4. Jimmy
Jimmy
Q uitting my job at Elite Escorts and driving north on a Friday afternoon might have been the greatest mistake I’d ever made.
Or the most rewarding.
Time would tell if the urge to try to fulfill my pipe dream again held any happiness for me.
I had plenty of money stashed away in the bank thanks to my job as a sex worker and my ability to live somewhat frugally. I’d even gotten my GED since I’d left the backwoods of New Hampshire before graduation.
Boston no longer offered the glitz and distraction I’d enjoyed since arriving as a pimply-faced barely adult who’d had less than a hundred bucks to his name.
Working at the consignment and gift shop from when I’d turned fourteen until the day I’d left Pippen Creek had allowed me to save enough for an old piece-of-shit Chevy.
The junker had gotten me into Massachusetts and the city in one piece.
Barely.
And I was broken down, literally bleeding and crawling through gutters for years until landing the job that had changed my life.
Windows open on my brand new red BMW, the one thing I’d splurged on for my twenty-seventh birthday in January, I breathed in the country air while speeding up Route 16 toward a wide-open future that led to who the fuck knew where.
I’d ignored responsibilities that should have been seen to three years ago, which was my excuse for the unplanned jaunt northward.
I’d attempted to leave Pippen Creek behind after I’d been denied what I’d wanted more than oxygen, but a piece of my heart—or two, rather—had remained back in that shithole town.
Mary Wallace, who I’d called Gram from the afternoon she’d sat me at her kitchen table and placed a plate of chocolate chip cookies in front of me, and Sutton Forrester, the man I’d set on a pedestal.
He’d been my hero since the day I’d thought my dad had died, and the chief had walked up to me and got down at eye level, his gaze kind, voice and manner gentle when I’d experienced nothing but harshness from men in authority.
I shifted on my car seat and rested my forearm on the open window, breathing in the air ruffling my hair into a sure mess of blond waves.
Both Gram and Sutton had been the only two people who’d given a damn about me, and I still felt a sense of connection to them all these years later.
While Gram and I had kept in touch the old-fashioned way through monthly letters updating each other on our supposed boring existence—I’d lied about what I did for a living—I hadn’t seen or spoken to Sutton since the night he’d rejected my advances and broke my heart.
There wasn’t much I wouldn’t have done for a taste of him on my lips, to feel the stretch of my hole around his dick I’d fantasized over from the day I’d learned that sex didn’t only have to be between a man and woman.
I’d been crushed when he hadn’t accepted my offer to suck his dick or bend over for my first fucking.
At that point, his bitch of a wife had been gone for over two years, and I hadn’t seen him take any woman out on a date. I figured maybe he ought to switch shit up a bit. Try out a boy’s mouth or ass.
I’d stupidly thought maybe I was exactly what he’d unknowingly needed to find happiness again.
Even though he’d said no, I couldn’t stop from dreaming about him and how that night should have ended. I’d gotten plenty of dick in Boston but never enough to fill up the holes inside me like I somehow inherently knew only he would be able to do.
Sutton wasn’t on social media, so the few images I had saved to my phone were from newspaper write-ups over the years.
The newest headshot from the town’s site promised he’d aged like a fine wine, slight lines in the corners of his smiling hazel eyes and gray peppering his dark hair and trimmed beard.
So. Fucking. Hot.
“God damn ,” I murmured to myself like always when getting caught up in fantasies of the man.
He was still single and not dating, according to Gram, who I’d spoken with over the phone last night, which had led to this unplanned jaunt northward. She was having some struggles, and I had unfinished business left rotting on the edge of town.
I’d expected dread to coil in my guts as familiar landscapes and buildings filled my windshield, but a strange sense of peace radiated through me like warm, summer sunshine caressing my left side.
I found myself smiling rather than grimacing considering the details I would need to take care of now that I’d finally returned.
Dad’s house sat empty because I hadn’t been able to stomach looking at the place.
I’d skipped out on his ashes being buried that I’d paid for but had been overseen by Gram.
She’d been disappointed by my refusal to see the bastard laid to rest. His rotten-ass soul could burn forever in hell as far as I was concerned.
The thought of laying eyes on the dilapidated building I’d called home for most of my childhood years made my empty stomach churn, erasing the easy smile from minutes before.
Gram had warned me the house was a rat’s nest and would need to be cleaned out before I could put it on the market and finally unload the burden like I should have done years ago.
The shed out back where Dad used to lock me up some nights, even when snow flew, had caved in and would need to be completely torn down.
I wondered if the tarps I used to burrow under lay beneath the rubble.
A chill slid along my spine as though my body still felt the winter winds finding their way through the cracks in the dilapidated shed’s walls.
Breathing deeply, I focused on the sinking sun shining through my driver window, soaking in its warm rays as I entered town.
The Moose’s Muse Lodge sat at the corner of Route 16 and Main Street and had gotten a serious upgrade since I’d seen it last. Fresh green paint covered the clapboard exterior and made it blend into the pine trees at its rear.
Brown shutters bracketed every sparkling window.
Groomed flower beds spread along a new front porch that spanned the building.
Various wooden rocking chairs sat along the deck’s length, quaint and inviting.
I pulled into one of the parking spots out front and climbed from my car, stretching my back while scanning toward my left and downtown.
The Outdoor Shop stood next door to The Moose, Ginny’s Salon next, then the police station, where I’d spent quite a few nights during my rebellious teenage years.
Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, causing jitters to affect my hands. I wiped damp palms on my tight jeans while hoping for a glimpse of a blue cruiser and the man of my dreams.
No such luck, but Dig-In Diner behind me and Pedro’s Pizza a little farther down the street promised the food my stomach growled for.
But first things first.
I grabbed my two suitcases out of my trunk and climbed the sturdy wooden steps toward the only place in Pippen Creek where travelers and visitors could rent a room.
The screen door squeaked on its hinges as I pushed into an open-concept interior that screamed country chic.
Earthy tones on the walls created a warm, inviting atmosphere.
Exposed beams spanned the ceiling above simple furniture that cradled blue and yellow gingham throw pillows.
The hardwood flooring beneath my feet stretched straight ahead to the antique desk and the fifty-something blonde woman seated behind it.
“Welcome to The Moose!”
I returned the woman’s smile and approached, not recognizing her. “I’d like to book a room for the week—possibly longer—if you have one available.”
Her eyes brightened even more. “Of course. Kendra Cole.” She stuck out her hand.
“Jimmy Riley.”
She didn’t appear to recognize my name or hesitate in shaking my hand.
“What brings you to Pippen Creek?” she asked while clicking her laptop to life.
“I grew up here and decided it was time for a visit.”
Her smile widened. “Welcome home, Jimmy.”
Home.
The word echoed through my mind as I gave Kendra my information and bank card, and I didn’t hate the peace that continued to fill my chest.
After being denied by Sutton, I’d been desperate to escape this place, never planning to return. But I’d done some growing up while away, learned some hard lessons the chief hadn’t been able to impart, and now I wasn’t sure what to do with myself moving forward.
I just knew I felt driven to find that golden sunset I’d always dreamed of riding toward, hand-in-hand with the man I loved.
The plethora of dick I’d taken care of as an escort had become a bore.
An absolute chore that had caused more yawns than climaxes in the previous couple of months.
At first, I’d been thrilled to get my hole stuffed a few times a week while getting a shit ton of cash in return, but now?
I wanted more. And that included Chief Sutton loving on my prostate with his fingers or cock.
A shudder ripped through me as blood seeped southward even though I daydreamed of impossible outcomes.
“Do you remember Jamie Forester? You seem about the same age,” Kendra said while handing over my room key.
The breath punched from my lungs at the surname, considering the man I’d been fantasizing about not a heartbeat before. “Yeah,” I rasped and cleared my throat. “Chief’s son.”
“The one and only.”
I remembered wishing Sutton had stolen me from Dad and made me his other son—until I’d learned what all a dick could be used for and had fallen hard for my hero. I’d been a horny fourteen-year-old with my eyes set on the only man who’d ever given me the time of day.
“Jamie graduated from the police academy this afternoon,” Kendra continued, “and there’s a party in about a couple of hours over at Frenchie’s. It would be the perfect opportunity for you to catch up with the townsfolk since most everyone will be there.”
Smiling, I thanked her and made for the stairs, adrenaline causing my knees to shake.
While boredom had me leaving Boston in the rearview mirror, I sensed while climbing to the third floor and room with the window overlooking downtown Pippen Creek that I’d done as Kendra had suggested—come home. For how long, I wasn’t sure. Too many variables were involved to set a clear outcome.
But for now, I would shower, clean myself inside and out just in case this boy got lucky tonight, then take a walk down Main Street to reacquaint myself with the little town I’d thought I’d left in the dust.
Two hours later and dressed for attention in tight jeans that hugged my ass and a maroon crop top that showed off my hint of abs and belly button ring, I sauntered outside, ready to face down my future.
I strode westward, shoulders back and chin lifted, my pulse thrumming from a combination of excitement and fear.
Pippen Creek—and Chief Sutton—here I come.
If only.
Snickering, I set my sights on Frenchie’s, my mouth watering for so much more than food.