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.
I left my phone and wallet in the little wicker basket on the dresser in my room at the Ten Trees Bed & Breakfast. And it’s for this reason that I couldn’t just go inside and buy myself some much needed food.
Brilliant move, Taron. Truly genius.
I hug my arms around myself, shivering, and try to calculate how long it would take to sprint the half mile back.
Five minutes? Maybe.
Seven if I slip on wet leaves? Knowing my luck, that’s a definite possibility.
Either way I’d arrive looking like a drowned kitten and probably catch pneumonia just to prove I can’t handle one single night outside the city.
I’m already regretting everything.
The hasty decision to pack a single duffel and take Robbie’s apartment-swap suggestion.
The bus ride that smelled like old sandwiches and wet socks.
The way I walked into this tavern ten minutes ago full of false bravado, ordered a bowl of chili because it was the first thing on the chalkboard menu, then realized that I had zero way to pay for it.
I bolted before the server could even head back to the kitchen to confirm the order. Which is probably for the best all things considered. The last thing I need is to get arrested by the local sheriff for cutting and running.
Now I’m out here freezing, hungry, and feeling like the universe is laughing at me.
Pace’s voice keeps replaying in my head… You’re not ready for the real world, sweetheart. You need someone to guide you. My way is the best way.
Urgh.
I hate that he’s still in my brain. I hate that part of me wonders if he was right.
I take one step toward the street, ready to just accept the soaking and run for it, when a heavy hand lands on my shoulder.
I yelp—actually yelp—and spin so fast I nearly slip.
Wow.
Who is…
Whoever he is, he’s… huge.
Not just tall, though he has to be at least six-four.
It’s the way he fills the space. Broad shoulders stretching a faded black shirt, sleeves pushed up to show forearms corded with muscle and dusted with dark hair.
Rain beads on his flannel overshirt like it knows better than to actually soak through.
His jaw is shadowed with stubble, cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, and his eyes—deep hazel, steady, unreadable—are locked on mine.
I don’t know if this man wants to take me back to his ranch or bury me in his garden. But I do know that he looks like he was carved out of the same ancient oak as the trees around here.
My mouth goes dry even though I’m drenched.
“You okay?” His voice is low, gravelly, like he doesn’t waste syllables.
I blink up at him. “I… yah. Fine. Just… wet, a bit sticky. Not like that. Wet and sticky from the rain. Ummm. Forget I said anything. No. Um… it’s been a long day.”
The stranger doesn’t smile. He doesn’t laugh. He just studies me for a beat like he’s deciding whether I’m telling the truth.
“Name’s Kaleb,” he says.
I can’t help it. A nervous giggle bubbles out before I can stop it. “Kaleb? Like… that’s an unusual name?”
Urgh.
Why did I say that?
What was I even thinking? It’s not that unusual!
One corner of his mouth twitches. Not quite a smile, but close enough that my stomach does a stupid little flip.
“Right,” Kaleb replies.
“I’m Taron.” I tuck a sopping strand of hair behind my ear. It immediately falls back into my face.
He nods once. “Saw you leave in a hurry. Wanted to make sure you weren’t in trouble.
Some of the guys in there can get loud after a few beers.
Rowdy. They mean no harm by it, but it can be intimidating if you’re new and this isn’t your regular kind of hangout.
Which I’m guessing this is not as far as you’re concerned. ”
“Oh.” My cheeks heat despite the cold. “No, no trouble. I just… forgot my wallet. And my phone. Back at the B&B. So I kind of panicked and ran. Like I said, it’s been a long day.”
I watch as Kaleb considers what I’ve just said. Rain drums on the awning above us, loud enough that I have to raise my voice a little to be heard.
“Please don’t think I’m crazy,” I say, immediately feeling foolish.
“You hungry?” Kaleb asks.
My stomach chooses that exact moment to growl. Loudly.
And Kaleb hears it. Of course he does.
“I’ll cover your meal,” he says. “And a drink if you want one. You come back in the morning, leave the cash with the bartender. Tell him it’s for Kaleb. He’ll know.”
I stare at him.
It’s the nicest thing anyone’s offered me in weeks, and also the sketchiest-sounding thing anyone’s offered me in weeks too.
My brain flashes through every warning sign I’ve ever read in a true-crime podcast summary.
Stranger. Isolated small town. Offering to pay for things.
But then I think about the chili I abandoned, it will be steaming hot and ready for me in less than fifteen minutes, and the fact that I haven’t eaten anything substantial since the granola bar on the bus this afternoon.
And Kaleb’s not… pushy. Not sleazy. Not like Pace.
He’s just standing there, rain dripping off the brim of the baseball cap he must have grabbed on his way out, waiting for me to decide.
I swallow. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Didn’t say I had to. Said I would.”
There’s something final about the way he says it.
Like the conversation is already over and we’re just waiting for me to catch up.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say I’d just stumbled upon a Daddy.
Maybe it’s my hungry talking, but suddenly my tummy is doing all kinds of flips as I look up at Kaleb’s wide chest, strong shoulders, and ultra masculine face.
I glance back at the tavern door. Warm light spills out, the smell of woodsmoke and fried onions drifting on the damp air.
“Okay,” I say quietly. “Thank you, K-K-Kaleb.”
He nods again—like that settles it—and opens the door for me.
I step inside first. The heat hits like a blanket. My teeth are chattering now that I’m out of the wind. Heads turn, a few curious glances, but no one says anything. Kaleb follows close behind, close enough that I can smell pine and clean sweat and something faintly like motor oil.
I feel tiny next to him.
We stop just inside the entrance. The server from earlier spots me and raises an eyebrow.
“He’s with me,” Kaleb says. Simple. No explanation.
The server nods and goes back to wiping down the bar.
I turn to Kaleb. My heart is thudding too hard. “Um… do you want to… sit with me? I mean, since you’re paying and everything. I don’t mind. Or… sorry, that’s probably weird. You probably have…”
“I’m good,” Kaleb says. Not unkindly. Just matter-of-fact. “Got a friend waiting. Food’s already cold. Have a good stay here. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
Disappointment hits me like a slap, even though I have no right to feel it.
“Right. Of course.” I force a smile. “Thank you again. Really.”
He studies me for another second—like he’s trying to memorize something—then tips his head in a half-nod and walks back toward the bar.
I watch him go. The way his shoulders move under the flannel. The easy, rolling stride. The way people shift slightly to give him space without even seeming to realize they’re doing it.
I feel suddenly very small. And very alone.
A few moments later and the server brings me a fresh bowl of chili and a glass of iced tea I didn’t even order. “On the house,” he says with a wink. “Kaleb’s tab.”
I eat slowly, trying not to look like I’m starving.
The chili is spicy and rich and perfect. I almost moan around the first bite. Damn, it’s so good. I’m not exactly the world’s best cook but I know good food when I eat it. And this right here is maybe the best chili I’ve ever eaten.
When I finish, I leave a generous tip from the small emergency cash stash I keep zipped in my back pocket. Thank you, paranoid city-boy habits. And then I psyche myself up to brave the weather and head back out into the rain.
It’s still coming down hard, but I don’t care anymore. My belly is full and I know I’ve got a cozy bed waiting for me.
Just as I’m about to shut the door behind me, I turn and get one final glance at Kaleb. He’s still there with his buddy, the pair of them talking quietly over whiskies. I make a tiny little waving gesture but Kaleb doesn’t even give me a second glance though.
Hmmm.
I guess he really was just doing a stranger a solid.
The Ten Trees Bed & Breakfast is exactly what I pictured when I booked it. It was far too short notice to arrange an apartment swap like Robbie suggested, but a long term B&B might actually be even better.
White clapboard siding, wraparound porch strung with fairy lights that glow soft gold against the rain. A wooden sign swings gently above the steps: Ten Trees B&B – Est. 1892. Flower boxes overflow with pansies even though it’s only early February—some kind of winter-blooming miracle, I guess.
Inside smells like cinnamon, sweet candles, and old books.
If I’m going to make some improvements to my manuscript, or even start something new, then this truly could be the place to do it.
The foyer has a wide oak staircase with a runner in soft sage green. A vintage grandfather clock ticks in the corner. On the wall hangs a framed quilt square—red barn, blue sky, yellow sun. Everything feels lived-in and loved.
Miles and Henry Roberts greet me at the check-in desk. They’re probably in their mid-thirties, both wearing matching cable-knit sweaters and they smile like they’ve been expecting me all day.
“Back from your adventure?” Miles asks, eyes twinkling.
“Something like that,” I say, peeling off my soaked hoodie and hanging it on the antique coat rack by the door.
Henry leans forward on his elbows. “You’re dripping, sweetie. Towel?”
“Please,” I say, relieved to be receiving such a warm welcome.
Henry disappears into a side room and returns with a fluffy cream-colored towel that smells of the sweetest scent imaginable. I immediately wrap it around my shoulders like a cape.
“Breakfast is eight to nine,” Miles says. “We do family-style in the dining room. Pancakes, sausage, fresh fruit, coffee, juice. If you have any dietary needs, just let us know tonight.”
“No allergies,” I say. “I eat everything.”
“Perfect.” Henry grins. “We like easy guests.”
I laugh—a real one, the first in what feels like forever. “I’ll try to keep it that way.”
They give me a quick rundown: Wi-Fi password is on the nightstand, extra blankets in the closet, quiet hours after ten. Then they both say goodnight in unison, like they’ve practiced it a dozen times. It’s super-sweet.
I climb the stairs to the second floor, feet sinking into the plush runner. My room is at the end of the hall—number four, The Willow Suite.
Inside it’s even prettier than the photos on the website.
Soft dove-gray walls. A four-poster bed with a white quilt embroidered with tiny green leaves.
A window seat piled with throw pillows in every shade of forest green and cream.
A small fireplace—not lit, but stacked with logs and kindling.
Then there’s the writing desk tucked under the window with a vintage typewriter that’s clearly just for show.
And Lightening, sitting patiently on the pillow, waiting for me.
I scoop him up and bury my face in his fur. “Hey, buddy. Sorry I left you here.”
I strip out of my wet clothes, pull on the softest pajama set I own, pale blue with little white foxes printed all over, and crawl under the covers. The sheets are crisp and smell like sunshine.
Rain taps against the window like gentle fingers.
Before I know it, I start to think about Kaleb.
The way his hand felt on my shoulder—big, warm, steady.
The way he didn’t try to charm me, didn’t flirt, didn’t push. Just offered help like it was the most normal thing in the world.
I think about how disappointed I was when he walked away.
Then my mind wanders to what might have happened had he joined me for dinner.
And maybe then if we’d hit it off.
And perhaps if he actually was a Daddy…
“Mmmph,” I moan, my hand roaming down inside my pajama bottoms and tracing over the pubic hair that leads towards my special place.
I let out a giggle and a gasp as I feel how hard I am, my body evidently more than ready to react to any thoughts of what Kaleb might look like minus his clothes. Or how his hands would feel on my body. How big and scary his cock would be if it was right in front of my face…
“OMG… I… so… quickly….” I squirm, my hips writhing and my cock feeling like it might just explode as my climax comes on harder and faster than I could possibly have imagined.
I reach over and grab Lightening and press him down against my face to muffle my moans of pleasure as I cum, and cum hard. The last thing I want to do is for my hosts to walk past my room and hear my orgasming on the first night!
But the truth of the matter is that Kaleb is all I can think about.
He might not have shown any interest in me this evening, but in my imagination, I can make him do whatever I like—and with that in mind, something tells me that I’ve got at least one more orgasm left in me before I go to sleep tonight…