Luke: A West Bend Saints Romance

"That sounds fantastic, June," I said. "Between the coffee and the internet, I think I'll be all set until tomorrow."

 

"All right. That's easy enough," June said. "We're in the house next door if you need anything. The phone number is posted on the refrigerator."

 

As soon as the door closed, I slid my backpack off and unpacked, munching on a protein bar as I drew a bath. I sank into the tub, the warm water enveloping me, and laid my head back against the porcelain, closing my eyes.

 

I couldn't get the thought of Silas out of my head, the memory of our not-so-distant encounter.

 

Silas tracing his finger over my shoulder and down my arm as he sat in the tub, facing me. Silas, his face close to mine, his voice barely more than a whisper, sliding his fingers along my thigh and between my legs, then slipping them inside me on the balcony at the hotel restaurant. Silas looking up at me, his face between my legs as I lay on the piano.

 

Silas underneath me as I rode him, outside by the creek when we were seventeen. Silas, gripping my ass as he spun me in circles, my legs wrapped around his waist, after he won the state wrestling championship. Silas, his face close to mine as he moved inside me, telling me he would marry me someday.

 

It was like a damned replay, the highlights of my life. And now, being here in West Bend was making those memories even more vivid.

 

I reminded myself that what happened with Silas in Vegas was just a fling.

 

A fling I couldn't get out of my head.

 

Heat rushed through my body, but not from the water, and I found myself sliding my hand over my breasts, then down my stomach. I knew I should be putting thoughts of Silas out of my head, not indulging them.

 

Instead, I leaned my head back against the tub, and let the image of Silas dominate my thoughts, my hand moving between my legs, sliding over my clit again and again until I finally came. And when I crashed over the edge, Silas' face was the only thing I saw.

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER NINETEEN

 

 

 

 

 

SILAS

 

 

I wasn't sure how I felt, driving up to the house. I hadn't been back there since after the funeral, since I'd left with Elias to chase after River in Hollywood. Luke told me that we needed to out to the place, clean it out and decide what to do with things. My mother had written out a will leaving everything to the four of us, dated a month before she died, another thing that made me suspicious. Since when was my mother responsible enough to write out a will in advance?

 

I wasn't buying it.

 

Still, I also wasn't sure what I was doing here. After all that my parents had done, spending any time giving a shit about whether they'd been murdered seemed like a bad investment of time. But I told myself it would take an hour and I'd satisfy my curiosity.

 

I could see I wasn't alone as soon as I got to the house. An unmarked white pickup truck was parked on the side. I contemplated going inside the house and getting the shotgun just in case, but decided against it.

 

It was probably just a utility guy, I told myself as I headed around back. Or some high school kids who knew the place was empty.

 

Instead, a man wearing an orange construction helmet loitered by the edge of the property, near the old blasting site. When he saw me, he immediately straightened, pulling a walkie-talkie from his waistband and speaking into it.

 

I was too far away to hear what he said.

 

"Hey!" I yelled. "What the hell are you doing here?"

 

A second man emerged from the entrance to the mine, and pulled out his cell phone as soon as he saw me. His back was toward me, but I could tell he was talking to the other guy.

 

I jogged toward them. "Do you have a reason to be out here? This is my property."

 

One of the men held up his hands. "We're surveyors, just taking a look at the land."

 

"So I guess you've got some identification that shows that, then? I asked. "Are you from the city or the county?"

 

The men looked at each other. "We're just doing a routine examination of the mine."

 

"Yeah, I understand that," I said. "So who exactly is your employer? And where's your identification? Pardon me if I don't exactly take kindly to strangers thinking they have free reign to poke around my private property."

 

They exchanged glances again.

 

Now I was starting to get pissed off.

 

"You've got two seconds to tell me what the hell you're doing here, and who exactly you work for, or I'm going to walk back to my house and get the shotgun my mother used to keep over the mantle here. How much do you want to bet it's still loaded?" I asked.

 

"Whoa, whoa," the first man said. He reached into his back pocket. "I'm just pulling out my wallet now. We're from the mining company."

 

"Who the hell gave you permission to come out here?" I asked, glancing at the identification he held up. "This is private fucking property."

 

"Don't shoot the damn messenger," the other one said. "We're just doing our jobs."

 

"Your job involves trespassing on private land?"

 

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