“I got space,” I confirmed as she started piling the pieces she wanted next to the two chairs we’d originally come for. It was a lot of fucking stuff. “How exactly were you planning on fitting all of this into that matchbox of yours?”

“Stop using hate speech when talking about my appropriately sized vehicle,” she huffed as she picked up a wall clock that looked like a constellation and put it on top of the table. She sounded all mean and shit, but when she looked up her lips were turned up in a tiny smile. I wanted her so bad I felt like my skin was on fire. “But you’re kind of right.” She winced. “There was no way I could take more than the chairs and even that would’ve been an ordeal. You saved my ass.”

I grunted at the mention of one of my favorite parts of her anatomy and went to grab the table. I was arranging the pieces in the trunk so we could fit everything when I heard an alarmed “oh no” behind me.

“What’s wrong?” I made my way to her in four steps. It was funny how for years I’d been able to stay cool under pressure in situations that would incapacitate most people, yet two words of distress from Alba had my entire body primed to fight.

“Nothing, the wind’s just lifting my skirt.” She was struggling to clutch it and keep a stack of magazines in her hands from crashing to the ground. The wind was really whipping now and the hem of her dress was swirling around her knees.

“Here.” She handed me the magazines, looking and sounding flustered. “Shit, all of Midlothian is going to see my bare nalgas.” The moment the words came out of her mouth her eyes bulged and she clamped her mouth shut. This was Alba so I knew better than to assume I’d heard wrong.

“What did you just say?” I came closer, until we were inches apart. It was just the two of us out here, and though Miss Susan had promised to check in, no one was around, so her concern had to be about more than me getting a look at her panties. Still, the mere thought of it had my dick rock-hard in seconds.

“Uh nothing?” The nothing would’ve worked had her entire face not flushed a shade very similar to that of a ripe tomato.

“Alba, are you not wearing underwear?” Now, logically I knew there had to be some kind of explanation, but all my brain could process were the words Alba, bare and pussy.