Stranded in His Secret Cabin by Vicky Bushwell

Author:Vicky Bushwell [Bushwell, Vicky]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-12-22T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 2

Kyle

The day was hectic, with loads of work, but I liked it. I like that feeling when my body is so tired it feels numb and sore. I love the garage; hardware, metal clicking, sounds and smells, everything makes me feel that I was designed to be here. I’m where I’m supposed to be, and I don’t mind staying late. Not today though, when the others already left, and I’m closing alone. I’m extremely tired, but I might meet my buddies for a beer and pool later, so I’m not excited when I see a small urban car parking outside.

I walk out, ready to turn down the petite woman stepping out the car. But when she moves her head, shaking her long sleek hair, revealing the side of her face, I still in place. I know these sun-kissed cheeks and glossy full lips. Red and juicy like cherries, they make my heart trip over and my cock twitch in my pants. I shouldn’t feel this way, yet I do. Things get steamier down south when I see her eyelashes flutter as her gorgeous hazel eyes zero in on my own. I know this gaze with a glint of amusement as she looks at me intently and beams.

Ally… A girl next-door that grew up into a gorgeous young woman. She’s too young for me; I must keep her around, and do whatever I can to protect her as her older friend, and nothing more.

I’m too preoccupied, trying to shake those highly inappropriate fantasies and thoughts about her that I get immediately busy checking her car. I try to keep things simple, asking her only about it, and that’s it. Deep down, I know I should do my job and forget about her, but then I find out it needs more work than I thought.

My heart skips another beat, when she agrees to let me take her home. I don’t want to be too excited about it, though; I’m just doing my job, I reiterate to myself. But, I’m glad she’s in my car with me like she once was.

I wonder if she remembers, so when I open my truck door before her, I say, “Remember the prom? You were so elegant in that silk dress of yours.” I watch her hazel eyes, and then her lips, and add, “I worried that I looked too old to be there with you.”

She blushes, and I still, not sure if I should keep talking, bringing up memories of something I wish lasted longer than a dance.

“Are you kidding? I was so proud to go there with you!” She laughs, “I was so happy when they let me invite someone other than one of my classmates. Everybody was stunned. Some girls asked for your number, but I wouldn’t give it to them.”

“I’d never talk to them! I know you wanted me exclusively for yourself.” I want to make her laugh, and it works.

I like watching her giggling; her parted lips, revealing her pearl-white teeth, and the sound of her laughter send some serious shivers down my spine.

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