billion book
Chapter 3
What the hell am I doing?
It’s nine at night on Christmas Eve, and I’m driving through empty streets to offer a helping hand to my son’s best friend—to assist with whatever emergency situation she’s gotten herself into.
A girl who I haven’t seen in a year.
Not since she was back in Crimson Ridge last holiday season, and certainly the last person on this planet who I expected would be calling me.
Adding to all that, she’s in tears.
I didn’t catch most of what she rattled off over the phone—must have dropped off to sleep on the couch after I finished up with the horses for the night—and I was only half awake when I answered her call.
Doesn’t matter. I don’t need the hows or whys; the girl is clearly in some kind of distress, and sitting on the side of the road when snow’s about to roll through at any moment and cut off the town… well, she couldn’t have picked a worse time to have a flat.Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.
Worst timing? Or best timing?
Holy fuck. No. I scrub one hand over my mouth. Don’t even fucking think like that for one second. She’s Brad’s best friend, his same age, and spent half her teenage years round the ranch while the two of them grew up together.
That puts her in the don’t even goddamn think about it, you old perv category.
The only problem is that Skylar is very much now a woman, and Jesus, if I didn’t see that far too easily this time last year. It was impossible not to notice how much she’d matured and grown into herself. How animated she was talking about her new business. Brad had invited her, after taking it upon himself to organize a New Year’s Eve party. Which, to no one’s surprise, he’s doing again these holidays.
Supposedly, he tells me with that smile of his that asks for forgiveness rather than permission, it’s great promotion for the ranch.
What do I know? I’m good for training horses and that’s about the only thing I’ve ever known.
Brad’s the one who understands crap like networking and marketing and branding. All the parts of modern-day ranching I’m terrible at, whereas my son and his boyfriend are goddamn naturals at those kinds of things, and I’m fucking grateful they’re here to handle that side of the business.
Then again, my kid is a social fucking butterfly, so he lives for that kind of shit. He certainly didn’t inherit those genes from me.
Thinking back to almost a year ago, I wish I could blame liquor for the fact I noticed her when I shouldn’t have, but I’d offered to be a sober driver for folks coming along that night. There wasn’t a drop of drink in me, so I couldn’t put it down to anything other than being out of my damn mind. As if being twice her age wasn’t reason enough to stop seeking her out wherever she floated around the room, the stone-cold reality is I should know better than to be staring at my son’s best friend.
Skylar caught my eye and threw my whole world off center and then to top it all off I even drove her home just after midnight.
We barely exchanged two words, and all I remember is white-knuckling the steering wheel the entire way in an effort to prevent me from making a goddamn fool of myself.
When we pulled up outside her parent’s old house on Oakwood, however, I could have sworn she hovered in the truck, painted fingernails resting on the handle.
Coulda sworn she opened her mouth as if to say something, but then thought better of it and bolted out the door into the darkness, and back out of my life.
At the time, I rationalized that it was absolutely, one hundred percent, for the best that I was most likely not going to see her again for a very long time, outside of her and Brad getting together for something or other that might make our paths cross momentarily.
Now here I am, twelve months later, and the young woman, who a man like me has no business thinking about, is the reason I’m driving across town.
It dawns on me as I pull into the cul-de-sac where she’s stranded that her folks don’t live in town anymore. Last I heard, they sold up everything and went traveling.
Fuck.
Annnnd, I’m guessing she doesn’t know, or has forgotten maybe, that Brad isn’t here either. He’s gone to spend Christmas with Flinn’s family.
Double fuck.
As I pull into the street, I see her car straight away. The same little silver hatchback she’s had since she turned eighteen and headed off to college with my son.
Now I’ve gotta figure out what I’m going to do with a girl who won’t be able to go anywhere until I help her change that tire this late at night on Christmas Eve. Not to mention that the snow has already started piling up in the time it has taken me to drive over here.
Or, more to the point, I’ve got to figure out how to stop my dick from being ready to leap to attention at the mere thought of this girl nearly twenty years younger than me.