The Country Duet(29)

The towel wrapped snuggly around my waist tumbles to the tile, and I teach my Jeff Gordon every single rule about being a cowboy before going out. Her moans fuel each of my actions. Like I said; a vice…hook, line, and sinker.





***


“Damn, the man lives.” Solid slaps to my back.

“The bitch of Burton lives.”

“Inherited millions yet?”

“That old man has deep pockets, yeah?”

“Smart asshole in and out of the classroom. Wish I was quicker on the gun to get Hendricks’s millions.”

“Smart move, man. I’d be his bitch, too. Dollars are pennies, and they all spend the same.”

“Bastard.”

All of it merges into one screwed up vision. Then I realize it’s my reality. With Burton gone, so is my target. He took all the shit and grief on his broad shoulders. Now it’s just me, and I’m lost. So fucking gone, until I feel her finger squeeze between mine. It’s a pressure I’m unable to avoid.

It sucks me in just like she did. Teale sneaks up on her toes in her fancy town boots, pecking me on the cheek. One simple kiss wipes away every single doubt. This woman grounds me in a way that should frighten me.

“Hunter.”

Her endless ocean of blue eyes gazes right up to me. “Yeah?”

“You okay?”

I raise my shoulders, really not knowing the answer. All of my good friends surround me and find it funny to give me hell. They would’ve given Dave the bird then sprayed gravel on his front steps with their trucks instead of sticking at his side. And him having millions, that’s the furthest thing from the damn truth. He may be sitting on millions, but it’s all tied up in assets. And the man does not spare a penny for anything. Hell, he still tells me all the time that I’m making good money with him. The sad reality is I’m not making a single dime between running back and forth to the hospital and nursing home and now going out to his place three times a week.

“I’m good, Baby.” I squeeze her hand in mine. It makes everything disappear.

“Make You Mine” by High Valley blares out from one of the jackass’s truck. On instinct, Teale and I intertwine into a fierce two-step. It’s intense, raw, and real. The two of us belt out the words, howling to the moon. Her fancy boots kick into my cowboy boots, but it doesn’t stop us as we both sing out, hallelujah. She saves me when she doesn’t even realize it.

It’s an unspoken message…we were made for each other. Each on our own journey, but brought together. There are so many questions of what if or what you believe in, but when something works seamlessly together, does it really matter? Mother Nature and the element table even see eye-to-eye on rare occasions. I know this for a fact when Teale still has me in her arms dancing to a Luke Bryan song.

Shit, I’ve trained my younger sisters to call him Puke Bryan because what country singer cuts the circulation off to his nuts with skinny jeans. Back to those lessons…life can be a bitch, but when the stars align just right, they soothe the pain.

“Need a drink.” Teale taps my cheek.

“Follow me.”

The fighting, country side of me prickles up when I guide Teale back to my truck. For Christ sake, her legs aren’t even exposed. Yep, caveman. Damn straight. It’s like a country love song. I’ll beat anyone down who looks sideways at her.

Teale pats my chest, still giggling about my nut sack drawing ability. Her laughter is adrenaline to my bloodstream. Every single touch makes loving her easy. I reach down into the cooler in the bed of my truck, grabbing a chilled bottle of water. She doesn’t flinch or hesitate like in the past. Her lips are around it, chugging down the refreshing water…easy.

Teale pulls back, grabbing the bottle of water, then brings it to my lips. It’s an odd sensation to be taken care of. It feels good at that same time.

It’s when her long legs wrap around my middle, locking right above my ass, I smile like an idiot. The action is followed by a chorus of catcalls, but they all fade away because I’m rooted in her.

Her taste.

Soft skin.

Smell.

I believe in the ways of the world. I was put on this world to love her.





Chapter 13


Hunter


“I've always felt that if you've been blessed, you should try to help as many people as you can. I just think that's the right thing to do.” –Larry the Cable Guy



“Hello.”

“Is this Hunter Yates?”

“Yes, it is.”

From the deep accent making it nearly impossible to hear the pronunciation of my own name, I know it’s more insurance bullshit. Every single time I’ve called, it’s been the biggest run around of my life. They don’t know the answers and promise to get back to me. Then it’s a new person calling needing all the information again, starting the cycle all over.

“I understand you’ve had some questions about Dave Hendricks’s insurance?”

“Yeah, this is about the eighth call.” I don’t hide the frustration in my voice while pacing the car I’m working on. “He’s been billed for his recent stay at a nursing home facility in Lewiston.”

It doesn't feel right taking time off work to deal with this shit, but the damn insurance companies don’t care.