Page 58 of Small Town Frenzy
Jacob looks up at her with the sun shining between them, and says, “Love you.” His eyes land on me, still standing near enough to hear their conversation until he whispers in her ear.
She laughs and then pretends to whisper, but replies for my benefit, “Ask him.”Cute.
When she sets him on his feet again, Jacob eyes me up. “Are you a real cowboy, mister?”
I didn’t think wearing my clothes from last night was a positive, but it might be what gets me into his good graces. “I left my hat in my truck, but these are my ranch boots on my feet.” Waggling my belt buckle, I reply, “It’s not the biggest buckle in my collection, but this one is my favorite.”
He looks at his mom again. They hold a silent conversation before he reaches up and she takes his hand. My heart thumps in my chest as they walk toward me. I wasn’t nervous about hopping on a bull at sixteen even though I had lied about my age so I could ride in the Wimberly County Rodeo.I came in third.I feel robbed to this day.
When scouts showed up at one of my games unannounced to watch me play in my sophomore year of high school, I hit a homer like it wasn’t a big thing.
I didn’t even break a sweat when I stepped up to theplate with bases loaded to bat in a playoff game leading up to the World Series during my rookie season. I did what I came here to do and hit it out of the park.
Meeting my son for the first time has me sweating bullets.
When they approach, his eyes are on the buckle. It’s not showy, but it means the most to me.
Jacob punches the brim of his hat up, and asks, “Why’s it your favorite?”
“My dad won it when he rode in the rodeo a million years ago.”
“It’s shiny.” He bends down to look at his own. The plastic has no sheen at all. “Mine doesn’t shine.”
“That’s okay. Buckles represent different events.” I bend at the knees in front of him and eye it up. It’s nothing more than a toy costume piece from a store, but everyone deserves to feel good about their wins, especially when it comes to buckles and what they represent. “See that bull and the rider?”
“Uh-huh.”
“This is a championship buckle, buddy. You must be pretty good to have won this prize.”
Glancing up at Cricket, he giggles. “I got the prize, Mommy.”
“You sure did.” She kneels beside him and says, “Jacob, this is Griffin Greene.” Glancing at me, she smiles. “Griffin, this is my giggle-box of a son. Jacob.” She hesitates before adding, “Dover.”
Before I can react to something I have no control over, I remind myself that I wasn’t around. There’s no reason he’d carry any other name than hers. They’re a team. They always have been. But that doesn’t alleviate the sting of hearing it, a stark reminder of my absence in his life, and allbecause we didn’t exchange names, something so basic kept me out of his life. There’s still the hat. That means something. Holding out my hand, I say, “It’s good to meet you, Jacob, or do you prefer to be called Champ?”
By how hard this kid is cracking up, he almost has me believing I could make a killing as a stand-up comedian. Shaking my hand, he replies, “Champ.” When he leans toward his mom, he twists his arms around each other and looks at her. “Can I play?”
Cricket slips her gaze my way as if I have a say in the matter. As much as I want to talk to him some more and get to know him, he’s three, and his attention span is limited at best. Hell, mine sucks, so I can’t expect more from him on the first meeting. With the quickest of nods, she says, “You can go play, but remember, I’ll be working so I won’t be home until late. Okay?”
He’s already running but turns right back around to come give her a hug again. This time, he looks at me, and says, “Bye, mister.”
“Bye, Champ.” I stand back up with her.
As soon as he’s out of our hearing range, Cricket says, “It was short. Sorry.”
“Short and sweet. That’s all it needed to be the first time.” We head back to the vehicle. “It went well.”
“It did.” She’s smiling so I take it as a win for both of us. We get in the car, and she starts it. “I don’t want you to think I’m rushing you off the property. Twice.” She laughs. “I have to work this wedding and need to get ready. You can hang out with me if you want or if you have things to do?—”
“I do. A long list of them.”
“Oh God, yes!”Her mouth is wide open, eyes closed, and cheek pressed to the stone. Steam fills the air in the shower as water sprays down.
I drop my head just above hers, fucking her from behind. With her body pressed to the wall, she begs for more, “Harder, Griffin.” Reaching around behind her, she holds me, digging her nails into my back and inspired to do as she pleads. I slide my hands up the slick of her body and around to her tits, taking hold and squeezing until she starts to lose control. Her hands swing back to the wall, pressing on either side of her head and then pushing back at her hips.
Catching my eyes over her shoulder, she says, “Please.”
Fuck.That’s all it takes. I grab her hips and fuck her even harder, faster, wilder, so nothing exists but the feel of our connection.
