Page 9 of Filthy Rich

“Don’t watch many movies these days.”

“Oh, that’s right. You’re an outdoors guy. Aren’t you exhausted after a long day? Don’t you just want to plop down in front of the TV and binge cop shows?”

“Nah. I recharge in the woods, down by the lake, with a pole in the water. The TV exhausts me more. Besides, if we were both watching cop shows, who’d have the level head right now?”

She leans her seat back down. “Ha. Ha. Well, my extensive television research has told me that the woods are filled with murderers.”

“And yet you live in the woods.”

“I know enough not to go gallivanting around at night.”

I glance down at the dash. “It’s seven o’clock.”

“It’s only seven?” She sits up for a moment before throwing herself back again. “How did you find this place, anyway?”

Rocks pop beneath the tires and the crescent moon shines before us. There’s not a cloud in the sky tonight. We should be able to see every star in the sky. “It’s registered on the top five darkest places left on the planet. Apparently, NASA has a telescope up here somewhere.”

“What? How did I not know about this?”

I shrug. “Not sure. The guys down at the bar recommended it for stargazing. Honestly, I expected a little more traffic from the way they talked about it.”

“Maybe we’re going the wrong way.” There’s anxiety in her tone, and for some reason, my hand lands on her thigh in comfort. I don’t mean it sexually. I’m genuinely trying to comfort her, but her soft skin against my palm sends my body into a tailspin. Suddenly thoughts of her pressing against me, beneath me, and crying out with pleasure are all I can think about.

“Are you tired of my whining yet?” she laughs.

“Nah. It’s cute. If this were a business deal going bad, I’d be scared too.”

“That’s your worst fear? You’re not afraid of being murdered as much as a business deal going bad?”

“Yeah.” A sign appears at the side of the road. It’s not lit, but my headlights catch it, and I turn quickly. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No, just wondering what that means about you.”

“I thought you were a teacher, not a therapist.”

“Armchair therapy is a side quest of mine. I take it very seriously.” She grins. “So, tell me more about this fear of failure.”

“Well,” I smirk, as we bump along the uneven path toward a gazebo in the distance, “it started when I was young. While most people would find peace in the hippie way my parents raised us, I found the freedom debilitating. I enjoy structure, and I craved a sense of accomplishment.”

She tips her head back. “Fascinating. So, the lack of challenges made you feel like a failure, even though you weren’t actually failing at anything.”

“Exactly. Wow. You really should look into a second degree.” I park the truck beside the gazebo and kill the engine before glancing toward Trish. It’s beyond dark but the soft light from the silver moon shines just enough that I catch the smile on her face.

“Yeah, well… should we talk about all your immoral decisions now?”

My eyes widen playfully. “Myimmoral decisions? I think it was you that said yes to the money. I’m just out here doing what I have to do to get you to see me.”

She laughs and looks away for a moment before glancing at me again.

The night is quiet except for an owl that calls in the distance and the trees that crack and rustle in the gentle wind. It reminds me of the nights out on the farm. The days would be filled with so many chores that seemed to go nowhere, but when the Earth finally got quiet, there were moments of such peace. It still makes me thankful for it.

I reach out and push a strand of hair away from her face, lingering on her cheek far too long.

Her lips part and her gaze drags up to mine. “I see you Mr. Christopher Becker. Maybe just this once, morals are optional.”

Good Lord!

My cock shouldn’t stand at attention so easily, but the anticipation of touching her alone has me beyond excited. I brush my thumb against her cheek. “Are you sure?”

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