Page 238 of Mountain Grump
Seconds later, which feel like an eternity, she stops on the other side of the counter. “That’s a fancy hat.”
I keep my expression even. “It’s called a campaign hat.”
“Right. Of course.” Tilda says it seriously as she slowly lifts her hand to her forehead. In a salute.
I clench my jaw, resisting the laugh, and start to slowly lift my hand.
Tilda’s eyes widen. “Oh my gods, are you gonna do it back?”
I drop my hand. “No. Now get back here.”
Tilda drops her hand and mock glares at me. “Party pooper.”
“Uh-huh.” I step back from the desk. “Door’s back around the side.”
Dressed in my tan flat-brimmed hat, button-down shirt, and green pants, I walk the fifteen feet to the back of the office, past the low counter with the computers and rolling chairs, to the door.
A functional office with plenty of space for Tilda to have lunch with me. And if she wants to hang out for a while afterward, she can do that too.
I hope she wants to stay.
I open the door that leads into the back hallway, and a second later, Tilda steps through.
She sets her floral bag, which must contain food, on the counter, then does a turn. “This is nice.”
“I’ll give you the tour.” I gesture to our surroundings. “This is the back half of the office.” I place my hand on Tilda’s back and walk her to the spot with the pass-through, where we’d been talking a moment before. “And this is the front half of the office.”
Tilda looks up at the overhead rolling door that can be pulled down to meet the counter, closing off the opening. “I feel like we’re in a concession stand.”
I nod. “Basically the same thing. Except we don’t have nachos.”
“A shame.” Her gaze focuses on my hat. “I really like the hat.”
“I’m glad.”
“How come I haven’t seen it before?”
“We have to wear it when we’re working in official buildings. But not when we’re out in the field.”
“I want to wear it.” Tilda reaches up and pinches the brim of my hat. “While I’m riding you.”
She gives the brim the smallest tug, and I feel it in my balls.
“I like that idea.” I grip Tilda by the waist and pull her closer.
She lets go of my hat. “Good.” Her fingertips touch my shoulder, then drag down my chest. “Where is everyone?”
I flex my fingers against her sides. “We’re short-staffed today. And the morning rush of visitors has died down.”
“So… no one else is coming back here?” She drags her touch down to my stomach.
I shake my head. “Very unlikely.”
“Good.”
“Why is that good, Firecracker?”
Her fingers reach my belt. “Because I figured out what a big blow job is.”
