Chance: A Small Town, Enemies to Lovers, Protector Romance (Ghost Ops Book 2)
Chance: Chapter 33

She’d destroyed him.Chance lay on his back, breathing hard as he stared up at the ceiling. Rory slowly folded herself over until she was lying on his chest, her breathing as hard as his.

It had taken precisely ten minutes to recover from the first time, for him, but she’d been ready to go again almost immediately. She’d pushed him onto his back and rode him until her body started to tremble and her eyes fluttered closed as she threw her head back and squeezed him with her inner muscles.

He’d come hard when she did that, gasping with the force of it. Rory’d smiled as she’d lowered herself onto his chest. He loved those smiles.

He caressed the small of her back, slid his hand down and over one perfectly round cheek. Then he squeezed it, imagining himself biting it later.

“You’ve got a great ass, babe,” he said.

“Mmm, and you have a great dick. And a great chest. Pretty much everything about you is pretty to look at.”

He laughed softly. “Pretty, huh?”

“Nothing wrong with pretty.”

“Nope.” He squeezed her ass again. “Everything about you turns me on. Pretty doesn’t begin to cover it.”

She lifted her head. “Are you trying to one up me?”

“Telling the God’s honest truth, kitten. You turn me on and you’re more than pretty. Fucking gorgeous springs to mind.”

The light in her eyes dimmed a little and he knew she was having trouble believing him. He hated that for her. Fucking Mark-the-Dick.

“You already got laid. Twice. No need to pile on the flattery.”

“You think what you like, Rory, but I know what my truth is.” Her CGM beeped and his entire body went on alert. “What do you need?”

She picked up her phone to check it. “Sugar’s low. I need to get some juice and then I need to eat breakfast.”

Chance bounded from the bed. He didn’t even bother to grab pants as he headed for the kitchen. He poured juice and brought it back. Rory was propped against the headboard, waiting. He handed her the glass and climbed into bed beside her, dropping an arm around her just because he wanted to feel the warmth of her next to him.

He didn’t panic, because he knew she was taking care of her needs, but deep inside a part of him wanted to scream that it wasn’t fair she had to deal with this. Rory was an amazing person. She’d been through so much in her life, but she kept on fighting. And now she was pregnant with his kid and the risks to her health were even greater than before.

It chilled him to think about what could happen, but he’d told himself repeatedly since she’d informed him about the appointment that all he could do was be there for her. He couldn’t rewind time and he couldn’t undo what’d been done. She’d clearly thought about the risks and accepted them and he had to as well.

Diabetic women had babies. It happened. Rory would be fine. If he said it enough, it would be true.

“Tell me about the giant purple dong over there,” he said, bumping her shoulder gently.

“Oh God,” she groaned. “I was hoping you’d forgotten that.”

“Hard to forget it. It’s standing straight up on your dresser, babe.”

She looked over to where it stood straight and tall and thick. It was seriously lifelike, other than being purple.

“That’s Gus,” she said, and he nearly choked on his own tongue. She’d fucking named the dong. “Gus the Glamorous. He vibrates. He’s also very, very good at taking care of business if you know what I mean.”

“Looks like he might do a decent job. Doesn’t have a tongue, though.”

Rory bumped him back. “Nope, no tongue. I was thinking of getting one of those petal things though.”

“Petal things?”

She sighed. “It looks like a rose and it, uh, simulates oral sex. Just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.”

He was gonna get hard again thinking of Rory using sex toys to get herself off. “Don’t need it, babe. You’ve got me. You don’t need Gus either.”

“I don’t know, Chance. This isn’t supposed to be permanent. I might need those things when you leave.”

He tipped her chin up with his fingers and forced her to look at him. “Not leaving, Rory. And I’m not sleeping on the couch anymore, either. You can’t put the whipped cream back in the can.”

He thought she might argue but she giggled instead. “Did you just compare yourself to whipped cream?”

“If it makes you laugh, then yes, I damn sure did.”

She reached over to caress his dick. It was still half hard but the second she touched it, it started to swell. “Mmm, I want to lick this like it was covered in whipped cream. Think you can handle that?”

He took her hand gently and pulled it up to kiss her fingers. “Babe, I want nothing more. But we gotta get your blood sugar up and I have to get to work.”

“Go ahead and point that out, why don’t you,” she grumbled.

“Somebody has to be the adult around here. Now what do you want for breakfast? I collected eight eggs, by the way.”

“Mmm, eggs. How about scrambled eggs with toast?”

“Want cheese on those eggs?”

“Yes, please.”

“Okay, baby. Whatever you want. Let’s see if you need more juice first.”

When her blood sugar was stable, she went to take a shower while Chance dragged on his clothes and headed for the kitchen. He got to work cracking eggs and whipping them together, grating cheese, and getting out the toaster. By the time Rory walked in, her damp hair a golden tangle down her back, he nearly had everything ready to go.

She wore jeans with work boots and a flannel shirt over a tank top today. Chance thought there was probably nothing his woman wouldn’t look amazing in. She looked country, but he liked that. Sexy country, because Rory was a girly girl and loved makeup and glossy hair.

“You ready for me to make the toast and scramble the eggs?”

“Yep. I took my bolus insulin and I’m ready to eat.”

Chance popped the toaster on and poured the eggs into the pan he’d started heating when he heard her walk across the bedroom floor after her shower. When it was ready, he took everything to the table, poured fresh coffee, and sat down to eat with her.

When he’d stayed before, she hadn’t shared as much about her insulin pump or the way it worked as she had this time. Mostly, they’d had sex and talked and had more sex. Neither one of them had talked about the truly personal stuff.

It’d been about the kinds of things they liked—TV shows, foods, bands—and disliked. They’d acted more like a dating couple getting to know each other. Now it was more intimate. He liked it that way. Didn’t feel temporary, no matter what she’d said about it not being permanent.

Was to him. And it was gonna be permanent to her too. She just didn’t know it yet.

Her phone pinged with a text. She picked it up to look. He knew from the way her expression changed that something wasn’t right.

“What is it?”

“It’s Carl Hoffman. He’s been baling the hay and buying it off us for his cows at a reduced price for the past eight years.” She turned the phone so he could look but whipped it back around before he’d finished reading and read it aloud instead. “Sorry, can’t do the hay this time. Found a better price over in Madison and I have to go where I can afford to get it. Hope you understand. Carl.”

She put her head in her hands. “Not what I needed today. Eight years of baling and taking the hay and now this? There’s no way he’s getting that hay cheaper. No way.”

“Can you get somebody else?”

She lifted her head. “This late? I don’t know who. We don’t have the baler anymore. Granny sold it when Gramps died. We weren’t going to bale anymore, and it seemed like a good decision, especially with Carl being willing to bale and buy. It’s worked well for years. The grass gets cut and we make some money from it. Thing is, with the damage at the Dawg and the temporary closure, we could use the cash. If the health inspector doesn’t let us open today…”

She didn’t finish her thought, but he knew what she was thinking. If the hits kept piling up, then the situation was going to get worse quickly. They would need to borrow against the farm to cover the debt, which Rory didn’t want to do, but at least it was an option when it hadn’t been before.

Chance pictured Ronnie Davis and his son sitting in that booth at Miss Mary’s, listening to him make his speech. Junior’s was the more interesting reaction, but Chance would bet his right nut it was Ronnie Davis who was behind Carl Hoffman pulling out of his agreement with Rory. Man like that had money and liked to throw it around in order to get his way.

“Do you think Carl Hoffman would sell his land if Davis Properties offered for it?”

Rory’s eyes went wide. “That son of a bitch.” Her chair scraped back but Chance caught her wrist, held her.

“No, baby. No going off half-cocked on a theory. And definitely not right now when you’ve got to worry about your health more than usual, okay?”

Her cheeks were red but she nodded. “You’re right. But I can’t let them get away with this. I don’t know that Carl would sell, or even that they’d want his land. It’s not connected to the Turtons or Coombses like mine is. He’s on the other side of town, closer to the refuge. Davis Properties can’t want to start dealing with federal regulations regarding protected land just to spite me. But they could give Carl enough cash to make it worth his while to buy hay elsewhere this year. Maybe for a couple of years. Assholes.” Her gaze was troubled. “What are we going to do about it, Chance?”

His belly tightened and his heart squeezed. She’d asked him what they were going to do. She was trusting him to help figure it out, to make things right. She wasn’t trying to go it completely alone for a change.

“I don’t know. Yet,” he emphasized, squeezing her hand. “This isn’t a simple matter of knocking heads together, kitten. But give me some time, okay? You worry about what you need to do for your health. I’ll see what more I can learn about the situation.”

“No offense, Chancey Pants, but I’ve lived in Sutton’s Creek a lot longer than you have. I don’t think you’re going to learn anything I couldn’t with a phone call or two.”

“I don’t doubt that, babe, but who said I was limiting my search to Sutton’s Creek?”

He got to his feet and kissed her forehead before tipping her head back to kiss her lips. One touch and he wanted to take her back to bed. He broke the kiss and caressed her cheek.

“I have to get to work. But you can trust me to take care of this for you. I’ll tell you what I learn, and we’ll go from there.”

“Okay,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m trusting you. Just so you know, this is not easy for me.”

“I know. Now finish your eggs, baby. I’m trusting you to do that while I head out. Taking Clyde, by the way. You can have my truck today.”

She stuck out her lip. “Who says I want your mangy old truck? It’s a tin can compared to Clyde.”

He laughed. “Honey, everything’s a tin can compared to Clyde. But Clyde doesn’t have crumple zones and my truck does. I’d feel better if you took it.”

“Fine,” she huffed. “What’s his name?”

“Uh, Ram truck?”

“No, that’s the brand. Never mind, if I have to drive him again, I’ll name him. You’ll be informed when I figure it out.”