hand, working a piece of wood into a fancy leg. The nine-inch width made him
wonder just what piece of furniture it was for.
Bill looked up at him as he approached and he wound the
machine down.
“Sorry, Bill, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m just gonna
grab my things.”
“It’s all right, I was just about finished anyway.” He
twisted around on his stool, swiping his hands down his slacks. “I saw you
stopped to have pie with Erica.”
Dylan rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. Even though
he volunteered to help out, he still should’ve been more professional about it.
“Yeah, sorry.”
“Sorry? What in blue-blazes for?”
Dylan frowned. “Um, for leaving you to attend the shop
alone?”
Bill waved his hand. “Phfft. I’ve been doing this longer’n
you been alive, son. These folk around here don’t mind too much about
propriety. Besides, it’s nice you shown an interest in that gal. Ain’t no
better lady around, except my wife. But she’s off the market.”
Dylan chuckled at Bill’s wink.
Bill picked up a sheet of sandpaper and began to work the
leg. “Besides. Erica deserves a nice lad in her life. She spent most of her
young life looking after her grandparents. Can’t get a girl like that these
days. Most just wanna leave Templeton for bigger, better things.” He threw a
prudish look over his shoulder. “I trust your intentions are honorable toward
that young lady.”
“There are no intentions. We’re just friends.”
Bill turned then, a speculative gleam in his eyes. “Just friends,
huh? Haven’t seen a friend look at her the way you did.”
Dylan looked away then back again. “I’m not looking for a
relationship right now.”
Bill nodded sagely. “I understand that. But you better keep
your pants zipped around her.”
“Not a problem,” he said, hoping he sounded convincing.
Dylan admired the man’s gumption to protect Erica and knew
better than anyone that getting her into bed wouldn’t be the best thing for
either of them.
“Well, good. Now you get on out of here so I can finish my
leg.”
Dylan gathered up his tool belt and sauntered from the shop,
making a list in his head of what he needed. He paused at the doorway and
looked back at Bill.
“Hey, Bill. You know where I can find a glassmaker?”
Bill frowned. “What for? You smashed your windows?”
“No. I’m going to sash the windows.”
“Why would you wanna do a fool thing like that? It’s
perfectly serviceable windows at your house.”
Dylan smiled. “I guess I want a change for aesthetic
reasons.”
Bill snorted and turned back to his work. “You might find
what you’re after at Grears Demolition. It’s a housing demolition place about a
ninety-minute drive from here. They have all sorts of stuff there.”
“Thanks.”
Dylan returned to his truck, threw his tool belt into the
passenger seat and sat inside. Pulling his keys from his pocket, he jiggled
them in his hands. Soft laughter reached him and he turned his head. Erica
chatted to a brunette, her face animated and filled with amusement. The sun hit
her red hair just right, the variant shades of orange matching the change of
season. His dick throbbed. Take her. Bend her luscious body over the hood
and take her hard.
Damn if he didn’t want to. She smelled of peaches. What
woman does that? Smell fruity, act all innocent and yet have the aura of a sexy
siren. He palmed his cock through the denim but it did little to ease the
desperate need inside him.
When was he ever going to learn? Dylan heaved a sigh and
shoved his key into the ignition, starting it up. The truck rumbled to life.
Shifting into gear, he pulled out onto the road and drove home.
His concentration fractured, he spent the ride battling with
the urge to seek out Erica and give her exactly what her body needed. Him,
inside her. He could barely remember how he managed to pull into the drive, but
the journey was over and the battle between his dick and his
wonder just what piece of furniture it was for.
Bill looked up at him as he approached and he wound the
machine down.
“Sorry, Bill, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m just gonna
grab my things.”
“It’s all right, I was just about finished anyway.” He
twisted around on his stool, swiping his hands down his slacks. “I saw you
stopped to have pie with Erica.”
Dylan rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. Even though
he volunteered to help out, he still should’ve been more professional about it.
“Yeah, sorry.”
“Sorry? What in blue-blazes for?”
Dylan frowned. “Um, for leaving you to attend the shop
alone?”
Bill waved his hand. “Phfft. I’ve been doing this longer’n
you been alive, son. These folk around here don’t mind too much about
propriety. Besides, it’s nice you shown an interest in that gal. Ain’t no
better lady around, except my wife. But she’s off the market.”
Dylan chuckled at Bill’s wink.
Bill picked up a sheet of sandpaper and began to work the
leg. “Besides. Erica deserves a nice lad in her life. She spent most of her
young life looking after her grandparents. Can’t get a girl like that these
days. Most just wanna leave Templeton for bigger, better things.” He threw a
prudish look over his shoulder. “I trust your intentions are honorable toward
that young lady.”
“There are no intentions. We’re just friends.”
Bill turned then, a speculative gleam in his eyes. “Just friends,
huh? Haven’t seen a friend look at her the way you did.”
Dylan looked away then back again. “I’m not looking for a
relationship right now.”
Bill nodded sagely. “I understand that. But you better keep
your pants zipped around her.”
“Not a problem,” he said, hoping he sounded convincing.
Dylan admired the man’s gumption to protect Erica and knew
better than anyone that getting her into bed wouldn’t be the best thing for
either of them.
“Well, good. Now you get on out of here so I can finish my
leg.”
Dylan gathered up his tool belt and sauntered from the shop,
making a list in his head of what he needed. He paused at the doorway and
looked back at Bill.
“Hey, Bill. You know where I can find a glassmaker?”
Bill frowned. “What for? You smashed your windows?”
“No. I’m going to sash the windows.”
“Why would you wanna do a fool thing like that? It’s
perfectly serviceable windows at your house.”
Dylan smiled. “I guess I want a change for aesthetic
reasons.”
Bill snorted and turned back to his work. “You might find
what you’re after at Grears Demolition. It’s a housing demolition place about a
ninety-minute drive from here. They have all sorts of stuff there.”
“Thanks.”
Dylan returned to his truck, threw his tool belt into the
passenger seat and sat inside. Pulling his keys from his pocket, he jiggled
them in his hands. Soft laughter reached him and he turned his head. Erica
chatted to a brunette, her face animated and filled with amusement. The sun hit
her red hair just right, the variant shades of orange matching the change of
season. His dick throbbed. Take her. Bend her luscious body over the hood
and take her hard.
Damn if he didn’t want to. She smelled of peaches. What
woman does that? Smell fruity, act all innocent and yet have the aura of a sexy
siren. He palmed his cock through the denim but it did little to ease the
desperate need inside him.
When was he ever going to learn? Dylan heaved a sigh and
shoved his key into the ignition, starting it up. The truck rumbled to life.
Shifting into gear, he pulled out onto the road and drove home.
His concentration fractured, he spent the ride battling with
the urge to seek out Erica and give her exactly what her body needed. Him,
inside her. He could barely remember how he managed to pull into the drive, but
the journey was over and the battle between his dick and his
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