Page 102 of The Aster Valley Collection, Vol. 1

SAM

At first, I assumed he’d been having a nightmare about the fire, but once I woke up enough to really listen to what Truman was saying, I realized that’s not at all what he was talking about.

“They went outside to smoke! The baby was born after eleven, and the men went outside for cigars.”

It took me a minute to wake up enough to process what he was implying.

Gene Stanner, or any of the Stanners, really, could have left from there, set the fire, and then come back in for the rest of the celebrations. The nurses who’d claimed to see them there wouldn’t have necessarily kept track of which Stanners were there during which of those several hours.

“Jesus, babe,” I said in a sleep-roughened voice. “You’re right. But I’m not sure we can call the fire inspectors at…” I glanced at my phone. “Three in the morning.”

“No, no, of course not. No. But, god. I was starting to think all kinds of things about who could have set the fire. I even thought after last night that maybe Barney had,” he said with a soft laugh.

I had to admit to having had the same thoughts, although I wasn’t sure what his motive would be exactly, and it was hard to think of the older man as a felon after a quiet life spent as the town’s librarian.

I had to admit that at least part of my bias against the man was caused by my possessiveness over Truman.

I lay back and rubbed my face. “Maybe he wanted to marry you for the insurance money,” I teased. “Convince you to become a househusband and see to his every literary and sexual need.”

Truman shuddered and snuggled close to me. “I can’t imagine closing the shop. Besides, he’s independently wealthy. His parents own some important company somewhere, and he grew up rich. So maybe he would want a househusband, but that’s definitely not me.”

I didn’t particularly want to talk about Barney Balderson in the middle of the night while in bed with Truman, so I was about to change the subject. But his stomach rumbled loudly before I had a chance to say anything.

“You must be starving,” I said instead. “How do you feel?”

He took a minute to think about it before nodding. “So much better, but yeah. I’m hungry.”

We got up and made our way out to the kitchen to forage, pulling out eggs and bread for toast and pouring large glasses of ice water. I wanted to make sure Truman was staying hydrated, and I returned to his bedroom to retrieve a sweatshirt once I realized how chilly it was in the kitchen.

I urged him to sit down while I scrambled some eggs for us.

“It makes sense it was Gene all along,” I said.

“You recognized his truck last year when Mikey and Pim were hit. You recognized it again this week with me on the mountain. And thanks to the nurse, we know his alibi wasn’t as tight as it could have been the night of the fire.

Now all we need to do is find someone willing to arrest him. ”

“Mikey’s going to never want to speak to me again,” Truman said miserably before laying his head down on the kitchen table. “I’ve ruined everything.” He pulled his head up again and met my eye. “You’re his best friend. Tell me how to make this right.”

I knew he was referring to keeping the identity of the vehicle secret from Pim, Bill, and Mikey last December, and honestly, I wasn’t sure how to counsel him on it.

“I think you need to sit down with Tiller and Mikey and tell them what you saw and explain why you didn’t speak up.

You need to describe the fear you felt and the years of harassment.

It’s probably not necessary to remind them that reporting the identity to the sheriff would have resulted in your witness statement being deliberately downplayed or ignored, and it certainly would have meant the sheriff finding a way to protect his own brother from legal trouble.

” I shrugged and stirred the eggs in the pan.

“Mikey and Tiller really care about you, Truman. I think they’ll understand even if they’re disappointed. ”

“So you do think they’ll be disappointed in me.”

“I think they’ll be disappointed you didn’t feel you could trust them to help you fight the Stanners sooner.

But it’s understandable considering you didn’t know them very well at the time.

They also were simply tourists back then.

They were going to be in and out of town whereas you’re the one who had to live here under the Stanners’ thumb. ”

Truman took a minute to think it through before nodding decisively. “I want to tell them. I want to go over in the morning and tell them before I chicken out.”

“Good man,” I said, turning the stove off and plating our meal. “Voilà. First breakfast is served. It’s not nearly as good as second breakfast will be, but it’ll at least get you started with something easy on your stomach.”

As we ate, I decided to lighten the mood a little in an effort to distract him.

“Little-known fact about Samson Rigby,” I said. “I was once a bartender at a place called Bum Shakers.”

Truman’s eyes widened, quickly followed by his lips. “No kidding?”

I shook my head. “A dancing bartender, actually. It’s a huge club in Houston with scantily clad servers.

It’s actually called Rum Shakers, but no one calls it that.

I wore cutoff jean shorts with enough holes in them to necessitate waxing.

Never again, Truman Sweet. Never again will I have a perfectly friendly stranger rip the hair off my junk to make a quick buck. ”

He started giggling, and I wondered what I could possibly do to keep him that happy for the rest of his life. I felt my entire chest warm with satisfaction that I’d made him forget all about the fire, the hit-and-run, and everything else bad that had ever happened to him.

“Pretty sure Mikey has pictures,” I added. “Every time the DJ played the sound of ice in a cocktail shaker, we had to stop what we were doing and perform a little dance number.”

His laughter made his eyes water. “Do it for me. Please. I’ll pay you whatever it takes. Shake your booty for me, Sam.”

I shook my head and took a bite of eggs. “Hell no. I don’t even remember how it goes.”

Which was a lie, of course.

“Aw. Who knew such a stoic tough guy could be such a terrible liar? Hm. Weird.”

I blinked at him and noticed the teasing glint in his eye. Game on.

“I once rode a bicycle all the way to Beaumont, Texas, just to have sex with a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader. I was once paid to paint a real-life vagina onto the wall of the ladies’ room at an OBGYN office I was renovating.

I have a severe allergy to marshmallows.

” I tilted my head at him and batted my eyelashes. “Which one of those was the lie?”

He pinned his lower lip with his top tooth which made my dick take notice. I shifted in my seat as he continued to study me.

“They all are.”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“I told you you’re a terrible liar,” he said as he started giggling again.

“How the hell could you know that?”

He held up an index finger. “One. According to Mikey, you bought your first motorcycle when you were sixteen. It was a crappy five-hundred-dollar bike you bought used off one of his brothers, but it was still good enough to get you to Beaumont, Texas. Hence, no bicycle. Two. Doctors aren’t stupid enough to hire a general contractor to do detailed labia work. Three?—”

I snorted. “Truman Sweet just said ‘detailed labia work.’ The world is ending.”

His face bloomed dark pink which only made him sexier.

“Three. People with marshmallow allergies are actually allergic to the gelatin which means you wouldn’t have been able to scarf down the giant pack of gummy bears I found in your saddlebag.”

“Gummy worms. If you’re going to be such a smarty-pants, might as well go for accuracy.”

“Is there a difference?”

Now it was my turn to tick off several points using my fingers. “One. Gummy worms have less surface area which means more gummy center and less weirdo exterior texture. Two. Gummy worms allow you to make things interesting with sexual innuendo as you eat them?—”

“I think you mean awkward,” Truman suggested.

“Three,” I continued. “There’s not quite as much murder guilt involved.”

He looked at me blankly.

“The sanctity of worm life is arguably held in less regard than?—”

Truman lurched forward and kissed me, throwing his arms around my neck and going all in. I felt like it had been ages since we’d kissed, even though it hadn’t been. I was grateful he had the energy for it, but I was careful not to overdo it. When I finally pulled back, he was dazed and flushed.

“Can we go back to bed now?” he asked.

I shoved the last few bites of food into my mouth before grabbing his hand and pulling him after me toward the bedroom. When we got there, he surprised me by peeling off his sweatshirt and removing his underwear.

He was hard and beautiful and stunning, and my brain couldn’t even work well enough to do more than grunt my frustration. “Baby,” I managed to croak out.

“I want to make out.” He looked at me with mischievous eyes. “Really badly.”

“As do I. But if we do, I’m going to take it too far, and you are still recovering from your sickness.”

Truman glared at me. “Don’t treat me like a child, Sam.”

I held up my hands and stepped closer. “I am not treating you like a child, and you know how I know? My dick is hard as fucking nails, and all I can think about is pounding your ass right now.” My voice sounded rough to my ears, and my blood thundered down to my cock.

“I don’t get hard for children. I get hard for sexy, stubborn men who show me their hot dicks and tight bodies.

And so help me god, I’m going to mpfh .”

He jumped at me and kissed me, trying to climb my body the way he’d done before. I held on to his bare ass with my hands and reveled in the feel of him. Healthy, happy, horny. Home .