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| Site contents Copyright © 2005-2015 Bridget Midway All Rights Reserved |
"Bitter Ball"
Danika couldn’t contain her laughter. The thought of this over six-foot tall hick from the sticks in
panties would forever be burned in her thoughts.
“Stop kidding around.” She stopped in the middle of her bedroom with her back to him. “Zip me up,
please.”
“I must be off my game.” G.T. touched her shoulders. “I was hoping you were going to ask me to pull
the zipper down.”
“Cute. Save your charming lines for the single women tonight.”
“Last I checked, you are one.”
His warm hands on her flesh seared her skin. The touch caused her to jump and raised her body
temperature to nuclear level. And since when did his voice sound so deep and seductive?
“Um, yeah, I mean, yes. Single but looking.”
Danika must be coming down with a cold or something. First the reaction at the door and now how she
felt about G.T.’s touch all had her wondering what was going on in her head.
She chewed on the inside of her lower lip to try to calm herself. Although the dress hugged her body, it
did manage to hide her quaking knees.
What the hell was happening to her? She’d never found G.T. attractive before. He had a nice, rugged
appearance that some women found appealing. For Danika’s liking, she wanted her men to be clean-
cut, wearing suits at work and playing golf on their off time. That countenance matched hers, not some
guy in jeans and T-shirts.
Seeing him in his normal denim attire tickled her. Only G.T. could get away with that.
“What in the world do you have on tonight?” Danika asked.
“It’s what I normally wear.”
“I know. You know this ball is a formal affair.” She put her hands to her hips like a scolding mother. It
would be difficult for her to hook him up with a good woman when he looked like the hired help.
“Honey, it’s not about how you come to a party. It’s what you look like when you leave.” His big belly
laugh made Danika smile. “For the last four years I’ve done the monkey suit thing and it has gotten me
nowhere. This year I’m going to be myself.”
No wonder her mother loved him. He was following Tova’s advice about wearing whatever he wanted.
No matter what G.T. did, he never seemed out of place.
Being comfortable in his skin was a trait Danika wanted in a man. However, she wasn’t looking to G.T.
to fill that empty spot.
The difference in color had nothing to do with it. Since the first day, Danika and G.T. shared the same
fondness for a lot of things, including classic movies from the 1980s and their love of cooking.
“What’s your plan of attack tonight? Knowing you, I know there is some sort of list.”
Not being able to stop herself, Danika glanced to the side at a list taped up to her dresser mirror. She
brought her gaze back to the front but it was too late. Gauging from G.T.’s amused laughter, he must
have seen it.
“I knew it. Probably has mundane things on there like ‘Brush my teeth’ or ‘Give myself positive
affirmations.’”
“Nothing wrong with pumping yourself up for an event.” Danika squeezed her eyes shut. She might as
well have said that both of those items were on her list.
G.T.’s laughter continued until his infectious joy made Danika smile. He let his hands travel down her
arms in such a slow motion it was as though they were lying in bed and he was caressing her there,
making her feel sexy and special. The hairs stood erect on her arms and at the back of her neck. Her
heart pumped harder than it did during her workout.
Danika should have told him to stop touching her, swat his hand and put him in his place. If the intimate
contact didn’t feel as good as it did, she would have.
She closed her eyes and tilted her head back. Just as a moan was traveling up her throat and
threatening to escape her mouth, she snapped her head down and stared straight ahead again.
“Keep talking like that and I’ll tell your girlfriend on you.” Danika laughed as a way to lighten the mood.
G.T.’s hands stopped at her elbows. “Girlfriend? What stories have people been telling you?” His large
hands coasted down to her waist. “You know I’m not seeing anyone.”
“So no Miss Georgia Peach or Miss Dairy Farm Girl for you?”
He playfully plucked the back of her head. “I do have some standards. I’m going for Miss Virginia this
year.”
“It’s all about supporting local businesses, right?” She snickered. “What happened to that nice woman I
set you up with?” Danika tried looking over her shoulder at him but didn’t want to seem too obvious
that she wanted to catch his reaction.
“Hannah the horse lady?” G.T. laughed. “There was a different type of stud she was into. She was all
about her horses. I love my animals but that woman really loved her animals.”
“She seemed like your type.”
“And what type is that?”
Danika didn’t want to say because she had seen both of them in jeans and with their southern drawls,
she thought they would have a lot in common. “Because she does the same kind of work that you do.”
G.T. leaned closer to her, evident from the way his chest rested on her back. She felt his head by hers.
The bill of his hat brushed the side of her head. His warm breath feathered by her face, forcing Danika
to hold hers.
“I guess you don’t know as much about me as you thought you did.”
His whisper in her ear buckled her knees. Her breath quickened. Those pesky bees returned in her
belly.
Exhaustion. That had to the reason for her new condition. When G.T. pulled back, Danika released her
breath.
“I should be at home tending to my poor cows. They don’t like the cold weather. Or maybe I’ve gotten
them spoiled.” His laughter rolled like a tumbling boulder.
“A spoiled cow. Does that mean the milk will be--”
“Don’t say it.” G.T. cut her off. “And no, brown cows don’t make chocolate milk.” He pulled up her
zipper.
The sound of each tooth catching in the zipper echoed in the quiet room.
“So if you shake a cow, will you get--”
“And here I thought you were smart.” In a surprising move, G.T. grabbed Danika’s waist and twirled her
around so that she faced him. “Turns out you’re just--” He stopped.
Up close, Danika admired his cleanly-shaven face that revealed his strong jaw line and a deep cleft in
his chin. Usually when she saw him, either at her bank branch or the couple of times she had been to
his farm, he always had stubble on his face, and a baseball cap on his head.
“Turns out I’m what?” Danika held onto G.T.’s arms to steady herself.
He paused as though in a trance before he smiled. “Turns out you’re one of those good-looking
women with nothing going on up here.” He tapped the side of her head with his finger.
“I’m just getting you prepared for the level of conversation you’ll have tonight with your pageant
princess.” She grinned.
“So no yanky my wanky?”
A “Sixteen Candles” reference. G.T. was feeling playful.
“Unless Molly Ringwald is at the party, I bet any woman you talk to tonight will not get that movie
reference.” She held onto his arms.
“I’ll take that bet. Dinner on you?”
The image of G.T. licking salad dressing off of her body popped into her thoughts. She gripped his
jacket sleeves.
“You’re on. And when I win, you’ll have to take me up in your helicopter and do the tour of the city.”
“Done. Shake on it?”
Danika managed to raise one hand. Instead G.T., with his hands still on her waist, twisted her body
back and forth.
“That’s such an old ‘Three Stooges’ joke.” She grabbed his shoulders to stop him. It only made her get
even closer.
“You’re an old woman.”
She playfully pushed his shoulders back, but he continued holding onto her waist.
“And I thought you were a gentleman. Don’t you know you’re supposed to take off your hat in the
presence of a lady, young or old?” She reached for his cap and removed it from his head mussing his
dishwater blond locks.
Danika had to fight to keep from running her fingers through his hair, another unusual reaction.
As she was about to set the hat on her bed, he grabbed her wrist.
“Don’t do that.”
“Why?” She couldn’t break her gaze away from his.
With one of his hands on her waist and the other holding her wrist, Danika invaded more of his space.
Her heartbeat accelerated.
She had to be sick. No way could she be giddy over G.T.
“You’ve never heard it’s bad luck to put a hat on a bed?” He removed his hat from her hand. “I plan on
getting lucky.”
Copyright © 2007 by Bridget Midway. All rights reserved.
panties would forever be burned in her thoughts.
“Stop kidding around.” She stopped in the middle of her bedroom with her back to him. “Zip me up,
please.”
“I must be off my game.” G.T. touched her shoulders. “I was hoping you were going to ask me to pull
the zipper down.”
“Cute. Save your charming lines for the single women tonight.”
“Last I checked, you are one.”
His warm hands on her flesh seared her skin. The touch caused her to jump and raised her body
temperature to nuclear level. And since when did his voice sound so deep and seductive?
“Um, yeah, I mean, yes. Single but looking.”
Danika must be coming down with a cold or something. First the reaction at the door and now how she
felt about G.T.’s touch all had her wondering what was going on in her head.
She chewed on the inside of her lower lip to try to calm herself. Although the dress hugged her body, it
did manage to hide her quaking knees.
What the hell was happening to her? She’d never found G.T. attractive before. He had a nice, rugged
appearance that some women found appealing. For Danika’s liking, she wanted her men to be clean-
cut, wearing suits at work and playing golf on their off time. That countenance matched hers, not some
guy in jeans and T-shirts.
Seeing him in his normal denim attire tickled her. Only G.T. could get away with that.
“What in the world do you have on tonight?” Danika asked.
“It’s what I normally wear.”
“I know. You know this ball is a formal affair.” She put her hands to her hips like a scolding mother. It
would be difficult for her to hook him up with a good woman when he looked like the hired help.
“Honey, it’s not about how you come to a party. It’s what you look like when you leave.” His big belly
laugh made Danika smile. “For the last four years I’ve done the monkey suit thing and it has gotten me
nowhere. This year I’m going to be myself.”
No wonder her mother loved him. He was following Tova’s advice about wearing whatever he wanted.
No matter what G.T. did, he never seemed out of place.
Being comfortable in his skin was a trait Danika wanted in a man. However, she wasn’t looking to G.T.
to fill that empty spot.
The difference in color had nothing to do with it. Since the first day, Danika and G.T. shared the same
fondness for a lot of things, including classic movies from the 1980s and their love of cooking.
“What’s your plan of attack tonight? Knowing you, I know there is some sort of list.”
Not being able to stop herself, Danika glanced to the side at a list taped up to her dresser mirror. She
brought her gaze back to the front but it was too late. Gauging from G.T.’s amused laughter, he must
have seen it.
“I knew it. Probably has mundane things on there like ‘Brush my teeth’ or ‘Give myself positive
affirmations.’”
“Nothing wrong with pumping yourself up for an event.” Danika squeezed her eyes shut. She might as
well have said that both of those items were on her list.
G.T.’s laughter continued until his infectious joy made Danika smile. He let his hands travel down her
arms in such a slow motion it was as though they were lying in bed and he was caressing her there,
making her feel sexy and special. The hairs stood erect on her arms and at the back of her neck. Her
heart pumped harder than it did during her workout.
Danika should have told him to stop touching her, swat his hand and put him in his place. If the intimate
contact didn’t feel as good as it did, she would have.
She closed her eyes and tilted her head back. Just as a moan was traveling up her throat and
threatening to escape her mouth, she snapped her head down and stared straight ahead again.
“Keep talking like that and I’ll tell your girlfriend on you.” Danika laughed as a way to lighten the mood.
G.T.’s hands stopped at her elbows. “Girlfriend? What stories have people been telling you?” His large
hands coasted down to her waist. “You know I’m not seeing anyone.”
“So no Miss Georgia Peach or Miss Dairy Farm Girl for you?”
He playfully plucked the back of her head. “I do have some standards. I’m going for Miss Virginia this
year.”
“It’s all about supporting local businesses, right?” She snickered. “What happened to that nice woman I
set you up with?” Danika tried looking over her shoulder at him but didn’t want to seem too obvious
that she wanted to catch his reaction.
“Hannah the horse lady?” G.T. laughed. “There was a different type of stud she was into. She was all
about her horses. I love my animals but that woman really loved her animals.”
“She seemed like your type.”
“And what type is that?”
Danika didn’t want to say because she had seen both of them in jeans and with their southern drawls,
she thought they would have a lot in common. “Because she does the same kind of work that you do.”
G.T. leaned closer to her, evident from the way his chest rested on her back. She felt his head by hers.
The bill of his hat brushed the side of her head. His warm breath feathered by her face, forcing Danika
to hold hers.
“I guess you don’t know as much about me as you thought you did.”
His whisper in her ear buckled her knees. Her breath quickened. Those pesky bees returned in her
belly.
Exhaustion. That had to the reason for her new condition. When G.T. pulled back, Danika released her
breath.
“I should be at home tending to my poor cows. They don’t like the cold weather. Or maybe I’ve gotten
them spoiled.” His laughter rolled like a tumbling boulder.
“A spoiled cow. Does that mean the milk will be--”
“Don’t say it.” G.T. cut her off. “And no, brown cows don’t make chocolate milk.” He pulled up her
zipper.
The sound of each tooth catching in the zipper echoed in the quiet room.
“So if you shake a cow, will you get--”
“And here I thought you were smart.” In a surprising move, G.T. grabbed Danika’s waist and twirled her
around so that she faced him. “Turns out you’re just--” He stopped.
Up close, Danika admired his cleanly-shaven face that revealed his strong jaw line and a deep cleft in
his chin. Usually when she saw him, either at her bank branch or the couple of times she had been to
his farm, he always had stubble on his face, and a baseball cap on his head.
“Turns out I’m what?” Danika held onto G.T.’s arms to steady herself.
He paused as though in a trance before he smiled. “Turns out you’re one of those good-looking
women with nothing going on up here.” He tapped the side of her head with his finger.
“I’m just getting you prepared for the level of conversation you’ll have tonight with your pageant
princess.” She grinned.
“So no yanky my wanky?”
A “Sixteen Candles” reference. G.T. was feeling playful.
“Unless Molly Ringwald is at the party, I bet any woman you talk to tonight will not get that movie
reference.” She held onto his arms.
“I’ll take that bet. Dinner on you?”
The image of G.T. licking salad dressing off of her body popped into her thoughts. She gripped his
jacket sleeves.
“You’re on. And when I win, you’ll have to take me up in your helicopter and do the tour of the city.”
“Done. Shake on it?”
Danika managed to raise one hand. Instead G.T., with his hands still on her waist, twisted her body
back and forth.
“That’s such an old ‘Three Stooges’ joke.” She grabbed his shoulders to stop him. It only made her get
even closer.
“You’re an old woman.”
She playfully pushed his shoulders back, but he continued holding onto her waist.
“And I thought you were a gentleman. Don’t you know you’re supposed to take off your hat in the
presence of a lady, young or old?” She reached for his cap and removed it from his head mussing his
dishwater blond locks.
Danika had to fight to keep from running her fingers through his hair, another unusual reaction.
As she was about to set the hat on her bed, he grabbed her wrist.
“Don’t do that.”
“Why?” She couldn’t break her gaze away from his.
With one of his hands on her waist and the other holding her wrist, Danika invaded more of his space.
Her heartbeat accelerated.
She had to be sick. No way could she be giddy over G.T.
“You’ve never heard it’s bad luck to put a hat on a bed?” He removed his hat from her hand. “I plan on
getting lucky.”
Copyright © 2007 by Bridget Midway. All rights reserved.