Chapter 6
One Week Later
Sun bakes into the barn's rafters, causing the early summer heat wave to ripple off the hay in smokelike curls.
I can't handle this furnace anymore.
I peel my T-shirt over my head, bunch it up, and swipe it over my neck and torso to absorb my sweat.
It's pointless. The shirt is already soaked, so I toss it to the ground. I dump another few hay bales down the chute, climb the ladder, and turn.
Willow barrels into me with no warning. Her hands smack my chest, and her blues snap up to mine like I just caught her red-handed.
"Whoa— Willow?" My hands grip her arms before she topples backward. "You all right?"
Her lips part, and a flush crawls into her cheeks. "Um..."
My brow furrows. "Did I hurt you?"
"No," she blurts. Her gaze drifts to my chest, then the loft, and back to my chest. She mumbles, "I'm great. Totally great."
"You sure?" I question, peering at her closer. Willow's been acting strange the last week, but I blame myself for our awkwardness.
"Yep," she insists.
I slowly release her.
She takes a giant step back. Then her gaze covers the same circuit as before.
"Why are you acting like a mouse who just got caught in a trap?" I tease.
Her cheeks redden further. "I'm not."
"You are," I taunt.
She shakes her head. "I'm not."
"I didn't mean to traumatize you," I offer.
"You didn't," she mutters, then releases an anxious breath and spins away from me. "I'll get out of your hair." She takes two steps.
I follow and reach for her. "Willow."
She freezes.
I step in front of her. "I owe you an apology."
Her eyebrows arch. "For?"
My gut twists. I hate thinking about the events of a week ago or any other encounter I've had with my father.
I suck it up and admit, "I was a total dick to you."
"You were?" she questions.
"Yeah."
"When?"
I grunt in amusement, but then the memory makes my grin fall. I shift on my feet, glance away, then stand taller. "After the incident with my sperm donor."
Her lips twitch. "It's okay."
I shake my head. "No, it's not. You were trying to be nice to me, and I took my anger and frustration out on you."
"You didn't," she claims.
I lean closer, teasing, "Since when are you a liar?"
Her mouth curls. "Okay. You were a dick."
I chuckle. "Yeah. So you'll forgive me?"
She nods, beaming. "Already forgotten."
I lower my voice. "Thanks. Now, tell me how big of a surprise party this will be tonight."
She gapes at me, quickly tries to recover, then unconvincingly claims, "There's no party."
I cross my arms and tilt my head. "You're lying again. Is this going to be a reoccurring thing?"
"Ah..." Her mouth hangs open.
I waggle my eyebrows. "If you tell me how many people are coming, I'll owe you big-time."
She pins her eyebrows together in frustration.
I wait her out.
She asks, "How did you know?"
I arrogantly grin. "Everyone gets a surprise party when they turn eighteen. And whatever your parents do for you and your siblings, they do for me."
She doesn't speak.
"Am I wrong?" I ask.
She chews on her lip.
"Don't bite your lip off. Some punk might want to kiss you tonight, and you'll be all scabbed up," I tease.
Her eyes widen, and the same nerves that filled her expression after she ran into me reappear.
I point out, "You're digging your teeth into your lip deeper."
"Oh. I-I...um..." She looks away and exhales a worried breath.
I chuckle again. "Willow, it's our secret. I promise I'll look surprised. How many?"
She meets my gaze. "Why do you want to know?"
My chest tightens. I shrug. "I guess I'm wondering how easy it'll be to sneak away for a bit."
Something flares in her expression. "Sneak away?"
I glance behind me to make sure no one else is in listening distance. Then I step closer to her, lean down, and tense.
A scent I have never smelled before flares around me, low and sweet, hitting me like dry wood. It's instant and unforgiving. Blood rushes south before I can stop it.
"Jesus. What are you wearing?" I choke out, rough and thick.
She tilts her head upward, meeting my stare. Another flicker I don't comprehend appears in her eyes and then disappears just as quickly. She asks, "What am I wearing?"
The scent intensifies, clinging to me. I'm already pulsing hard enough to ache.
What the fuck is happening?
The longer we stand staring at each other, the worse it gets.
This is Willow.
She's Jagger's little sister.
Jesus, she's like my little sister.
Why is my dick killing me right now?
She inhales slowly, her chest rising, as if trying to steal my attention.
I glance down at her cleavage.
When the fuck did Willow get boobs?
I drag my gaze upward, slowly lingering on her neck, then fixating on her lips.
Since when are they so plump?
I bet my cock would look perfect with her mouth around it.
Son of a bitch. What the hell am I thinking?
"I-I don't understand your question," she sputters, tearing me out of my sick thoughts.
I blink hard and then step back from her. In a harsh tone, I reply, "Nothing. Don't worry about it. So how many people?"
She takes a minute, recomposes herself, and admits, "Few hundred."
"Okay," I mumble.
"Is that good?" she asks.
"Good?" I question, still trying to shake off her scent, but it's like it's permanently seeping into my lungs.
She breathlessly answers, "You know. To um...sneak away?" She pins a look on me that makes me almost come in my Wranglers. Her wide eyes glisten with hope, lashes slowly fluttering just a few times to draw me further in, and her flushed cheeks don't relent.
Sneak...
I straighten up.
Chelsea.
"Oh. Right. Yes. That's good. See you later, Willow." I turn and hightail it out of the barn, passing Jagger on my way to the corral.
"Where've you been?" he questions.
Guilt hits me.
What just happened in there?
"Barn," I answer, continuing to walk.
"Doing what?" he asks.
"Chores. What else?" I snap.
"Touchy, touchy," he chides.
I stop and release a breath. "Sorry, man. Hey, why don't we ride down to the lake?"
He takes a minute, pretends to think, then says, "Sorry. Mom and Dad have a birthday dinner planned for you."
"Right. I forgot."
He glances at his watch. "You should go shower. They want to eat early," he lies.
"Sure. See you later," I say, happy to get away from him, still perturbed over my encounter with Willow.
I avoid the others, going straight upstairs when I get into the house.
I head for the bathroom, and turn on the shower.
I don't bother to warm up the water. My hard-on won't go away.
I'm imagining too many things I shouldn't be.
At least, not when Willow Cartwright is the center of my lewd fantasies.
I step under the frigid water, which barely eliminates my bad thoughts. If anything, being naked only makes it worse. Within a minute, I'm imagining Willow on her knees, sucking me off while I grip the back of her head.
I groan, hating myself and this current predicament, but there's only one thing to do. I pour soap into my hand, then jack myself off until I'm drained of every thought I should never have thought in the first place.
I step out of the shower, wrap a towel around my body, then put my hands on the counter. I stare at my reflection, muttering, "It's never happening. Think of Chelsea."
My eyes stare back at me, void of all the fantasies I used to have of Chelsea. And I don't get it. The girl's our homecoming queen, and every guy wants her. She's finally into me, and tonight was my big opportunity to show her what she's been missing out on.
Now, my mind won't stop returning to Willow's face and that damn look she gave me.
"Think Chelsea," I order myself.
Her face pops up next to Willow's, and I groan.
Nothing about Chelsea feels enticing anymore.
I rush into my room, pull out my phone, and study the photo I took of her. Her brown hair and blue eyes were the highlight and focus of my bedtime routine. I'd go to bed thinking about her and wake up the next morning immediately looking at her photo again. Right now, she seems ordinary.
"The heat has gotten to my head," I tell myself, then toss my phone on the bed. I put on a pair of clean jeans, a fresh T-shirt, and secure my belt buckle. I slide into my nicer boots, grab my cowboy hat, and descend the stairs.
Jacob appears at the bottom.
More guilt, along with fear, fills me. I love and respect the Cartwrights. They're the only family I've ever really had. I would never do anything to risk their acceptance of me.
I just jacked off to Willow's face.
I groan again, only this time, it's out loud.
"Something wrong, son?" Jacob asks.
I hold my breath.
Does he know?
His eyes turn to slits as he peers closer at me.
Snap out of it.
"It's just hot out," I claim.
He nods. "They say this summer will be a record high."
"Really?"
"Yep. Anyway, come outside with me. We've got an issue with Tibby we need to fix," he declares.
"Tibby? What's wrong with her?" I fret, forgetting about my dilemma. The Cartwrights got Tibby for me on my sixteenth birthday. She's a good horse, and I'm unaware of any issues.
"I think she's just overheated. Best if we hose her down. She's in the backyard corral."
"Okay," I agree as I put on my hat and follow him outside. I turn the corner of the house, then stop in my tracks.
"Surprise! Happy birthday!" a crowd shouts, and a band begins to play. Tents cover the lawn, smoke from a pig roaster fills the air, and several bars are set up.
I grin, then laugh. "You tricked me," I state, but it's true. I had forgotten about the party.
His lips twitch. He lowers his voice. "I'm sure you had some idea."
I shake my head. "Nah. You definitely took me by surprise."
He pats me on the back. "Happy birthday. You're officially a man."
"Thank you, sir. And I just wanted to..." Emotions hit me, and I have to pause.
Jacob pats my back again. "We're proud of the young man you've turned into."
"Happy birthday," Ruby sings, then reaches up to hug me.