Page 6 of The Heartstrings of Harry
“I think I’ll save it for later tonight.”
“To -go it is.”
* * *
At home I kicked off my boots, put the flowers in a vase and set it in the middle of the dining table. I put the pastry in the fridge, then rummaged through the kitchen drawer for a lighter and a small tea light before placing them on the counter for later.
I showered, washing the day off my large hairy body.
I lathered up the soap, the one with the sandalwood scent, not too strong, just enough to make a big old bear feel fresh, clean, all scrubbed up. I even shampooed my beard. I wasn’t sure why, it’s not like there was anyone at Andy’s poker nights I wanted to impress… at least not yet.
“Tomorrow,” I thought aloud. “Don’t make a big deal about tomorrow. Don’t even mention it. Act like you don’t even know what’s happening.”
Unfortunately, my dick didn’t get that memo.
Just the thought ofhimreturning home made my thick cock twitch and swell, the soapy water trickling over its vein-strapped girth.
“Oh no you don’t!”
I shut off the shower.
I grabbed a towel and wrapped it tight around me.
I dried myself and slid on my tightest jockey shorts, a pair that would keep my dick snug and tight and hopefully in its place. Hell, I was supposed to be too anxious to feel horny. I couldn’t afford to let my raging hormone levels take over now.
I needed to calm myself down.
I needed to take a breath.
After all, it was just another Friday night of poker with the guys… the guys being Andy, of course, as well as Norm who started making and selling furniture crafted out of recycled wood after his wife died, and Trucker Ted who often took on long-haul runs interstate when Bo Harlow was out of town on another job.
None of them would ever remember what today was, they never did.
And Norm and Ted would barely acknowledge what was about to happen tomorrow. Andy, on the other hand, would undoubtedly be thrilled that his son Dean was returning home for a visit. How short or long that visit was supposed to be, nobody really knew. Dean had simply told his dad, “I just need a break from LA for a while, that’s all.”
A while.
That meant the chances of bumping into Dean while he was in town were pretty high.
Would he say hi if he saw me on the street?
Would he even remember who I was?
I mean, Dean Reeves was a hotshot rock star in LA now. Hell, his picture was no doubt tacked to the bedroom wall of every teenage girl the world over. The odds of him remembering one of his dad’s old friends were slim to none.
Yep, Dean had probably forgotten who I was completely.
No matter. Just spotting Dean in the street—with that scruffy blond head of hair and that perfectly happy smile—would be enough to warm my heart, whether he recognized me or not. Like I said before, I was a simple man. I didn’t ask for much in life. Just the sight of him would fill my cup until the next time he came to visit.
As I pulled on my jeans, the mere thought of Dean made my stomach flutter and my cock stiffen once more. “Jesus,” I breathed in annoyance, zipping that beast away. “Settle the fuck down, would you?”
I put on a flannel shirt, I lined my wallet with cash for the game, I grabbed a six-pack from the fridge, then I flicked off the house lights and turned the porch lights on as I left the house.
I always walked to Andy’s for Friday night poker, knowing I’d have more than a few beers under my belt by the time I returned. The stars were beginning to appear in the darkening blue of the sky and the breeze was still warm, adrift with the smell of backyard barbecues as the people of Mulligan’s Mill embraced the approach of summer.
There was laughter in the air.
Crickets chirped merrily.
