Page 119 of Sharing Shane

“Does this mean you’re done crawling up my ass?” Shane mumbled when Wyatt shifted to nip at his ear.

“For now,” Wyatt allowed and slipped a hand between them to cradle Shane’s dick.

Shane shuddered at his touch, the quick transition from emotional rawness to comfort to arousal making his head spin. “Then can you fuck it now?”

“I thought you’d never ask,”

Both Shane and Veronica were so busy over the next few weeks that Veronica told herself she didn’t have time to talk to Shane. He was putting in long hours during the week, working on commissions and orders from souvenir shops, and spending his weekends at the fairs and bazaars that made up a fair amount of his income in the summer months. He was at a different one almost every weekend, traveling all over the state. She’d gone with him to the Maple Syrup Festival in Shepherd one weekend, eaten her weight in pancakes, and marveled at the fact that her grumpy boyfriend’s very limited communication style didn’t seem to hurt his sales at all.

As July slid into August, she got extra busy herself. With school starting in a month, there were reports to write out and recommendations to make to the various school districts for the kids under her care, and the paperwork seemed never-ending. Her time with Shane grew even more limited, and she told herself she didn’t want to ruin the time they did have with hard conversations. Which seemed to her like an incredibly valid course of action, though she seemed to be the only one who thought so.

She was saved from Lucy’s opinion only because when she stopped by to see her after the baby was born, the new mom was so caught up in her son that the subject never came up.

Delia wasn’t so easily distracted.

“You’re being a pussy.”

Veronica looked up from her cross-legged position on the floor, and the report she was trying to finish on the coffee table in front of her. Delia sat on the couch, nibbling on THC-infused chocolates and wearing a decidedly judgmental frown. Veronica scowled back. “It’s so weird, but I don’t remember asking you.”

Delia just snorted. “We’ve been friends for a couple of decades?—”

“Thirteen years is not a couple of decades,” Veronica injected drily.

“—and that means I don’t have to wait for you to ask me. If I see you being a pussy, I can just call it out. It’s like when people are married, so they assume the other person will want to have sex with them on a semi-regular basis.”

“It is not like that.”

Delia shrugged. “I don’t make the rules.”

Veronica stifled her impatience. It was Saturday afternoon, and she’d been trying to work for most of the morning. But it was hot, and her single window air conditioning unit had fried itself earlier in the week. A new one wasn’t in her budget, so she figured she could tough out the rest of the summer without it. She’d managed reasonably well until yesterday when the temperature had risen to the high nineties. Her apartment building was old and poorly insulated, so she was currently sweating through a pair of shorts and a tank top and glaring at her best friend.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than to harass me?” she demanded. “And aren’t you hot? You’re wearing yoga pants and a hoodie, for God’s sake.”

Delia looked down. “Oh, yeah. Julian keeps the a/c at home set to ‘frozen side of beef’, so I’m used to layering up in defense against possible frostbite.”

“Well, take the damn hoodie off at least,” Veronica said. “I’m sweating just looking at you.”

“You’re sweating anyway,” Delia pointed out and nibbled on her chocolate. “Honestly, the heat isn’t bothering me.”

“I can see that, and I hate you for it.” Veronica swiped at the hair clinging to her sweaty face. “Go away, Delia. I’m trying to work.”

Delia leaned over and scooped up the papers. “Work’s over.”

“Hey! Those are important.”

“Relax, they’re fine.” Delia set them on the couch, out of reach. “I want to hear how things are going with Shane.”

“Things are fine with Shane,” Veronica said through gritted teeth. “You and I, however, are about to have a big fight.”

“Veronica. Come on. This is me you’re talking to. I’ve seen you make some bad decisions in the past thirteen years?—”

“Do not throw your cousin Joel in my face again,” Veronica warned.

“—and I have to say, I think burying your head in the sand on this might be the worst,” Delia finished. She leaned across the table to lay her hand on Veronica’s. “Talk to me.”

“Shit.” Veronica let her forehead drop to the table with a thud. “I don’t know what to do, Dee.”

“Well, giving yourself a concussion isn’t going to help,” Delia admonished, and Veronica picked up her head. “Um. You’ve got something...” She reached across and plucked a sticky note off Veronica’s forehead.

---