Page 29 of Mountain Daddy (Mountain Men #2)

Luther

Driving here. Launching the boat. Sitting on the water. Eating cold salami sandwiches for lunch.

I don’t remember any of it.

If you asked me how many fish I caught and threw back, I couldn’t answer.

If the details in Joe’s stories meant the difference between me going to prison and me walking free… lock me up, because I couldn’t repeat a single word.

But if someone asked me to describe every stitch of clothing Kendra was wearing this morning, it would be the easiest thing in the world.

With her father a few feet away, securing the boat to the trailer, I close my eyes and picture how she looked stepping out of the hallway.

Her bare toes were painted the same light bluish-purple color as her fingernails.

I can’t remember looking at her toes the night her legs were wrapped around me.

Maybe they were already that color.

Maybe she painted them herself.

Maybe she sat on her bed in her underwear, one heel pressing into the mattress as she bit her lip to concentrate?—

“Ready?” Joe’s voice cuts into my fantasy.

Wait, fantasy?

Am I into feet?

“Ready,” I reply in a totally normal voice.

Climbing into the passenger seat of Joe’s truck, my mind wanders back to Kendra’s outfit and how I could see her bra through her shirt. Proving I really could recall every stitch of clothing she was wearing… except for her panties.

And that’s how I spend an entire car ride with my best friend, wondering what color panties his daughter is currently wearing.

I’m disgusting.

And the worst part of this gross, guilty feeling… I know I’m going to pursue her.

Maybe not as a relationship , because I don’t know how that would work. With the age gap. My adult child. Kendra’s whole life ahead of her…

But I know I’m going to sleep with her again.

There’s no doubt about it.

Just… when?

And how?

Joe slows as he starts to turn into his driveway.

“I have to pee,” I say like I’m a fucking toddler.

Joe side-eyes me. “Well, can you hold it until I park the truck? Or do I need to let you out now so you can take a leak in the grass?”

I gesture out the windshield. “Carry on.”

“Appreciate it.” He shakes his head as he pulls up in front of his garage.

While he unhooks the trailer, I carry my fishing pole over to my truck. And while Joe is busy, I open my driver’s door.

With my body blocking my actions, I reach into the center console and find what I need.

And after Joe gets the boat situated, I slide the matchbook into my pocket, then follow him into the house.