Dry Spell by D.L. Jackson

Author:D.L. Jackson [Jackson, D.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: A Prepper Romance
Publisher: Decadent Publishing
Published: 2014-04-18T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Four

Jake’s alarm blasted from the nightstand. “Mmmff.” Without opening his eyes, he slammed his palm over the obnoxious noisemaker that must have been designed by the devil, to hit the snooze. Missing, he knocked the clock onto the floor where it continued to wa wa wa. He patted along the wall, found the cord, and yanked. When he rolled over, he discovered the bed empty next to him. It only took a second to figure out where she’d gone.

The earthy scent of coffee wafted from the kitchen and made him smile.

What’s not to love about that woman?

Damn, he’d slept like the dead and for the first time in two years, he actually felt rested. He scratched his jaw and glanced at his alarm clock on the floor. What time was it? He yawned and eyed the door, slightly ajar. If he didn’t have to work, he’d retrieve his bedmate and go back to sleep with her in his arms.

But Monday called and he had a lot to do, starting with filing a claim to get his cruiser replaced. He sat up, threw the sheet off, and rose, stretching his arms over his head. Life didn’t get any better. Jake padded into the bathroom and took care of business. Still completely naked and half-awake, he headed for the kitchen, knowing that cup of coffee would provide the boost he needed. And maybe he could sneak a quickie in before he hit the office.

Instantly hard.

He stumbled to the percolator, poured a cup, and lifted the stoneware mug to his lips, closing his eyes and soaking everything in. Hadn’t had a Monday so relaxed in forever and he’d savor every fucking minute of it.

“Oh my,” someone gasped—not Quinn.

Shrinkage. Jake’s eyes popped open. Open concept living and all, the oh my didn’t bode well. Blinking, Jake cleared the marathon sex-induced haze from his eyes. “Ah shit.” He dropped his cup on the counter, sloshing coffee all over the place, and grabbed the first available object to cover up with. An apron. Big bold letters ran across the front, Who’s your grill daddy?

The gag gift had come from his younger brother, after the town asked him to run the grill for their annual fundraising barbecue. Jake’d worn it when he’d manned the barbeque for the last cook off, to prove he had a sense of humor. Funny. Ha, ha.

Not so much.

Quinn must have pulled the apron out to wear while making breakfast. He held the minimal fabric spread wide in front of him, not missing the irony, but more concerned he’d just flashed one of the town mothers. He looked over to the table and confirmed his suspicion. Maggie, her daughter Lee, and Quinn sat at the table—staring. All three mouths hung open.

Shit. He’d never hear the end of this.

“Whoa, didn’t expect company this early. I….” Heat roared across his face. He backed his bare ass toward the bedroom, leaving his coffee on the counter, holding the apron before him like a shield. “Better get dressed.

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