For a brief moment, my brain appears to disconnect entirely and all I can do is stare as quite possibly the cutest boy I’ve ever seen walks into the tavern. He’s young, early twenties, but there’s something about him that’s different.
He’sdefinitelynot from around here, that’s for sure.
If he was, I would surely know who he was.
No one would forget a sweet face like that, or the kind of wholesome strong but soft curves that he’s carrying either. And by curves, I mean real juicy too. A body that would make a Daddy like me hard in five seconds flat. And I’m talking about the kind of blood-pumping, rock-hard erection that can’t be hidden by even the thickest jeans known to man.
Fuck.
What I’d do to put him over my lap.
Or bounce him on my meat…
“Close your mouth, Kaleb, you’re catching flies,” Trask says to break me out of my trance.
“Asshole,” I mutter. “I just got lost for a moment. No big deal. Now keep these drinks coming.”
But as I gradually start to get my brain back in gear, I feel a burning sensation that I can’t shake. I want to turn around and get another look at that boy. This isn’t like me. Not even close. I’ve seen a thousand cute boys in my lifetime. I can take them or leave them—and ninety nine times out of a hundred, I do in fact leave them.
“Just turn and look,” Trask says, evidently wise to what’s going on in my head. “Hell, here’s an idea… you could even go and sayhey.”
For a brief moment, I think Trask might be on to something.
Icouldgo and introduce myself.
For all I know, he could be just my type… whatever that is.
He might even be a Little. Hell, I can dream.
“Screw it, you’re right,” I say, adrenaline surging as I get up from my barstool and turn. “Oh. What…”
And just like that, I watch as the boy opens the door and exits the tavern almost as quickly as he entered. I guess you could say it’s just my luck. Or maybe it was simply never meant to be. Or you might even argue that it’s a blessing in disguise and probably the best damned thing that’s happened to me all day. After all, why the hell do I need all the fussing and bullshit that comes with getting involved with someone?
Hmmm.
I’m going to go with the latter option.
“Trask, more whisky, and make them doubles,” I growl. “Now about those trees…”
Chapter 3
Taron
“Grrrrrr,” I growl, tapping my head and almost letting my frustration get the better of me.
And to make matters worse, the rain starts to blow in and it hits like it’s personally offended I exist. I take cover a little further back toward the door. The last thing I want to do is get soaked. But what choice do I have?
“Great!” I holler, clearly not standing far enough back.
One second I’m standing under the tiny awning outside Woody Hollow, staring at the wall of water pouring off the roofline, and the next I’m already soaked from the knees down because a gust decided to fling a sheet of it right at me.
My sneakers squelch.
My hoodie clings.
My hair is plastered to my cheeks like wet wallpaper.
“Faaaaaantastic!” I say, unsure whether I should laugh or cry.