Sally: Autumn Storms (F&L Story #4)

Sally: Part 19

Part 19

Determined to keep his opinions to himself, Wilson made small-talk with Peter, who kept one eye on the red curtain. Which woman was he hoping to see? Jamie or Sally? When the younger girl came out in a school-girl costume, complete with the plaid skirt and a tight, white shirt, Peter barely noticed her. There was Wilson's answer. He was waiting on Sally.

Too bad.  Peter had his chance.  That pig-headed, lady farmer in there belonged to Wilson now -- umm...don't tell Sally that -- and there wasn't a man on this green earth who could stand in his way of claiming her.  As the minutes slowly drifted by, he grew more and more possessive of her.  More and more in love with her.  And more and more aware of what little he could give her.  But that was a problem for a later time.

Jamie began to get petulant and angry at Peter, but Wilson ignored them both. When Sally called out from behind the fabric barrier, “Wil, dear? Are you ready?” he wanted to be the first man to see her, so he moved as close as was possible and announced, “I'm right here, sugar. Come on out.”

He heard a shaky intake of breath from her before the curtain parted and she stepped – bare foot and mouth-watering – into view.

Sweet Baby Jesus.

He didn't have enough brain cells or eye function to take it all in. The straps of the skimpy top wound around her neck, shoving her breasts together in a way nature never intended. The soft ripples of her stomach muscles undulated as she swayed forward, only enhancing the erotic swell of her hips before they disappeared under the gold, see-through fabric of the skirt. The silhouette of her legs marked off every step she took, and the peek of her rose-painted toes as she jutted out a fine-boned foot made his throat constrict.

Not giving a damn if Peter managed to look his fill, Wilson moved to block her from view of everyone and said, “You can't wear that out here.”

She halted and frowned at him, her forehead creasing with confusion. “Why not?” she asked, looking down at herself. “I thought I looked pretty good. You don't like it?”

“You look beautiful,” he declared roughly. “Too damn beautiful. I just don't want you to wear it here...around him.”

She fluttered her eyelashes, thinking about what he said. Then with a sly smile and a conspiratorial whisper, she said, “Oh, I get it. You're playing the jealous boyfriend act. I can play along.”

It wasn't an act, dammit. Sally chuckled low in her throat, loud enough for Peter to hear her and pivoted to dance her backside up and down his front, arching her spine and raising an arm to caress the side of his face. “I'm glad you like it, cowboy. We'll have some fun later tonight and you can show me how a Turkish princess rides a stallion.”

Wilson groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, regretting that he unleashed the tease before him. She was taking this a little too far. She turned and darted a look over his shoulder. “Thank you, by the way,” she said softly. “I owe you for this. Peter looks as sick as an over-fed pig.”

“My pleasure, ma'am,” he muttered and ushered her back behind the curtain. “Now change out of that before you get us thrown out of here.”

Ten minutes later, they stood in line to pay for her costume, Jamie still modeled and pranced around an uninterested Peter, and Sally grinned and kept up the farce of being lovers. Wilson just wanted to get home and take an ice-cold shower.

On the way out of the store, her ex-fiancé moved to watch them through the glass doors. Sally laughed when they reached the truck. “If I never see that jerk again, it'll be too soon.” She pulled her keys from her pocket, and Wilson snatched them from her. “Hey!” she grumped.