Chapter 5
5
August
S ix days.
It’s been six whole days since Tripp sped away in his little Toyota car after telling me off, and I haven’t spoken to him since except to order my coffee every morning.
Six days… but who’s counting?
It’s me. I’m the one counting, and goddamn, I hate how annoyed it makes me that he hasn’t come around. Normally, I wouldn’t give a single shit what the person I hooked up with had to say afterwards. It’s not that I’m a total asshole or anything, but I’m typically a one-and-done type of man. If this were anybody else and they had taken the time to come over to my house to yell at me about my reputation, I would’ve laughed it off over a round of beers with my cousins after work.
But when it comes to Tripp, I seem to have lost all rational thought because I haven’t stopped thinking about what he said to me the last time he was here, how adorable he looked all huffy and mad, and the way that he seems to have no trouble at all ignoring me when he sees me in the morning. No matter how much I’ve tried to flirt this week, or get him to crack, it hasn’t worked. All I get from him is short and simple sentences that keep things strictly professional.
“What can I get for you?” Even though he fucking knows good and well what my order is.
“We’ll call your name when your order is ready.”
“Have a nice day.”
No. I won’t have a fucking nice day.
He won’t even return the several texts I’ve sent.
A smirk tugs on my lips as I recall how feisty he was. Under that shy, awkward exterior is fire and sass when you piss him off. It’s hot as fuck; I just wish it wasn’t directed at me. Or at the very least, if it has to be directed at me, I wish he’d let me fuck that sass right out of him because I am dying to sink into his tight, virgin hole and show him what he’s been missing.
I’m willing to bet he wouldn’t be able to be mad at me for long after I made him come hard enough to see stars.
“Earth to August.”
Shaking my head free of my thoughts of Tripp and all that I’d do to him if he were here, I turn my gaze toward the opening of the barn where my cousin, Finn, stands.
“What’s up?”
His scowl lets me know that probably wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get my attention. I have to bite back a laugh. Out of the three of us, Finn is the most serious—aka the most boring. He desperately needs to let loose and remove the giant stick up his ass. To be fair, he was dealt a pretty shitty hand in life a couple of years ago, but that doesn’t mean he needs to be so damn serious all the time.
“I asked if you had gone out to pasture four to check on the herd like Gentry told you to do.”
“Yes, Dad,” I tease. “Already been there and back.”
“Well, excuse the hell out of me for checking. You’ve been a little fucking preoccupied lately since your one-night stand wants nothing to do with you.”
I chuckle. “Fuck off, dick. He’s just playing a little hard to get.” I shrug, waving him off. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Right.” Finn huffs. “The guy’s been ignoring you for an entire week. Hard to get isn’t the way I’d put it.”
“It’s only been six days, I’ll have you know.”
“Whatever.” He rolls his eyes in the way he always does when he thinks I’m being a dumbass. “I’ve got to head up to my house. Tuck’s got a fever and the sitter has to leave. If you need anything, find Hollis or Gentry.”
Mock saluting him, I drawl, “You got it, boss.”
Finn has a three-year-old boy named Tucker. His mom and Finn’s ex-wife, Riley, took off when Tuck was a baby. I don’t know all the details surrounding why she left because Finn tends to keep a lot of shit close to the chest, but it really fucked him up. Raising a child on his own while being a full-time rancher hasn’t been easy. We all help out when and where we can, but it weighs heavy on Finn’s shoulders.
And how could it not? He’s not even thirty years old yet, and he has the responsibility of an entire human to worry about. He’s only about six years older than me, but he seems worlds away. Aside from working on the ranch and both living on the land, we live completely different lives .
After I finish up the work I needed to get done, I decide to make a late afternoon stop at my favorite little coffee shop in town. I highly doubt Tripp is still there, but I have a plan. A damn good one, if I do say so myself. Pulling into the parking lot, it’s a lot busier than I thought it would be at this time of day. Once inside, I only have to wait in line a few minutes though, and just like I thought, my second favorite barista is at the register.
“Howdy, darlin’,” I drawl, with a tip of my hat as Chloe bites back a knowing grin.
“You’re in here kinda late, aren’t you?”
“I am,” I confirm with a tug of my lips. “But for good reason.”
Looking blankly at me, she says, “Well, this oughta be good. Let’s hear it.”
Leaning forward, I press my palms flat on the counter. “I need you to give me Tripp’s address.”
Her eyes widen, brows shooting straight up. She doesn’t even try to hide her surprise. Then she laughs. “Absolutely not.”
“What?” I rear back. “Why the hell not?”
“Because if he wanted to talk to you, he would, playboy.” She shrugs. “And he doesn’t. I’m guessing you’ve texted or called him, and he hasn’t responded?”
Shoving my hands into the pocket of my jeans, I murmur, “You might be correct.”
“Exactly.” She chuckles. “So, sucks to suck.”
I scoff. “Don’t be like that, Chloe,” I drawl, lowering my voice and grinning at her in a way I know she can’t refuse.
Holding up a finger, she says, “Don’t!”
“Don’t what?” I chuckle .
“Don’t you dare even try to use your August Moore mojo on me. It won’t work.”
I cluck my tongue at her as my grin spreads. “Come on, Chloe. For me? When have I ever asked you for anything?”
She crosses her arms over her chest and shakes her head. “Nope. Not gonna work.”
“Need me to get down on my knees and beg?” I ask, dropping down in front of the register to do just that. “Because I will.”
“August Moore,” she hisses, eyes bulging. “Get up off the ground right this instant!”
“Not until you give me what I want, darlin’.” Holding my hands together like a prayer in front of me, I say, “Please give me Tripp’s address, Chloe.”
Face beet red, Chloe scans the coffee shop, probably taking inventory of all the eyes on us. “You are ridiculous,” she whisper-yells. “Get up. I cannot give you an employee’s addresses.”
“But you can give me your friend’s address, and Tripp is your friend, isn’t he?”
She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t say anything.
“Come on, Chloe. Do it for me, give me what I want. You know how happy it’ll make me, and you like making me happy, don’t you?”
I didn’t think it was possible for her face to get any brighter, but it does right before my eyes. Stomping her foot, she narrows her eyes on me. “Fine, you jackass, I’ll give it to you. Just get up .”
Chuckling, I stand, dusting off my knees. “Aww, I always knew I liked you, Chloe. ”
“Save it,” she grumbles, ripping off a piece of receipt paper from the machine.
“And don’t even think of giving me the wrong address, or else I’ll come back and do this all over again, but I’ll do it in the morning when you’re real busy.”
Handing me the paper with his number scrawled on it, she grins up at me knowingly. “Never thought I’d see the day,” she drawls.
“What day’s that, darlin’?”
“The day when August Moore was down bad for somebody.”
A smirk ticks up one side of my mouth as I pocket the goods, her words replaying in my mind, then tip my hat at her once more. “You have a nice evening.”
Score!