About As Good As It Gets
by Zoe Nichols
38 pages
/ 15000 words
Available file types - html. lit, pdf, prc
When bar owner Rick Moore goes out for ice cream, he comes back with a
powerful hankering for sweet-faced ice cream scooper Devon Walker. But
he dismisses his interest in the younger man; sure he'll never meet him
again.
Then a chance encounter in his bar leads to an explosive night that has
Devon showing Rick just how grown up he is. Only Devon takes off after,
sure that his burgeoning feelings aren't returned.
Or are they?
Now Rick is determined to win Devon's trust, and him, for good. Will
Devon take a chance on the cowboy or let his hurt keep him safely away?
Sample
All he wanted was ice cream.
Rick Moore pushed open the door to Gil’s and listened to the tinkle of the bell announcing his visit. Inside, blissfully cool air conditioning blew away the sweat he’d accumulated in the short walk from his bar to the ice cream shop.
The Texas summer sun could be one mean sonovabitch.
He weaved his way through the smattering of tables, headed straight for the long line. In his faded jeans, sleeveless black shirt and battered Stetson, he was feeling about as cool as you could get in this damn weather but the ice cream would make everything downright chilly.
Rick crossed his arms as he stood in line, already fantasizing about that first spoonful of Rocky Road ice cream. Ah, man, that was paradise right there, he thought, licking his lips. Nothing could top it, outside of an ice-cold beer and a warm, willing man. Unfortunately, he still had five people to wait through and one woman had three grouchy, sweaty kids.
Rick sighed, shoving his hat back and ruffling his hair. It was going to be a long wait. He let his gaze wander through the place, checking out the red and white '50s style booths and chairs and the matching checkered floor. A long L-shaped display case took up most of the space and Rick leaned against it, tapping a finger against the cool Plexiglass that protected and displayed the buckets of ice cream. He could see his ice cream clearly and his mouth watered.
God, he’d sell his favorite hat for just one damn scoop. One crisp, melt-in-your-mouth spoonful…
"Hello, welcome to Gil’s ice cream parlor," a sweet male voice chirped, pulling him from his thoughts. Rick blinked and looked around. When had he gotten to the front of the line?
"Sir? Can I get you something?" Rick finally glanced towards the owner of the voice and felt his groin tighten on cue. Oh yes, he almost purred. You can give me something all right. The speaker was slender as reed, pale-skinned and couldn’t have been past the age of twenty with a mop of dark brown hair and leaf-green eyes. On his red polo was a tag reading "Devon."
The kid was so fresh-faced, he was shining like a newly minted penny.
Still, those green eyes drew Rick in and, bracing a hand on the pale red plastic counter, he smiled into them, his muscles tightening when those eyes suddenly grew a little uncertain and warm. Oh yeah, he was feeling it too, that bite of chemistry that was warming him despite the chill in the air. "I’d like a sugar cone of Rocky Road," he drawled and before the boy could blink, he dragged his finger along Devon’s pert nose. "Double scoop."
Devon jerked backward, flushing. His mouth reminded Rick of the classic Cupid’s bow, plump, pink and pouty. Before, he’d craved ice cream. Now Rick found himself lusting for a taste of that sweet mouth.