Smug Bastard - Stacey Marie Brown Page 0,15

what I had been through.

Stretching, I reached up over my head, working the knots out of my muscles. It was still cool, and I had a desperate need to run, to shake off the agitation and clear my head. Quietly heading to the van, Goat’s head popped up at hearing me. He was a cute little guy with his floppy ears, and I could see he was very protective of Kinsley.

Opening the side door, I reached for my saddlebag, a pair of running shoes and shorts. As quiet as I tried to be, Kinsley stirred and rolled over.

“Holy fuck!” A loud cry whimpered from her lips, snapping my attention to her. She flopped back on her stomach, the blankets slipping off her, her teeth chomping into her bottom lip, her fingers curling into fists.

“You okay?” My voice came out low and choppy, causing her to jerk with surprise. Pain dampened her forehead with sweat.

“Peachy.” She sucked in, her fingers tightening around her comforter. Abandoning my plan, I grabbed more painkillers and moved around to the rear of the van.

“Hey! What are you doing?” She reached for the blanket, trying to place it better over her ass.

“Oh, now you’re getting shy?” I chuckled, handing her the pills and water while I relocated the first aid kit. “Little too late for that, Nettles. And nothing I haven’t seen before.” I sounded bored, trying to convince myself her bare bottom was nothing special. I had been with a lot of women, some models, actresses, and celebrity workout trainers with the tightest figures I’d ever seen. Hers should be nothing special…

Keep telling yourself that.

“Nettles?” Her nose wrinkled.

“Like it?”

“No.”

“That or Baby K. Take your pick.” I grabbed tubes of Neosporin and Cortisone cream. Mentally hanging up a picture of thirteen-year-old Kinsley with a mouth full of braces to keep my mind on the task.

“Lose the blanket.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“I need to put this on your wounds.” Annoyance trickled into my tone.

“Fuck no.” Her head waggled, her loose, long hair tumbling over her face, stubbornness pinching her lips. “I’ll do it.”

“Seriously?” I huffed. “You think seeing a bare ass gets me off? Please, Baby K, I’ve seen hundreds, and yours is nothing special.”

Her lids narrowed lower. “I never said mine was special, or you would be getting off on it… though I’d be surprised you could still get it up at your age.”

“Oooohhhh.” My head jerked back; a surprised guffaw puffed up my lungs. “It’s like that, huh?”

A proud grin played on her mouth, her dark eyes glinting with mischief. “What’s wrong, Grandpa, can dish it out, but can’t take it?”

“You really want to start this game, little girl?” I lifted an eyebrow, a hint of a smile on my face.

“Please, I’ll just be getting started when you need a nap.” She tapped her finger to her chin. “I’ll have to google when and where we can get deals for senior citizens and cheap dinners served at 4:30.”

I snorted, my head shaking. “All right.” I tossed the creams at her, sliding out of the van. “Have at it.”

She took them, the playfulness falling from her face as she stared at the tubes, but she didn’t say anything. Wandering back to the stove, I put on a kettle, pulling out two tin mugs for coffee, my eyes sliding more than I wanted back to her.

Twisting, her teeth digging into her lip, she barely touched cream on her right cheek, pain crackling through her expression as she sharply inhaled air.

“Got to actually rub it on for it to work.” I chuckled from my place, turning the flames up higher.

“Screw you.” She huffed through her gritted teeth.

“If that will help.” The words came out of my mouth before I could even filter them, causing my entire frame to freeze; my eyes stayed on the kettle.

What the hell? Stop perving on a kid.

Granted, five years were nothing now, but it was when you knew someone at a time that the five years were between a child and an adult. It was everything then.

She didn’t respond, too distracted by the throbbing in her ass, which I was grateful for. Maybe she didn’t even hear me. The last thing I wanted was for her to think I was flirting or interested. Because I wasn’t.

I couldn’t deny if I didn’t know her, if she were some girl I met on the road—fuck—I wouldn’t have stopped last night. I would have tossed the washrag away, spread her legs, and made her cry out in