Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Del
Who belongs to what? What the hell have I stumbled upon? What is going—
“Oh shit,” I squeak, scrambling for the door latch as the truck—is that a collection of baby animals painted on its side?—begins to roll straight for the ravine’s edge beside the road.
“Shit!” I shout, fling my door open, and try to throw myself out.
Except my seat belt stops me, an unyielding band dissecting my chest between my boobs and slicing at my neck.
“Shit!” I rasp, stare jerking from the truck to the man with an amazing arse and incredible thighs and shoulders and— Holy shit, is he running for the truck’s open driver’s door?
Popping my seat belt buckle, I scramble from my car, watching him grab the swinging driver’s door with one hand. Muscles bulge and ripple under a white T-shirt that was never meant to be stretched that tight, and in one fluid move, he pulls himself up into the cabin.
“Whoa,” I whisper. A tingle of sexual appreciation prickles my clit. Talk about impressive.
The smaller man wobbles over to me, arms outstretched, face red, watery eyes bulging in his head. “My truck,” he wails.
“Your animals,” thunder pretending to be a voice cracks back from the truck a heartbeat before brakes squeal and it shudders to a halt.
From inside the colorfully painted cargo box, with its cheery collection of painted lambs and goats and chickens and—dear God, is that an alpaca?—a duck quacks.
I blink and flinch as the truck’s engine splutters into life.
“What the?” I whisper, staring at the truck. Is the giant—no, Del, he’s a man, a goddamn hot-as-sin man—stealing the petting zoo?
A sharp beep-beep-beep stabs at the air, and then the truck reverses away from the drop-off, inching backward until it’s completely on the road again.
The brakes sigh, accompanied by a flash of red taillights, and—with a cracking backfire—the engine falls quiet.
“Thank God,” the man beside me croaks. “I thought—”
The tattooed man jumps down from the truck, his booted feet hitting the road with a crunching thud. Even though it’s not possible, I’m convinced the ground shakes.
Holy crap! What size are his boots? Size fourteen?
Big feet, big—
“Are you okay?” he barks, jabbing a long finger at the wheezing man next to me. Something tight and hot flutters low in my belly. He has no right to be so…so…fucking hot.
It’s like he’s radiating sex and dominating menace.
A shiver of need ripples through me, pooling in the junction of my thighs. My clit throbs again.
“Yes,” the man at my side stammers, stumbling forward a step. “Thank you. I don’t know how I choked—”
Mr. Fucking Hot Sex God turns his broad back to us both—has he even acknowledged my existence yet?—storms toward the back of the truck, and yanks open the cargo box doors.
A cacophony of animal noises spills out, the sounds and calls of distressed sheep, ducks, pigs, and goats. A cold fist sinks into my stomach, and I snap my stare to the truck’s painted side.
Pete’s Mobile Farmyard Petting Zoo.
Oh God, is the truck full of animals? Adorable baby animals that almost went over the side of the ravine?
“Are they okay?” I ask, just as Mr. Fucking Hot Sex God vaults up into the cargo box.
I stand frozen for a second by the chaotic tension of it all, and then I sprint for the back of the truck.
“Are they hurt?” I shout, reaching the tailgate. “Are they…”
I trail off, a wave of concentrated lust suffocating my ability to speak.
Mr. Fucking Hot Sex God stands a few feet inside the box.
A tiny white baby goat rests in his arms, tucked against a broad, sculpted chest. His hand—large and long-fingered—moves slow and sure, scratching behind its ears. Gentle. Controlled.
“Alive?” I finish on a whispered groan, staring up at him.
Holy hell, I think I’m instantly pregnant.
He’s surrounded by cages and crates housing ducks, piglets, some fluffy bunnies, lambs, a pony, and, yep, a freaking alpaca. All the animals are, indeed, alive. All are looking at him like he’s the Second Coming, even the baby goat in his arms.
Raw hunger throbs through me, and I let out a soft whimper. He’s a visual aphrodisiac.
He lifts his smile from the baby goat, and his gray eyes lock on me, pinning me with an unreadable stare.
I draw in a breath. My nipples bead.
His stare drops to my lips, and then he jerks it up to mine again, and his dark eyebrows dip. “What kind of fool,” he growls, scratching the baby goat’s ears with soft strokes, “drives a car like yours on a road like this?”