A Date with the Other Side (Cuttersville #1)(2)
Author: Erin McCarthy

One day. He’d been in this podunk town for all of twenty-four hours and he hated it. Every dusty, tired, tobacco-spitting inch of it.

And the bitch about it was he didn’t even know what he had done to Brett, his boss, to be inflicted with the painful punishment of inspecting the plant here in Cuttersville, home of nothing. If he didn’t know what he had done, he couldn’t fix it. If he couldn’t fix it, he couldn’t get the hell out of here, and he was going to be forced to deal with country enigmas like Shelby Tucker on a daily basis.

Intolerable.

Having forgotten that he was naked, too busy trying to translate her vague remarks, he glanced down at himself when she made a reference to needing to get dressed. And choked. Holy shit, his dick was caught like a bird neck in a plastic bottle ring. He was surrounded by white lace, the material stretched taut, his skin an alarming shade of tomato red. It didn’t hurt, but it looked dangerous.

Swallowing hard, he tried not to panic. He needed this part of him healthy, for more than one reason. He looked up to see Shelby Tucker struggling not to grin, her arms crossed over her white tank top.

“Need some help?” she had the nerve to ask.

“No.” He tugged a little at the bedspread, hoping it would pop loose without further interference.

It didn’t. Damn. Hoping Shelby wasn’t looking, knowing she was, he stuck his leg up trying to block her view while he used his finger to get between him and the fabric and wiggle it a little.

“Don’t pull so hard, you’ll rip it,” she said. “It’s nineteenth-century lace from Belgium. My great-great-grandmother brought it over as part of her trousseau when she married Otto Stritmeyer. Gran will kill you if you rip it.”

Boston, who had been on the verge of doing just that to free himself, let go and glared at her. Did she expect him to just keep it there indefinitely? Walk around trailing a bedspread between his legs?

“While your family history is fascinating, I’m sure, I don’t know how you expect me to get it off unless I pull it.”

Shelby rocked back on her feet, sticking her hands in the pockets of her denim shorts. They weren’t that short, but he had a nice view of firm, tanned thighs. Overall, her appearance was what he would politely term earthy. No makeup, just smooth golden skin everywhere, a narrow waist, and healthy br**sts, which were clearly visible in her white tank top.

Her hair looked like a pile of brown fur on the top of her head, sun-kissed wisps escaping the inadequate rubber band and tumbling around her cheeks. Big brown puppy-dog eyes were set above sharp cheekbones and pale shiny lips.

Not his type of woman at all.

That was confirmed when she spoke again. “Well, if you just give it a minute to shrink down, you should be able to get it off no problem.”

There wasn’t a single woman of his acquaintance who would have just tossed that remark off to a total stranger. He didn’t like it. Especially not since, by all accounts, his morning erection should have passed by now. He strongly suspected the reason it hadn’t was her.

Apparently women in Cuttersville didn’t find it necessary to wear a bra. It must interfere with tossing hay or participating in watermelon seed-spitting contests. Whatever the reason, she was responsible for his boner hanging on way longer than necessary, and decreasing his chances of ever producing children with each passing second.

“I can’t just order it to sit and lie down like a dog,” he said testily.

She eyeballed him, as if she didn’t quite believe him. Her eyes dropped down to the tented spread. “Were you having a good dream? Geez Louise.”

He supposed that was flattery. “You know, maybe if you weren’t staring at me, we could move things along.”

Reaching behind him, trying not to rock anything and cause further damage, he grabbed his pillow and flopped it down on his uncooperative appendage.

“Oh, sorry,” she said in a tone that clearly indicated she wasn’t. An unholy grin was creeping across her face.

The doorknob rattled again.

Shelby whirled. “Stop rattling that damn knob, Brady, or I’ll rip your tongue ring out.”

Boston heard a disgruntled voice from the other side of the door. “Shit, Shelby, I didn’t touch the doorknob.”

Shelby narrowed her eyes. “Maybe Nanny Baskins wants in.”

Christ, he needed a freaking interpreter between her country accent and her weird and vague announcements. He was starting to think he shouldn’t have rented this house, since the family lunatic seemed to have the run of it.

Shelby added, “Go on home, Brady! Tour’s canceled.”

Right. The tour. She had babbled something about a haunted house tour. “Can you explain this tour to me again? I can’t seem to figure it out.” Since she hadn’t bothered to explain it.

Shelby shrugged. “Cuttersville’s the most haunted town in Ohio. Ghosts all over the place. I run a tour of the most active sites. This house is on the tour.”

Maybe they could go back to when he hadn’t known anything and then his blood pressure wouldn’t be shooting through the haunted house roof. “That’s ridiculous. I rented this house and no one said a word to me about any tour. You’ll have to remove this stop on the tour.”

Her mouth dropped. “You rented the whole house?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Are you married or something?”

Boston wondered if he would ever be not confused again. “No. So? I wanted privacy.”

She snorted. “You won’t get any here. This place is crawling with spooks.” She glanced around nervously. “No offense meant, folks.”

Happily, the insanity of this conversation had caused total deflation. Boston reached under the pillow and worked the bedspread free. He let out a sigh of relief.

“Everything okay under there, Mr. . . .”

He supposed she could know his name since she’d seen him naked. “Macnamara. Boston Macnamara.”

Now it was her turn to look confused. “Which one’s your first name and which one’s your last name?”

Boston flipped his hair out of his eyes. “My first name is Boston.”

“Oh.” Her lips pressed together, like she was holding back. Then she put her hands on her hips. “How’d you get saddled with a name like that?”

So much for her holding back.

He was offended. He happened to like his name. It was different and suited him. “Not that it’s any of your business, but my parents eloped in Boston.”