Lube Job (Big Bull Mechanics Book 5) by K.M. Neuhold

Author:K.M. Neuhold [Neuhold, K.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2023-11-02T16:00:00+00:00

RIGGS

I can’t believe I’m blubbering about my dead aunt to Shep. I guess one tear might not constitute blubbering, but still, it’s an unprecedented emotional display. Luckily, he doesn’t say anything else about it while we sit outside and eat our dinner, going back and forth with more ‘truth or bare’ questions, keeping them light for the rest of the game.

As unexpectedly eager as I was earlier to tell him about the bomb Journey detonated in my brain this morning, I think we’ve already gotten deep enough for one night. Besides, I’m not even sure why I had the impulse to talk to him about it this morning. It’s just a thing. It’s not even a thing. A label that doesn’t change anything.

Vel comes down from his favorite tree to strut around the table until I give him some of the cooked veggies from my plate, and Shep and I open another beer each while we watch the sky overhead get darker. Crickets start to chirp once the sun disappears, and a few fireflies light up the backyard here and there.

“Do you actually like kissing or is it more of a habit?” I ask curiously, putting my feet up on the patio table and reclining in my chair. I swat at a mosquito that tries to land on my arm and Shep swishes his half-empty beer bottle absently in one hand.

“Depends on the guy, I guess,” he admits.

“What do you mean?” I frown. “Like if the guy is a good kisser or not?”

Before I implemented my strict moratorium on kissing, I really did give it a chance. I kissed tons of guys at school, even a couple of girls just to be totally sure. Some kissed sloppy with way too much tongue, some had dry lips and bad breath, and a few were clearly more skilled than the rest. But I still never managed to find the whole activity anything but a little boring and awkward.

“Sure,” Shep says. “If they’re any good at it, and you know, sometimes you get that swooping, tingling feeling in your belly. Chemistry, or whatever it is.”

“Huh,” I mutter, a hot, irritating feeling twisting in my gut briefly as I try not to wonder too much about which of Shep’s nameless hookups gave him the fabled butterflies.

“I’m guessing you don’t? Like kissing, I mean,” he says, his smile faltering for half a second. “Unless you’re just not interested in kissing me?” His tone is light, but there’s a moment where I can see his expression tighten with insecurity, even in the dark.

“It’s not personal,” I assure him. “I just don’t really get kissing. All the intimacy of sex without the benefit of an orgasm. What’s the point?”

“Guess I never thought about it that much,” he admits.

I hum in understanding.

Shep absently drags the rim of the glass bottle along his bottom lip, and for a fleeting moment of insanity, I wonder what it would actually be like to put my mouth on his. Does he kiss

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