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Polly Allen intrigues me.
I follow her out the front of the shop and wait for her to lock the door. She pauses and takes in a deep breath of summer air.
Grinning, I can’t help but reach out and slide the tip of my finger down her cheek, and then down her jawline, where her skin is smooth as silk. “Where are you parked?”
“Oh, I walked.”
“Come on.” I take her hand and lead her to my truck. “I’ll give you a lift. You’re dead on your feet.”
“I guess I underestimated how exhausted I’d be tonight. I think the whole past week just caught up with me.”
“I get it.” I hold the door for her, and when she’s settled in the seat, I buckle the belt for her, then cross around to the driver’s side. “You’ll have to give me directions.”
“That’s right, you’ve never been to my house.” She grins. “I’m over on 4th Street. Not too far from the high school.”
With a nod, I put the truck in gear and head off that way. Nothing in Bitterroot Valley is very far away because we’re such a small town, and the high school is about eight blocks away.
The sun is still high in the sky, and will be late into the night. We’re at that time of year when the days are long and about to get hot.
“I’m the little green house,” she says, pointing to the right. “You can park in the driveway. My car is in the garage.”
With a nod, I pull in and cut the engine. She’s not kidding when she says small. The lawn is the size of a postage stamp and has recently been mowed. The yard is actually really cute and well-maintained. “This is cute.”
“It’s a project,” she says with a shrug. “But it looks like my neighbor kid came to mow the grass today. I love that kid.”
Polly pushes out of the truck, and I follow her to the door. Close up, I can see that the screen door has seen better days, and I don’t like that she doesn’t have any kind of security at all, aside from the deadbolt.
“I don’t have AC,” she warns me. “I’ve had the house closed up, so it shouldn’t be too hot, and when the sun starts to go down, I’ll open everything up and get a breeze blowing through.”
It doesn’t surprise me. The house has to be a hundred years old, and most people didn’t start adding AC in their new builds until about twenty years ago. Still, it’s a little warm when we step inside.
Polly’s house is tidy and clean, if a little sparse on the furniture. What she does have is newer and looks comfortable.
“What happened there?” I ask, pointing to the wall in the living room. It’s covered in eight swatches of paint.
“I couldn’t decide which color I liked the best,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “I still can’t.”
“When did you put the swatches up?”
“Two years ago.” She shrugs, and I can’t help but chuckle. “There’s always another priority to see to, and I’m hardly here anyway. I’m going to take a quick shower. Please make yourself at home.”
“I’ll order dinner. Take your time.”
She smiles over at me, and then she walks down a hallway, and I hear a door close.
I want to follow her and join her in that shower. But I’ve decided to take things slow with Polly. We already know that the sexual chemistry is off the charts. Keeping my hands to myself is proving to be more of a challenge than I anticipated.
But I don’t like that she assumed that I was only interested in fucking her. And now that the dust has started to settle in my private life, I want to see what could happen between us.
Pulling out my phone, I place an order for Italian from Ciao, pleased when they say that the delivery should be here in about thirty minutes, and then I walk into the kitchen and hunt up some wineglasses.
Polly owns exactly two of them.
There’s a bottle of white in her fridge, so I locate a corkscrew and open the wine. The shower cuts off down the hall, so I pour the wine and take a sip of mine, leaning against the counter and waiting for the gorgeous redhead.
When she walks into the room, I almost say fuck it to my plan of talking and getting to know her and simply fuck her right here on this counter. She’s in a black tank top that molds to her curves. No bra. And the little denim shorts she’s wearing don’t leave much to the imagination. Her wet red hair is up in a knot on top of her head, and she’s barefoot.
I want to kiss each and every toe.
