Dogwood Days (16 page)

Zane teased his cock against Jefferson’s hole and groaned. “Stop talking now.”

“Can’t. You’re making me crazy.”

With a gentle push, Zane entered Jefferson and dropped his forehead against Jefferson’s. “Trying to be careful,” he muttered.

“More,” Jefferson replied. He was so far gone it didn’t matter anymore. He hooked his thighs around Zane’s hips and encouraged him to comply.

Zane groaned and pushed in farther, his hips finally meeting Jefferson’s. Jefferson reveled in the fullness, running his hands along Zane’s back and canting his hips up and down to help his body adjust to the sensations.

With his face buried against Jefferson’s neck, Zane began meeting Jefferson’s movements. He picked up speed, thrusting harder, his breaths steaming against Jefferson’s throat.

Jefferson turned his head, hungry for Zane’s mouth, and Zane met his lips with a fierce kiss that demanded more.

His body heated to a fever pitch, and Jefferson reached between them. “Can’t wait, Zane. Can’t.”

He began stroking his cock, whimpering as his body climbed higher and higher. He tensed up as he fell over the edge, crying out. Zane froze above him, his own body shuddering with release as Jefferson trembled beneath him.

With a few final thrusts, Zane slid free and fell to the side. Both of them panted for breath, and Jefferson fumbled for Zane’s arm. When he found it, he tugged it over his waist and sighed. “Wow.”

“Uh-huh,” Zane mumbled against Jefferson’s shoulder.

“I can’t feel my legs.”

“Uh-huh.”

Jefferson let out a pleased little hum and rolled to his side. He pushed back against Zane, who quickly stripped off the condom and tossed it somewhere. Jefferson heard the wet thwack of it hitting the floor.

“That’s disgusting.”

“Uh-huh,” Zane mumbled again. “Shh. Quiet time.”

For once, Jefferson was inclined to agree.

JEFFERSON’S FIRST
instinct after leaving the magazine’s office the following Monday was to call Zane. He got settled into his car and called the sheriff’s cell.

Zane answer with a gruff, “Hey.”

“You busy?”

“Hold on. Carson? Handle this!” There was the muffled shout of the deputy’s reply, then Zane came back onto the line. “Now I’m free. How’d it go?”

Jefferson sighed. “It went really well. They pretty much told me they’d call me with an offer later this week.”

Zane sighed as well. “That’s good, then. I know you think it’s a great opportunity, so I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah. I just….”

“I know. You coming home now?”

Home.

“Yes. Leaving now.”

“I checked. Should take you about three hours and fifteen minutes. You get here in any less than two forty-five, and I’m giving you a ticket.”

“But what if I don’t want to wait two hours and forty-five minutes to see you?”

“Tough. Be careful. You’ve got precious cargo.”

“Aww, there’s my sweet man again.”

“Uh-huh. See you in a few hours. And Jefferson Lee?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re gonna figure this out. Don’t worry.”

But how could he not?

He couldn’t shake the look on Uncle Sherman’s face when he’d told him about the interview. It was crazy. He’d spent the summers with Uncle Sherman for half his lifetime and never worried about leaving. This time it was different. And they both knew it.

He sent Clover a quick text.

Need chocolate. Lots.

I’m on it. When will you be home?

Home. That word again.

About 1. See you then.

He spared one more glance to the modern and perfectly decorated building where the magazine’s office was located, then started the drive back to Holly Creek.

Two hours and fifty minutes later, he pulled into a parking space outside Town Hall and still hadn’t figured out what the hell he wanted to do.

He went into the sheriff’s office, and Selma Jane smiled sadly at him. “He’s not here, honey. Out on a call.”

Jefferson hadn’t even noticed that the cruiser wasn’t parked out front.

“Thanks, Selma Jane. Will you tell him I’m heading to Uncle Sherman’s when you see him?”

“Sure will. You okay, Jefferson Lee?”

“I will be, Ms. Selma. I will be.”

He drove over to Uncle Sherman’s and grumbled at the amount of cars parked out front. So much for wallowing in his misery with a batch of Clover’s brownies. Although he could just sneak down to her house instead of socializing with his uncle’s guests.

He went inside and found the aldermen and the mayor sitting at the dining room table. “Hey, everybody.”

“Jefferson Lee!”

Uncle Sherman pushed to his feet and hobbled over on one crutch to meet him. “How’d it go?”

“Really well. They’ll probably call me with an offer in a few days.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“Yeah. It’s okay. This is a good thing.”

“Well, maybe. Maybe not. Why don’t you come on into the dining room? Say hello to everyone.”

Jefferson followed Uncle Sherman down the hall and into the dining room. He shook everyone’s hand and made sure to stand up straight when Mr. Hartman, the town’s ancient insurance salesmen and the scariest-looking old man Jefferson had ever seen, glared at him.

“I’ll let you guys get back to your business. I’m going to go down to Clover’s for a few minutes.”

“Jefferson Lee, would you mind joining us instead?”

Charles had a very stern look on his face, and if Jefferson didn’t know better, he’d think he and Uncle Sherman were fighting again. Except Uncle Sherman shared the look with Charles, and they both turned their glares to the other three men at the table.

“Um, sure.”

Jefferson sat down in the remaining chair at the table, and Uncle Sherman pushed a blue folder in front of him. Each of the others had an identical one in front of them.

Charles cleared his throat. “Jefferson Lee, your contributions to the Dogwood Festival were greatly appreciated, and your articles on the blog are truly touching and inspired.”

“Thank you, Mayor.”

“As you know,” Charles continued, “Holly Creek depends on the tourism industry for the majority of our revenue.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Unfortunately, with the rest of my duties, I’m not able to spend the time and energy on publicizing our town and its many benefits as some would wish.”

This time Charles did send a heated look Uncle Sherman’s way. Jefferson bit back a smile and nodded sagely at the mayor’s statement.

“As a result, some have decided to take matters into their own hands, and as much as I hate to admit it, have seen a great deal of success.”

The mayor wasn’t really making a lot of sense. Jefferson felt like a big piece of the puzzle was missing.

“Okay?”

“The aldermen and I were meeting today to discuss the feasibility of adding a position onto my staff.”

Jefferson’s gaze darted to his uncle’s, who still didn’t seem all that happy. He was so confused.

“That’s a good idea.”

“Unfortunately, due to the current state of the budget, we’re only able to make a minimum offer to anyone who might be interested in taking on such a demanding job.”

Charles gestured to the folder in front of Jefferson, so he flipped it open.

Director of Publicity.

Huh.

The salary was minuscule. And it was only part time, so there wouldn’t be any benefits.

“Now,” Mr. Hartman grumbled, clearly not impressed with the mayor’s attempts at explanation, “one of our aldermen has graciously offered to host anyone who accepted this position into his own home, offering room and board for the remainder of the year.”

“Good one, Uncle Sherman.” Jefferson grinned at his uncle, who’d finally begun to smile in return.

Mr. Hartman cleared his throat and glared at Jefferson, who straightened in his chair. “Sorry, sir.”

“As I was saying, this position would come with room and board for the remainder of this calendar year. At that time, the aldermen will have had time to present the budget for the following year, and should it be approved, we would consider increasing the position to full time. However, there are no guarantees that such an occurrence will happen, you understand. We’re only speaking in possibilities now.”

Jefferson waited to make sure Mr. Hartman had finished before he nodded. “No promises on the future. I understand, sir.”

“Good boy.”

Uncle Sherman smirked, and Charles coughed through a laugh.

“Mr. Hartman, sir, would I be permitted to submit my resume for this position?”

“Son, I don’t need to see your resume,” Mr. Hartman barked. “I’ve changed your damn diaper, for God’s sake. Just put your uncle out of his misery already.”

“Wait. You changed my diaper? What? When? What?”

“Jefferson Lee, so not the point,” Uncle Sherman said with a smirk. “Gentlemen, I’m sure my nephew will want to take the evening to look over the details of the offer.”

He gave Jefferson an expectant look until Jefferson nodded. “Yes. The evening. Details. You really changed my diaper?”

Mr. Hartman rolled his eyes. “Young man, do not make me regret agreeing with your uncle that this was best for Holly Creek, do you understand me?”

“Yes, Mr. Hartman. I’m honored. Honestly. This is… this is perfect.”

“Good. You’ll be working for peanuts, boy, but we all have to start somewhere. Now I’ve got to get back to the office. Mayor, Aldermen, we’ll meet again once Jefferson Lee has reached a decision.”

Mr. Hartman hobbled down the hallway, his legs bowed with age. The man must be at least a hundred and thirty years old by this point. The other aldermen rose and bade their farewells, then Charles stood.

“Jefferson Lee, I want you to understand that I wouldn’t make this offer if I weren’t sure you were right for the job. You know I respect your uncle’s opinion above all others, but my first loyalty must be to Holly Creek.”

“I understand, Mayor Hollister. Thank you for considering me.”

Charles gave him a polite nod and left the house. Jefferson sank down at the table and stared at his uncle.

“Seriously, when did he change my diaper?”

Uncle Sherman thumped him with one of the crutches and scowled. “Will you let that go?”

“Nope. I’m traumatized. I need to speak to my mother about who she let touch my butt.”

His uncle smirked and then laughed. “Why don’t you call her now? I’d love to hear that conversation.”

“Hmm. On second thought, maybe I’ll just go to a therapist. I’ll end up there anyway, so it’ll just cut out the middleman. Or middle ‘mom’ in this case.”

“Jefferson Lee, I know we weren’t able to offer you a well-paying position. I wanted to, but our resources are limited.”

“I know. And honestly, I’m kind of overwhelmed. I really appreciate it, Uncle Sherman. You went above and beyond.”

“Nonsense.”

“What if they hire someone else, huh? Then you have to put up with some stranger in your house, eating your food. What about that, huh?”

“Read over the offer, Jefferson Lee. I know you’ll make the best decision for you, but I feel better that you at least have an option to stay now. I….”

“I know, Uncle Sherman. I want to stay too. I’ll think about it, I promise. I, well, it’s weird to say, but I really want to talk to Zane about it.”

“Things are getting serious with the sheriff?”

“I, well, yeah. I think they are. How the heck did that happen?”

Uncle Sherman reached across the table and grabbed his hand. “When it’s right, it’s a lightning strike. A one in a million chance, but it lights you up from the inside out.”

“Like you and the mayor, huh?”

“Perhaps, Jefferson Lee. Perhaps.”

Someone knocked at the door, so Jefferson stood and placed a quick kiss on the top of his uncle’s head. “You’re too good to me, Uncle Sherman. I love you.”

“And I you, my boy. Go answer the door now.”

Uncle Sherman sniffed, and Jefferson had to wipe his own eyes as he made his way down the hall. He opened the door to find Clover standing on the porch with her hands full.

“Are you crying? Oh God. What happened? Is Uncle Sherman okay?”

“He’s fine, Cloverberry. Come on in. Just… don’t mind the sentimental saps in here, okay?”

She gave him a quick smile, one of the ones that reminded him why he really did like her so much, and went down the hall. She placed her bags on the counter and gave Uncle Sherman a quick hug. She pretended not to notice that they both were still glassy-eyed and emotional.

“Okay, I brought brownies, vanilla ice cream, chocolate sauce, and whiskey. What do we need first?”

“Brownies,” Jefferson and Uncle Sherman said at once.

“You two are very predictable.”

Jefferson picked up the folder from the table while she was busy getting bowls down in the kitchen and gestured to her with it. His uncle nodded his approval, so Jefferson carried the offer into the kitchen and sat it on the counter.

“What’s this?” she asked while she scooped ice cream onto the brownies.

Jefferson opened the folder and held the paper up so she could read it.

“Oh my God. Jefferson Lee! That’s… well, actually it’s a really terrible offer. Could you even eat on that?”

“I doubt it. Luckily, the offer comes with room and board from a very motivated alderman.”

“Oh wow. And the interview this morning?”

“Went really well. I’ll probably get an offer for at least three times this much plus benefits by the end of the week.”

“Oh wow. What are you going to do?”

Jefferson shrugged. “I’m… I don’t know yet.”

Clover put the scoop down and gave him a big hug. “Talk it over with Zane.”

“Yeah. That’s what I want to do.”

“Here. Eat. Think. But don’t talk. God, you’re annoying when you’re nervous, and you ramble.”

“Hey! Man in distress here. But oh mama, does this smell good.”

Clover huffed and carried a bowl into the dining room for Uncle Sherman.

The brownie smelled really good, but the thought of eating it turned Jefferson’s stomach.

“I’m going to go for a walk,” Jefferson said. He took the offer letter, folded it up, and stuck it in his pocket. He needed to read it more carefully and think this through. Like an adult. Not someone thinking with the little head in his pants.