Chapter 11 The Truth About Tyler

For the next hour, we fool around in the jacuzzi. When it gets close to seven, I run off to go get dressed. I did not really buy clothes for this type of occasion. I slip on a short flowery dress; it shows a lot of cleavage and just barely covers my ass. Back at the main house, Tyler is already waiting for me He looks at me, and the mere sight of me knocks his breath away. "You are going to give Mr. James a heart attack." "Or maybe I turn him on, and he gives it to Mrs. James later." "Jenna! What a disgusting thought to put in my head." I burst out in laughter as his cheeks turn a soft rose pink. "Anything interesting that I need to know about them?" "They had lived here even before I was born./They close to their sixties. They married for almost thirty-seven years." "Shit," I exclaim. "They sound old. What do we talk about?" "Whatever comes to mind." Then the thought dawns on me, "Do they know the crazy lady is coming?" I ask. "Yes." "This is going to be fun." "Play nice and behave." And, of course, he should not have said that "I always behave." "Like last night?" He says as that twinkle in his eye returns. I know for a fact that last night has been a lingering thought on his mind. "Like last night," he repeats. "Exactly like last night." "Just be yourself; they are going to love you." A half an hour later, we are knocking at the James's front door. "Tyler, so glad you could come," Mr. James says as he gives Tyler a firm handshake. "This lovely lady must be Jenn," he turns as he pulls me into an awkward embrace. "Hi Mr. James," I greet the fairly attractive older man." "Please call me Michael; I am not that old yet." From next to him, a beautiful woman with the fairest of porcelain skin appears, "Hi Jenna, Tyler has told us a lot about you." "He has spoken a lot of you too, Mrs. James," she too pulls me into an ever overtight embrace. "Please, it's Sandra," she says. "I am even younger than old Michael here." "I brought some wine," Tyler says confidently as he gets the impression that tonight shall go off well. We all head inside and take a seat at a big brown dining table. There is the prettiest red and orange mixture of roses in the center of the table. The amount of cutlery placed on the table is enough to let your head spin. I move in and sit next to Tyler. "I am dying to know," Sandra says. "Where the wedding dress is?" "Sandra!" Her husband scolds her. "What? Molly told me it is the most beautiful dress she has ever seen." "It's at home," I answer her. "Will you wear it again one day?" "Sandra!" Her husband scolds her again. "What?" She only but waves him off, not paying to his irritation. "I don't really know," I say. "I won't get rid of it, though." "I was so excited when Michael told me the crazy girl is coming for dinner." "Sandra!" Michael slams his hand down on the table "What?" She asks, annoyed. "I could not wait to meet the girl that crashed into town and stole our Sherrif's heart." I nearly choke on my wine, "Sorry, but did you say, Sherriff?" "Yes," Michael confirms. "Poor Tyler had to take over after his father passed away three years ago." "We liked him so much," Sandra adds. "We never looked for another replacement." Tyler is dead quiet. I don't think he knew that these two would out his secret. Should I act annoyed cause he held the truth from me, or do I act as if it is completely normal? He is going to pay; he put me in an awkward position; I am more than happy to return the favor. As they say, karma is a bitch. "So Sherrif Moore," I say with that wicked smile on my face. "It's got a nice ring to it. You awfully young to be a Sherrif, though." My hands run up his leg; all he does is smile. I carry on running it up his inner thigh. He uncomfortably starts moving in his chair, and he looks at me. I run through the seams of his leg, grazing over his growing hardon that is bulging in his pants. I reach the button and start to unzip him. I watch him as he nearly chokes on his wine. "Are you okay there?" Sandra asks "Yes," he clears his throat rather loudly, "The wine just tasted a bit sour for a second there." "You look a bit flustered," I say out of fake concern. "Are you okay?" "Yes," he says through grinding teeth. "I have never been better." I fully unzip him and slide my hand over his bulge until I have his full erection in my hand. I start to sensually rub down his hard length. He swallows hard, and I watch his face turn red. His voice is trembling as he answers his father. I continue to pull his underwear but by bit away and cover my hand over his hot naked flesh. He chokes again. "I think we need a whiskey," Michael offers to a very clear and uncomfortable Tyler. "Yes," he nearly begs out of tormented tension. "I think whiskey would be great." I start to move in even strokes, feeling him grow even harder under my hand. I go to rub my finger around his dripping head. I feel his body tense. I know he is close; he looks at me with a pained expression on his face. He leans towards me and whispers in my ear "Okay, you win." I smile, satisfied, and zip him up. He excuses himself to the bathroom. Dinner goes past without further incident. I make plans to meet up with Sandra later the week for lunch. As we find ourselves later in the car, he looks at me with eyes that are clearly begging for forgiveness. "Can we talk about it?" "About what?" "The Sherrif thing." I lay my hand gently down on his knee, "There is nothing to talk about." I say reassuringly. "Are you not upset?" "No. You had your reasons." "It is one of the reasons that Clara and I broke up." "It's really fine." "Why don't you wear Sherrif clothes?" I ask as I run my eyes up and down his body, imagining how goddamn sexy it must look. The mere thought sends a very aching tingling sensation to my core. "I don't want to be defined by a uniform, either," he answers, the very smile on his face telling me that he knows exactly what I am thinking about. "You one hot Sherrif, though." "I can always do with a hot female deputy." "Fuck, we will never get any work done." "I already don't get any work done with you around." But then there is the other thought that comes to mind, the other thing that Sandra said, "There is one thing we do need to talk about." "Yes?" "The stole your heart part." He goes dead quieter; I can see an edge of unease set over his body. Without any further hesitation, he bluntly answers, "Sandra did not mean anything by it." "Are you sure?" "Yes." "You won't lie to me about it?" Then completely from out of nowhere, he changes the course of the conversation, "I brought something along for you." "What?" "Put the music player on." My favorite song comes blaring through the speakers, "Ah, you are so sweet." He is avoiding my question; I am not going to push him for an answer, not today. It is supposed to be no strings attached, no commitments, no relationships. This can not become any more than it is.