With my fingers under her chin, I lift her head. There’s a soft sucking noise as my cock slides from between her lips, and I groan at the loss of suction.

Belatedly, I realize that my mom is still talking. Just kill me now.

“And I’d really like tenderloin, chops, and a couple of roasts. I don’t need much in the way of ground—”

“Mother.” There’s a desperate edge to my voice, and I clear my throat before continuing. “Can we talk about this later?”

There’s a long pause on the line. “Oh. Is Summer there?”

“I’m hanging up now.”

Mom makes a joy-filled sound at the idea of Summer and me coming together. “Okay, ’bye. Wear a condom, honey. I’m not ready to be a grandma just yet!”

“’Bye, Mom.” I toss the phone down with disgust, and Summer’s answering smile makes me chuckle. “I’m so sorry about that.”

But Summer is already guiding my still rigid cock right back into her mouth.

Shit.

I fist her hair, desperate for her again.

You’d think this would be the most disturbing exchange ever, but I go right back to enjoying the most perfect blow job in the world, delivered by the most perfect girl in the world.

16

SUMMER

Did I plan on having an orgasm up against a chicken coop?

Well, no.

Logan’s skillful fingers and his hot, eager mouth proved to be too much for me to handle. All sensibility flew out the window.

But do I regret it? Also, no.

Although deep down, I know I should regret it. And that’s really bothering me. I’m not this person—the bold woman who flew across the country to track down a potential client. Or the one who’s losing her sense of direction because her client is so stunningly attractive.

Last night was an eye-opener for me. One thing became abundantly clear.

I need to get out of here—hightail it back home before I do something incredibly stupid, like jeopardize my entire career for a little nookie. Even if said nookie would be really, really good.

“I think I’m going to head back to Boston.”

This news announced at the breakfast table goes over like a lead balloon. Only Logan and Jillian are left, with Grandpa Al reading the newspaper in his recliner. Yes, I waited till most of the boys had cleared out before making my announcement, but only to try to avoid too much awkward conversation about it.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like my plan is working. While I pick at my currant muffin, I can feel the energy in the kitchen shift, and not for the better. When I look up, Jillian is staring at me like I just announced I was walking barefoot back to Massachusetts.

“You’re leaving already? What on earth for?”

The list of reasons could stretch from here back to the East Coast.