Page 12 of Mountain Pine
I freeze. “Con. Please tell me you didn’t plant the entire order tonight.”
He pretends to zipper his mouth shut.
“Bro. You can’t keep killing yourself like this.”
“I have to keep up.” He does the worst thing in the world and spins his baseball cap backwards.
Fuuuuck, this image of him laid back in my Adirondack chair, hat backwards, legs all manspread, eyes closed with his head tippedback in the moonlight is going in my spank bank.
“Go take a shower,” I say, a little more sultry than intended.
“I stink that bad, huh?”
“Yeah.” Nope. He smells like dirt and man and it’s making me crazy. I’m fresh out of a relationship, buzzed, and horny because my little self-care sesh pales in comparison to what I’ve heard Conner’s like in bed.
Girls talk. I’ve heard plenty.
“Fine.” He groans as he gets out of the chair like an old man. “Damn, my bones creak like a rusty hinged barn door.”
“I’ll have your dinner ready by the time you get out.”
“Mmkay.” He shuffles into my house through the back door and a minute later the bathroom light is on.
It’s on and the window blinds are up.
It’s on and the window blinds are up and I’ve got a perfect view.
He pulls his shirt off and tosses it into the corner where my hamper is. Scrubbing his face, he looks in the mirror at himself and pulls his eyelids open. Then he says something to his reflection before starting the shower.
My mouth waters.
Soon, the window fogs and I snap out of my stupor and grill the steak I had for him. By the time he’s back outside, I’ve got a whole assmeal sitting on my little patio table and a fresh beer with the top popped off.
“This looks amazing,” he says, hair still wet and curling. “Thanks.”
We don’t talk much, but that’s okay. I love the comfortable silence we share all the time. I love being in his space and I think he likes being in mine too. He’s crashed plenty of times on my couch, so I always have some of his clothes here. Like the grey sweatpants he’s in now.
Guess he couldn’t find the shirt that was literally on top of those sweatpants in my bottom drawer.
He inhales his food, and I make another mental note to talk to my dad about how much Conner is working. It’s not healthy. Dad needs to hire more people… and actually retain them. My dad’s picky and bossy and unrelenting. It’s made his landscaping reputation be top tier for his clients but torture for his employees. He’s eased up in his old age, but not enough. Not if Conner still feels like he has to work himself to the bone every day.
This is bullshit.
“So… how was your day?” Conner drains most of his beer and leans back in his chair to stare at the fire.
“Good.”
“How’s Austin?”
I inwardly cringe. “Good.”
“You happy?”
With Conner here and my relationship with Austin over… “Yes.”
He smiles sleepily and keeps staring at the fire. His eyelids look heavy.
“What about you?” I ask.
