Pretty Boy (Perfect Boys #1) - K.M. Neuhold Page 0,10

I’m used to folks staring, but I ain’t never had nobody look at me the way he is. I can’t figure what to do with it.

“If you could have any job, what would it be? What’s your dream job?” he finally asks.

I scoff. “Dreams are a real good way of getting your heart broken,” I tell him honestly. I gave up dreaming a long time ago. It’s safer that way.

A sad look passes behind his eyes before he launches into another question.

He must ask me a thousand questions about my favorite foods, best childhood memories, pets...so many questions I lose track of the time.

“Oh, shoot, it’s past closin’ time,” I say, realizing the late hour. My voice is almost hoarse from how much we talked tonight. I told him all about the creek where I used to catch bullfrogs when I was a kid, and he told me a bit about his childhood, which sounds like it occurred on a whole different planet than mine. It sounded nice though.

Since it was a slow night, there isn’t much to do to close up other than lock the register and put the stools up. Barrett helps me, even though I try to wave him off, and I have to admit it’s not a bad sight to watch his muscles strain as he picks each stool up over his head before setting them on the bar. Show off.

He catches me watching and winks at me, making my belly flutter all over again and my skin heat and prickle.

“I’m going to give you a ride home,” he says firmly, like he did earlier, leaving no room for argument. If I agree, will he call me a good boy again?

“Yeah, okay.”

Barrett gives me a slow, almost lazy kind of smile, his eyelids drooping as he takes a step closer to me. I should feel nervous, being all alone with a strange man in the middle of the night like this, but of all the things jumbled up inside me, nerves ain’t one of them. He cups my jaw in his large hand, and I lean into his touch, nearly whimpering at the feeling.

I can’t remember the last time anyone touched me. Probably not since my gran died. My eyes fall closed without my permission, and he drags his thumb along my cheek. It feels like he’s tracing the edges of my birthmark. My natural reaction is to recoil, to try to hide my face from him because I’m sure he’s been looking at it far too long. But it feels too nice to break the moment. I deserve just a few more seconds, don’t I? Something to cherish when he leaves Billow in a few days and never thinks of me again.

“Such a good, sweet boy,” he murmurs in a low, deep voice. Liquid heat replaces the blood in my veins and tightens around my groin.

His touch is gone too quickly, leaving me feeling cold and nearly desperate for him to do it again. I blink my eyes open and straighten myself. There’s amusement and warmth dancing in his expression. Is he laughing at me? Or is it an affectionate kind of amusement? I can’t tell and that cools some of the excitement inside me. For all I know, this is one big joke to him.

Barrett

It takes every ounce of restraint I have not to pull Sterling into my arms and shower him with the affection he’s clearly craving. But one thing our conversation over the past few hours has made obvious, is that I’m going to need to take it slow with him. He had blushed furiously when he admitted that not only didn’t he have a boyfriend, he’d never had one. I find it difficult to believe that no one else has looked at him and seen the sweet, handsome man I’m seeing. But another thing that’s become clear is how absolutely backward this entire town seems to be.

If I have it my way, I won’t be leaving here without him. But that’s going to take a hell of a lot of patience. Lucky for both of us, I’ve never minded putting in the extra effort for the things I want.

I lead Sterling out to my car, pausing with him as he locks the door, and then opening the passenger side for him so he can climb in. When he fumbles with the seatbelt, I allow myself the small indulgence of leaning in and buckling it for him. He sits so still as