Chapter 26 A Whole New Walk of Shame
A Whole New Walk of Shame
Sawyer
Wes walks me to my door while I carry my jeans in one hand and my boots in the other, the cold biting at my toes along with the gravel from my driveway.
I’m still reeling from the orgasms, and my legs shake on the way to my porch like a newborn fawn.
All I’m wearing is my flannel shirt and Wes’ cum.
This is a whole new walk of shame, but I’m still feeling pretty shameless about what just happened.
The only one who can see me now is Dixie. She looks at me from the porch, her tail thumping twice as she glances between the two of us as if to say, “Really? This guy?”
I give her a quick scratch behind her ears, and Wes clicks his tongue, pulling her attention from me. She gives him a toothy canine grin, and he kneels down to her level, crooning to her in a sweet voice that has me melting all over again.
What the hell is happening? I should not be a puddle for this guy simply because he’s talking to my dog in those sweet, dulcet tones. It should not have this effect on me.
But it does and my heart takes flight in my chest as I look down at Wes, who is smiling at Dixie like a boy whose Christmas wish just came true.
I clear my throat as I pull open my screen door, my grip tightening on the handle.
I need to get him out of here before I do something incredibly stupid—like beg him to stay and fuck me, condom be damned.
But before I can muster up a light and breezy thanks for the orgasms, now get lost, Wes muscles his way inside, shoving past me without so much as an invitation.
Pushy son of a bitch.
Does he expect me to ask him to spend the night? If he does, he’s going to be sorely disappointed. I don’t do sleepovers, especially with guys who will be back in the city in a month.
“What the hell are you doing?” I demand, covering myself with my rumpled jeans.
Before he can answer, my underwear slips from my hands, landing on the floor at my feet. I barely have time to reach for them before Wes snatches them up.
I hold out my hand, but he keeps them just out of my reach.
He smirks, crumpling the fabric in his fist before shoving it into his pocket like a trophy. “Letting you get cleaned up. Then we’re doing night check.”
This motherfucker.
“Give those back!”
He pats his jacket pocket, and his smirk widens, eyes gleaming with mischief. “I don’t think I will. I really liked those.”
“Yeah. So did I, you weirdo.” They were my favorite pair of underwear. Silky and sky blue with lace trim that never fails to make me feel sexy.
I skewer him with a sharp glare, and he doesn’t bother to look the least bit remorseful as he grins at me. “Better hurry up," he says, sinking into a chair. "The horses won’t wait all night.”
I growl. “Fine.”
I’ll deal with him later. And I will get my underwear back—no way in hell he’s keeping them like some kind of pervy souvenir.
I stalk to my bathroom, covering my ass with my jeans as I go, while Wes laughs at me from my kitchen table.
I twist my hair into a quick knot on top of my head, skipping a full wash since Wes is still waiting.
The hot spray soothes my muscles, tight from being bent over the cold metal of the truck bed.
As much as I’d love to linger, letting the heat work out the last traces of tension, I rush through soaping up and rinsing off.
Towel-drying in record time, I throw on a pair of old sweats, a hoodie, and my long socks before heading back to the kitchen—only to find it empty.
Figures. I must’ve taken too long for his liking.
Rolling my eyes, I tug on my work boots and step outside, grumbling under my breath.
The wind is blowing harder than it was thirty minutes ago, and the temperature has dropped another ten degrees. I regret not grabbing my jacket, but I’ll warm up once I start tossing the hay into the feeders.
The sound of Wes singing in the stable brings me up short, but then I hear what song he’s performing and can’t help but smile at his off-tune rendition of “Ain’t Nothing ‘Bout You”.
“You’re gonna make the horses’ ears bleed from your caterwauling.”
He chuckles, his head shaking back and forth. “The horses love my singing.”
I scoff. “No one loves your singing, Wes. It’s terrible.”
That’s an outright lie.
I love his singing. The way he’s become so damn comfortable that he’s not even embarrassed that none of the notes he’s hitting are the right ones. It pulls an unwitting smile from me, and he winks at me like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
I ignore him and get to work refilling the water buckets in silence. With the horses settled for the night, I kick at the dirt next to the stable awkwardly, unsure of what to say now.
He should go—check on Pops, get some sleep—but he lingers. And damnit, I want nothing more than for him to stay. I’m warring with myself, torn between the things I should say and the things I want to, the weight of the last few weeks pressing between us in the quiet night air.
He puts me out of my misery by meandering towards his truck. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his Levi’s as he leans against the driver-side door, glancing up at the dark sky.
The sky is clear, and while the wind is blowing, the stars are sparkling.
The moon, a full orb, hangs low in the sky, making the fields glow with the luminescence of it.
I take a deep breath, smelling a mixture of hay and horses and Wes.
I swear the smell of him lingers on my skin despite the shower.
“I guess I should go,” he says, putting a hand on his door as his gaze stays on the millions of pinpricks of light in the sky.
“Wait.” I reach out a hand to stop him.
God, what am I doing?
I’m reluctant to break my no sleepover rule, to make this into something more than just sex. But I’m also not ready for him to leave. Asking him to stay might be a mistake, but I don’t want this night to end yet.
He turns slowly, his gaze locking on mine, and I see the hope lurking behind his eyes.
I let the words I've been holding on to since he walked me to my door finally pass my lips. “Stay for a little while. We can sit by the fire pit… talk for a while.”
His expression warms, like embers stirred back to life in a dying fire. “I’d like that,” he says, dropping his hand from the door.
I let out the anxious breath I'd been holding. “Yeah," I admit, a small smile pulling at the corners of my mouth. "Me too."
A little bit of conversation around the fire won’t hurt. I enjoy his company, and I'd like a little more of it before the night ends.
Besides, I told Pops I’d remind Wes what he’s missing in the city.
Never mind that the thought didn't cross my mind until after I'd already invited him to stay. That doesn't matter. It’s the shield I’ll use to guard my heart when he inevitably goes back in a few short weeks, leaving me with nothing but the echoes of his off-tune singing and the ghost of his touch.