The Deal Dilemma

“Shut up.” I scoot to the edge of the seat, smiling at the long row of pop-up canopies and bike cops. My head yanks toward Crew, whose smirk is pointed out the front window. “Are we about to save some money?”

Chuckling, he reaches over, squeezing my knee. “We’re just checking shit out, seeing if your idea about cutting out the big chains will pan out.”

“That’s a start.”

He cuts a quick grin my way, pulling through the parking lot and choosing the very last spot in the farthest back corner.

“You did see, you know, the other hundred spots, right? Pretty sure I spotted one in the front row.”

“Oh, I saw, but you don’t park a carriage beside a saddled horse. Space, Sweets. This baby needs space.”

Fireflies. I’d swear my stomach was full of them.

I pictured him behind the wheel of this for so long, imagined his reaction to seeing the project that meant so much to him, when it was more a pain in the ass for my brother—even if he too loved it, his drive was to show it off. For Crew, it was different.

It was the first time he had direct, positive attention from a man, the first time anyone put real effort into teaching him something he didn’t know, first time he experienced patience and realized not all mistakes are unfixable and not all men used their hands negatively when those mistakes were made. Lessons could be learned without fear or fights.

I don’t think Crew was ever physically beaten by his dad; I know his mother was, but when it came to his kids, Crew’s father used words—a mental attack that never stopped, bound by impossible expectations. But his dad somehow thrived on their fear. He would break things, punch holes in the walls and throw glasses across the room. One time, I overheard him telling my parents his dad had flipped the dinner table… in the middle of their meal—a rarity that was ruined when Drew, only nine at the time, spilled his juice.

Both the boys slept over that night.

Crew might not understand, at the deepest level, why the mere thought of this truck is accompanied by thoughts of him, and that’s okay. I planned to try and find a way to gift it to him down the road, but maybe I don’t have to.

Maybe it can simply be ours.

His and mine.

Mine and his.

“You’ve got a faraway look in your eyes.”

Crew’s words snap me out of my head, and I smile his way, more fireflies fluttering around when he glides his hand over the handle in appreciation before tugging on it. “What are you thinking about?”

“You.”

His eyes narrow, but there’s a smile within them and he climbs out with a hint of a grin on his lips. “Come here.”

I take his outstretched hand, but before I can climb out, he wedges himself between my legs, swooping down like a crow starved for its next meal. His mouth takes mine in a searing kiss, his hands burning my skin when he wraps his long fingers around my upper torso, sliding down until one is disappearing beneath my dress.

He cups me, pressing my center firmly with a low growl. “I hate these shorts.”

“You’re going to love them when the breeze hits and the hem of this dress floats up to my waist.”

I feel his frown against my face and peek an eye open and chuckle.

“I want you,” he rasps, pressing his hard-on against my knee.

“I want…” I trail off, gripping his face to deepen the kiss, his hat falling over my shoulder and tumbling to the floorboard. “To see a man about some lemons.”

“Fine.” He pouts and with a reluctant groan, helps me from the truck, gently closing the door behind me. “But only because this place closes in an hour. Know you’re mine the second we get… anywhere alone.”

“Deal.”

I grin as he lifts his shirt up, exposing his strong stomach, so he can softly glide the material over the handle to erase all traces of his touch. Just like that, it shines back, not a single smudge to be seen. Hand threading through mine, he leads us toward the farmers’ market.

“So, what’s the plan, Stan?”

“This is your show, Sweets. You tell me.”

I squeal, toying with the ice cream cone on my hanging necklace, making sure it’s not tangled with the candy one settled above it. “Okay, let me feel some of them out, ask questions, and you fill in any blanks I don’t know the answer to… and you know what, it’s sad because there’s a lot. If I had known about today, I would have studied your books. A couple hours and I’d blow your mind in a way you never knew numbers could.”

I look to Crew, who stares at me with lowered lids. “What?”

“You’re fucking sexy, you know that?”

My frown is instant, and Crew laughs, tugging me into him, his arm going around my shoulder. He kisses my temple and keeps walking, eyeing a bulk nuts vendor as we pass.

“Crew Taylor, I can feel those wheels spinning, and it’s awesome.”

He taps his forehead to mine. “Think bulk nuts from someone out here could save a penny too?”

“Maybe even ten pennies,” I tease.

He squeezes my shoulder in response, and I love that he’s discovering something he never thought of, realizing he has options and figuring out where to find them.

“Okay, three tents down. They have lemons and oranges, but I’m not seeing limes. Looks like maybe a mix of fresh herbs, too. Ideally, you’d find someone you could get all the citrus from at once, that would make your order larger, and make it more likely to lower the cost because of that, but don’t count them out.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he jokes.

I smack his chest, melting when he catches my hand.

“What about over there?” He jerks his chin.

On the right, one vendor has two pop-ups, all the citrus you could ask for and fresh fruits to make it even better.

“Jackpot.”

Crew’s shoulders shake in amusement, but I ignore him, heading straight for the young men manning the station.

They can’t be more than sixteen, their skin tan from hours of hard work on what I’m betting is a family business, by the lax way they lounge in the shade, counting this as a break from their summer job duties. I’m sure it is, their typical work likely ten times harder.

As I walk beneath their tent, one of the boys nudges the other’s leg, keeping his face in his phone while the other head pops up.

Must be his turn to wait on a customer.

The young man looks at me. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

He leans on his forearms over a stack of mason jars full of canned peaches, a crooked grin on his face. He lifts a small green basket of black cherries. “Try one?”

“Sure,” I accept, but before I can pop it in my mouth, Crew is bumping my back, and my hand jostles. I look up over my shoulder, and the brute is staring at the young boy, his face blank.

“You gonna offer me one, too?” He messes with the kid, gaining the attention of the other one.

“Uh, yeah, sure…”

Nudging him backward, I round the white-linen-covered table. “Do you guys work for the Kellpa family?” I read the name on the logo.

“It’s my grandpa’s farm or, well, our farm, too.”

Bingo.

“Do you know if they offer wholesale, or do you only keep to town events like these?”

“No way.” The other boy laughs. “We’d be throwing away hundreds of pounds of product if we did that.”

Perfect.

“Do you guys allow visitors at the farm?”

“I don’t think so, but we have a little shop you could come to. Gift baskets and treats and stuff.”

“What kind of treats?”

“Woman, stay focused.”

The boys laugh as I blush, and they seem to perk up when Crew grins their way.

“You got a number for someone we can call to talk to about order and fulfillment needs?” he asks.

“It’s on the back of the receipt.” The kid smirks.

Fighting a smile, I look to Crew, who hides a grin just the same.

“Let me get a bag of cherries and a basket of strawberries.” He fishes out his wallet.

Proud of himself, the kid rings him up, and I step out, peeking at the next booth—also full of bright, colorful fruits. I turn back to see if Crew is done, bumping into someone as I do.

Their hands lock on my arms to steady me as I rush to apologize.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so—” My eyes snap up, colliding with familiar ones.

“Jess…”

He offers a tight smile, his hands lowering to his sides. “Hey. How’s it going?”

“Good.” I nod, a pang of guilt in my chest.

I enjoyed hanging out with him, it was fun and easy, but I would be lying if I said I was missing it. It’s like with my job. I would look forward to going, ready to chat with Rachel and the cooks, pass the time and make money while doing it. I hated being home because that meant I was alone, and all I had to do then was study, so I did. All the time.

Now? The thought of going back to work tomorrow sucks.

I want to fall asleep with Crew at seven in the morning and wake at one in the afternoon, with the understanding that it’s perfectly acceptable to eat Cinnamon Toast Crunch at that time. Or pancakes.

Anyway, I don’t want to go to work and lose time with him.

Maybe he needs time to himself, Davis? You’ve been in his face for days now.

Jess clears his throat, and I shake my head, looking up at him.

“How about you? Any leads on work or…?”

Jess nods. “Yeah, I uh…” He pauses when a shadow falls over me.

Crew is at my back, silent, and likely blank faced.

“I decided to go for my master’s, so it’s back to school for me,” he shares.

“Oh my god, that’s amazing. Congrats.”

“Yeah.” He smiles but then quickly clears his throat again, erasing it. His frown flicks over my head a moment and back. “I’m headed back home in a couple weeks, there’s a program I’m joining at the college nearby. Half the price and close to my sister, so…”

He has a sister?

I didn’t know that.

Crew presses closer, his hand possessively landing on my hip and pulling me into him.

Tension claws at my skin, waiting for him to snap something, but he surprises me.

Shocks me, really.

“Why don’t you come by the bar before you go,” Crew offers. “I owe you a round.”

Sure, his tone is flat and hollow, maybe a little forced and not at all excited about the possibility of Jess accepting, but it’s the words that matter, right?

“A round?” Jess scoffs, but not in anger. “You owe me a night.”

I look up and over my shoulder at Crew.

“Yeah, all right.” He nods slowly. “You plus one.”

Jess nods, looks to me and a small smile forms on his lips. “Later, Davis.”

I lift my hand in a wave, but he’s already turned to walk away, so I spin, wrapping my arms around Crew’s middle.

“What?” He glares.

“You know what. That was nice.”

He groans, leaning down, and pecks my lips. “Fuck that guy.”

A laugh flies from me as he grins.

“Come on, Sweets. We got people to meet.”

And on we go.

By the end of the long rows, we’ve collected six numbers, two of the vendors sending us home with a giant box of mixed citrus for “testing” purposes.

“Potentially saving some money and getting free stuff.” I grin as I open the tailgate, hopping up on the edge as Crew sets the wheelbarrow down in front of me.

“I’d say that’s a solid afternoon.” He grins, quickly unloading all the goods from the day.

He pushes the box of fresh-baked monkey bread to the side, but I swiftly lean over, snatching it up.

“I’ll take that.”

“I bet you will.”

Digging in, I tear a piece off the edge, my whole body melting when I get the first taste of the candy pecans coating the top.

“Baby, don’t be making sounds like that out here.”

My eyes open, my legs following when he slips closer.

“It might make me snap.”

“Snap, crackle, pop, babe. Please. I’m so ready for it.” I take another bite, tearing at the thick breading with my teeth, and Crew dips forward, biting off the excess hanging from my mouth.

His frown of surprise is epic, instant, and now he’s the one moaning.

I laugh, licking the glaze from my fingers.

“You weren’t playing. That shit’s good. You need to make that. Naked.”

“Challenge accepted.”

“Don’t move. I gotta put this wheelbarrow back along the fence.”

“Oh, I am perfectly fine where I stand, but don’t be shocked if this baby is gone by the time you get back.” I tear off another piece.

“Trust me, Sweets. There would be no shock there.”

I watch his shoulders flex as he walks away, the veins in his arms begging to be licked on like my favorite lollipop.

“Sweet ride.”

My head snaps left, and I offer a close-lipped smile at the man walking by, swallowing the mouthful of sugar before I can speak. “Thanks.”

“A 1939 and with the original framework?” He lets out a low whistle of appreciation.

“Mirrors and all.”

The man smiles, nodding as he rounds for a better look, but leaves the five feet of distance between us. “Original color?”

“Original color, but fresh paint. Obviously.” I laugh and the man follows.

He’s tall, his hair dark and with grays sprinkled near his ears. His face is a bit weathered, but he’s in great shape for his age. I’d guess he’s no more than early forties, handsome enough, but in that hard, greased-up kind of way.

“Car connoisseur?” I guess.

The man shrugs, but a smirk follows. “I’m a lover of pretty things.”

“In the truck.”

My head snaps right to find Crew’s body stretched tall and wide, his face set hard and blank, his steps swift.

I open my mouth to tell him the guy was only admiring the truck, but Crew doesn’t even have to look at me to know I was about to speak.

He simply adds, “Now.”

There’s something about his approach, about the way he’s completely shifted when he was laughing and teasing two minutes ago, leading me to do exactly as he asked. I climb down without a word, bag in hand, and climb into the cab.

After a few moments, I dare a peek into the side mirror.

Crew has stepped up to the man, his hands clenched at his sides, jaw set tight, but the other man is grinning, his body relaxed, as if he has not a care in the world and is used to testosterone-driven young men. And maybe he is. He’s wearing biker boots, after all.

But then Crew gets in his face, and just like that, the man’s features shift, his eyes suddenly beady and dry.

He says something, holding out what looks like a business card in front of Crew, and the muscle in Crew’s neck bulges.

Lipreading is not a strength of mine, so my attempt is a full-on fail, and then the man’s gaze finds mine in the mirror.

I jerk away, anxious, but not ten seconds later, Crew is sliding into the seat at my side.

His hand shakes in anger as he slips the key in the ignition, and this time, he’s not gentle on the pedal.

Crew spins the tires, smoke barreling behind the truck, burying the man in it before peeling out onto the road.

Several minutes pass before he lets out a harsh breath.

“Everything okay?” I ask tentatively.

“Fine, just… give me a minute.” His tone is familiar, the dark and deranged one he uses when fighting for control… and trying his best not to tear off the heads of those around him. He was always notorious for picking fights, but he was smart about his choices. By that, I mean he would pick someone who deserved it… but also making sure they were larger than him because an easy knockout did nothing for his need to release the rage.

Unease settles in my gut, and I rack my brain for an idea of how to calm him when it hits me.

“Let’s take the long way home.”

“We’re headed for the bar. Best to take this stuff there.” His response is clipped and short, and he regrets it instantly, reaching over to smooth a hand down my thigh. “But, yeah, we can take the long way.”

I love how he doesn’t question what I want, just gives because he’s able. And if he weren’t, he’d work to find a way.

Crew rolls the windows down, turns the audio up, though not too loud, and after a few minutes, his exhales smooth out.

He’s so simple to please. Nothing but the breeze or the stars, a quiet night in or out, is all it takes to level him, but I know his mind continues to run regardless, which is why I plan to take it over.

The moment we hit the back roads, I unbuckle my seat belt, gliding along the seat until I’m at his side.

As I knew he would, Crew drapes an arm over the back of the seat, making more room for me to settle beside him, the road clear of stop signs, so the gears needed no more shifting for several miles.

First, I lean in, gently kissing his neck, and I swear the man purrs.

Next, my hand finds his thigh, rubbing up and down, before my palm presses firmly over the growing bulge of his light jeans.

“Baby…” he rasps, his frustration swiftly morphing into desperation.

“I know,” I whisper, unsure if he can hear me over the radio, and then I’m flicking open his jeans.

He groans, shifting his hips so he’s at a more maneuverable angle on the seat.

So eager. Zero fight.

I love it.

Love him.

I pull him free, wrapping my fist tightly around him, and he presses his head against the back window, both his hands coming to lock onto the wheel.

“Now, Sweets, I need that mouth now.”

My smile is slow, and I dip, sliding along the seat until my stomach is flat, my knees pressed to the warm leather, legs crossed in the air.

I dip my head, pulling his swollen dick into my mouth, and a long, low groan rumbles from his chest.

I suck him hard and fast, knowing he needs a harsh, hard release, not a softly built one.

I hold his base, bobbing up and down, using my tongue to swirl around him the way he said he liked it last time. My toes curl in my sandals when he swells, his hand fisting and destroying my slicked hair.

My core throbs, and I wish I had a pillow to ride to ease the pressure while I swallow him as deep as I can.

His hips buck up, and he shifts again, nothing but his ass and shoulder blades touching the leather, allowing his length to grow longer.

I gag on him, but I don’t stop, taking him deep and sucking on his head so hard, I’m surprised it doesn’t hurt him, before sliding back down. My hand is soaked with spit, his cock rock hard, the large vein along the shaft thumping against my cheeks.

Suddenly, the tires screech, and I tense, my head snapping up to look out the window, my hand flying out to catch the dash, but in the next blink, Crew’s crashing his mouth with mine.

He’s unbuckled, and I’m on his lap, his hands roughly tearing at my shorts until a sharp rip fills the cab.

I gasp into his mouth as his fingers thrust inside me without warning.

He growls. “I fucking knew it.” He kisses my cheek, jaw, neck. “So fucking wet for me.” He smacks my ass. “Lift, Sweets, you’re about to drop down on my cock. I need inside you.”

I moan, doing as he said while also throwing my head back, inviting him to suck on my chest.

He doesn’t disappoint, yanking my dress down and pulling my nipple into his mouth for a hard sucking.

I whimper, and then he’s hard at my entrance, so I don’t hesitate. I drop down, gasping and clutching his shoulders tightly when he fills me in an entirely different way.

Slicker.

Deeper.

More curved.

“God, damn,” he moans. “I’m in your fucking stomach.”

I nod, hips rocking, and Crew encourages me, his hands on my hips, swaying me back and forth.

“Yeah, baby, like that.” He buries his head in my neck, licking along my candy necklace and taking a bite out of it. “So. Fucking. Sweet.”

My body is overcome by this new intrusion. He wasn’t playing. I swear I can feel him in my stomach. Every inch of me is stretched, and it’s glorious.

My hands latch on to his shoulders, my hips swinging in deep grinding motions.

“This is—” I gasp, grinding harder, faster, my deep breath stuck in my throat. “Good, it’s—”

“Good. You take me so good, baby.” His last word is a deep growl.

My eyes clamp shut, my pussy squeezing him.

This position is insane. I can feel everything. Everywhere, and oh my god, the clit stimulation with the stretch of him inside me?

So. Fucking. Good.

I shatter, shaking like never before, muscles aching they’re so tight as I come over his cock.

“Mmm,” he moans. “This pussy was made for me.”

Crew licks up my neck until he’s taking my lips again as he thrusts in deep. I cry out, the waves crashing through me doubling in intensity.

I squeeze my thighs tightly over his, the feeling too much, but he doesn’t relent, his hips dive up, his palms pressing me down, and then he’s falling over me, burying his face in my hair, fists tangled in it as he jerks, his cock twitching inside me.

Several minutes go by, my fingers combing up and down his spine, dead weight in his lap.

And then he laughs, lifts his head, and kisses the top of my nose, his forehead falling to mine.

“You’re mine. I hope you realize that.”

“What does that mean, exactly?” I test the waters, running my hands up his chest.

“It means if you try and leave me, I’ll bring you right back, cuff you to my bed and keep you there.”

“That sounds like a good time. Maybe I should test it.”

Crew nips at me, and I grin, folding my hands around his neck and tugging him to me.

“I hope you know,” I whisper. “That’s exactly what I want. To be yours.”

His hands skim down my back, his kiss slow this time around, and a few moments later, his hips begin to press up again, my own answering with a lulling rock.

We fuck each other slow, steady, jumping when there’s a harsh knock on the window.

Both our heads snap over to find two farmers, somehow missing the sound of their tractor as it stopped beside us.

“Oh my god.” I drop my head into his neck.

Crew only chuckles, making sure my dress is covering all it needs to be as he rolls the window down, I didn’t even realize he had rolled up.

“There’s a crew of fifty dudes with tractors out here shaking lime trees, and this is where they’re headed next, so you might wanna get moving.”

My head snaps up, and I look to the men, a smile spreading across my face. “Did you say limes?”

Crew laughs loudly, the men blush, and I’m ready to talk shop… after I free my vagina of the half-cocked cock.