Midnight confessions, p.1
Midnight Confessions, page 1
MIDNIGHT CONFESSIONS
MIDNIGHT FALLS
TORY BAKER
CONTENTS
Prologue
1. Genevieve
2. Amos
3. Genevieve
4. Amos
5. Genevieve
6. Amos
7. Genevieve
8. Amos
9. Amos
10. Genevieve
11. Amos
12. Genevieve
13. Amos
14. Genevieve
15. Amos
Epilogue
Midnight Falls
About the Author
Also by Tory Baker
Acknowledgments
Copyright © 2024 by Tory Baker
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. No part of this book may be used to create, feed, or refine artificial intelligence models for any purpose without written permission from the author.
Please respect the author and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials that would violate the author’s rights.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover Design: Talina with Bookin it Designs
Editor: Julia Goda with Diamond in the Rough Editing
Created with Vellum
To all those who pick up this book, thank you for giving my words a chance.
PROLOGUE
GENEVIEVE
One Week Earlier
“What do you mean, you need me to go with Amos to Texas?” I ask Sienna, purposely dropping my paint brush onto the tray. The resounding thud in the otherwise quiet area echoes throughout the red-bricked building. Our place, Two Chicks, has come a long way—we’re slowly expanding our storefront to offer other items besides stoneware.
“Trey has to stay back instead of going with Amos. The bison, plus his work at his family’s farm. It makes more sense for my brother to go, and I just so happen to need you to go with him in order to look at a pottery wheel, too.” Okay, this is strange. I’m pretty sure my best friend is setting me up, and not for success.
“You do realize I have no idea about what I’m looking at, and why did you even look at one in Texas when I’m sure there are plenty in a hundred-mile radius?” Ever since we talked about me finding a cowboy of my own, the traitor sitting across from me, who is acting like there isn’t a conniving bone in her body, has been coming up with a plan to push Amos and me together.
“This is practically brand new, used by some hobbyist, realized they didn’t like the craft.” Sienna clears her throat. “Similar scenario, huh?” I roll my eyes at her ridiculous statement. She acts like I spent a fortune when really it was a class that I dropped because the clay and I did not get along. I tried, but my attention span couldn’t deal. I’m lucky painting pottery and stoneware comes naturally to me.
“Yeah, yeah. That still doesn’t help me know if it’s a good deal or not. I have no idea what I’m looking at besides that you put your foot to the pedal if it spins, then it works. And by the way, what’s wrong with yours?” Sienna picked one up when we first started, second hand, thoroughly used and abused, except she said it’d be her ride-or-die forever.
“Oh, I’m not getting rid of my wheel, but she’s getting older, more sluggish, and with the way we’ve been producing, she won’t be holding on for much longer. I figured we could put her in the front and use her for a display. Eventually, I wouldn’t mind holding classes for children, and maybe we can even have an event to paint pottery for whoever reserves a time slot, like you suggested?” Sienna is buttering me up. She knows my soft spot and is using it against me.
“Fine, I’ll go to Texas with Amos. But you owe me, and your phone better be with you, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.” I’m going to have to refill my prescription, just in case. It’s not every day I need the anti-anxiety medicine but sometimes when the world feels like it’s closing in on me and I’m overstimulated. It’s necessary
“Scout’s honor. Oh, and speak of the devil, the guys are here now. I’ll just let Amos know what’s happening.” The back door opens, and Trey and Amos make an appearance. I don’t look directly ahead, averting eye contact.
“Let me know what?” Sienna’s brother makes me nervous, and not in a way that has me wanting to run away either. A road trip with Amos is definitely going to make things rather difficult, for me least.
“That Genny is going to ride with you to Texas. It’s a win-win. You won’t have to ride all that way alone, and there’s a pottery wheel in perfect condition that I’d like you to pick up for me. Pretty please with a cherry on top.” She turns on the charm for Amos.
“Yeah, yeah. I swear my back pays for your grand ideas,” Amos replies. My head is still down, but I can feel where he’s staring, and it’s right at me.
Amos
“Jesus, how much shit does one business need?” I grumble beneath my breath as I help Trey move another damn shelf into place. We’ve been shanghaied into helping my sister and her best friend, Genevieve, with getting their storefront set up. I’m damn proud of Sienna. She’s accomplished a lot. The girl puts her mind to it, and goes after her plan like nobody else I know. Well, maybe myself, but that’s only because what else am I supposed to do? I’ve worked my whole life, and now I’m so used to getting up and working morning till night, it’s become a habit I can’t kick.
“Apparently a lot. Don’t let Sienna or Genny hear you complain. They’ll tell us they can hire movers, and my woman is not doing that.” Trey shakes his head while carrying the other end of what is safe to assume an antique piece of furniture. The thing weighs about a thousand pounds, and my back is pissed as hell at me after hauling hay earlier today.
“At this point, I’d pay the bill myself.” We place it where the girls told us it needed to be before they scurried off. I’m sure they’re in the back, figuring out what needs to go where next.
“Don’t even bring that up. You may not be attached to a female, but I am. Genevieve would get online so fast to hire some young studs, make drinks, and sit back to watch them do all the heavy lifting. And my woman would be right there with her.” I can see this, all too fucking clearly, and while Trey might think Genny would be the ringleader, he’s wrong. Sienna would make the whole scenario come to fruition, making the calls, setting up a time, pulling out lawn chairs until the couches were moved in, and the icing on the cake would be the cocktails and appetizers they’d eat while watching. I keep my mouth shut. Egging Trey on is a good idea until you’re the one walking backwards and he drops the shelf on you.
“Oh, good, you’re almost done.” Sienna walks around the corner with a box in her arms. Genevieve is moving in right behind her, a few pieces of pottery in one hand and plates held against her chest with the other.
“Yep, what else do you two have up your sleeves?” Trey asks Sienna. My eyes go to Genevieve’s, making quick work of the situation since she’s doing some topsy turvy type scenario with the plates, bowls, and coffee mugs. Genny has got it going on with her long curly red hair, blue eyes, skin reminiscent of porcelain, and a smattering of freckles along her cheeks, the tops of her shoulders, and a few doting her chest. It’s rare to get up close and personal to her because she keeps her distance from most people, Trey and me included. Still, I’ve come up behind her, rescuing her from one mission or the other, and got the view for myself. She’s a fucking knockout. The beauty of Genny is, she has no idea how beautiful she is.
“Can you bring in the couches? There should be two, along with the coffee table. The end tables, we can grab.” I head to Genevieve while Sienna points to the back room, where they do the majority of their work. How they’ll swing having a storefront, making and painting pottery all while keeping website orders going is going to be a large task. And I have no damn idea what they’ll do, but I know one thing for sure: there’s a lot I’d do for my sister, but working for her is one of the things I won’t.
“Oh, n-n-no,” Genny says as her footing slips. The clanking of stoneware spurs me into action. Sienna warned me the first time she brought her best friend home that she didn’t do well around big crowds, loud noises, and clumsiness came with the territory. I’ve rescued her from countless moments like the one she’s about to have, and each and every time Genevieve would shy away. Today, it’ll be a fuck of a lot harder to do in a place this small.
“Amos.” Trey is too far away, and I’m two feet from her side. One long stride later has me off-loading the dishes from her hands. A collective sigh seems to echo through the store, though no one is so much as saying a word.
“Thank you, again. Maybe I should just stick to behind the scenes,” Genny says, looking at Sienna. She may be appreciative of me saving her from making a mess, but her eyes are on my sister.
Genevieve Stuart’s baby blue eyes will eventually be locked on mine. When that will happen, is anyone’s guess. For now, I imagine all the ways I’m going to have Genny like I have been since she moved to Arrowleaf after college. I’m as old as Trey, and she’s as young as Sienna. Some might say the age difference is too damn many years, but they can kick rocks, po und sand, and do whatever the hell they please as long as they keep their mouth shut.
“You’re welcome,” I say to the room. Genevieve and my sister are having a conversation without words, a nod here, a quirk of lips there. I get it. Trey and I have our moments when one can predict what the other will do next. Still, it’d be nice to know what is running through Genny’s head right about now.
I’m in for the shock of the damn century. I about gave up all hope, ready to keep my dark and illicit fantasies to myself. Any time Genevieve is at the farm or I’m at Two Chicks, she usually avoids any interaction with me, acting like I’ve got the bubonic plague. Sienna had already given me the lowdown on Genny before she stepped foot inside our house; still, I figured after this long, she’d open up a little bit at least.
“Thank you for saving me.” Genevieve pauses a moment, head dipping downward, taking away the view of her pretty self, then says, “Again.”
My mind goes in a completely different direction when she’s saying that five-letter word and asking for it in an entirely different way. Motherfucker. There’s no stopping my warped mind from diving off the deep end and into every waking moment I’ve thought about Genevieve. Jesus, I’d be in the barn watching as she drives up, and instead of coming to the house with Sienna, she’d be there to see me. That’s when holding myself back would become a problem, one that has me heading to the tack room, unzipping my pants and jacking my cock. Only in my fantasy it’d be Genevieve on her knees, her hands on my thighs, my own holding her head in place while I do the work, rocking back and forth as she sucks my cock. I’d never let myself finish with her lips around my dick. She’d come first, then she could continue using her mouth. I’d help her stand. I am somewhat of a gentleman after all. Then I’d be on my knees next, those flowy skirts of hers coming in handy as I drop to my knees and bury my head between her thick shapely thighs. Our trip to Texas is going to kill me. The small cab of my pickup truck paired with a hotel room… Fuck, it’s gonna take an act of God to keep my dick in my pants.
“Amos, help me out, would you?” Trey breaks through my last thought, annoying me further. He and Sienna could have cleared the room, given me time with Genevieve alone since this is the first time she’s said more than two words to me.
“Pleasure is all mine, Genny.” I tip my head while I’ve still got her full attention. I’m pushing it, there’s no doubt about it, with my next move. The tips of my fingers graze the back of her hand. I expect her to freeze or to leave the room, which is what Trey and Sienna are doing currently. Genevieve does something entirely different: she spins her palm around, touching me for the merest of moments before tucking tail and following the rest of our crew.
It seems she’s not as unaffected as I once believed. I’m tucking that tidbit of information away; I only hope it serves to my advantage sooner rather than later.
ONE
GENEVIEVE
Present Day
“I can do this.” Sienna told me about some of the logistics for the trip, but for the most part, I’ve had to interact with Amos. Thankfully, it’s been via text, and the one time he called my cell, well, I did what any sane woman would do—I let my voicemail pick it up. Maybe if I were a different person, it wouldn’t have been so difficult to get my thoughts together on the fly, except I’m not. I have my quirks, nuances as my dad likes to say, and while sometimes they piss me off to no end, he’s always in my corner telling me I’m perfect the way I am.
I open the door to my car, put one foot on the ground, and am starting to climb out when my attention is captured by someone.
It’s not just anyone.
He’s not just someone.
No, the man who has me stopped in my tracks is none other than the man I’m going to spend the next four days with. Amos Ellison, a tall glass of hot water, a cowboy through and through from his Stetson-wearing self to his worn-in blue jeans and scuffed-up cowboy boots.
Why does he have to look so good without even trying? He’s got a slow gait, a Southern drawl, and seeing Amos in his element is nothing like I’ve ever experienced. Not that there’s much to say about my time with a man in any way you spin it. My one and only time with a guy in college lasted approximately two point four seconds, the pain was excruciating, there was zero finesse, and when he tried to use his thumb on my clit, it felt more like he was smashing it down. The sensation did absolutely nothing for me and had me swearing off guys for the duration of college. Okay, fine, even after college and moving back home near Arrowleaf, there’ve been zero men who garnered my attention.
Until Amos.
I should have known. On the rare occasions I’d be at the Ellison ranch, he’d say hello, and my body would react. Still, I kept to myself, gave him a small wave, a nod of my head, and then left as fast as I came. He let it go, never said a word about the awkwardness I displayed. And as far as I know, Amos didn’t ask Sienna if there was anything wrong with me.
Which leads me to now. I’m stepping out of my car, or attempting to, while psyching myself up for the long haul, and all I can think about is the ropes he currently has on his shoulders, one hand holding the end with a firm grip. I can’t look away. Amos isn’t looking or touching me, yet the way my body is responding, he may as well be scorching my skin, branding me with his presence alone. So, how exactly am I going to manage being in a confined space without turning into a total mess?
My qualities go a little like this: nervous, clumsy mess, hyper focused, artsy, in my own head, and when I’m in a social situation, I’m awkward at best. Ugh, I need to get out of my car and my head. Instead, I pull my phone out of my bag to check for text message. Apparently, we can add procrastinating to the list, too.
Sienna: I know you’re sitting in the car and not getting out right now.
Sienna: You can do this. I love you, and Amos is Amos. He’s the most understanding and relatable person you’ll ever meet. Besides me, of course.
Sienna: Genevieve Alexandria Strickland, are you going to answer me?
I let out a soft chuckle. She’s on a tirade of text messaging me and will not stop, even now.
Sienna: Fine, I’ll call Amos and tell him to check if you’re there.
I start typing, one word at a time, knowing full well the bubbles appearing on the other end will appease her worry wart mind for a moment. Except I hit the back space trying to come up with the right words to say and linger a little longer.
Sienna: I swear to god I’m on my way if you don’t respond.
Me: I’m here. Good grief. I’m in the process of getting out of my car. Yes, I’m working up the courage, but I promise I’m doing the damn thing.
Sienna: Good, I love you, and I’ll text later to check in on you.
Me: I love you, and let’s be honest, you’ll text me sooner rather than later.
Sienna: Okay, fine. You’re right. Now get out of the car and find Amos. You all should be leaving in the next ten minutes, and I know you. You’ve had three cups of coffee already, so you better make a pit stop along the way.
Me: Yes, Mother. Now can I proceed with my day?
Sienna: You may. Send me a text if anything juicy happens.
I don’t respond, choosing to instead roll my eyes and let out a huff and puff of my own. Damn, my best friend knows where to hit, right in the kisser, but also, the last thing I’d ever do is text her about anything that happens between her brother and me. I mean ewww, that’s her brother. Maybe the bare minimum at most.
It's make or break, now or never, and however else those sayings go. I step out of my car, finally, after what seems like forever, then close the driver’s side door and open the back passenger one to grab my oversized bag along with my small rolling suitcase. Maybe I should have brought a bag instead. No way will the wheels make it through the rough and rugged terrain down by the barn. Looks like I’ll be carrying it down to where Amos has the truck parked. The trailer is already hooked up, and from what I can see, he’s just about done.
