Page 87 of Mountain Daddy
With fucking glasses on.
I can’t with this man.
I hang up.
My phone rings again.
I let him hear my groan while I accept the call.
“Did you hang up on me?”
“Yes,” I tell him. “Because I can’t with you.”
He narrows his eyes. Behind hisglasses. “I’m literally just sitting here.”
“Exactly.”
“I can’t see you. Turn a light on.”
“No.” I answer like the brat he accuses me of being.
“Baby, I might be down to my tighty-whities, but if you deny me this, I will get in my truck, drive over there, and break in.”
“Break in?” I have a lot to learn about Luther Rockford, but I can’t picture him busting a window on his bestie’s house.
He lifts his chin. “Fine, I’d use my spare key. But same thing.”
Heat that I’ve come to associate with Luther’s nearness swirls in my belly.
Knowing he has a key to the house.
Knowing he could just walk in at any moment…
“Turn a light on, Kendra.” His voice is gruffer. More serious.
I sigh loud enough for him to hear it, then shuffle around until I’m also sitting up against my headboard. Mine is a classic shaker style, matching my dressers and made by my dad.
I hold the phone out, hoping it’s at a flattering angle, while I reach over and turn on my bedside lamp.
It’s not a bright light, and I’m still mostly in shadows, but it’s enough.
“There’s my pretty girl.”
His words are a purr, and they settle over my skin like a fuzzy blanket.
He’s not the first man to call me pretty, but his compliments feel so much more genuine than anything I’ve heard before. Itdoesn’t feel like he’s saying them to get laid. I feel like he’s saying them because he can’t stop himself.
“How was your evening?” His question is soft.
I blink, bringing myself back to the moment. “It was nice. Read a book on the deck with a glass of wine.”
“Sounds relaxing.”
I bite my cheek as I look at him.
His shoulders are broad and rounded with muscle. His mostly white beard and graying hair do nothing to diminish his appeal.
And his chest hair…
