Because his words made that warm gushiness invade my insides, I lifted my hand to his neck then slid it into his hair and lifted my head as I pulled his down to me. My head tilted, his slanted and I kissed him, wet and hopefully sweet. He gave me his weight as his arms wrapped back around me. He rolled me again to the top and he took over the kiss and his was also wet, his was deep and his was definitely sweet.

He broke the kiss but not the connection of our mouths so his lips moved against mine when he whispered, “Totally a natural.”

I smiled against his mouth and into his eyes.

Brock smiled back the same way.

Then he muttered, “Shower,” to which I did a full-body tremble right on top of him.

He felt it and I watched close up as his smile got lazy.

He hauled us both out of bed, out of the room, into the bathroom and then into the shower.

After that, I made him coffee and toast and later made out with him on my doorstep in full view of a waking neighborhood. My arms around his shoulders, my body pressed deep, our tongues tangled. His arms were tight around me, with one hand carrying coffee in a travel mug and the fingers of his other hand holding a half-eaten slice of toast.

He lifted his head, looked in my eyes, and whispered, “I’ll text you the address to my place. Come prepared to spend the night. I’m doin’ dinner.”

“All right,” I whispered back. “But I’m doing dessert.”

His mouth twitched before he agreed. “You got it, sweetness. Now let me go before I do something we’ll both get arrested for, like throw you on the lawn and give your neighbors a show.”

I let him go.

He chuckled low, tipped his chin up at me, turned, and jogged down to his pickup at the same time taking a bite of toast.

I watched him drive away and I didn’t give one shit that I should have played it cool and walked right into my house and shut my door. I stood there and watched until I couldn’t see his truck anymore.

Only then did I go in.

I turned on my music and I didn’t turn on Fiona Apple.

I was an equal opportunity music lover and whatever struck my fancy normally didn’t unstrike it. So, considering “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” and “In America” were kickass songs, I owned the Charlie Daniels Super Hits CD.

And that was what I listened to while I got ready to face the day.

I couldn’t say it was all my gig but I sang “The Devil” and “In America” out loud and one could not say “The South’s Gonna Do It Again” was not the shit.