other people's lives.
Adam jammed his hands into his pockets and scoffed as he rocked on the balls of his feet. “Whose idea was it to put up a psychic stand this year anyway?”
“Mine. Why? You got something against psychics?” When Adam gave Errol a dubious look, Errol probed, “What? You don’t believe in them?”
“That’s right.” But before he could elaborate and tell the old man that he believed in psychics about as much as he believed he was the marrying kind, sweet Josie Wells walked by.
Josie Wells.
As his heart picked up tempo, he fisted his hands inside his pockets and tried to appear unaffected, a difficult task considering the prettiest girl he’d ever known had just passed in front of him. A girl he wanted in the worst fucking way.
Dressed in a spaghetti strap sundress that hugged her soft feminine curves in all the right places, Adam couldn’t help but watch the easy, casual way she moved, couldn’t help but take pleasure in her innocent sensuality as she sauntered by, or the way that innocent sensuality seeped under his skin and settled in his groin.
Her hips swayed seductively and a beautiful smile lit up her blue eyes as she moved past them, but Adam was too damn preoccupied thinking about how that sensuous body of hers would feel beneath his, how that long silken blonde hair of hers would feel running along his naked flesh to formulate any sort of a response.
As a kindergarten teacher at the local elementary school not only was Josie compassionate, caring, soft spoken and patient—basically she was the antithesis of the wild and wicked women he was accustomed to—she had flawless skin made for touching, full sensuous lips made for kissing and a lush body made for making love. Simply put, Josie was real, natural, and sensual. With a girl like her—a girl with no hidden agendas—what you saw is what you got. And what he saw made his dick hard. So goddamn hard it was all he could do not to excuse himself and head straight to his bedroom so he could take the edge off.
Before he could stop himself, he made a choking sound, a half growl half gurgle.
Fully pathetic.
Errol patted him on the back. “You okay, boy? You need a glass of water or something?”
“I’m fine,” he answered. Except he wasn’t fine. Oh no, he wasn’t fine at all. Not where Josie Wells was concerned.
Okay, so Adam was wrong when he once told his best friend Trent Parker that fucking solved anything. Because with a girl like Josie, a girl who not only wanted, but deserved, a loving husband and a big house with a widow’s peak overlooking the majestic Atlantic Ocean, things Adam could never give her, fucking would simply complicate matters more than they already were and result in pain and loss.
After all, he knew his fate. And he’d be damned if he drag a sweet thing like Josie Wells into his troubled life.
Errol made a tsking sound. “There’s only one way to scratch that kind of itch, lad.”
Adam gave Errol and odd look and shifted uncomfortably under the man’s scrutinizing gaze. Surely to God the old man wasn’t suggesting…
“What are you talking about?” Adam asked cautiously, hoping he wasn’t about to start lecturing him on his sex life.
It was only when Errol put his cane over his shoulder and dragged it along the middle of his back that Adam realized he was running his own fingers over his neck. Except his rubbing had more to do with sexual frustration than any kind of itch.
“So what do you say, boy? You gonna get a reading from Madame M or what?”
Adam gave a quick shake of his head, then stepped back a bit to avoid a direct hit from a rambunctious kid who appeared to be hyped up on sugar and covered in sticky cotton candy. “Not a chance.”
“If folks see you going in they might follow.”
“Why don’t you go then?”
“Cause I’m an old man and I don’t need any psychic telling me how my bum leg is about to give out on me. I already know that, lad.”
Just then
Adam jammed his hands into his pockets and scoffed as he rocked on the balls of his feet. “Whose idea was it to put up a psychic stand this year anyway?”
“Mine. Why? You got something against psychics?” When Adam gave Errol a dubious look, Errol probed, “What? You don’t believe in them?”
“That’s right.” But before he could elaborate and tell the old man that he believed in psychics about as much as he believed he was the marrying kind, sweet Josie Wells walked by.
Josie Wells.
As his heart picked up tempo, he fisted his hands inside his pockets and tried to appear unaffected, a difficult task considering the prettiest girl he’d ever known had just passed in front of him. A girl he wanted in the worst fucking way.
Dressed in a spaghetti strap sundress that hugged her soft feminine curves in all the right places, Adam couldn’t help but watch the easy, casual way she moved, couldn’t help but take pleasure in her innocent sensuality as she sauntered by, or the way that innocent sensuality seeped under his skin and settled in his groin.
Her hips swayed seductively and a beautiful smile lit up her blue eyes as she moved past them, but Adam was too damn preoccupied thinking about how that sensuous body of hers would feel beneath his, how that long silken blonde hair of hers would feel running along his naked flesh to formulate any sort of a response.
As a kindergarten teacher at the local elementary school not only was Josie compassionate, caring, soft spoken and patient—basically she was the antithesis of the wild and wicked women he was accustomed to—she had flawless skin made for touching, full sensuous lips made for kissing and a lush body made for making love. Simply put, Josie was real, natural, and sensual. With a girl like her—a girl with no hidden agendas—what you saw is what you got. And what he saw made his dick hard. So goddamn hard it was all he could do not to excuse himself and head straight to his bedroom so he could take the edge off.
Before he could stop himself, he made a choking sound, a half growl half gurgle.
Fully pathetic.
Errol patted him on the back. “You okay, boy? You need a glass of water or something?”
“I’m fine,” he answered. Except he wasn’t fine. Oh no, he wasn’t fine at all. Not where Josie Wells was concerned.
Okay, so Adam was wrong when he once told his best friend Trent Parker that fucking solved anything. Because with a girl like Josie, a girl who not only wanted, but deserved, a loving husband and a big house with a widow’s peak overlooking the majestic Atlantic Ocean, things Adam could never give her, fucking would simply complicate matters more than they already were and result in pain and loss.
After all, he knew his fate. And he’d be damned if he drag a sweet thing like Josie Wells into his troubled life.
Errol made a tsking sound. “There’s only one way to scratch that kind of itch, lad.”
Adam gave Errol and odd look and shifted uncomfortably under the man’s scrutinizing gaze. Surely to God the old man wasn’t suggesting…
“What are you talking about?” Adam asked cautiously, hoping he wasn’t about to start lecturing him on his sex life.
It was only when Errol put his cane over his shoulder and dragged it along the middle of his back that Adam realized he was running his own fingers over his neck. Except his rubbing had more to do with sexual frustration than any kind of itch.
“So what do you say, boy? You gonna get a reading from Madame M or what?”
Adam gave a quick shake of his head, then stepped back a bit to avoid a direct hit from a rambunctious kid who appeared to be hyped up on sugar and covered in sticky cotton candy. “Not a chance.”
“If folks see you going in they might follow.”
“Why don’t you go then?”
“Cause I’m an old man and I don’t need any psychic telling me how my bum leg is about to give out on me. I already know that, lad.”
Just then
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