Wargasm (Payne Brothers Romance Book 3) by Sosie Frost

Author:Sosie Frost [Frost, Sosie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-05-26T16:00:00+00:00

3

Micah

I’d brewed a cup of tea, taken all the children’s aspirin from the office first-aid cabinet, and wolfed down a quick salad that was anything but the requisite last meal a prisoner deserved before facing the execution squad.

Tonight, they’d announce my death with three simple words.

Butterpond Monthly Meeting.

Tonight was a special night for the residents of Butterpond. A time when they’d stand me before a squad of township busybodies who thought the municipality shared the same executive duties as the White House.

Once a month, the floor opened to the disheartened and irritable citizens who felt taunting, jeering, and generally mocking their elected and appointed representatives would more readily fill potholes and mow easements. Meetings were three-hour extravaganzas of grievances between neighbors and a public venue for the more outspoken to speak about the causes which troubled them—mostly issues of dog residue, a petition to limit one birdfeeder per household, and a yearlong property dispute aggravated by the placement of a neighbor’s garbage cans.

The agenda should have read Small-Town Schizophrenia—A One-Act Play, but no one in Butterpond ever paid attention to the scheduled order of events anyway. Meetings had become a blood-thirsty, survival of the fittest, comedy of errors, beginning not with a gavel against the podium but after Widow Barlow cracked Councilman David’s knuckles with her cane.

I wasn’t an optimistic person, but I still hoped this meeting would end early, before Mayor Desmond had an opportunity to settle matters like men with Sheriff Samson in the parking lot.

Only one thing could make the night more of a pain in the ass.

And he didn’t even knock outside my office. Just barged right in.

Julian Payne slammed the door behind him and glared at me with those dire green eyes. As if I were the asshole intruding on the precious few minutes I had left before I’d get clobbered by Roberts Rules of Order.

“Cowboy.”

“Princess.”

I crossed my arms. Great. Now I’d wrinkle the lovely red dressed I’d ordered from Ironfield. I’d paid a premium for the down-homey yet professionally approachable outfit. Ruffling the material would not soften public sentiment for me. Though a roll of twenties stuffed down my bra would have done more to bribe my way to job security.

“How’s it going?” Julian smirked.

“And here I thought this bad day couldn’t get worse.”

Julian’s teasing smile wasn’t meant to be inviting. He patted his hands against his jeans. Dusty, but not dirty. A streak of grease swept from his mid-thigh towards his temptingly tight ass. The white t-shirt was clean, stretched over his muscles. The thin material outlined his tanned abs and pecs.

It wasn’t fair that this loathsome creature was also the sexiest man I’d ever seen.

“You wanna talk a bad day?” He pulled out the seat opposite my desk.

“Not particularly.”

He ignored me, scratching the dark scruff on his hardened jaw. “Got a call today from the property tax collector.”

“Oh?”

“Seems they’re interested in my deceased father’s past tax filings. Just want to ensure accuracy.” He leaned in, tapping my desk. “So I spent the

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