14. Chapter 14
Chapter 14
GRIFF
“So, what exactly is a goat lingerie show?” Cole asks the question I think we’ve all been afraid to voice.
Ledger sputters a laugh next to me, his hand brushing against mine as we all make our way into the county fair, the afternoon sunshine beating down on us and the smell of farm animals and fried food mingling in a way that would probably be disgusting to anyone not used to it.
“I don’t know, but aren’t you excited to find out?” Stone seems to be the only one who isn’t mildly disturbed by the possibilities.
“From experience, I’m going to guess it’s goats eating lingerie,” Dare mutters, his lips twisting into a wry smile as he rubs his ass like he’s remembering a phantom injury.
“No way, goats wearing lingerie,” Miller says.
My fingers twitch, brushing against Ledger’s again, and I let the debate about goat lingerie fade into the background as I glance over at him. For three days since he brought up the fair and I suggested coming together, the question of whether this is a date or not has been on a loop in my head. I’ve just been too chickenshit to come right out and ask.
On the one hand, we’re here with my bosses and coworkers. Not exactly the height of romance. I almost laugh out loud at that. As if I know a damn thing about romance.
On the other hand, I did pick Ledger up and kiss him at the door before we got in the truck, and now I’m wondering if I take his hand, will that seal the deal? Will that make this a date instead of just two friendly neighbors enjoying the fucked-up irony of petting a baby pig while eating a corndog together?
“That’s your ‘thinking too hard’ scowl. What’s on your mind, big bear?” he asks quietly, the two of us walking a couple of paces behind everyone else.
I snort and smooth out the furrow in my brow.
“Just disturbed by the idea of goats in lingerie,” I say dryly, sucking in a fortifying breath and reaching for Ledger’s hand. He makes a high, strangled sound that he quickly swallows down. “Is this okay?”
I glance over and he’s smiling widely. His head bounces in a rapid nod and he squeezes my hand like he’s afraid I’ll change my mind and take it back. Butterflies dance in my stomach, and just like the other night when I fumbled over telling Ledger I like him, I feel like I’m a teenager again with my first crush.
We stop to chat with Red and Journey, who brought their alpacas for a small petting zoo, and run into Porter, who had to come by to check out a sick pig before the 4 H competition. Eventually we make our way to the tent with the sign out front advertising the goat lingerie show.
We join the crowd just in time for the show to start. A blond woman with a messy bun and overalls is the emcee, stepping up to the podium with an unhinged kind of smile that seems completely on par with whatever this bizarre event is.
“We’re so excited to have you all here for this special viewing of our faux goat collection,” she announces.
“ What did she just say?” Daniel murmurs.
“I could stand here all afternoon telling you about how passionate and creative our design team is, but some things are better seen than talked about.”
“She has to know we’re all dying to know what the fuck this is, right? Make with the tarted-up goats already,” Cole calls out.
Ledger sputters a laugh that he tries to hide by pressing his face into my shoulder, and warmth spreads through my body at his touch.
The emcee doesn’t react, she just keeps smiling as she presses the button on a boom box. Where the hell did she even get that?
“A moment of silence for all the D batteries that are losing their lives tonight because this lady hasn’t heard of a smart speaker.” Ollie mimes the sign of the cross for the fallen batteries and then, “Too Sexy,” of all songs, starts to play through the outdated machine.
“No.” Demitri cackles, falling into Miller with his fit of laughter. “I’m really starting to think we’re going to need to call the authorities. Who punishes bestiality?”
“God,” Ev deadpans.
And then the models finally take the makeshift stage. I breathe a momentary sigh of relief to see that they are in fact human and not goats, but the feeling only lasts for a second before a new horror dawns.
“What in the abominable hell are they wearing?” Ridge gasps.
The man who takes center stage poses confidently in what can only be described as a fur loincloth. He grins and waggles his eyebrows before turning to strut off the stage.
“Why is this so much weirder than goats in lingerie?” West shakes his head, and we all take in the incomprehensible ‘fashion’ with varying expressions of horror and confusion on our faces.
The models parade one by one across the catwalk with scraps of fur covering their bits in ways that almost make me wish they actually were goats in thongs instead.
“No goats were harmed in the making of this collection, and we just know that all of you faux-goat fanatics are going to love adding some fun and adventure to your love lives with these exciting pieces,” the emcee declares.
After the furry collection, the next set of models come out wearing underwear with little cartoon goats all over them. I would have found that odd five minutes ago, but it seems downright normal after the faux goat fur thong. Still not sure why someone would want to buy a teddy with a bunch of goats on it, but that’s the least weird outcome of this entire baffling show.
“Well, this was a waste.” Stone sighs. “I already own this entire menswear collection.”
I arch an eyebrow.
“Even the fur thong?” Ollie asks with a smirk.
Dare nods. “He does.”
Daniel types furiously on his phone as the show comes to a very timely end. He turns around and waves it at us.
“Can you believe that?” He gestures at the emcee on the stage, who is telling everyone where they can order. “I’m posting all over my social media about this bigoted company.”
“Bigoted?” I cock my head. I mean, the underwear was all offensive to the eyes, but nothing worse than that as far as I can tell.
“Babe.” His best friend, Ren, puts a hand on his shoulder, stifling a laugh. “She was saying faux goat .”
Daniel blinks and then grimaces. “Oops. Deleting posts now. I can’t unsend the angry email I sent to the company, can I?”
I rumble a rusty laugh and glance over at Ledger. I promised him fried food and I saw him eyeing the Ferris wheel on our way in. Date or not, I want him to have a good time.
“Come on.” I nudge him towards the large tent opening.
“Where are we going?” he asks, following me as we slip away from the rest of the guys.
I don’t bother to answer, but he figures it out quickly enough when we get in line for funnel cake.
“Your friends are hilarious.”
“They’re not…” The protest gets stuck in my throat. Are they my friends? It’s not like they haven’t made the effort, always inviting me out for drinks and cookouts and things like the fair today. The problem is on my end, not theirs. I don’t know how to let people in; I never have. Come to think of it, the only people who have ever managed to get close to me have been the stubborn, overly friendly type who have refused to let my scowls and grunts stop them. Like Riley. Like Ledger… maybe?
I swallow and nod instead of arguing. Because, yeah, maybe they’re also too bullheaded to pay attention to any of the Keep Out signs plastered all over my face.
“Yeah, they’re funny,” I agree, squeezing Ledger’s hand and appreciating the warmth of his palm against mine. I tug him a little closer as the line moves forward and he happily leans into my body, resting his chin on my shoulder.
When it’s our turn to order, we get a couple of funnel cakes and Ledger pulls out his wallet.
“I got it.” I wave him away.
“But you paid for our entrance, and you drove.”
I scowl at the wallet in his free hand, unable to explain why the idea of letting him pay is annoying me.
“You can pay next time we go out,” I say gruffly after a second.
Ledger bites his bottom lip and nods. “Next time we go out.” Is he going to read into that? Hearing it in my own head, it sounds like I’m implying we’re out together now. My heart pounds and, fuck, I want him to read into it, I just don’t have the guts to come out and say it.
“It’s a date,” he says, making my pulse jump again before putting his wallet away and taking his funnel cake.
I grunt and hope he won’t misinterpret my nervous frown as I shove cash at the guy and take my food too. But when I glance at Ledger again, he’s still just smiling. Always smiling, never taking anything I do the wrong way.
Is it possible he won’t let me fuck this up?
LEDGER
“You’re not a puker, are you?” I toss my empty plate into the trash after I’ve licked every ounce of powdered sugar off of it.
Griff rumbles a chuckle that seems to move through his whole body, reaching for my hand again as soon as his are free of trash too.
“One of those high-speed spinning rides might be risky, but I should be able to handle the Ferris wheel, even on a full stomach.” He tugs me closer, his eyes zeroing in on my mouth just a half second before he darts his tongue out and drags it along my bottom lip. “Powdered sugar,” he explains in a low, gravelly murmur that makes my nipples tighten and my cock start to swell.
“Mm, I think you’ve got some too,” I flirt, closing the space between our mouths again and sinking into a languid, tongue-heavy kiss for just a minute.
He as good as called this a date, he’s been holding my hand, and now he’s rumbling happily in his chest as we kiss right here in the middle of the fair… It’s okay for me to be doodling our names surrounded by little hearts in my head, isn’t it? It’s okay for me to be falling for him and not trying to do anything to stop it, right? Fuck it, even if it’s not okay, I’m doing it anyway.
When we break the kiss, I drag him to the Ferris wheel. We hand over our ride tickets and climb into a seat together. It’s a snug fit for two grown-ass men, but as far as I’m concerned, that’s a feature not a bug. Griff has to put an arm around me for us to have enough space, and I happily snuggle into his side.
The ride lurches and Griff tries to hide a grimace, his fingers digging into my shoulder a little more roughly than before.
“Everything okay?” I put my hand on his thigh and study the thin line of his lips and the deep scrunch of his eyebrows. I haven’t seen this particular scowl of his yet, so I can’t read it as easily as the others that I’ve gotten more used to over the past few weeks.
He gives a jerky nod and grips the lap bar with his other hand, digging his fingers into my shoulder hard enough that I wouldn’t be surprised to find bruises tomorrow. The ride lurches again and Griff closes his eyes, his nostrils flaring with a slow, measured exhale.
“I… um… used to be afraid of heights,” he murmurs, his brow crinkled and his eyes still closed.
My lips twitch and my insides go all squishy over his confession. I can’t decide whether I want to laugh or squeeze him until his eyes pop out like a teddy bear.
“You dope.” I chuckle gently. “Why didn’t you tell me that? We could have gone for the go-karts instead.” I guide his head onto my shoulder, and he doesn’t resist.
“I didn’t want you to think I was a wimp,” he mumbles, then laughs, nuzzling into my shoulder. “Good work, right? Are you impressed with my bravery?”
I snort and kiss the top of his head. “Absolutely. Stupid, but brave.”
“In my defense, I thought I might have grown out of it.”
“Sure, that’s usually what happens with phobias,” I deadpan, carding my fingers through his hair and happily letting him cling to me for dear life. “Hey, how about for our second date we go bungee jumping?”
He sputters another laugh, his warm breath puffing against my throat as he burrows his face in as deep as possible to keep from looking at the ground.
“I was thinking skydiving, but maybe that’s more third or fourth date material.”
“Actually, I think skydiving is traditionally done on the tenth date. You know, unless you’re some kind of dirty skydiving tramp who just jumps right out of a plane on the fourth date.”
He laughs even harder, the tension in his body making his whole frame shake with it.
“Alright, tenth date we’ll skydive,” he agrees.
If my insides were all ooey-gooey a few minutes ago, they’re pure mush now. Maybe this is just banter, and obviously I’m not going to take this poor man skydiving when he’s about to have a panic attack on a Ferris wheel, but I think he means it about the dates.
He like likes me, even if he’s still struggling with the words to say it.
“Alright, so we’ve got dates two and ten planned, that just leaves seven others to figure out. Any ideas?”
“I don’t know, we’re tackling my fears, what about yours?”
I grin, enjoying the view of the fair from the top of the Ferris wheel and the feeling of Griff pressed tightly against me.
“Clown dolls,” I say with an exaggerated shudder. “My grandma used to collect them. She had a whole room lined with shelves of the damn things. I had this recurring dream as a kid that they would come to life and eat me while smiling the whole time.”
“Not sure how to turn that into a date, but I’ll give it some thought.”
We go back and forth, laughing as we come up with more ridiculous date ideas we’ll never actually do. By the time we reach the ground again, I’m pretty confident that even if we don’t go to the pet store to hold tarantulas for our sixth date, I can probably get him to at least take me out to dinner and a movie. It’s a little disappointing when he pries himself off of me so we can climb out. He breathes easier once his feet are back on solid ground, and immediately reaches for my hand again.
“Go-karts?” he says.
“Loser buys corn dogs?”
Amusement sparks in his eyes and he nods. “You’re on.”