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Authors: Kirsty Dallas

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At that moment, the strangest thing happened. My dick twitched and I stopped breathing. For some reason, all logic eluded me and I figured if I breathed, the reaction in my nether region would stop. The pretty little thing began a hesitant shuffle towards me, an anxious smile in place. Struggling to pull her enormous suitcase through the
crowd, she finally stood directly in front of me, the top of her head reaching my chest, and my mouth literally fell open. Her hair, which was tossed into a messy bun, wasn’t as dark a red as it used to be; I guess she was coloring it these days or was spending plenty of time in the sun. Her pale skin suggested sunlight wasn’t the reason though. Her dainty nose tipped up ever so slightly, her lips a perfect bow. Her eyes were the color of moss and surrounded with lashes that were so long they almost defied nature. Her skin was flawless apart from a few scattered freckles across her nose and under her eyes. My gaze followed her exposed arms then finally found their way to her small breasts. Too small, I thought to myself. But the tightening in my groin told me my dick didn’t care.

“Wow,” the pretty little enigma murmured
in a voice that had a uniquely smooth yet husky quality to it, like a sex call operator. “You sure got taller.” I tipped my hat back and looked the little bumpkin over from head to toe once again. My brain was still caught in the magic of my physical response to this girl, and my mouth suddenly felt too dry.

“Andi?” I finally spluttered. Her smile was bright and beautiful, her teeth perfectly straight. Guess all that metal did its job.

“I didn’t think you would recognize me without the glasses and metal.”

Well damn, Andi had grown up. She was…beautiful. No fake tan, fake tits
, or fake smiles here. She was all adorable, sweet, and innocent. Too sweet, too innocent, I thought.

“So, thanks for picking me up,” she continued, shuffling a little awkwardly under my stunned scrutiny. “I told Bradley I was perfectly capable of catching a cab, but he seems to think a woman in the city for the first time needs a chaperon. He actually used the word ‘chaperon’, like he’s some sort of eighteenth century nobleman, but you know Bradley, he’s like the Mr. Darcy of the twenty-first century. He’s been living in England too long, he even sounds like Mr. Darcy. In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings for your safety will not be repressed.” She spoke with the worst attempt at a British accent I had ever heard. She shook her head and chuckled. I wasn’t sure what the hell she was laughing at or who the hell Mr. Darcy was, but I could certainly agree with her observation of Bradley
being overseas for far too long.

Andi began to shift nervously again, struggling with her enormous suitcase. “So, do you talk?
Because if you don’t, you’re going to get sick of the sound of my voice pretty damn quick because I talk, a lot.”

There was no way I could become sick of the sound of that voice. That sweet Texan drawl with that smooth, smoky tone, sounded so good it was as if my ears were being fucked.

“You never used to talk. As I recall, you were constantly stuck with your nose in a book. I didn’t even realize you had glasses or metal because I never saw your face,” I finally said.

Andi smiled again and my lip twitched at one side. A small smile found its way to my face which had recently become a stony scowl. Her happiness
was contagious. I was nudged from behind, bringing me close enough to breathe in a lungful of Andi Jennings. Damn, she smelled as sweet as she looked. Cursing the asshole who had pushed me, I reached around Andi and grabbed her suitcase. As I did, I drew in another breath of her unique scent. Andi recoiled slightly and gave me an arched brow.

“What?” I asked with nonchalance.

“You sniffed me,” she said with an amused look on her face.

I shrugged. “You smell good, like cinnamon.”

She blushed. Too innocent, I reminded myself. New York was going to suck her in, chew her up, and spit her right back out. The thought of licking, sucking, and eating Andi filled my thoughts. Man, how long had it been since I had truly felt a spark of attraction to a girl? I couldn’t remember. Was this attraction? My semi-hard dick suggested it was. Bradley was going to kick my ass. This was my best friend’s little cousin—she had even lived with Bradley and his family for a short time—she was practically his sister. There were rules in these situations: hands off sisters and family. Andi was forbidden fruit, and even if she wasn’t, there was no way a pure country bumpkin like her could handle a self-confessed pussy pounding warrior like me.

“Come on,” I growled, my mood slipping back into the familiar sludge it had been in for months. “I got shit to do today.” Andi frowned as I turned and began to haul ass out of there. I was being rude, and a small part of me was ashamed I couldn’t even manage to display some resemblance to manners. The other part of me, the irritable and smug male that burned in my veins, just wanted to get out of here and away from the too sweet country girl. As Andi scampered along behind me, I realized I was lugging her suitcase, like a packhorse. Go fucking figure.

Chapter 2

ANDI

My eyes flittered over the passing sights; there was so much to take in and not enough time to absorb it all. I couldn’t believe I was here…in New York City. I secretly pinched my thigh just to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. I had been out of Austin before, plenty of times, but I had only traveled from my Texas home to Bradley’s family vacation home in Florida. No sightseeing or spontaneous detours along the way. No life affirming journeys that took me to unexpected places where I might meet unexpected people. I had been far too quiet and reserved to brave anything outside of my normal routine. Now I was in the city, the big city, and it was so…big. It was intimating, like dropping a duck in the middle of the ocean and saying swim for the shore little guy. If the threat of drowning wasn’t enough, there were sharks in that big damn ocean. Big, powerful, greedy sharks with razor sharp teeth. Oh yeah, I was a scared little duck, but there was no way in hell I would let the sharks see my fear. I was, after all, the new Andi Jennings, the girl who tried everything once. I could dance—waltz, street, pole, lap—you name it and I had taken a class in it. I could change a flat tire and plate up the world’s greatest Tiramisu, I could drink most men under the table, and I could throw a mean punch. A real punch too, not some pansy open fisted sissy slap. The awkward loner was gone. In her place was a confident woman embarking on the adventure of a lifetime. I’d survived the gangly teenage years when being a nerdy redhead and wearing glasses was not cool. If I could handle that, I could handle anything. There was no way I was going to let the city intimidate me. You hear that city? You try and screw with me and I will screw with you right back. I sighed as I took in a bunch of women in immaculate suits, their hair in elegant twists and knots, long legs, beautiful high heels finishing the purely feminine look. As the car slowed for a red light, the women glanced to one side and noted my companion. The big damn gorgeous shark sitting beside me, Decker, gave them a charming smile and waved, and they smiled seductively back, filled with a confidence and ease that I always found difficult. Meh, who needed pretty shoes and pencil skirts anyway?

As the car pulled away from the light, I took a deep breath and pushed my shoulders back. I glanced across at Decker. Holy mother of stunning men had he changed. He had always been hot, and I had harbored the most intense crush on this man for more than half of my life. But now, hot didn’t even embody what Decker had become. He was stunning. Even with the pouty scowl and brooding furrowed brow he was sporting, he was still the most handsome man I had ever seen. I had no idea what the moping was all about, that wasn’t the Decker I remembered. That Decker had been cocky, handsome, and full of laughter. This Decker seemed…harder, yet still eye candy on a stick.
With a strong jawline covered in a ruggedly handsome growth of hair laced with a few errant stray grays, it was a little on the out of control, wild, caveman side, but I liked it. His eyes were a golden, honey brown that I could get completely and utterly cliché lost in. His hair was long enough to rake your hands through, and his smile, however slight it had been, was still as mischievous and playful as I remembered. And that body. My eyes took a leisurely tour from head to toe: tall, wide shoulders and chest, defined biceps, narrow waist, long legs. It was the kind of body that should never be covered. This was the kind of body that women became a drooling mess of dumb over. As my eyes returned back to his face, my mind snapped back to the here and now with the force of a taut rubber band. The car had stopped for yet another red light, and Decker was watching me with an amused smirk on his face. Yep, Decker was still the arrogant ass I remembered. He might be devilishly handsome, but he had an ego the size of Texas and then some. I had always found Decker to be one hundred percent, Grade A, top shelf, arrogant male, and he knew how to work the charm to get what he wanted. Extra mayo on his sandwich, the MTV channel, the bigger bedroom…girls. As a quiet, awkward teen, I had sat back and watched Decker turn on his charisma while vacationing with Bradley and his family. I had witnessed a seventeen-year-old Decker Steele turn a sixteen-year-old Sarah Worthers into a starry eyed Decker fanatic in less than twenty-four hours. I had watched him kiss and fondle her under the star lit skies of a warm Florida beach, only to spy him doing a whole lot more than kiss and fondle Amanda White two nights before on that very same beach. It’s not like I had been purposefully stalking Decker as a young girl. He was a handsome bad boy who garnered my female appreciation, I’ll admit that, but I would never lower myself to become one of his many.

“Like what you see, Country?” He chuckled, bringing my attention back to the present. I was mortified, but I wasn’t about to let the sinfully wicked shark know that.

“You’ve changed,” I observed.

Decker lifted a brow before throwing the car back into gear and driving onwards once again. “I could say the same about you. Looks like puberty finally caught up and made you a woman.” His eyes raked hungrily over my breasts, and I fought the urge to cross my arms protectively over my girls. I kept my smile plastered on though and shrugged.

“A breast man, figures.” I snorted

Decker’s brow raised. “You’ve been in my presence all of thirty minutes and you already presume to know who I
am?”

Ohhhh, sensitive much? “Please,” I scoffed, emphasizing the ‘P’. “The way you checked out those women back there and me just now? Don’t go deluding yourself into thinking you’re different, Decker, you’re simply a male and afflicted with the inability to look beyond breasts and ass at first glance.”

At that he grinned. “Just like you eye fucked me just now? And for the record, I’m a ‘female’ man. Tits, ass, legs, hips, lips, especially lips,” he purred.

“And still crude,” I murmured.

“And still a prude,” was Decker’s retort.

“I’m not a prude,” I balked.

“The jury is still undecided on that. You’re not off to a good start. And the old Andi wouldn’t have eye fucked me just now,” Decker continued.

I shrugged unable to deny I wasn’t checking him out. “The new Andi hopes you enjoyed it; it’s the most a man like you will get out of her.”

Decker snorted. “Country, a sweet little thing like you couldn’t handle a man like me. I think it’s safe to say that eye fucking is as far as you and I will tangle.”

“It’s adoring the way you assume I would want to tangle with you, Decker. As it turns out, I don’t, you’re not my type.”

Decker shook his head in amusement. “Unless you’re gay, I’m your type.” He’s confidence pissed me off. It wasn’t like I hadn’t been expecting it. Decker had always been self-assured and cocky. According to Bradley, that was his charm. Charm my ass, it was simply an ego in need of a reality check. The Doors’ “People Are Strange” filled the car. I hated The Doors, I hated old rock, but I wasn’t about to ask the egomaniac by my side if he would change it to another station. After all, it was his car; you don’t mess with another person’s radio, that’s just uncool. I slipped my iPhone out of my pocket and found my headphones in the bottom of my bag. Scrolling through a playlist, I shoved the earphones in and smiled as my body found immediate comfort in the soothing familiar tones of Josh Gracin. I was a born and bred country girl, and I loved country music. As my entire soul was pacified under the sounds that made home not feel so far away, I was suddenly wrenched back to reality when one of the earplugs was pulled from my ear. I turned in slow motion, watching Decker as he fumbled to put the ear bud to his own ear while keeping one hand on the steering wheel. Finally he shook his head and smiled, handing the ear bud back to me.

“Country, now there’s a shocker.”

“Seriously? You’re gonna mess with my music? I didn’t mess with the grinding sound of ick coming from your stereo.”

Decker laughed. “Ick? That is The Doors you are referring to. You know, Jim Morrison? One of the most influential musicians of all time? Beats the I-wanna-slit-my-wrists tones you’re listening to.”

My jaw dropped. “You did not just go there. Country music is soothing, and it tells a story.”

“It’s depressing.”

“It’s uplifting.”

“It’s not sexy.”

“Kenny Rogers!”

He cast me a sideways glance. “Not…Sexy.”

“It’s got more heart than Beyonce and Miley Cyrus combined.”

“Beyonce is hot,” Decker said with a grin, those cute little dimples that had made my teenage heart run rampant coming out to play. Oh boy. I had forgotten about those dimples! It wasn’t fair! How was I supposed to be indifferent to
those?

“I guess I like music for the musical quality, not the ass. From what Bradley told me, I assumed you would be more opened minded.”

Decker seemed a little irritated as he squirmed in his seat. “And what exactly did Bradley tell you about me, Country?” The teasing from his voice was gone, replaced with exasperation.

“Country? Really? You couldn’t think of anything more inventive like Elly May or Calamity Jane?” I sighed.

Decker’s grin was back. “You are too easily ruffled, Country. The city is going to eat you up and spit you out if you don’t loosen up a bit. Now what did Bradley tell you about me?” I reigned in my escalating hissy fit because I wasn’t going to let Decker ruffle my feathers. I simply wouldn’t allow it.

“Actually, he was a little reluctant to tell me anything about you. He said you’ve done some modeling and spend a ridiculous amount of time nude.” Decker laughed, long and loud. It was a beautiful sound, a low and seductive rumble that had me smiling in response. This carefree laughter was more like the Decker I remembered, even though I had no idea what he found so darn funny. “Call me a backwards hick, but I don’t see
what’s so funny.”

“Bradley is too conventional for his own good,” Decker mumbled, his laughter ebbing.

“So what do you do then?” I wondered out loud.

Decker shrugged. “I think it’s
safe to say I’m a nude model.”

“Interesting. You’re uncomfortable telling me.” I thought for a moment. A job that entailed him being nude and he was not willing to offer full disclosure. Something risqué perhaps? Evidentially not a nude model. A stripper perhaps? No, this was Decker Steele, it would no doubt be melt your brain cells salacious. “Are you a male escort or something?” I was the biggest Debra Messing fan alive and had watched
The Wedding Date
like a gazillion times. “Are you a real life Nick from
The Wedding Date
? I loved that movie and I always considered myself a little like Kat. I even have red hair just like Debra Messing, although hers is a little darker than mine, but we have similarities. You’re nothing like Nick though. He was far better groomed, all suave and debonair good looks. You’re more like Nick’s bad-boy brother, all wicked and menacing.” The car had stopped for another stop light. How many stop lights did New York have for Pete’s sake? I glanced to one side and noticed Decker staring at me. His brow was furrowed, his lips downturned into a puzzled frown. He was staring at me so hard I wondered if he could see inside my skull. He had that look, the one that radiated ‘she’s nuts’, but I didn’t care. I had been called every name in the book at least once in my life. Sticks and stones may break my bones but a quick punch to your face will soothe me. I grinned at my clever little ditty but then frowned at the negative attitude I had suddenly succumbed to. I didn’t do negative anymore, I was all rainbows and butterflies. My life was about being bold, brave, and adventurous, all the things I had been missing.

“Country, I seriously haven’t got a clue what you are talking about, and no, I’m not an escort.” Decker shifted again and it looked like a nervous movement. Yep, there was a story there. Modeling, nudity, there really weren’t too many jobs that met that sort of job description. I’d figure it out, or I would just call Bradley and force the wannabe English aristocrat to simply tell me.

I knew we had reached Soho, thanks to the signs indicating it. Decker did not make for talkative company. As far as a tour guide went, he was majorly lacking. SoHo was just as Google had said it would be: full of historic architecture, trendy boutiques, upscale art galleries, and bars. We drove past a number of bustling and beautiful streets, until finally pulling into a quieter area. The buildings were a bit older, and the streets were not as bustling as the ones a few blocks away. This is what I had expected though. The agent who helped me acquire the book store with an attached studio apartment told me that it was only a matter of time before the hustle and bustle of Soho reached this area. Property prices were already beginning to climb, and I had paid a multitude of pretty pennies for the run down shop we pulled in front of. Even from the outside I could see it needed work, but I still smiled. It was mine. My dream, my home, my adventure. My store was sandwiched in the middle of a set of three two storied structures, all with roof access, and this quaint trio was squished between dark and foreboding concrete monstrosities that were easily five or six stories high. My store, as well as the stores on either side, had recently been painted an off white; it sat like a bright star among the dull shadowy brick on either side of it. I noticed the shop front to the right of mine was empty, the windows and door boarded up. On the left was an immaculately presented dog grooming salon, and from the window stood two men watching Decker and I with curious expressions. I smiled and waved, and they smiled and waved back with giddy enthusiasm. Glancing across the road, I took in the renovated, tidy buildings. One was a posh looking boutique featuring elegant gowns in the front window. Beside that was a hairdressing salon that also looked quite extravagant and exclusive.

BOOK: Decker's Wood
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