Drive Me Wild (Bellamy Creek #1)(44)

“Right now I’m staying with Griffin, but that’s temporary.”

“My mother offered to host her,” said Cheyenne with a giggle. “Just as soon as she cleans out the spare bedroom, which should only take her about—ohhh, six weeks at the most. She’s determined to keep them in the same place as long as possible. I think she’s hoping for a grandchild out of this somehow.”

“Not going to happen,” I said firmly, pulling my wallet from my back pocket. “You ready to go, Blair? I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”

“Me too,” she said, rising to her feet. “I want to make scones again, and some lemon lavender shortbread as well.”

“Mmmm, that sounds delicious,” Cheyenne said. “I’ll have to bring Mom again so I can sneak a taste.”

“Don’t you dare,” I ordered my sister, tossing enough cash on the table to cover Blair and me. “You took forever to come back and get her today, and she drove me nuts.”

“Actually, she was really helpful at the desk,” said Blair. “Please thank her again for me, Cheyenne. And thank you for picking me up tonight.”

“Anytime,” my sister said with a smile. “I never miss old man baseball. It’s the highlight of my week.”

I flipped her off and took Blair by the shoulders, steering her down the sidewalk toward my truck. But I took my hands off her as quickly as possible. I didn’t want anyone watching us leave to comment.

On the ride home, Blair told me about someone my sister knew who owned a coffee shop near Cloverleigh Farms.

“That’s great,” I said as I parked the truck. “Maybe she’s hiring.”

“I hope so. That would be perfect. Hey, what’s that?” she asked, pointing to a vintage truck parked behind the garage. I kept it beneath a weatherproof cover all year round.

“It’s a 1955 Chevy pickup my dad and I rehabbed. I wish I had garage space for it.”

We got out of the truck and wandered over to the old pickup.

“Nineteen-fifty-five,” she mused, trying to peek under the heavy cover. “That’s the year the business opened, right?”

“Right. Why?”

“Because I think you should park it out front during the anniversary event and let it advertise your business. Who doesn’t love a fun antique car? And you know what you should do? Paint your new logo on the side!”

“I have a new logo?”

“Don’t worry. You’re gonna love it.” She patted my shoulder. “What color is the truck? I can’t see in the dark.”

“Red.”

“Is it in good shape?”

“Of course it is. I did the work.”

She grinned at me, her face lighting up the dark. “Didn’t mean to doubt you. Can I have a ride in it?”

“Right now? It’s a little late.” And I had a different kind of joy ride in mind for tonight.

Her shoulders drooped. “I guess you’re right. How about tomorrow after work?”

It was cute how excited she was about it. “Sure.”

“Yay!” She clapped her hands, and we started walking around to the front of the building. “It’s a date! Or not. Because you would never date an employee. That’s not okay.”

“But it’s okay to sleep with one?” I teased.

“Only the one who tells the good bedtime stories.”

“That’s right. You promised me another story tonight.” I unlocked the door and let her walk up the steps ahead of me. And goddamn, if I lived to be a hundred, I’d always remember the way I liked watching Blair walk up a flight of stairs from below, the way it made me want to grab her from behind, wrap my arms around her, bury my face in her hair.

In fact, the moment we reached the top of the steps, I did exactly that.

She laughed, taken by surprise, covering my arms with hers. “What’s this?”

“I don’t know. I’m just really fucking glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

“Sorry I’m sweaty.”

“I don’t mind.”

I inhaled, breathing in the sweet smell of her hair but also my own post-game stench. “One of us smells terrible. Is it you?”

She laughed again. “I don’t think so.”

“Give me ten minutes to clean up.” I let her go and headed for the bedroom.

“Okay. I’ll feed Bisou and meet you in the bedroom for story time. I’ve got a really good one for you tonight.”





When I came out of the bathroom, she was waiting for me.

Wearing the ball gown. And the elbow-length gloves. And the tiara.

I was naked.

She stood near the foot of the bed. The lights were off, but she’d managed to find a few candles, which filled the room with low, flickering light. Her eyes traveled over my skin, lingering on my cock, which was already growing hard.

“Once upon a time, there was a princess trapped in a tower,” she said in a dreamlike, feminine voice. “Night after night, this unsullied maiden waited for her very own gentleman prince to come find her.”

“A gentleman prince, huh?” I moved closer to her.

She nodded. “She was certain her hero would be a prince—a tall, devastatingly handsome man with blue eyes and bulging biceps who rode up on a great white stallion.”