Read Online The Stars in the Sky (Giving You ... #2) by Leslie McAdam - Free Book Online
Authors: Leslie McAdam
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asked, incredulously. A kitschy traveler's mecca, it had been here for decades, and advertised by signs with a couple of cartoon mascots who were splitting peas for split pea soup. Will gave Trixie water from a bottle and tied her to the side so she wouldn't go anywhere while we were eating.
"The soup's vegan.” And he gave me a look, kind of triumphant for having already thought of it himself.
Ohmigod. He could really be sweet.
We walked through the tacky tourist shop and made our way to the old school diner in the back.
Consistent with the theme, the hostess was attired in a pseudo-traditional, Danish outfit. She seated us at a dark, naugahyde booth, old fashioned water glasses were placed on our fake wood table, and we ordered—me, soup and beer, him, pot roast and beer.
While Will was not a chatterbox by any stretch of the imagination, he was interactive, attentive, and polite, and I relaxed into a fun date. We ate, we talked, we laughed. Will paid, and we left the restaurant, giving Trixie attention before we headed back to the ranch in the truck.
Well, it was a fun date until he made an asinine comment, as we pulled in the compound, about the upcoming Presidential election, showing that he liked what a potential candidate—and coincidentally, a complete idiot —was saying.
And then he revealed that he voted for Bush. Twice.
Excuse me? How could he?
There was no way that anyone sane would agree with this candidate and no way that I could be with someone who voted for Bush.
It was a litmus test and Will failed.
What was I doing with this guy?
I was letting down the cause. I was an idiot for thinking that I could do this.
Had I been blinded by his body?
Clearly. We were such polar opposites. This wasn't going to work.
"I can't believe you would listen to anything that moron says," I snapped. "He's the worst thing ever for our country," and I stalked out of the truck. He let Trixie out and walked over to me and looked at me. "You believe in all the wrong things."
"I could say the same thing about you," he said sharply, with amusement under the edge in his voice.
I looked up at him, masculine and beautiful in the moonlight. And I was pissed. We had such a good date. But now I’d come back to reality and he was still the guy who called me names with whom I'd never see eye to eye. Finally, I spoke. "I don't know what we're doing. We shouldn't date. We don't have anything in common." Even though I knew it was true, saying it hurt for some reason.
"Oh no? I think we do—" he started to say, but I interrupted.
"Just don't talk to me," I snapped, and started to walk back to my room. "I don't want this to go any further. We're never going to get past it. I'm never going to agree with you on basic stuff that matters to me and that matters to you, so why should we bother?"
He hustled in front of me and stood there, blocking me, stopping my progress, holding up his hand, eyes on mine.
"We talked about this, Marie," he said in his low voice. "You're not gonna agree with me on a lot of things, and I'm not gonna agree with you. So what? Take it out on me," he invited, lifting his chin with his half-grin.
I paused, exasperated. "I'm not going to hit you, Will, even though you deserve it for voting for that imbecile and thinking the way you do. I'm a nonviolent tree hugger, remember?"
"That's not what I'm talking about," he rumbled, his eyes boring into me, his burly presence overshadowing me. He paused. Then he continued. "This is the part where we have angry sex."
Reverse Cowgirl
"ISN'T IT WEIRD TO do this position the first time we fuck?" I moaned.
"Nope," he panted. "Just do it."
To back up.
At Will's words outside, I decided that, yes, I needed angry sex and I needed it right fucking now. I needed to get laid. I was going to take out my frustrations with him being an asshole Republican, and an asshole generally, directly on him. Now. Almost before he finished his sentence, I whirled around and
"The soup's vegan.” And he gave me a look, kind of triumphant for having already thought of it himself.
Ohmigod. He could really be sweet.
We walked through the tacky tourist shop and made our way to the old school diner in the back.
Consistent with the theme, the hostess was attired in a pseudo-traditional, Danish outfit. She seated us at a dark, naugahyde booth, old fashioned water glasses were placed on our fake wood table, and we ordered—me, soup and beer, him, pot roast and beer.
While Will was not a chatterbox by any stretch of the imagination, he was interactive, attentive, and polite, and I relaxed into a fun date. We ate, we talked, we laughed. Will paid, and we left the restaurant, giving Trixie attention before we headed back to the ranch in the truck.
Well, it was a fun date until he made an asinine comment, as we pulled in the compound, about the upcoming Presidential election, showing that he liked what a potential candidate—and coincidentally, a complete idiot —was saying.
And then he revealed that he voted for Bush. Twice.
Excuse me? How could he?
There was no way that anyone sane would agree with this candidate and no way that I could be with someone who voted for Bush.
It was a litmus test and Will failed.
What was I doing with this guy?
I was letting down the cause. I was an idiot for thinking that I could do this.
Had I been blinded by his body?
Clearly. We were such polar opposites. This wasn't going to work.
"I can't believe you would listen to anything that moron says," I snapped. "He's the worst thing ever for our country," and I stalked out of the truck. He let Trixie out and walked over to me and looked at me. "You believe in all the wrong things."
"I could say the same thing about you," he said sharply, with amusement under the edge in his voice.
I looked up at him, masculine and beautiful in the moonlight. And I was pissed. We had such a good date. But now I’d come back to reality and he was still the guy who called me names with whom I'd never see eye to eye. Finally, I spoke. "I don't know what we're doing. We shouldn't date. We don't have anything in common." Even though I knew it was true, saying it hurt for some reason.
"Oh no? I think we do—" he started to say, but I interrupted.
"Just don't talk to me," I snapped, and started to walk back to my room. "I don't want this to go any further. We're never going to get past it. I'm never going to agree with you on basic stuff that matters to me and that matters to you, so why should we bother?"
He hustled in front of me and stood there, blocking me, stopping my progress, holding up his hand, eyes on mine.
"We talked about this, Marie," he said in his low voice. "You're not gonna agree with me on a lot of things, and I'm not gonna agree with you. So what? Take it out on me," he invited, lifting his chin with his half-grin.
I paused, exasperated. "I'm not going to hit you, Will, even though you deserve it for voting for that imbecile and thinking the way you do. I'm a nonviolent tree hugger, remember?"
"That's not what I'm talking about," he rumbled, his eyes boring into me, his burly presence overshadowing me. He paused. Then he continued. "This is the part where we have angry sex."
Reverse Cowgirl
"ISN'T IT WEIRD TO do this position the first time we fuck?" I moaned.
"Nope," he panted. "Just do it."
To back up.
At Will's words outside, I decided that, yes, I needed angry sex and I needed it right fucking now. I needed to get laid. I was going to take out my frustrations with him being an asshole Republican, and an asshole generally, directly on him. Now. Almost before he finished his sentence, I whirled around and
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