Mustang Summer by Marie Johnston

Author:Marie Johnston [Johnston, Marie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LE Publishing
Published: 2017-10-31T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Brock zipped himself up and swallowed at the sight of Josie’s round bottom bending over to pick up her shorts. Red marks from the imprint of the counter as he’d plunged into her were still stark on her skin.

He’d never had so much sex in such a small window of time, wouldn’t have known he was capable of getting off so much, but all that had been missing was the ravishing car lover.

If she produced any more condoms from that backpack of hers…

He’d told her what he needed and she’d been okay with it. They were stupid. He’d come close to spontaneously combusting when she’d said that. Because that’s what the few girls he’d tried to have a relationship with had told him, that he was stupid. But Josie didn’t say it about him.

His lips curved slightly as Josie shimmied into her bottoms.

She was something.

He waited while she gobbled down his cooking and washed her dishes. She hadn’t complained about his routines. He wasn’t obsessive compulsive, he could change it up, but…he’d rather not. If she asked, he would, though.

The dishes were put away and she spun around. “Ready.”

Outside, the morning was fresh. The day would be a warm one, but without the moisture in the air like yesterday.

“Wow, look at all those leaves.” Josie stopped next to him and curved her hand into his elbow.

“The wind can do as much damage as hail.” Judging from his yard, their crops would be ugly.

Branches of all sizes scattered his property, blown off the trees and over the inner row of bushes. The top third of at least one evergreen rested by the garden. A topmost shutter hung off the barn to leave a gaping black hole. Maybe some hail had gotten inside. Damn. He should’ve covered the cars with a tarp, but he hadn’t been thinking. After his tryst with Josie, he’d noticed the weather and thought locking up the barn would be enough.

From his vantage point, a glaring amount of dents peppered the shop. Large rents in the trim around the door and windows glinted in the sun.

“Fuck,” he ripped off his hat and slapped in on his thigh. A move he’d picked up from his dad, who’d picked it up from Gramps. It helped release his frustration.

“Doesn’t look as bad as I thought it’d be.” Josie shoved her hands in her baggy shorts’ pockets and wandered around.

“The garage roof will need to be replaced. Probably the barn. And the house. Dammit. We just had a giant insurance claim and had to buy new equipment because of your brother. Our main source of income might be crushed by hail in the field.”

Josie spun to face him, her eyes wide. “Oh my god, Brock. I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault,” he grumbled and stomped off to start inspecting the buildings.

Josie hung behind, but followed him.

The chickens were first. He dug out their water bins and filled them up. Some minor fencing issues were all he found, but nothing urgent. The chickens were contained and fed; he moved on.

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