Looking for Love

Madeline Young was fine as fuck.
With more curves than a country road, she made me want to take a nice, slow ride around every bend and dip of her body while wrapping her long, golden brown hair up in my fist.
Leaning against the railing of the deck I’d built for her and her husband, I stared after her gorgeous, swaying ass hidden by black yoga pants as she walked away from me.
She went back inside the house, leaving the slider open to catch the early summer breeze through the screen.
“Goddamn,” I groaned quietly, fixing my dick strangling in my work pants.
With a long pull on the lemonade she’d gifted me, I enjoyed the coolness sliding clear to my stomach. The drink didn’t do shit to chill my blood as I watched her move around the kitchen directly in my line of sight.
The soft swish of the fridge door reached my ears, and she bent slightly, giving me an eyeful of her lush backside.
I stifled another curse she would easily hear through the screen and settled in to eat my lunch beneath the rolled-out awning over their almost-completed back deck.
If fraternizing with clients wasn’t a big no-no, I’d have asked if she and her older husband were interested to a third—because her other half had that sexy silver fox thing going on and clicked all my needy-as-shit buttons Madeline couldn’t reach as a woman.
What I wouldn’t have given to be a piece of meat in a Young sammie. God knew I’d been fantasizing about that very thing since arriving at their house.
The Youngs had hired Harper’s Construction to tear off their old wooden porch and build a new one. Lucky me, I’d moved into town about a mile from their place and got assigned to the job that had fueled my spank bank for the previous two weeks.
But the work drew to a close with only AZEK trim left to hang, something I would finish up by the end of the day.
I would miss break time and the chats she and I had. I would miss her husband hovering in the mornings before he went to work and when he came back for lunch and bullshitted with me about sports. And I would definitely miss devouring the eye candy every second I could for those long nights spent fantasizing alone in my bed.
Shoulders sagged, I opened my lunch box and pulled out the first of the two PB&J sandwiches I’d made that morning while Madeline kept herself busy a few feet away from me.
She and her husband Hudson owned Young’s Tree Service. They didn’t have any children, but she mothered the hell out of him and me—coffee and fresh muffins or homemade cinnamon rolls every morning. Freshly squeezed lemonade or sweet tea for break. Cupcakes and cookies always ended up in my hands at the end of the day too.
That nurturing way about her did funny shit to my insides.
Made me want more. Stability. A real relationship like they shared and I envied like a motherfucker.
A flash of movement in my periphery from inside the house drew my focus off Madeline. Hudson had entered the kitchen, and he went right up behind her, gently wrapping those strong arms around her middle.
“Hey, love,” he murmured, loud enough that his low tone moved over me like a caress.
A shiver slid straight to my balls, and I tipped my head back against the railing, taking a long look at the tall drink of water.
He had probably fifteen years on both me and his wife, but the sexy man was as fit as a guy half his age.
Steel-toed boots, worn jeans hugging his ass in all the right ways, T-shirt on the tighter side stretched over his muscular back…fuck, what a sight he was. Toss in a bit of sawdust sprinkled in his salt and pepper hair and atop his shoulders, and my mouth took to drooling for a taste of the sweat on his skin.
“Hi.” Madeline leaned back against him, offering her neck like she always did when he wrapped her up like that. He kissed beneath her ear, but I forced my attention on my lunch before my mind got too carried away over planting myself between the two of them for yet another daydream full of roaming hands and tongues. Hard dicks, hungry mouths, and tight holes.
Jesus Christ.
I swallowed audibly, refusing to watch what would tighten me up to the point of exploding then leave me a puddle of goo.
They had one hell of a marriage from what I’d seen. She took care of him, and he adored the fuck out of her if his constant affection whenever he was around was any indication. What I wouldn’t do for a little bit of both since I hadn’t experienced either in my rough past.
“Chicken salad today,” Madeline told him while I tore into my PB&J sandwich, my dick half-hard and brows furrowed.
“With purple grapes?” Hudson asked.
“Of course,” she answered.
His groan licked over my groin, making me bite on my tongue to keep my answering one inside. “You spoil me, woman.”
More fucking kissy noises. He probably loved on her neck like he’d done the day before when I hadn’t been able to look away.
I closed my eyes rather than fighting off the need to gaze at affection and popping another full-on boner. My thoughts traveling the road of commitment and relationships wouldn’t do me any favors, but I couldn’t help myself.
I wanted a sandwich prepared in love, goddamnit, and grapes tossed in because my significant other knew I liked a little sweet crunch with the savory mayo mixed with chicken chunks.
While I’d always sworn off monogamy and settling down, since meeting the Youngs, I’d found myself yearning for someone—preferably two someones—to share my space. I dreamed about arms and mouths welcoming me home at the end of the day too. Soft breasts to nuzzle and warm curves to wrap myself around…rougher male hands that would wreck me in the best way possible so both of them could put me back together again.
The thought of giving that sort of trust though hit all my hell no alarms. Growing up in foster care made me well aware long-term didn’t happen for someone like me.
But fuck, did I want it.
Maybe I should test the waters though…give up the playboy days for something worth a damn. Besides, thirty-six lay not too far in my future. Wasn’t it time I attempted more with my life?
My sense of self-preservation screamed NO!, but my damned heart craved that sort of satisfaction to the point my chest ached.
I shoved the last bite of my first sandwich between my lips and pulled my cell from my back pocket. Time to shoot off a text to one of my friends who would be able to help me figure out how the fuck I went about finding what I longed for—if I was even sure I truly did.
I need to vent, and since you’ll give shit to me straight, I want your ear. Call me so I can annoy you.
Within seconds, my phone rang, Rhett’s name showing on the screen.
“You know me too well,” he said when I answered.
I glanced back through the screen door, but both Madeline and Hudson had disappeared from the kitchen. Probably off for a little afternoon delight.
A pang of jealousy ripped through me.
“Yeah,” I muttered with a deeper frown, “which is why I trust you to figure out a plan and tell me what the fuck to do.” I put Rhett on speaker so I could finish my lunch and chat at the same time.
“What’s going on?” he asked, and I leaned back against the deck’s railing and eyed my second sandwich. Boring fucking thing…
“Remember that variety I used to enjoy?” I asked. “Well, my dick has decided it’s tired of being a playboy.”
And I wanted Hudson’s lunch, the lucky fucker.
Rhett barked out a laugh at my whiny tone while I took a bite of my sandwich and chewed.
“I’m serious!” I scowled. “All of my buddies had the same pussy-hungry attitude I used to—hell, a few work for Elite Escorts, so they’re getting plenty, but I’m bored, man.” I swallowed, the peanut butter that I’d slathered on the bread earlier that morning a little too thick. “Seriously. The only thing that interests me is something real, you know? Like you and Ash have. Guy, girl, I don’t really care either way.” I took a sip of lemonade to wash the sandwich down.
“Elite Escorts?” Rhett asked.
“You know…” I took another massive bite and spoke around my food, “escorts.”
“Prostitution?” His tone didn’t suggest judgey douche but more looking for clarity.
“Lots of them get paid to use their dicks, but sometimes it’s just to be eye candy for events and that sort of shit. Why? Do you think it’s wrong?” I asked anyway while grabbing a couple of chips from the plastic baggie on the deck beside me.
“As long as someone works hard to pay their bills, what do I care?”
“Hard.” I couldn’t help but focus on the word and chuckle before shoving some chips into my mouth. I could imagine Rhett rolled his eyes at my juvenile behavior. I spent most of my days with a bunch of construction guys. Our discussions tended to revolve around dicks, pussy, and getting off, not software and investment shit like Rhett probably did with his suit-and-tie friends.
“You’re adventurous,” Rhett stated the obvious to anyone who knew me. “Why don’t you switch over to looking for relationships instead of hookups on Missing Link? See what you can find. There are thousands of profiles of people hoping for something real.”
I rubbed the back of my neck, suddenly too antsy to discuss my wants versus fears.
I asked how his and Ashton’s search was going before tossing the rest of my sandwich between my lips.
Rhett took so damn long in answering that I figured we’d lost connection.
It turned out some woman named Skylar had flipped his world upside down, and he went on a bitching fest about how perfect Ashton thought she was while I bit back a grin over his petulant tone.
“What’s she look like?” I asked, stretching my legs out and eyeing the four melting ice cubes watering down the final couple of inches of my sweet lemonade.
“Gorgeous. Pale skin, auburn hair, and she has these big green eyes that are so damn expressive…”
I couldn’t help my chuckle. “Someone has it bad.”
“I do not.” The dude totally lied.
“She makes you feel alllll the damn feels, am I right? That’s what you can’t stand. Go ahead and deny it, Rhett Stirling, Mr. I-Hate-Vulnerability Asshole.” God, my tone stated jealous jerk.
“This doesn’t sound like you venting,” he grumbled while I finished my drink.
“Your life is more interesting,” I said, laughing again and setting aside my empty glass. Madeline would eventually come back out for it—and I couldn’t wait to thank her and steal a bit more of her time with idle chitchat. I wondered if she’d caught onto my neediness, how I asked questions to keep her talking.
“So. Missing Link.” Rhett redirected the fucking subject after a throat clearing. “Change your profile to show you’re looking for a relationship. Trust her to bring what you need.”
“Like she did for you?” I couldn’t help but toss out there, knowing it would rile him up.
“Fuck off.”
I did a few minutes later with a plan.
Missing Link led my ass over a rainbow into a pot of gold every goddamn time I went searching to get laid. Couples of all pairings—I didn’t discriminate and enjoyed the fuck out them depending on my mood.
But lately, I’d been seeking MF because my damn heart had started dreaming about both.
And not for my usual one-and-done.
The fantasies I’d had going through my mind the previous two weeks since meeting the Youngs flitted through my brain like a pornographic movie on fast-forward.
Sucking. Fucking. Cuddling.
Even drinking coffee together in the early morning hours on a deck like the one I’d been sweating over for two weeks. Assurances of permanence in their affectionate touches and edifying words.
No such fucking thing.
Lips pressed tight, I cleaned up my lunch shit, got off my ass, and strapped my tool belt back on.
Those goddamn longings inside my chest for something more needed to take a back seat because forever didn’t exist no matter what promises were made. I’d heard them one too many times as a kid, only to have my heart ripped in half.
I had a job to finish before the end of the day.
It was best to focus on reality.

Content Warning Mention of stillborn and grief

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