Page 7 of Mountain Daddy (Mountain Men #2)

Luther

Her pink lips close around the piece of fruit, and my dick fucking twitches.

Kendra closes her eyes as she sucks the juice out of the lime.

I nearly groan.

But instead of fisting her hair and dragging her to me, like I want to, I quickly lick the salt, then slam my shot.

When her eyes reopen, I’m biting into my lime.

Her gaze darts to my empty glass, and I swear I see disappointment cross her features.

I glance at my glass too, wondering if she wanted to watch me the way I watched her.

Guess we’ll have to order another round.

We set our glasses down at the same time.

“Are we drinking to celebrate or drinking to forget?” Halfway through my question, the music turns up.

Kendra furrows her brow adorably. “Sorry, what?”

We literally never change the volume of the music in here.

Jessie is getting a raise.

Kendra bites her lip as she glances up at the speakers in the ceiling.

Then she slides her beer toward me. She grips the edge of the bar, steps on the brass footrail running the length of it, and slides over onto what has been the empty seat between us.

Jessie is immediately getting a raise.

Already facing her, I reach down and grip the seat of her stool.

My thumb slides between her jean-clad ass cheek and the wooden seat.

I’m not copping a feel.

I’m pulling her closer.

She doesn’t protest. And I don’t stop until my knees are touching the outside of her thigh.

It’s unnecessary.

She could’ve heard me from where she was. But I’m old. And she doesn’t need to know my hearing is fine.

I release my grip but rest my arm on the back of my seat. “I was asking if we’re drinking to celebrate or… the opposite of celebrating.”

Kendra tries to turn toward me. But my legs are in the way.

I’m about to move back, but then one of her hands lands on my knee—the knee closest to the bar, the one blocking her from turning.

Her touch feels like a live wire.

She applies pressure, pushing my knee toward the bar. “Just move for a second.”

I follow her direction and spread my legs.

I’m not so hard I’m tenting my jeans, but I’m not not hard.

When I’ve made enough space, Kendra twists to face me, putting her knees between mine.

This girl is bold.

And I fucking love it.

So I’ll be bold back.

I close my knees around hers, and I can almost hear her quick little inhale at the contact.

I won’t touch her more than this. Not yet.

But she started it.

She picks up her beer. “As for your question.” Question? I asked a question? “I’m drinking for something in between.”

Oh, right. Between celebration and not celebrating.

Her answer could mean a lot of things, but my mind instantly jumps to divorce.

She’s probably thirtyish, but that’s enough time for a marriage to start and end.

I pick up my beer. “To the good and the bad.”

She smirks. “For better or worse.”

As we drink, I look at her left hand resting on her lap, for signs of a recently removed wedding band. But there’s no tan line or indentation.

Hmm.

Kendra takes another drink, then looks at the label on the bottle. “This your usual order?”

I shake my head. “I honestly don’t remember the last time I had one. But it seemed like the best fit for a tequila shot.” I tip my head toward the empty shot glasses. “That your usual order?”

She lets out a huff of laughter. “I don’t think I’ve had a tequila shot in years. Probably not since my twenty-first birthday.”

I bite my cheek. Then I ask. Because I feel like I need to know before I take this any further. “And that was how long ago?”

Kendra’s smile is wide. And it’s perfection. “You’re not supposed to ask a woman’s age. You know that, right?”

“I know that.” I give in to my own urge to smile. “But I also need to know you’re at least thirty.”

She gives me a small head shake. But not like she’s disagreeing, more like she’s trying not to laugh at me. “Rest easy, old man. I’m thirty-two.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” I smirk. “And you call me whatever name you want, Baby Doll. But I like it when you say Daddy.”

Her mouth opens. Closes.

Glass clinks on the bar, drawing our attention. “Second round now, or wait?”

We turn our heads toward Jessie’s voice.

“Now, please,” Kendra answers before I can.

“And two waters,” I add.

Kendra looks at me and mouths, Okay, Daddy.

I narrow my eyes at her.

Her eyes move to my mouth.

And because I can’t stop myself, I lower my hand to her knee. Her bare knee.

This girl is a brat hidden behind a sweet girl exterior.

And fuck me, the idea of using these nicknames when we’re stripped down to nothing has me more excited for something, anything , than I’ve been in a long time.