35-REAGAN
The orgasm wrapped around my core and reached the base of my neck. I knew it was just Vincent’s hand in my hair, but it still made my nipples perk.
And after he slammed me onto him prior to my own climax, I was afraid to move. Afraid of what was going to drip out of me. I needed a minute anyway, so I kept my palms flat on the dashboard. Vincent panted behind me with his hands stuck to my sides.
“I don’t mean to be weird, but holy fuck. How did I settle for my shitty ex?” With his appendage still inside me, did I really just say that?
“Mm.” His hand fluttered across my back. “Maybe twenty-year-old Reagan didn’t know what was out there, waiting for her?”
“I will never go back to garbage sex.”
“As long as you’re with me, you won’t.”
I didn’t want to continue talking with my back to him. My costume was to the right, and I obviously wasn’t going to put it back on. I maneuvered off his lap and onto the seat next to him, using the skirt as a protective barrier.
“Sorry for bringing that up.” I sat in euphoria, naked, as he put himself back together.
“Don’t be. It’s actually a compliment.” His breath was heavy.
I reached for my hoodie that sat at the top of my bag and tugged it over my head. My hand swam around the bag, feeling for the texture of my pajama bottoms, and pulled the leg out first.
“Is it always going to be like this? Because I’ve yet to be disappointed.” I wove a leg through the bottom one at a time before tying them to my waist.
“Is that what you’re looking for? Because I’m not sure I can lower my expectations for what happens.”
“No, I like it.” Tate was terrible in bed. I was starting to realize how much I dealt with in my marriage because I wanted it to work out so badly. Tate also didn’t have the guts to treat me a little rougher than I liked. He didn’t like to treat me either.
“Good.” Vincent leans into me, grabbing my lips with his. “Should I get you to bed? The next paycheck should cover the final touches on the house. So this will probably be the last time you stay under my mama’s roof.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “Let’s go.”
The truck rocks forward, and we roll slowly through the dirt road far from the house and towards the pond.
?
“Bye, Cathy!” I yell from outside the truck. I wave towards her as she walks to the house.
I can tell she smiles back at me and returns the wave before climbing into his truck. Vincent hoists me inside with one hand, following right behind me.
Before turning the truck over, he pulled debris from my hair. “Thank you for helping this morning.”
“I actually don’t mind it. The horses are cute. Maybe I’ll get one, and I’ll board it here. How much is it anyway?”
“For you? Free.” Vincent fires the truck up. “As long as you keep treating me the way you do.” His hand rises along my thigh, and I don’t flinch. I like it, and I like Vincent. It’s hard for me to ignore the feelings I have for him. He makes me forget everything outside of us.
His truck creeps up to the main road, passing his grandparents’ house, and he tosses his hand towards his grandpa coming around the porch.
After helping with his family and enjoying my time with them, I finally pulled my phone out and checked to see if there was anything worth my time.
I had far too many camera notifications for the normal traffic on my street. As they dropped down my screen one after another, a person descended my driveway. The red truck behind him let me know, before I focused on the man, that it was Tate with a bundle in his hand.
I tapped on the clip and played the video.
He walked down my driveway with a bouquet of flowers.
He paused and looked inside my car. I was not sure what he was looking for.
Reaching the front door, he rang the doorbell and stood there.
Waiting. He pulled out his phone and looked at the screen before pushing it back into his pocket.
He stepped towards the door, giving it a knock and then slicked his hair back into his fresh haircut.
He turned, looking towards the street, because he knew what he was doing was wrong.
Sitting right next to Vincent, I felt him glance over my shoulder a few times while focusing on the road. I didn’t mind. “Everything okay?” He asked as the video timed out.
“Yes, Tate just showed up.” I pushed the air out of my lungs.
“What did he want?”
“I’m not sure. He had flowers, so maybe he also had an apology. That’s unlikely, but he was probably trying to force his way in again.”
His hand dragged me deeper into his side. “Need me to turn around?”
I thought for a moment, but my gut wasn’t ringing any bells. Not like he would know I was suddenly home because my car wasn’t going to be moved. I could continue to ignore him. “No. I’ll be fine. I have some orders I need to start for the week. Besides, I can always call Masked Midnight Daddy.”
“I already proved to you that I arrive faster than the cops.”
“You did.” I mindlessly replied to Vincent, distracted as I pulled up the next clip.
Tate was slowly walking back up the driveway to leave.
He stopped next to my car and placed the bouquet on the windshield.
In the same movement, he crouched and placed his other hand under my tire well while checking his surroundings. What the fuck?
I rewind just enough for Vincent to see. “Does this look like what I think it is?”
His eyes darted from the road to my phone. “I think he’s putting a little more than just flowers on your car.”
“That’s what I thought.” I pulled my phone away from his line of sight.
“I can grab it when I drop you off. Chuck it off the side of the freeway.”
“As long as you’re not luring him to you. I don’t need trouble anymore, and hopefully this restraining order will help with the papers.
“I won’t do anything you ask me not to.”
“Thank you.”
?
Tate had been quiet. He hasn’t said anything since the tracker made its way thirty minutes north from here.
Vincent said he had taken a detour home and chucked it deep into a wooded area.
The roses had sat wilting on my car until I eventually needed to go to the store for baking supplies, and that’s when they made it into the outside trash can.
Miles: EGG! OMG. Someone has it out for you. Who did you fuck over?
Reagan: No one?
Miles: Someone is mad at you. Look at this post.
Attached was a paragraph posted on a local community page on social media.
Anonymous Member:
Not trying to start drama, just genuinely concerned and think people deserve to be informed.
Has anyone else noticed what’s been going on with the owner of Wildflower lately?
She’s currently separated (not divorced) and has been publicly involved with a man who uses an online alias, wears a mask, and was a participant in the event that involved chasing her through the woods. There is footage out there.
This same guy is covered in tattoos and piercings, has a violent temper, and was recently arrested after showing up drunk at her home and getting into a physical altercation with her husband.
I’m not saying anyone should stop supporting a local business — but when someone runs a bakery that caters to families, kids, schools, and churches, it feels like the community should be aware of who’s being brought around.
Small towns thrive on trust and transparency. Just seems like something people might want to think about before placing their next order.
Stay safe, everyone.
Being in the middle of the week and elbows deep into preparing a wedding cake with five dozen cupcakes and a measly order of a dozen cookies for the weekend, I didn’t have a lot of time to be on social media.
This could have been one of two people. Tate or Jori. I didn’t see why Jori would do this. But I could see Tate pulling this move.
Reagan: Who do you think it is, and what are people saying in the comments?
It had to be Tate. He’s one of the few people who knew about the altercation between the two. He also never knew the difference between ‘wildflower’ and ‘wild flour’. I saved the screenshot and sent it to Vincent without an explanation. He might get a kick out of what someone thinks of him.
Miles: Tate’s not smart enough to form these sentences. But there are some people defending you and some people (mostly old people) thanking them for the information about who you “truly are”.
Reagan: He probably used AI. God, I hope this doesn’t ruin my business. He’s such a dick.
It didn’t sound like him, but he had such a hard-on for OpenAI when it came out; he would feed into it just to make this post. I flipped over to Vincent’s response.
Masked Midnight Daddy: I wasn’t drunk.
Reagan: I know. Tate’s just being dramatic.
Miles: If this town can accept me as gay, they can accept your masked lover.
Reagan: Thanks. That means…something.
Miles: Are you going to comment?
Reagan: No. It’ll just please Tate that he got to me.
Masked Midnight Daddy: Do you need me to say anything? Talk to Tate face to face?
Reagan: No. You two already got into a fight. I don’t trust him to push you into starting another one.
Masked Midnight Daddy: So you don’t trust me to keep my hands to myself?
Reagan: Absolutely not. ;)
Masked Midnight Daddy: You’re asking for it next time.
Masked Midnight Daddy: Speaking of, are you free to come out Saturday? I’m in my house finally.
Reagan: After my drop-off, I am. Which should be around 11 in the morning. Are you going to come get me?
Masked Midnight Daddy: I’ll always come to get you.
Reagan: Then I’ll see you at my place. 11:30?
Masked Midnight Daddy: See you then.
I was ready to move on with Vincent. Even fantasized what it would be like to move in with him and share a day-to-day life on the ranch. But I felt stuck with Tate, who refused to sign papers.
Our next court date was the week before Thanksgiving, and I was hoping it would be the last.