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  • Writer's pictureAlexis Winter

That Feeling-Sneak Peek


“Tyler, you’ll be manning the mechanical bull this year.”

I tip my hat at Miss Bellows as she reads off the volunteer duties of each of us for the annual Fall Fest in Grand Lake.

My father’s brewery, Slade Brewing, donates the beer tent every year for the fest, and most of us Slades spend at least a few hours volunteering. I usually drive the tractor for the hayrides, but my cousin Axle took that over this year.

“You ready to spend the day surrounded by screaming children, big brother?” Trent nudges my arm with his elbow. “Maybe it’ll finally light a fire in those Levi’s of yours and you’ll give mom and dad their first grandkid.”

He doesn’t look up from the phone he’s furiously typing on.

I chuckle and shake my head, “And why is that left to me? You’re the one with the fancy job and six-bedroom house.”

“Could’ve been your job, remember? Still can.” He smirks, his hand clapping around my shoulder before he spots our dad, Drake, and makes his way over to him to most likely talk shop.

Trent’s not wrong. His title as the CEO of Slade Brewing International could have been mine, and according to my parents, should have been mine. But the idea of being glued to my phone all day while jet-setting from one meeting to another makes my skin crawl.

As the oldest son and heir to the Slade Brewing empire, I get that I probably let a lot of people down when I took over the family ranch instead, but I don’t regret it. Over the last 20 years, the ranch has expanded to 30,000+ acres, nine cowboys, three ranch hands and hundreds of heads of cattle. Someone had to take it over, and it was the one place I always felt I could make a difference.

Financial reports and projected earnings always instantly bored me. I’m still on the board of the company and always will be, so it’s not that I don’t care about it or don’t want it to continue to be one of the most successful breweries in the world—I just don’t want the title or responsibility of CEO. Besides, Trent came out of the womb ready to take that bull by the horns.

I grab a cup of coffee from the refreshments table supplied by Violet from the Bean & Bun bakery in town and walk over to where my dad and Trent are deep in conversation. My dad has a telltale deep V between his brows as Trent gestures animatedly with both arms.

“I’m telling you she’s an expert. She’s young, but that’s what this company needs right now, especially with the recent success of our new seltzer line.” My dad nods at Trent’s comment.

“You guys really can’t not talk business, can you?” I say, walking up beside them.

“I’m just telling dad about the new employee who’s starting on Monday. I’ll introduce her to everyone at the board meeting and she’ll introduce our new social media initiative. I’m telling you, it’s going to be a game changer. She’s fro—” The phone in his hand rings, pulling his attention away from finishing his sentence as he steps aside to answer it.

“That boy is going to have a stroke if he doesn’t relax,” my dad grumbles.

“That’s why you’ll find me out in the pasture. I’d rather herd cattle than people.”

We stand shoulder to shoulder, silence settling over us as we watch families mill about the fairgrounds. My dad smiles and waves at a few people, which is a little funny considering that before I was born, he hated this town and everyone hated him.

We’re not from Grand Lake. Virginia Dale is about three hours north, but my family’s reputation was set in stone back in the early 1900s when their land ownership was brought into question, something that’s long since been squashed thanks in part to my mom, Celeste—a bulldog of a lawyer who came to Virginia Dale as my dad’s new lawyer and never left.

“Your mother ran into Selma the other day. She was asking about you.”

I take a long sip of coffee. My dad has a knack for saying way more than he actually says. His words always carry a much deeper message, even if it’s only a sentence or two. But I’m really not in the mood to discuss Selma again.

“Well, if Selma has questions about me, she can come to me.”

“No second chances there, huh?”


“Okay, son,” he says, patting my shoulder, letting me know he understands and that the conversation is over . . . or so I thought. “Just go easy on your mother if she brings it up to you. She just wants grandkids and it can make her a little shortsighted at times.”

He gives my shoulder a quick squeeze before walking over to man the beer tent.


“What do I get if I win?” The teenage boy I just explained the ride to narrows his gaze at me as I hand him the glove to ride the mechanical bull.

“Bragging rights, kid.” I step over to the controls as he hoists himself up onto the bull. I know for a fact he won’t make it eight seconds; they never do.

Sure enough, about three seconds in, he’s on his back on the cushions surrounding the bull.

“That’s not fair!” He slams his fist down before standing up and walking back to me to return the glove. “That’s so unrealistic.”

“Unrealistic? You ever ridden a real bull, son? A real one would break your back and gore you faster than you can blink. Bessie here is a cakewalk.”

The kid looks at me with horror before bolting over to his group of friends.

“Gee, you really have a way with kids. You’re a natural.”

I turn to my right to see where the breathy voice is coming from when my eyes land on a pair of brand-new shiny cowboy boots on bare, shapely legs.

“Best they know the truth. You can get seriously hurt or killed out here if you don’t respect the land and the animals.” I shake out the glove and stare across the field. “Had to deal with it firsthand with these damn transplants and tourists,” I mutter slightly under my breath but loud enough that she hears.

“Even the fake mechanical ones?” She’s being sarcastic and I won’t lie, it’s fucking sexy. I like a little attitude in a woman. Makes it challenging.

I turn my attention back to the bull, trying my damndest not to notice the way her plump ass fills out her tight denim shorts. Her lips are a shiny red, matching the print of her flannel shirt and her fingernails.

“So what do I get if I win?”

I turn back to face her, an eyebrow instinctively rising as I give her an obvious once-over. “You’re going to ride the bull?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs, “why the hell not?”

She takes off her fake cowboy hat and situates it between her thighs as she pulls her long blonde hair up into a high ponytail, her curls bouncing at the end.

“Just don’t seem the type.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, pushing her full tits together right in my line of vision. She juts out one hip, cocking her head to the side.

“Oh yeah? And what type do I seem like?”

I can’t help but chuckle as my eyes drop back down to her boots. I make no effort to hide my gaze as it slowly travels up her curvy body, pausing briefly on her full hips.

I wonder what it would be like to grip those hips as she rode me.

“Like a little tourist who’s wearing a costume of what she thinks Colorado people dress like.”

“You seem to like it.” A coy smile spreads across her lips as she reaches for the glove in my hand.

“You’re just missing a cow-print vest and a six-shooter, little miss tourist.” I smile and she looks at me questioningly. “Then you’d complete your look of Woody from Toy Story.” She rolls her eyes as I let out a hearty laugh.

“Give me that!” She snatches the glove from my hand and tugs it onto her manicured hand. “I’ve gotten several compliments on my outfit today, so you can suck it.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, sweetheart. I bet everyone was really impressed with your Amazon cowboy hat and belt buckle.”

“Stop flirting with me and go over the rules so I can ride this damn bull.”

Flirting? She thinks I’m flirting with her? Wait . . . am I flirting with her?

“Make sure that glove is on your dominant hand; you’ll grip the strap with that. Your other hand has to be in the air and can’t be touching the saddle or any part of the bull. You can squeeze the bull with your thighs, and here’s a tip: Try to move your body with it, otherwise you’ll just get thrown off and it’ll hurt like hell. I’ll flip the switch and you try to stay on, simple as that.”

“So, you never answered me. What do I get if I can last the entire time?”

“Same as everyone else,” I say, “bragging rights.”

She tilts her head, “That’s not going to work. We need something that will motivate me.”

I hesitate because I know I shouldn’t be flirting with the guests, let alone someone who looks at least a decade younger than me. But I ask anyway . . .

“What do you want?”

She taps her chin and squints one eye like she’s deep in thought. “A date.”

“Done,” I say, and she instantly lights up. “I’ve got half a dozen cousins who would kill to go on a date with you.”

She gives me a look that tells me I can jump up my own ass and I laugh.

“With you.

“Now, why would a pretty young woman like yourself want to go on a date with an old man like me? I could be a serial killer.”

“I guess it would make for an interesting date then.”

She’s quick.


The type that if I had to bet, always gets what she wants.

“Fine. If you can last the entire time, I’ll go on a date with you.”

“And it’s eight seconds?” she asks.

I nod, “That’s the goal. Most people can’t last more than three.”

“Good thing I’m not most people,” she says in that breathy tone again as she steps forward, pausing an inch away from me. “I’ve ridden things much longer than eight seconds.” She drags her teeth across her bottom lip and—fuck me—it sends a lightning bolt to my cock.

“We’ll see about that.” I turn, hoping my hardening dick isn’t visible in my jeans. I watch out of the corner of my eye as she tosses a long leg over the saddle and pulls herself up onto the bull.

Goddamn, I’d love to see her do that stark-ass naked.

“You ready?” I ask, trying to get my mind out from between her thighs.

“Wait! Toss me my hat,” she says. I reach down where she left it and walk it over to her. “I feel like I need to wave it in the air as I ride this bad boy. Get that full Colorado experience, ya know?”

I roll my eyes and walk back over to the controls, ready to flick the switch and put her in her place . . . on her back.

The bull starts slowly, but with a few quick bucks and twists, it’s running wild. A huge smile spreads across her face as she squeals. I glance at the stopwatch.

Four seconds already.

She rolls her body with the bull like a pro, even keeping a firm grip on her cowboy hat that she holds high over her head.

I look at the watch again. Six seconds.


I check the controls and she’s on the hardest setting. She whips forward then backward, falling to the side of the bull before landing on her back in a heap on the ground. Laughter erupts from her as she stumbles before standing up to run over to me.

“What’s the time?” she asks breathlessly, her ponytail falling haphazardly to one side.

We both look down at the watch where I’ve stopped it.

“Nine seconds!” she shouts before dancing in place. “Looks like you owe me a date.” She shoves her hands into the back pockets of her shorts as she looks up at me, her chest rising and falling rapidly with excitement. It’s just now that I’m noticing how much my 6’3” frame towers over her.

“Looks like I do,” I say, still in disbelief.

“I’ll come find you later to set it up.” She pulls the ponytail out, her hair falling in shiny waves down her shoulders, before putting her hat back on. She takes a step away before turning back to look at me over her shoulder. “Not too bad for a little tourist, huh?” She winks before walking off.

I’m clenching my jaw tightly. I don’t know what just happened, but it’s been a long while since I’ve had that kind of visceral reaction to someone. I didn’t even get her name and I’m supposed to take her on a date.

I shrug it off. I live three hours from here and there’s no way in hell she’s even heard of my town or knows where it is. I’ll be long gone tonight and I’ll just be that mysterious cowboy who promised her a date then disappeared. A fun story for her girlfriends back home—wherever that is.

I try to focus the rest of the day, but it’s hard knowing she’s somewhere around here. Every once in a while, I catch myself glancing over my shoulder trying to find her.

By the time I’m done for the day, the sun is setting and I’m exhausted. Ranch life never sleeps, so I know I have to be up bright and early tomorrow morning . . . and I still have a long drive back home tonight.

I turn off the bull and leave the key with Miss Bellows. Normally, I’d walk around and tell my dad and brother I’m leaving, then say a quick “good night” to my cousins, aunts, and uncles scattered around here, but I don’t want to risk being spotted by what’s-her-name from earlier trying to nail down the details of our date.

I pull my hat down a little lower and pull my jacket tighter as I walk across the field toward my truck. I reach for the handle just as I hear the crunch of gravel. The steps quicken as I swing the driver’s side door open.

“You’re not trying to bail on me, are you?”

Fuck. She found me.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I smile as I turn around to face her.

“You sure? Kinda seems like you are.” She steps closer to me and I close the door, casually leaning against it with my shoulder.

“You having second thoughts?” I ask, hoping she says yes, but she slowly shakes her head no.

“Tomorrow night? I’ll meet you at the Lariat here in Grand Lake at 7. Deal?”

She’s doing that thing again—shoving her hands into her back pockets as she bites her bottom lip. She looks up at me through her eyelashes as she steps a little closer, her breasts so close to touching me, I can feel heat radiating off her body.

She knows what she’s doing to me. It’s evident by the little smirk on her face. “How do I know you won’t just stand me up?” she asks.

“You don’t.”

I can smell her sweet perfume. I’m clenching my jaw again, but I can’t will myself to relax when she’s standing this close to me.

“Maybe I should entice you not to flake on me.” Her words are barely above a whisper as she rises up onto her tiptoes and places her lips ever so softly against mine. She leans against me—her breasts smashing against my chest—and I swear I can feel her nipples harden.

She breaks the kiss, stepping back just as quickly. “See you tomorrow.”

She spins on her heels to leave, and I know I shouldn’t, but I dart my hand out and grab her arm. I pull her back toward me, with the sound of her breath leaving her body in an audible huff as she slams against me. I spin her until her back hits the door of my truck and I plant my hands on either side of her face. I lean in, taking her lips with my own. My tongue snakes inside her mouth, lapping at her. She whimpers and nips at my tongue, causing me to pull back.

“Maybe I should entice you to not fucking tease me,” I say through gritted teeth as I press my hardening cock against her lower belly.

She giggles and I drop one hand to her shoulder, running my fingers over it and up around her neck. I watch as her smile fades, her mouth falling open as her eyes grow heavy-lidded in an instant. It only spurs me on as I tighten my fingers a little, the pads pressing firmly against her warm skin.

“And how would you do that?” Her eyes are still locked on mine, and it makes me want to exert dominance, control her.

“Maybe I should bend you over the bed of my truck and really test your earlier statement about being able to ride something a lot longer than eight seconds.”

She swallows, and I can feel her throat constricting against my hand that’s still wrapped around her.

“Or maybe,” I say as I lean in and nip at her earlobe before sucking on it, “I should have you drop to your knees and see if you suck as good as you run your mouth.”

She brings out a side of me I haven’t expressed with anyone before. I don’t even know her, but something about her makes me want to strip myself bare and lose myself in her.

I can feel her trembling against me. I’m not sure if it’s from fear or excitement or both, but instead of finding out, I release her, stepping back to put some space between us and regain control of myself and the situation.

“Tomorrow night,” I say as I reach around her to open my door again and climb into my truck. I don’t look back—I just leave her standing in the parking lot as I head home.

I feel like a complete asshole knowing full well I have no intention of following through on our date plans. It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that I have no interest in getting involved with a tourist who will just be gone in a week or two. I did that a lot in my twenties and it seemed fun at the time—the no-strings-attached sex and all—but it just left me feeling empty. The sex was mediocre at best and often unsatisfying . . . although with her, I can just about guarantee it would be fucking amazing.

I turn up the radio and let my mind drift to the million and one things I have to get done before I head into the office tomorrow for our quarterly board meeting. Trent has some new endeavor to present to us, and a new staff member to onboard. Once I make it home, I shower, eat some leftover pasta, and pass out.

I’m up before the sun, like clockwork. I have a cup of coffee, some oatmeal, and fruit, then head out to check the cattle and get the cowboys going for the day. Ranching ain’t for the weak of heart or mind. It’s tough and lonely, but I find serenity and peace in riding my horse through the pasture as the sun comes up over the mountains.

By the time I’ve made the drive into the brewery office, I’ve been up for more than three hours. Ranger, my right-hand rancher and cousin, doesn’t need much direction when it comes to managing the cowboys and the day-to-day tasks. He knows that when I go into the office, he can reach me if need be, but more than likely he’ll be just fine.

“Mornin’,” I say to my brother as I walk into the board room and head straight to the coffee and donut station—the one good thing about coming into the office.

“Good morning, sunshine!” Trent slaps me on the back, his annoyingly chipper voice right in my ear. “Nice to see you in the office; glad you dressed the part.”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I take a bite of my donut and look down my body at my black jeans, boots, and flannel.

Trent just laughs and steps over to where several other board members have gathered, including my dad and my Uncle Colton.

I grab my coffee and take another bite of my donut, taking a seat at the table. I don’t socialize much at these things, not because I’m too good for them, but because I hate talking business. I stay up-to-date on all of the brewery-related decisions and finances, so I’m not just a useless vote on the board who collects a dividend check every month. I care about this company; it’s my dad’s legacy, after all. I just don’t like all the small talk and office bullshit.

“Good morning. Got a little glaze on your lip.”

A familiar breathy voice pulls me from my thoughts as a warmth spreads through my body. Instinctively. I put my hand up to my lips to wipe away the sugary crumbs from my donut as I whip my head to the right . . . and there she is.

Little miss tourist sitting at my boardroom table.


The look on his face right now is priceless.

“The fuck are you doing here?”

“Well, that’s one helluva way to greet your new boss,” I smile.

“Excuse me?” The donut in his hand is paused halfway to his mouth and I can see his brain trying to figure out what’s going on. It’s cute, and I’ll savor it a few more seconds before he finds out who I am and what I’m doing here.

“Do you have an issue with having a female boss, Mr. Slade?” I bite the end of my pen, goading him. “That’s not very progressive of you.”

“What the fu—Trent, what’s going on?” He drops the donut and stands up, shooting his chair across the floor.

“Hey, I see you’ve met our new social media strategist.” Trent gestures toward me as he walks over to where Tyler is standing. “Brooklyn, this is my older brother, Tyler. Tyler, meet Brooklyn.”

I can see the wheels turning in Tyler’s brain as he’s still trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

“Why’d she say she’s my new boss?” Tyler looks frantically to Trent for clarity, and it causes both of us to laugh.

“She’s kidding, Tyler.” Trent arches an eyebrow at his older brother. “Your last name is the one on the building, remember?” He playfully taps Tyler’s elbow before walking to the front of the room to start the meeting.

“Good morning, everyone. This is our Q3 board meeting for Slade International Enterprises. I want to start out by introducing our newest team member, Brooklyn Dyer.” Trent gestures toward me and I offer up a pleasant smile and wave.

“I met Brooklyn this last spring at the annual wine and spirit trade show back in Chicago. She was basically running the entire thing and went above and beyond to make sure every booth had what they needed and then some. When we ran into a small emergency, Brooklyn herself ensured it was resolved.”

I blush a little at Trent’s words. He’s not wrong, though. We were severely short-staffed for that event, and while I was only supposed to be managing the social media aspect of the event, I took over a lot of the organization and day-to-day duties.

“She not only graduated top of her class from Northwestern in both undergrad and grad school, but she was also hired by the Chicago Cubs before she even graduated. Brooklyn is the younger generation that will breathe new life into this company.”

The men in the room actually applaud, leaving me to fiddle nervously with the pen in my hand.

I can feel Tyler looking at me. I glance up just in time to catch his eyeline. He leans over so he’s close enough to whisper. “Should I mention that you’re also an accomplished mechanical bull rider?”

I glance back to Trent, pretending to ignore Tyler before raising my hand. “I’d also like to mention that I was able to ride the mechanical bull for a full nine seconds at the annual Fall Fest in Grand Lake yesterday, one of my proudest accomplishments.”

The room erupts with laughter and clapping. “She’s already fitting in out west,” an older white-haired gentlemen says with a smile.

I lean back in my chair and slowly swivel it so I’m clearly looking at Tyler. I give him my best smile and flick my hair over one shoulder.

“She can give you all a much better introduction and insight into her first project here. Brooklyn?” Trent stretches his hand out to his side for me to come join him.

“Thanks, everyone, for the warm welcome. It truly means so much to me coming into such an established and successful company like Slade International.” I turn to Trent, who is about to take a seat. I grab his arm to stop him.

“I want to say a massive thank you to you, Trent, for taking the time to talk to me at the trade show in Chicago and for having faith in me so quickly—by offering me this job. I can’t thank you enough.”

The members clap again and I can feel Tyler’s eyes on me. I look over to where he’s sitting and his gaze has fallen to where my hand still rests on Trent’s arm. I instantly let go of it, his eyes finding mine.

When I saw Tyler at the Fall Fest, it was the first time I’d seen him in person. Through my research of the Slade family and business, I’d found a few photos of Tyler that instantly made me curious about him. He’s obviously attractive, tall, and built like he works the land. He’s rugged with dark brown eyes and even darker hair. Today he’s clean-shaven, but yesterday he’d had a few days’ worth of growth that had me wanting to reach up and feel the scruff.

I couldn’t find an exact age, but I know he’s at least mid-to-late thirties. I’ve always had a thing for older men. Today is the first time I’m noticing the gray coming in a little at his temples and the smile lines around his eyes. It gives him character. He looks exactly like a younger version of his father, Drake, who is by far the most handsome 60-year-old I’ve ever met.

I have to will myself to look away from Tyler—the moment feels so intimate and everyone’s witnessing it. I can feel a small bead of sweat at my hairline. It’s funny how I felt so in control of the situation last night when I was shamelessly flirting with him, but in the light of day, in his board room, I feel like I’m two seconds away from becoming a puddle on the floor.

“Like Trent mentioned, I’m from Chicago, born and raised. Go Cubbies! I studied marketing and social media in college, and growing up with the internet and right on the bubble of social media, I feel like it really allowed me to fully immerse myself in this world and know what people are looking for when it comes to advertising, engagement, etc.”

I keep my eyes moving from person to person around the table, avoiding settling on anyone for too long.

“During my research, I was incredibly impressed with how quickly Slade Enterprises grew from a microbrewery with two beers into an international beer and liquor company that now offers very high-end, small-batch whiskeys, plus more than seven beers and even more seasonal beers, and now seltzers. Not to mention the presence you have not only inside Colorado, but across America. Since Slade is the official beer of the professional sports teams here in Colorado as well as on tap in several chains throughout North America, I think the new contract we just signed with Top Tier Foods Limited will take us to heights we’ve never imagined.”

I grab the remote control from the table and click it, changing the screen behind me from the Slade Brewery emblem to my first slide.

“Here you can see the list of restaurants and bars owned by Top Tier, along with the number of locations they have in each state. While we’re rolling into these restaurants and bars with on-tap options, tastings, and branding, I’ll be heading up a massive nationwide campaign that will introduce us and our partnership with these restaurants.”

I work through my PowerPoint, my nerves decreasing as I see the genuine interest and surprise by the members around the table. I’m a confident woman and I know I have the work ethic and knowledge to be successful at this job, but it’s always intimidating when you’re trying to convince a room full of men—some old enough to your grandfather—that you know what you’re doing and can be trusted.

“I’ll be heading up an intense campaign over the coming weeks and months that will focus on getting the Slade name out to a wider audience—one that isn’t just beer or whiskey drinkers. With the extremely successful launch of the Mountain Waters Seltzer line in June of this year, we can strategically focus on marketing to millennials, a practically untapped market with Slade beverages.”

I finish up my presentation then exit the room so that they can carry on with their quarterly meeting. I walk down the hall to where my new office is located. Trent gave me a tour earlier this morning. I take a seat in my chair and let out a long sigh. I’ve been incredibly tense and nervous about that presentation for the better part of a month.

My view is breathtaking. Coming from Chicago, a lot of people think a view of the lake or a view of the skyline is breathtaking, but this view blows all of that away. It’s what I’ve been dreaming of. I may only be 26, but I’ve spent my entire life in the city and I’m ready for a slower-paced life I can actually appreciate. I make good money, but I’ve always been too busy to actually enjoy that privilege.

“You killed it!”

I spin around in my chair, my thoughts interrupted by Trent standing in my doorway.

“Did I?”

“Absolutely. They couldn’t stop talking about how impressed they were with you and your ‘gumption,’ as my dad likes to say. I told you they’d be on board with it.”

I feel my shoulders finally fall from my ears as a genuine smile spreads across my face.

“Now we just have to convince Tyler about the plan,” Trent says tentatively.

I grimace at that thought. I know I can be convincing, but this is work. I’ll keep it professional and not flirt my way into getting him to be on board with what Trent and I talked about.

“Oh, speak of the devil. Hey, Tyler, come here for a second!” Trent is looking over his shoulder back down the hallway. A few seconds later, Tyler is the doorway and Trent is ushering him into my office.

“We have something we want to run by you.”

Tyler’s hat is pulled down a little lower today, but I can still his eyes under the brim. He does that thing again that’s so weirdly sexy, leaning his shoulder against the door jamb. He casually crosses his arms over his chest and it emphasizes his bare forearms. His sleeves are rolled up and I can see the dark hair peppering his tan skin. He has forearms like a baseball player, something I didn’t notice last night when he had his long, calloused fingers resting against my neck. Instinctively, I reach my own hand up and rest it delicately at the base of my throat, and it instantly garners his attention. His eyes settle on my hand before slowly raking up to my eyes.

Goddammit. Why does it feel like this man is always undressing me with his eyes?

“Make it quick. I’ve got to be at a cattle auction in Fort Collins in less than an hour.” His tone is clipped, his deep, gravelly voice doing all sorts of things to my insides.

I glance quickly at Trent then back to Tyler. “Okay, here goes.” I place my hands on my desk, folding then unfolding them. “We want you to be the face of Slade Enterprises International.”

“The what now?”

“The face. Like, the spokesperson. You remember the Marlboro Man?”

Tyler’s head slowly falls back and he lets out a full belly laugh. “Funny. He put you up to this?” He points to Trent then shakes his head before pushing off the doorway. “I gotta get goin’.”

He turns to leave but I stand up. “It’s not a joke, Tyler. We’re serious.”

His eyes dart from me to Trent, who gives him a huge grin and grabs his shoulders.

“Time to get a haircut and some new clothes, brother. You’re a model now.”

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determinant logic
determinant logic
Mar 06, 2023

Infidelity truly hurts and is more like the worst betrayal from someone you love and trust. I found phone records for my husband that showed 3 calls to a number I didn’t recognize. I was snooping because I suspected he had been involved with the hookup girls, we hadn’t been intimate in a while and constantly stayed out late. Thanks to this Software Genius hacker at "hackingloop6@gmail .com" who hacked and gained me remote access to his phone activities. The phone calls happened on a day that he was missing for about an hour when I was trying to contact him to pick up my Son. I accessed their texts and call records and it was a hooker named Katherina.…

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