Page 33 of Plentywood
“You went to NYU?” I asked, suddenly seeing Charlie in a different light than originally. “You didn’t attend NYU for the arts, did you?”
“Business major,” he said. “Between modeling and being a whore.” His nonchalance at referring to himself as a whore was shocking. He had to be joking. “No, I’m not joking,” he stated, somehow reading my mind. “In case you’re wondering.”
“Whore?” I asked, needing a glass for my beer but afraid to ask for one. Charlie noticed me staring at my bottle and grabbed a glass from the back of the bar and held it for me to pour my beer into. Once the bottle was empty, he placed the lime on the glass’s rim. I had to admit, I liked how attentive he acted.
“I was an escort, actually,” he stated, looking nonplussed by his remark. “Paid for college and helped me buy Skeeter’s gas station. Skeeter is my nickname,” he reminded me.
I rolled my eyes, convinced he was pulling my leg. “Whatever,” I remarked, looking past him and noticing the Sheriff and his gal pal, Jill, across the room watching us. “You? An escort?” I asked, quickly looking away when I locked eyes with the Sheriff, a man I’d recently been rude to at the diner.
He pulled his cell phone from his back pocket. I was surprised it fit in his pocket, considering the jeans looked sprayed on, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Not that I needed to imagine his male parts. I’d seen them. No wonder the main attraction was evident in his jeans. He was hung.
He held the phone up to my face. “That’s me,” he said. “Every single inch of me.”
Yes, it was.I swallowed hard at the images. The logo for Rentboy.com was above each of his photos. There was no doubt it was him. “Wow,” was all I could say, and pushed his phone away from me.
“I was always safe,” he stated matter-of-factly. “In case you want a free sample.”
As much as I tried not to look at the Sheriff, I failed. I was basically just offered free sex from a bona fide stud, but unfortunately, Hunter Copeland had my attention now. We locked eyes again. This time, a slight smile appeared at the corners of his mouth.
I turned back to the sensual man beside me. “You’re a patient of mine, Charlie,” I reminded him.
He faced me, moving his hips into me. “And look where that got us earlier this week, doc. You fucking turned my crank in case you didn’t notice the jizz show.”
“Stop,” I insisted, pushing against his well-developed chest. “We’re in public.”
“My truck has a crew cab, and it’s parked around back,” he growled, pressing his mouth directly against my ear, causing mydick to wake up. “I’ll let you do anything you want to me, stud. And I do mean,anything.”
I stepped back and glanced to where the Sheriff had been, but he wasn’t there now. I scanned the room, praying he wasn’t witnessing Charlie’s behavior. Charlie was being obscene, and I hated to admit that there were a few things I’d love to do with him. I’d seen his cock, and trust me, I had a place for him to put it. I wondered if he knew I was primarily a bottom. I’d assumed he was a top when I first met him, but now wondered after the examination at the clinic.
A hand on my shoulder interrupted my fantasy of being topped by Charlie in a pickup truck. I’d be sure to recall it during my jack-off session later that night. There wouldn’t be any local men that I’d be fucking while on my short stay in Hicksville, but there were plenty of redneck men around here to build fantasy scenes in my imagination. I had a thing for powerful- looking men, those a bit on the rough side. Straight appearing got bonus points. Tonight, two of them were within feet of me.
“Hey, doc,” a very masculine voice spoke. I turned to face the man I’d been searching for a second before. “Charlie,” the Sheriff added, tipping his head toward the guy I’d just imagined drilling my ass.
“Hello, sheriff,” I answered. “Nice to see you.”
“Get lost, Copeland,” Charlie hissed. “I’m working this territory.”
Sheriff Copeland ignored Charlie like he’d had plenty of experience doing just that. “I’m Hunt, in case you forgot,” he said, offering his hand. “And I’m sorry about the diner thing.”
Charlie scowled while I held the Sheriff’s hand, unknowingly forgetting to let go of it. The uniformed sheriff was a tall drink of water, but I was unprepared for whatthisman, Hunter Copeland, private citizen, looked like out of his uniform. Don’tget me wrong, he was hot as Hades in his uniform, but this was a whole level hotter than I’d anticipated.
“I apologize as well, Hunt,” I said, still holding his hand. He had a presence I hadn’t noticed before. Perhaps the uniform had convinced me that my first attraction to him was to just that, his uniform. But he seemed even more commanding out of his sheriff’s attire.
“Can we start over?” Hunt asked. “Perhaps let me buy you another beer?”
I’d forgotten Charlie was still there. Somehow, the Sheriff, who I had immediately dismissed upon first meeting, had me mesmerized. I tried to remember the last time a man had this effect on me.Rocco, my mind reminded me.It was Rocco. Run!
“I’m the fuck outta here,” Charlie said, shooting a nasty glare toward Hunt. “Offer still stands, doc,” he added, leering at me before shifting his eyes back to the Sheriff. If only looks could kill.
“Where’s your date?” I asked, remembering seeing him with Jill.
“You mean my sister? Your number one fan,” he corrected. He pointed to the dance floor where Jill was in the arms of a man who could be her grandfather. “She’s keeping Mr. Pickford happy right at the moment. He’s a good dancer, but his normal dance partner had a hip replacement.”
“Jill is your actual sister?” I asked.
“My sister-in-law,” he explained. “But like a real sister. She’s the sister of my husband.”
I watched as his eyes filled while he nervously twisted his hand around the neck of his beer bottle. A person didn’t have to be clairvoyant to know he was carrying a load of hurt. I didn’t need to clarify if he was married. I knew his husband had died. Agnes had made sure I knew that tragic headline the day I arrived in Plentywood.
