Page 30 of Hollis (The Moore Men #2)

Nineteen

Hollis

T urning onto the gravel road that leads to the ranch, I shoot a quick text to Ford.

Me: I’ll be at your place in five.

I huff a chuckle when his response comes through immediately.

Daddy Ford: What if I’m busy? Or not home?

Me: Don’t be ridiculous. You’re home.

He doesn’t respond, but the message shows as read.

I can see him in my mind, grumbling and probably fighting the urge to unlock the door, but as I park my car, grab the pizza box and six-pack off the seat beside me, then climb out, I’m not the least bit surprised to find him on the porch already.

Hands on his hips and a scowl on his face, Ford watches me as I approach.

“Howdy, Cap,” I drawl. “Sure hope I didn’t interrupt anythin’ too important.”

“Oh, just the first day off I’ve had in a week,” he grumbles.

“What better way to spend it than with me?” I flash him a toothy grin. “And I brought pizza and beer. You’re welcome. ”

I shamelessly drag my gaze down the front of him before coming back to his face.

“Goddamn, you sure are lookin’ good today, daddy.

” The black shorts with the five-inch inseam and the AC/DC muscle tee he’s wearing are really doing it for me.

“What were ya up to before I got here in that slutty little outfit?”

Ford’s scowl deepens as he glances down at himself. “Slutty little outfit?” he repeats slowly. “I was putting together my new bed frame.”

Handing him a beer, I waggle my brows as he saunters inside, and I follow. “So, what you’re sayin’ is, we need to break it in?”

He clicks his tongue. “What are you doin’ here, Hollis?”

“Aw, would ya relax a little, Cap?” I tease, setting the pizza down on the counter and grabbing a slice. “August mentioned you were bringin’ in a bunch of boxes earlier. Thought I could offer my assistance and feed you. Now, turn around. Let me see that dump truck of yours.”

“My what?” he hisses, but gives me a spin anyway.

“ Fuck, Cap…” Biting my knuckle, I say, “You’ve got such a fine ass. Next time, I wanna fuck you.”

Ford spins around quickly, his jaw tight as he clears his throat, but I don’t miss the flash of heat in his gaze that he’s quick to school. “That ain’t happenin’”

I chuckle. “You say that now, but you’ll be singin’ a whole different tune once I got my tongue in you.”

He groans with exasperation, rubbing his temple. “My god, must you talk like that all the time?”

“Oh, please.” I snort. “You sure don’t seem to mind the way I talk when I’m makin’ you come.”

Rolling his eyes, he grabs a piece from inside the box before taking a large bite. As he walks off, he mutters over his shoulder. “Don’t need any help, but thanks.”

I scan the living and dining room, noting the various unopened boxes of furniture all over. “Yeah, the state of your place would beg to differ.” Then I ask, “Isn’t the closest Ikea, like, five hours away?”

He nods, looking completely bored with this conversation. “Yes. Drove there this mornin’ to pick all this up. It’s the first weekend I’ve really had time to do any of this since movin’ in here.”

“Ikea furniture is a bitch to put together. Quit bein’ stubborn and accept my help; otherwise, you’re about to be here all night.” Getting a closer look at everything, I ask, “What were ya gonna do next?”

Ford stares at me for a moment, his brows furrowed and his lips pinched, before heaving a sigh and gesturing toward one of the boxes. “The end tables.”

“That’s more like it.” I wink, flashing him a grin before bringing the box to the living room, where all his tools seem to be. “Really sprucin’ this ol’ cabin up, aren’t ya?”

He grunts. “Hopin’ to find a place to rent sooner rather than later, and then all this will already be done.”

The idea of him moving off the ranch leaves a bitter taste in the back of my throat, but I can’t put my finger on why .

Obviously, he’ll move. Ford’s a grown man; there’s no way he’d live in a cabin in the back of a cattle ranch forever, but still, having him a short drive away is nice… and convenient.

Yeah, that’s what it is… Convenient.

Ford and I are in a new situationship—or would it be friends with benefits?—and having him close by allows for easy access. Since the night a little over a week ago when he gave me a fucking incredible blow job at the lookout, we’ve fooled around a couple more times. Definitely convenient.

That has to be why the idea of him moving is twisting my stomach.

“Why’d you give your ex the house?”

Shrugging, Ford says, “Didn’t want it.”

I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. Maybe he doesn’t like talking about it, and I should probably let it go, but I can’t…or don’t want to. The few times he’s opened up to me have felt so good. I want to get him to open up to me more.

“Just didn’t like the house or…?”

Ford glances up at me from beneath straight-set brows, and I swear I can hear him griping at me in his mind.

I half expect him to tell me to fuck off, or just get out altogether, so I’m surprised when he breathes out a sigh and says, “No, I loved the house.” There’s a sadness in his tone that surprisingly makes my chest ache.

“I was the one who found it, and did most of the renovations, but…I don’t know.

There were too many bad memories in that house, on that property, and over time, I started hating it. ”

“I can understand that,” I offer, not really knowing what to say. I’ve never been married, nor even experienced a long-term breakup, but the urge to comfort him is overwhelming. “Why’d you get a divorce in the first place? He cheat?” Then, realizing how shitty that sounds, I add, “Or did you?”

Ford huffs out a small chuckle. “I shouldn’t be talkin’ to you, of all people, about this.”

My face twists up. “Why not?”

“I don’t talk about this to anyone, really, and I don’t know… That’s not what this is. It’s fun, right?” His stormy eyes meet mine. “That’s what you said last week.”

“Well, yeah, what we’re doing is fun, but that doesn’t have to be all that it is.” I shrug. “Sometimes you just gotta get shit off your chest. Who knows, maybe I’m the best kind of person to tell.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “How do ya figure?”

Breathing out a small laugh, I say, “I’d imagine with how much you work, the only people you really talk to are your team, right?

” He nods, but doesn’t look at me as he continues putting together one of the end tables.

“And with your ex bein’ a firefighter too, it probably makes it either awkward or uncomfortable, or maybe both, to open up to your team about anything. Am I close?”

“Pretty much,” he mutters. “Well, that, and I’m their captain. Their superior. I struggle with feelin’ like it’s not appropriate for me to talk about my personal life with them. They don’t need to worry about me.”

“Yeah, but y’all are a family,” I point out. “Family leans on each other. Regardless, that’s why I’m probably the best guy to talk to about this.”

Ford’s nostrils flare as he exhales a heavy breath. “Nobody cheated,” he offers, his tone clipped. “We fought. A lot. And toward the end, they got pretty explosive more often than not.”

Swallowing thickly, I ask, “Like physical?”

He shakes his head, his jaw tight. “No, never anythin’ like that. Just…mean, I guess would be the right way to put it.”

Ford may be grumpy, but I can’t picture him being mean to anybody, especially someone he loves, so I have to assume he’s talking about Trent. The guy has always given me asshole, better-than-everyone vibes.

“How long did that go on for?” I ask. “Just the end?”

Clearing his throat, Ford tosses the Allen wrench on the floor and grabs his beer. After he finishes what’s left, he shakes his head. “It went on for quite a few years.” Then he laughs dryly. “Truth be told, if it weren’t for my therapist, I probably never would’ve left.”

I tilt my head to the side, my brows cinched. “Why do ya say that?”

“I loved him, to a fault.” His voice cracks, and he coughs to cover it up.

“And I guess I just wanted him to love me back so much that I was willin’ to look the other way, or make excuses to myself for the rest of my life—it won’t always be this bad, he’s just stressed about work, about bills, about his mom’s sickness, then it turned into his mom just died, he needs me to be there for him—but that’s all they were. Excuses and lies.”

The air around us is tense. So thick and uncomfortable, it’s almost suffocating. Standing, I walk into the kitchen and grab a couple more beers. Back in the living room, I hand him one before sitting back down. “What finally did it?”

“Realizin’ how much Trent reminded me of my father,” he mutters.

A chill slithers down my spine. Ford’s only mentioned his dad a few times, but it’s not hard to deduce the guy was a shitty father, and probably a shitty man all around. “Damn…” I breathe, my throat tight. “That had to be a harrowing realization.”

He huffs. “You have no idea.”

“Sounds like you made the right choice.”

Nodding, Ford continues on one of the end tables while I work on the other, and the conversation fades after that.

The vibe in here is tense, but not necessarily in a bad way.

I feel like I have a better understanding of Ford, like he let me in on a small piece of him he tends to keep shaded.

I like that, even if my heart aches a little for what he went through.

And what that must’ve been like, living in a home with so much hostility and aggression after growing up in a home like that too .

It doesn’t take long for us to finish them both, and once we get them placed where he wants them, we move on to the dresser. We finish the pizza and kill the rest of the six-pack, and it’s not until we’re nearly done with the last piece of furniture that he speaks again.

“How’s growin’ up on the ranch been?” he asks, taking me by surprise. For the most part, it’s only ever been me asking any of the questions.

“Eh, it’s all I’ve really known,” I say. “There have been a few fleeting moments, all when I was younger, when I wondered what it’d be like to not continue the legacy.”

“And what would that look like?”

“Fuck, who knows.” I chuckle. “Maybe I would’ve been a lawyer.”

Ford snorts. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“Why the fuck not?” Amusement fills my tone. “Don’t think I got what it takes, Cap?”

“I’m sure you do,” he replies. “I’ve got no doubt that when you put your mind to somethin’, you get it. But you’re a cowboy; it’s in your blood. Anythin’ else, you wouldn’t be satisfied.” Glancing at me, he adds, “It’s the same with me and firefightin’.”

I tip my chin toward him. “You always know that’s what you wanted to be?”

“Pretty much.”

“Was anybody in your family a firefighter?”

He shakes his head. “One of my neighbors growing up was, and I remember always lookin’ up to him, thinkin’ he was so cool. A hero.”

A smile curls my lips, and I waggle my brows. “You’re the hero now.”

Ford’s Adam’s apple bobs, and there’s a look in his eyes I can’t quite place before he finally says, “I’m no hero; just doin’ my job.”

I can’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, okay, whatever you say, Cap.”

Once everything’s put together, Ford and I load all the garbage and boxes into the bed of my truck.

I’ll run it to the dump sometime tomorrow.

Standing beside him in front of my truck, the urge to kiss him hits me.

And not even a kiss meant to start anything hot.

I just like kissing him…which is probably more than a little weird to say.

Sure, I’ve always enjoyed a good make-out session, but it usually comes with intentions.

Clearing his throat, Ford says, “Thanks for your help tonight.”

“No problem, Cap. Can’t have you pullin’ an all-nighter and doin’ it by yourself. My mama would have my ass if she knew I let that happen.”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll be sure to tell her that her son is a southern gentleman.”

“’Preciate that,” I tease. The smile on his face is genuine and light. It steals the breath right out of my lungs.

“I’d invite you to stay,” he says, gesturing toward the house, “but I’m beat. Between the long drive and puttin’ all that together, I could probably sleep a week straight.”

I wave him off. “All good, Cap. You have yourself a good night. But I’ll be seein’ ya soon, that’s a promise.”

His lip twitches, and I swear there’s a flirty glint in his eye. “I don’t doubt it. Night, Hollis.”

Climbing in my truck, I make the short drive back to my place, and by the time I get inside and kick off my shoes, I’ve got a feeling swirling around inside of my stomach that I don’t understand.

Coming over under the guise of helping him was mostly an excuse just to see him, spend time with him, and maybe even fuck him.

I’m not even disappointed that nothing sexual happened.

I just spent the last several hours with Ford—the hot-ass fire captain I’m now hooking up with—but we didn’t do anything, didn’t even kiss, and yet, it was…

satisfying. Like, really fucking satisfying.

Who am I?

And what the hell’s up with that?