Temporary Hate

Chapter Four

I wake up disoriented and confused. I check my watch, four four teen AM. A loud curse comes from down stairs and I pull my robe on before slowly making my way down stairs.

"Done with the Marines Ma. The whole damz thing," a voice slurs drunkenly. "Come on Gavin, give me the tequila," I hear Marjorie beg. I walk into the kitchen and the scene before me almost makes me laugh. Gavin is standing on the island counter top, and Mrs. McDough is trying to reach the half empty tequila bottle in his hands.

"Sam!" He proclaims when he notices me. "Gavin, what are you doing?" I ask laughing. "Getting drunk! It's a free country you know," he says nodding his head. "Come," I say raising my hand to help him down. "Come? I could make you come so hard Sam. So hard you won't even remember your name," he announces sitting on the counter now. I blush deeply. He would so regret saying that in the morning. "Oh dear," Mrs. McDough gasps rushing out the room.

Damn. How am I supposed to get this giant to bed? "I bet you taste as sweet as you talk. So damn hard Sam. I swear," he promuses, crossing his heart.

Something pinches in my stomach sending waves of arousal down south.

"You're drunk," I croak.

He nods before taking another gulp from the tequila bottle. "Extremely."

"You're so going to regret saying all this tomorrow," I say laughing. "The only thing I'll regret Sam Hartford, is not saying all this when I was about to put my mouth between those sexy thighs of yours until you screamed," he responds, his voice husky.

Everything south clenches deliciously. Holy crap. "You need to sleep it off," I choke out.

He smiles lazily, "I think you're right."

The trek up the stairs quickly becomes treacherous do to his drunken stumble. By the time we make it to his room the bottle of tequila is almost gone and his eyes droop tiredly. He falls onto the bed like a limp doll. I pull his heavy boots and his shirt off, exposing his muscled chest that is littered with round scars and jagged cuts. What really catches my eye is a flock of tattooed birds flying from his back around his left shoulder to his chest. I attempt to turn him to glimpse the rest of the tattoo but his body won't budge.

After a few minutes of trying I give up and finsh undressing him, pulling his pants off until he is only in his black boxers. The man...took care of his body. I take a deep breath and leave the room.

Tomorrow should be...interesting.

The next morning I feed Mr. McDough applesauce and give him a bath. He smiles the entire time which shocks me. "Why are you so happy?"

He points to his ear then at the ceiling, Gavin's room. I blush and hide my face. "He was drunk," I mumble.

"Anyway, I'm taking you outside today. Right after I eat," I promise.

The smell of bacon and pancackes leads me to the kitchen. "That's smells so good Marjorie," I moan. She smiles and hands me a plate. I take it gratefully.

Sounds of vomiting reach my ears from upstairs. "Sounds like Gavin's awake," Marjorie spits, shaking her head in disdain. After few minutes he appears, squinting his eyes at the bright room. "Morning," he rasps as he pours himself a cup of coffee. He sits down as Marjorie sets the plate in front of him.

"I'm sorry."

Marjorie shrugs as if she doesn't care. "You do what you want Gavin. Your a grown ass man so if you want to get drunk in the middle of the night and make demeaning comments to our guest that's your choice."

"They really weren't demeaning Marjorie. It's fine," I cut in. They really weren't. They were sexy and hot. Hell, they made me hot!

Gavin clutches his head and rubbs his face roughly. She laughs humorlessly.

"It's not fine Sam. Not fine at all," she demands. "I'm extremely sorry Sam. I didn't mean to disrespect you or demean you in any way. I was very much under the influence," Gavin says sincerely.

Mrs. McDough node, seemingly satiated with his apology.

When she leaves Gavin leans in from across the counter. "I meant what I said last night Sam," he whispers.

"A-about what?" I stutter. "About making you come."

Oh God. "And I intend to make that happen," he promises. Oh my God. He smiles and continues eating his breakfast. There's silence for a few moments. I couldn't think of anything to say. I mean, his words were pretty much a show stopper. When he left, muttering something about a shower, I stand to take Mr. McDough outside.

I wheel him outside onto their beautiful farm. Their land was gorgeous, especially because it had just rained yesterday. The large willow tree on their front lawn had water dripping down the leaves, it was beautiful.

Mr. McDough pulle out a book and reads as I push him around the estate. "It's really beautiful here," I mumble. He nods in agreement.

I remember when I was a little girl I wanted to live on a farm so bad. I had imagined myself marrying a cowboy, boots, hat and all. I imagined helping him tend to the cows and riding horses to move the cattle. When I was in college I had actually dated one.

His name was Hunter and he grew up on a farm and wanted to run it when he was old enough. I remember when spring break came he had invited me to the ranch and I was so ensnared by him that I had agreed. When we got there he taught me to ride a horse and his mom taught me how to cook giant meals. But Lord, he was a sexist asshole. He refused to let me do anything that involved the animals.

He had said women shouldn't do a man's job. First I'd proven him wrong then I slapped him. The relationship is obviously over.

Now, I think I want to set my eyes on sexy military guys. Specifically, one that starts with the letter G.