Guilty. ExCon. Felon. Prisoner. Criminal.
Words that now represent me.
Words that keep any decent person away from me.
I never gave much thought to words before now.
Slut. Hussy. Whore. Homewrecker. Jezebel.
Words that now reflect me.
Words that will stay indefinitely.
The evidence of those words grow inside of me.
Those Words make the entire town assume they are vindicated to use them.
I am wrong.
They are right.
“You know helping her, it won’t change what you did,” he says, his voice softening.
Lifting my chin, I nod. “I know it won’t. But maybe God will give me a couple points for trying to be a better fucking human.”
“The fact that you want in her panties has no bearing on your decision either?” he asks, lifting a brow.
Chuckling, I punch him lightly in the arm. “It don’t hurt,” I shrug. “Learned a lot about opportunities and feelings when I was locked up. I got a feeling about her the second I laid eyes on her, and it wasn’t only in my dick. She needs me, Wyatt. I think that maybe, I need her, need both of them, too,” I shrug.
He shakes his head. “Don’t fuck her over. She’s a good kid in a fucked up situation, but a good kid nonetheless.”
“She don’t look like a kid where I’m sittin’,” I wink.
“You’re such a fucking horny bastard.”
Leveling him with a gaze, I lift my eyebrow. “Locked up for five-years with nothin’ but my hand. You would be horny as fuck too, but that’s not the sole reason I’m doing this. She really does need me. Even if I don’t end up in bed with her, I’m willing to help her.”
FIND AT GOODREADS here.
I was born and raised in a small farming town in California. I met my husband when I was 16 and he was 19. We married four years later and have two little boys! We lived in Oregon for a few years while he served in the US Coast Guard.
Texas is now where we call home, where our boots rest, and where we’re raising our two little boys and a chocolate lab named Optimus Prime.
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