“Come on.” He offered me his hand to help me down from the truck. “I need to check on the plants.”
The door to the warehouse was secured with another pin code and sitting just inside were two men with guns resting in their laps. When they saw me with Huck, they nodded, resuming the business of scrolling on their phones.
The smell was the first thing to hit me. It was potent. Fresh and unmistakably weed. The building was large, and all I could see were rows and rows of green gold. Huge oscillating fans and light fixtures hung from the ceiling, replicating the wind and sun the plants required to grow. While it was at least ninety degrees outside, the low rumble of an air conditioner cooled the building to what felt like seventy. It was also more humid than the dry desert air outside, and I couldn’t imagine the amount of work or knowledge it took to maintain this place.
“You really grow all of this?” I asked as I trailed after Huck.
“I mostly breed,” he rumbled. “The other guys do the grunt work. Rotating, feeding, watering. But I still have to check the crops to see if we need any adjustments.”
As he spoke, he examined several of the plants, kneeling to rotate them. He used his senses while he worked, smelling, touching, studying. I didn’t know what it was he saw, but when he walked back to the front by the guards, he grabbed a clipboard from the wall and jotted down his notes. There was a quick conversation with the guards as Huck instructed them to call Kodiak and make the adjustments. And just like that, we were on our way again.
Back at the house, Huck kicked off his boots, and I did the same with my sneakers, noting how filthy I was. I needed a shower, but my curiosity left me lingering in the kitchen, waiting to see what he’d do next.
“So this is all you guys do?” I sat down at the kitchen table while he poured two glasses of water and brought me one. “You just work and grow weed, and that’s it?”
“What did you expect?” His lip tilted at the corner. “Murder and mayhem?”
“Something like that.” I shrugged.
“It’s mostly quiet around here,” he answered vaguely. “If shit goes down, it doesn’t happen at the compound. That’s a hard and fast law in the club. The guys keep their wives and kids here, so if you’re wondering if you’re safe, I can tell you there isn’t a single place in this world where you’d be more secure.”
“Okay.”
Silence descended upon us, and my cheeks heated as I wondered what was on his mind. Was he still thinking about this afternoon? Had my reactions been normal? I didn’t know the answers to these questions, and it left me feeling off balance.
I didn’t know anything about normal. Wanting someone was a completely foreign concept for me. Even if it was natural, I worried I’d done it wrong. I didn’t know how to just relax and let go. But Huck had a way of making it all okay when his hands were on my body, and everything felt so damn good.
In my mind, I knew I’d try having sex with someone someday, but it had always been a nameless face. A mechanical action. I would lay there while he fucked me sweetly. That image didn’t come close to what happened today. Huck didn’t even penetrate my body, but he penetrated my mind. Nothing about this afternoon was mechanical or routine. I was a slave to the chemical high he provided, and I wanted more.
His gaze lingered on my face as tension bloomed between us. He’d taken nothing from me today. He’d asked for nothing. Secretly, I wanted him to ache for it. I wanted to watch him unravel as he lost himself to the pleasure of what I could do for him.
“Huck—”
“You should go wash up,” he interjected. “I’ll get dinner started.”
My tongue darted out to wet my dry lips, and his eyes flared. I was familiar enough with that expression to know he wanted me. But for whatever reason, he was still holding himself back. As I walked down the hall, paranoia invaded my thoughts. He couldn’t know about my past, could he? Did he know I was the toy all the other men had used up and tossed aside?
My eyes stung as I stood beneath the scalding heat of the shower. It wasn’t really necessary, but I scrubbed my whole body twice. It made no difference, and I knew it wouldn’t. No matter how many times I scrubbed it, I’d never wash away the past.
When I finished, I wiped away the steam in the mirror and stared at myself. I felt empty and alone. It always came back to the surface. My self-worth was entirely tied up in the way I looked. I’d learned from a young age it was the only thing that mattered, and once I had, I’d brandished my appearance like a weapon. But internally, it felt like a curse to have a body men coveted. I often thought that if I didn’t, I would have been gifted with something else. Maybe I’d be appreciated for my mind, or my talents, or anything other than a beauty that would eventually desert me.