Chapter Two
Waylon
“ L andry!” Oakley calls out to the man standing in front of his bar, and something inside of me flares to life that leaves me shaken. What the absolute hell? Why the hell would I care about little Oakley calling out to Landry Peterson?
“Landry, tell him to put me down.”
Her hands land on my ass, of all places, when she props herself up to look around my body at him.
“Uh, Waylon, maybe you should…”
“Maybe you should think long and hard about what you’re going to say next, Landry.”
I narrow my eyes and wait. I have no problem putting Landry in his place since it is his fault Oakley is so fucked up right now.
“I just think maybe you ought to set her down if she doesn’t want to go with you.”
I applaud Landry for taking care of his customers and not letting Oakley go off with just anyone.
“Landry, either I take her home with me, or I take you to jail for the night and charge you with serving alcohol to underage girls. You can’t tell me you didn’t know Oakley isn’t twenty-one. Hell, she isn’t even twenty.”
“Well now, damn, Waylon. Just damn. What the hell am I supposed to do? She clearly doesn’t want to go with you. And I didn’t know the girl was under twenty-one. I can’t keep up with all the girls in town.”
“Landry, stop him!”
I reach up and smack her on the ass. She lets out a squeal and stiffens in my arms.
“Waylon Abernathy, did you just…?!”
“Um, Waylon,” Hell, even my sister is giving me shit, and why does hearing Oakley say my whole name kind of turn me on?
“Look, you called me for help. Now let me handle it.”
“But you smacked her ass.”
I narrow my eyes at my sister and Landry, but it’s not them I have to worry about. Oakley starts yelling at the top of her lungs.
“Help! Police brutality!”
She can fucking remember police brutality but not the fucking word for jail, which is slammer by the way!
“Help! Someone stop him! Someone…”
I smack her ass again and turn only to feel her go limp against my back. “Terry, check on her.”
She goes behind me, and suddenly Oakley is up again with her hands planted firmly on my ass once more. “Help! Police ass…ass…police roughage.”
This time, even I have to giggle at her missing vocabulary.
“I believe the word you are looking for, sweetheart, is assault.” I give her ass another smack, causing her to jolt against me, and the scent that has been teasing me ever since I picked her up like this gets stronger…and sweeter.
Fuck me!
I am not this guy. I am not someone who needs to be thinking about little Oakley Nesbit the way I am right now. I damn sure shouldn’t be aware of the fact that her pussy smells like fucking cotton candy and just got fucking sweeter when I spanked her.
“I’ll take care of Oakley, Landry. You go take care of your bar.”
“Ten-four, Waylon. Ten-four.”
He disappears back into the bar. Once the door is opened, light and music spill out for a brief moment before shutting again and leaving the three of us on the darkened street.
“I can’t believe you would tell on me and have your brother arrest me.”
“You know, arrest but not the word for jail. Or slammer.”
“Slammer? Slammer!” She says the word loudly, as if she came up with it all on her own.
Then it gets worse.
“Slam her. Slam her. Oh my God, Way! Are you going to slam me? Are you taking me back to slam me!? Help! He’s going to take me home and slam me!”
“For fuck’s sake, Oakley, shut up!”
I dump her in the back of my car and wait for Terry to crawl in beside her. Once I’m in, Terry is talking.
“Um, Waylon, can she stay with you tonight?”
“What? No! No, she can’t!”
“But Waylon, she was supposed to stay with me tonight, but there’s no way I can get her upstairs without mom and dad finding out what happened. You know that. And I can’t just leave her alone.”
“No!” Oakley can not stay with me tonight. Not after what just happened in front of Landry’s bar. I’m no perv by no means, but now that I’ve found out what Oakley’s little pussy smells like…there’s no god damned way I’m taking her home with me.
“Please, Waylon. She can stay on your couch. You won’t even know she’s there.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head, but I don’t tell her no.
Damn it! My sister should have been a police negotiator because she has a surprising knack for making people do what she wants them to do.
I’m no exception. This time, however, I have to ask myself if I’m doing this for Terry or if I’m doing this…
for me? And I’m kind of afraid what the answer might be.