, I couldn’t take the risk that Harper would see a notification coming through from the Mudville forum to my phone.
The stress of sneaking around and hiding my secret identity as Anonymous was starting to get to me. I didn’t need it following me around on my phone too.
Just staring at that notification on the oversized device made me regret yet again that I’d let Cash talk me into upgrading my old smart phone to this new jumbo model.
So what if my old phone had only held a charge for a few hours? I was never too far from a charger. And I didn’t care that the device had been so outdated that it had stopped upgrading to the newest operating system three versions ago. It worked fine for my purposes.
But I’d let him talk me into it, and there had been a sale, so here I was hauling around this damn supersized model that barely fit in the pocket of my jeans.
There was only one thing that measured six-plus inches that I didn’t mind inside my pants and it wasn’t this freaking phone.
I’d switched to carrying it in the pocket of my jacket since the weather had turned colder, which solved the problem for now. But come summer, that would be a different story. I’d have to worry about that then. Now I had a message to deal with, quick so I could get inside to Harper.
The workday was done—for me anyway. I’d eaten dinner at home with the family. The sun had already set and I was ready to get comfortable upstairs with Harper for the night. But first, while I was alone, I guessed I should read this damn message.
Again I thought how my sneaking around had to stop. Again, I proved I could procrastinate as well as my brothers when avoiding an unpleasant chore.
I swiped the notification on the screen, sending the cell into a complex though automatic sequence that unlocked the phone, launched the proper app and displayed the message for me to read.
Dear Anonymous,
I’ve reached out several times. I’d love to meet with you regarding an opportunity related to your profile posts on the Mudville online community forum and bulletin board. Please respond at your earliest convenience.
Sincerely,
Marge Brown
Features Editor, Mudville Inquisitor
She’d waited a whole day since the last message. Lucky me.
Shaking my head, I deleted the message, choosing to not respond, then I cleared the notification from the screen before I got out of the truck and headed around to the back of the house.
This late, Petunia would already be fed and settled in her pen and the chickens would have roosted in their coop the moment the sun had started to go down.
The lone occupant of Agnes’s animal population who came to greet me was one of the outdoor barn cats. She must have been hanging around the back door waiting for someone to open it.
When she saw me, she let out a short meow that sounded half grateful I was there and half annoyed I’d taken so long to arrive.
“Hey, girl. You want to come inside? It’s gonna be a cold one tonight.”
She came and rubbed on my legs, looking up at me with expressive feline eyes which probably said that of course she wanted to go inside. Why else would she be hanging around the back door in the dark?
I swung the storm door wide and opened the inside door into the kitchen. “Okay. There you go.”
She scurried in without so much as a thank you glance and headed right for the bowls of food and water Agnes left out in the pantry.
Dismissing the cat’s lack of gratitude, I closed the doors and glanced into the TV room off the kitchen. One small light glowed but I could see no one was inside.
I wondered where Agnes was until I realized she was probably playing in the card tournament finals at Laney’s, just like my parents were.
Harper and I had the house to ourselves for a while, which motivated me to sprint up the stairs with more than the usual spring in my step that remained at the end of a long day.
When I reached the top floor, I found Harper in her favorite spot. She was on top of the bed, under a throw, with her laptop open and resting on her thighs.
“You’re going to need a chiropractor if you continue to work in bed like that,” I said, making my way across the huge attic that she’d claimed as her room.
She shook her head. “I’ve always written more in bed than at my desk. Even in my old apartment. Eight years I’ve been working like this and I haven’t needed a doctor yet.”
“All right. If you say so.” I pulled off my jacket and hung it on her desk chair. When I turned back, I noticed her frowning at her screen.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Mister Naughty, that’s what’s wrong.” Her eyes narrowed and I realized I’d just dug my grave deeper.
“Mister Naughty?” I asked, playing innocent, as if I didn’t know to whom she was referring.
The truth was I’d noticed a couple of commenters calling me Mr. Naughty on the forum.
I’d laughed when I saw the ridiculous name. She wasn’t laughing now.
“Yes. Mister Naughty is apparently Anonymous’s new nickname.” Her scowl deepened. “But that’s not the worst of it. You should see the bad advice he’s handing out.”
“What bad advice?” I asked, trying not to be insulted as my girlfriend slammed me without knowing she was doing it.
“His sex advice. It’s absolutely ridiculous.”
“What’s wrong with it?” I asked, and realized that sounded defensive so I added, “For example.”
“He told some guy that even though women say they want cuddling and sweet gentle sex, sometimes they really want the opposite.”
“And is that wrong?” I asked.
“Yes,” she answered with conviction. “Well, no, I guess it's not exactly wrong. Sometimes I want you to be sweet and gentle and sometimes I do like when you get all growly and rough, like you can’t wait to have me and can’t get enough.”
My brows shot high as this discussion moved away from hypotheticals from the forum and into reality in our bedroom.
“Good to know.” I nodded.
“But that’s not the point.” She glared at me.
“What is?” I folded my arms to wait for the answer.
“The point is, he has no right to assume he knows. He’s not a woman.”
“But he has first-hand experience with his girlfriend . . . or I would assume he does anyway.” I scrambled to cover my misstep.
She let out a huff. “Can we not talk about Mister Naughty, please? Just thinking about him is giving me indigestion.”
I was more than happy to stop talking about that particular subject, but I wasn’t going to let her other statement pass unnoticed.
“Is he giving you indigestion or is it all the coffee and cupcakes you had at Honey Buns today?”
“How do you know I was at Bethany’s today?” she asked.
“Two brothers obsessed with abusing
our group text, is how I know. I now know more than I ever wanted to about cupcake flavors.” My cell buzzed and I glanced at the readout. “And now I know Cash is heading home to help Boone unload the sleigh Red’s letting us borrow for the tree lot.”
“And for the wedding pictures,” she added. I didn’t miss the edge in her voice.
I knew the wedding was the other thing, besides Mister Naughty aka Anonymous, that had Harper looking less than happy lately.
Time to change the subject . . . again.
I tossed the cell onto the nightstand and glanced up at Harper as I moved to the edge of the bed. “So, did you get any good writing done today?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Not enough. Just shy of a thousand words.”
“A thousand is better than nothing,” I pointed out hoping—probably in vain—that she’d see the bright side for once.
“Yes. But it’s not as good as two thousand.”
And there, as expected, was the pessimist I knew and loved.
“True.” I sat on the edge of the mattress. “Do you want me to leave you alone so you can work?”
I didn’t want to go, but I would if she asked me to.
“No.” She pouted. “Don’t go.”
It was that adorable pout that had intrigued me when we’d first met two years ago. So much so, my heart had quickly become hers.
She raised her gaze to mine and I saw a familiar look in her eyes. Heat. Desire.
Hell, yeah. I could work with that.
“Do you want me to stay and distract you?” I asked, unable to control the grin that idea caused.
“Yes.” Harper closed her laptop and twisted away from me to put it on the other nightstand. I got a very nice view of the curve of her ass as she stretched to reach the table, before she turned back to face me.
I drew in a breath as appendages lower woke up in anticipation of what was to come. My boots hit the ground as fast as I could kick them off.
Leaning closer, I trailed a finger down her thigh. “So, do you want me to be sweet and cuddly?” It was a gamble to remind her of Mister Naughty’s post, but it worked out.
There was heat in her eyes as she shook her head. “Nope.”
I could definitely work with that. I was on my knees in a split second, hooking my fingertips in the waistband of her leggings. Tugging them down her legs, I exposed her, inch by inch, until they were on the floor and she was nude from the waist down.
“God, I love when you’re commando.” I growled at the idea of her prancing around in those tight little pants with no underwear all day while I was at work.
Her lids dropped low over violet-blue eyes. “Yeah? Show me how much you love it.”
Sure, I’d show her. No problem.
Gripping her legs with both hands, I spread her thighs wide and leaned low. Her hips jerked up when my tongue made first contact with her core.
She hissed in a sharp breath and I smiled in satisfaction before getting down to serious business.
After two years I knew just how to touch her. What she liked. What she didn’t.
That didn’t mean I couldn’t mix things up a little bit sometimes. Keep it fresh. Surprise my lady once in a while.
Clenched muscles, quickened breathing, and one tantalizing, “Yes,” told me she was close. That what I was doing was working.
I doubled my efforts with my hand and my mouth and soon her hips bucked off the bed as her cries got louder.
I spared a moment’s thought to appreciate that Agnes wasn’t home and Harper could be as loud as she wanted. Then I pushed everything and everyone out of my mind. The only thing left was Harper and her pleasure.
Her pulses slowed but I pushed her harder, all the way to another peak, enjoying as her whole body trembled beneath me.
That all worked to make me harder.
I wrestled my jeans off and tossed them to the carpet, followed by my underwear and shirt. In the meantime, she tossed off her sweatshirt and bra.
Throbbing, I rose on my knees and reached for a pillow. I lifted Harper’s hips with one hand and shoved the pillow beneath her ass with the other.
With nothing more between us, I thrust inside her.
The angle changed everything. It afforded me new access to greater depths until my eyes rolled back in my head from the feeling.
Harper’s cries of pleasure matched my strokes.
“You like this?” I asked.
“Yes,” she gasped.
“Tell me.”
“Yes. Oh, God. Stone. Yes.” Her nails digging into my ass cheeks rocketed me to the next level of intensity.
I roared with an orgasm that had me seeing stars, then kept going, still hard.
Wanting more, but something different, I pulled out and flipped her over onto her stomach.
Folding the pillow in half I shoved it beneath her hips, lifting her ass higher. It was a beautiful sight as I plunged inside again with a groan.
She was drenched, both from my coming inside her the first time and from her own arousal. An idea on how to take advantage of that hit me, tightening my balls.
I slid one finger through the wetness and circled her ass, before pushing just the tip inside.
Harper’s back bowed as she threw her head back.
I bit out a cuss and pounded into her harder, faster, while pushing my finger deeper. She tightened around me, then I felt her start to come.
Her orgasm gripped me so tightly, I had to stop moving.
I held deep and enjoyed the spasms around me for as long as I could stand it before I couldn’t hold back anymore. I had to move. I pulled out and slammed back inside. Over and over until I came again, loud and hard.
I collapsed over her back, as breathless as if I’d run a sprint. Although our loving tonight had been more like a marathon.
She panted, still face down beneath me.
I couldn’t resist making a stupid comment, although I definitely should have.
Proving I don’t always do what is best, I said, “Maybe Mister Naughty knows what he’s talking about.”
Harper twisted to send me a dagger-filled glance over her shoulder.
“Or maybe not,” I added.
I might not be the expert everyone thought I was online, but I wasn’t a complete idiot either.
FOURTEEN
Harper
Dawn crept over the horizon later each morning as the autumn days marched toward winter.
At sunrise, Stone kissed me goodbye and left to go work on the farm.
I, once again grateful my job could be done day or night and from the comfort of my warm room, stayed in bed and tried to get another hour or two of sleep.
Of course, that didn’t work. Once I was awake, I was up for good.
Giving up on sleep, I trotted downstairs and grabbed a mug of coffee from the pot that Agnes must have brewed earlier.
I should have just enjoyed sipping the hot liquid before heading back upstairs and getting to work.
Since I rarely do what I know I should, I instead pulled out my cell phone and navigated to the forum. I figured I would just scroll through quick while I finished my coffee and then get to work.
That was the plan, anyway, until I saw that one of my posts soliciting questions had two new comments on it. Two questions had been posted.
Two suspicious questions.
I checked the time stamp on them. Both had been added yesterday afternoon. Within minutes of each other. Not long after the time I had left Bethany and Red at the coffee shop.
Clicking on the profiles of the two people who’d posted the questions, I saw both accounts had been created—no surprise—yesterday. The only activity on them was their likes of my posts and the new comments.
I read the two posted questions, although I didn’t need to. There was already enough evidence to reinforce my suspicions.
They seemed generic. Innocuous. Not the kind of thing internet trolls would post to mock me. Nope. I had a strong feeling I’d fallen victim to someth
ing else entirely. My own friends.
I was trying to decide if I was touched that they cared enough about me to create fake profiles just so I’d get some questions.
Or if I was insulted that I was obviously so pitiful my friends felt they had to do something to help me.
I hadn’t landed one way or another when Agnes walked into the kitchen from the front of the house.
Of course, she was dressed for the day, even at this early hour. Today’s ensemble made her look even more like Kathryn Hepburn than usual. The black wool tapered leg trousers made her look tough but classy at the same time. The chunky gray sweater was stylish but casual and comfortable.
I wiped a dribble of coffee off the front of my sweatshirt and said, “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” She waved a piece of paper in the air before slapping it down on the counter. “Another love note from the zoning department.”
“Mother fuc—” I cut myself off and planted my mug on the counter hard enough to splash the contents over the edge. “That’s it. I’m doing something about this.”
“It’s fine, Harper. I’ve taken on this town before.”
“I know, but you shouldn’t have to do it for me. For this.” I eyed the paper with hatred.
“I don’t mind—” Agnes shook her head.
“I do.” I spun and reached for the basement doorknob.
“What are you going to do?” Agnes asked.
“I’m going to leave a love note of my own for those bastards. There’s still paint and brushes in the basement, right?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Good.” I swung the door open and took the first step down, then realized I was in just my socks.
I spun back and stormed across the kitchen to where I always left a pair of rubber boots by the pantry door. I pulled them on and tucked my pajama bottoms inside.
“You’re going outside like that?” Agnes asked.
I glanced down at what I was wearing. “You’re right. It’s cold. I need a coat.”
Spinning, I grabbed my jacket off the hook and headed again for the basement stairs.
Outside, I could see my breath hanging in the air and my fingers were like ice in just a few minutes, but the discomfort was worth it.
