2. Dylan
It”s typical.
The same as always. I stare at her until my eyes narrow, and the rest of the world fades. Any hint of joy I”d seen in her dancing fades now that Parker is here and needs her attention.
The second I find some common ground with Lara, we”re interrupted. The second we head past the giant cage of friendship, someone or something takes her away from me getting anywhere.
And she”s so damn beautiful.
She always has been, but now that she”s growing into her long legs and the baby fat has melted from her face, her beauty makes sense. The long, straight dark hair down to her waist and her sharp light-green eyes… she”s here to break hearts.
The way she”s always a second away from breaking mine.
Now she”s worried that I”ll crack, that my feelings for her, the longing, will shift into something dark and dangerous. It”s her worry that forces me to push everything down in a tiny box in the back of my head. Like I always do when it comes to her.
”Come on.” I shoo her toward the driveway and the waiting flashy red sports car I want to kick every time I see it. ”Let”s go say hi to Parker.”
”You really should get back to the party and enjoy yourself,” Lara insists.
Even the way she says my name…
I wish I were Parker.
It”s not jealousy because Lara has had boyfriends in the past. Just like I”ve dated girls. Parker has money. He”s got the attitude and the future stretching out ahead of him where he can be whatever he wants.
But he”s the one who feels her long legs wrapped around him. He”s the one who gets to sink into her heat and hear those cries I”ve only imagined. My dick gives a short, sharp twitch, but my mouth dries to remind me to keep those thoughts to myself. My fantasies have no business here.
How often I”ve wondered about her lips wrapped around my dick doesn”t matter. It”s never gonna happen.
When we round the corner of the house, Parker is already out of the driver”s seat and leaning against his car with his arms crossed over his chest. Typical. He likes to make an entrance and have all eyes on him.
”Took you long enough,” Parker admonishes the second he sees us.
Always trying to make a scene, that one. He unfolds himself as he shoves off the car. Pretty boy asshole.
”I”m not at your beck and call, Parker. It”s my sister”s birthday.” Lara lifts onto her tiptoes to press her mouth to her much taller boyfriend”s lips. It”s a simple, quick caress, but I feel it straight to the tips of my toes. ”Glad you were able to make it.”
His arm wraps around her waist in a possessive gesture, and he meets my gaze over her head, kissing her deeper than necessary.
”Sorry, babe,” he replies when he leans back. ”I wanted to see you earlier, but you know how I feel about crowds. And kids.”
Coward.
”You wanna take a walk? Get some air together?” He splays his hand along the small of her back before dipping lower toward her ass, a proprietary gesture.
I want to rip his throat out and mask every bit of it with a calm smile.
”Hey,” I call out. ”Let”s go check on the horses.”
Parker will hate that.
He”s better off going home and leaving Lara with me.
Much to my surprise, he takes the bait. ”Sure.”
Lara”s horse, a bay-colored Quarter Horse mare she”ll ride in the rodeo, is stabled with the rest of the brood.
Parker links his fingers through Lara”s and lifts her knuckles to his lips for a kiss as we head toward the stable. The silent game between the two of us doesn”t go unnoticed. He”s touching her because he knows it makes me angry. And the only reason he decided to come down to the stable was so Lara wouldn”t be alone with me.
It makes me more determined to win the rodeo, even if Lara doesn”t stick to the bet and kiss me.
”What”s her name again?” Parker asks when I tune back in. ”Cocoa Puff?”
Lara laughs lightly. ”Coco Chanel. Like the famous designer.”
I step ahead to hold the door open for her, grimacing and stifling a growl when Parker steps inside first.
The horses in the closest stalls nicker their greeting.
Familiar molasses, oats, hay, and horse flesh scents wind through my system. They usually calm me, but I can”t concentrate right now. Especially not when Parker touches Lara”s ass, and the material of her short dress lifts, exposing even more of her long thighs.
”You think Coco Chanel is going to grab first place?” I ask Lara.
She tastefully swats Parker”s hand away and walks to her horse”s stall. The mare has her head over the door, lips searching for a treat.
”Of course, she will.” Lara sounds assured. ”She”s the best out there, and she”s going to have the best rider.”
I”ve seen Lara”s skills. She”s telling the truth.
”If you keep going, you”ll be mycompetition.” I lean against the door and run my hand along Coco”s withers.
Parker scowls. ”I”ve been keeping up with my lifting now that football is over. Keeping in shape.” He doesn”t lift an arm to flex, but the gesture he shoots me does the trick. ”I haven”t seen you at the gym for a while, Dylan.”
”Some of us don”t need to pay for fancy gyms to get in shape,” I reply lightly. ”We do it the old-fashioned way.”
”Lifting iron never hurt anyone,” Parker insists.
I want to punch the smug little smile right off his face.
”Doesn”t matter,” I say. ”I could kick your ass any ol” day.”
He scoffs, staying close to Lara. ”Better man always wins.”
”And somehow you think it”s you, Parker?” I glance at Lara next. ”Because I”ve got a lot on the line. The Rodeo Queen here has promised to kiss me when I win the bronc-busting contest.”
Parker stiffens. ”What?”
”Yeah. She”ll owe me a kiss.”
The air between us three thickens.
Lara clucks her tongue and tosses her hair across her shoulder. ”I never agreed to the bet, Dylan.”
Yet I don”t miss how her pink tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip or the slight gleam of anticipation in her gaze, which tells me she doesn”t want to back down from me. I know her too well. Little Miss Competitive and all self-control.
Parker doesn”t miss her expression, either.
I thrust my hand out for Lara to take. ”How about we shake on it? Unless you”re afraid, I”ll—win?”
”But there”s nothing wrong with second place, either,” she teases.
Coco Chanel nickers in what seems to be agreement.
”Wouldn”t you be better suited to not embarrassing yourself, McClintock?” Parker adds, shoving his hands into his pockets.
He”s trying to get under my skin with those kinds of comments. I refuse to break my attention away from Lara, especially when her gaze flicks to mine and holds.
”Well?” I press. ”A kiss for the winner?”
”What do I get if you come in second?”
One corner of my lips twitch. ”What do you want?”
”Dealer”s choice,” she quickly answers. You owe me a favor whenever I ask for it.”
”That”s ridiculous.” Parker surges forward with his hand lifted to knock mine out of the air, where I keep it thrust toward Lara. ”You don”t know what kind of sick shit kiss he might want afterward or some weird favor after yours.”
”Not the way it works, dude.” I keep my voice calm yet firm. ”My word is my currency. A kiss for the winner… or—a favor to the Rodeo Queen if I lose.” I”m not about to lose, though. ”Come on, Lara.”
She considers for half a second longer before she slaps her palm against mine for a shake. ”You got it. No backing down.”
”Shit.” Parker runs his hand through his hair, about to erupt. ”Are you serious, babe?”
”Deadly,” she replies, her smile the same. ”You know how it is, Parker. We can all agree on it. Once the terms are set, there”s no backing down, and I”m not soft.”
The friction is thick enough to choke, and I smile. ”To the victor goes the spoils.”
We finish giving Coco Chanel scratches and praise, along with the other horses tucked into their stalls for the evening, before we head back to the party.
The band is barely audible over the screeches of delight coming from the pool as Amanda leads the pack at the shallow end.
Lara stares at the festivities, and her hand shifts to her hips. Standing akimbo, she”s breathtaking. The gentle June breeze pushes against the strands of her long, silky hair, her eyes tilting up at the corners.
”Guess it”s time to change, boys,” she murmurs. ”Let”s get in the water.”
Parker shakes his head. ”Screaming kids? I”m out. They give me a headache.”
”Seriously?” Now it”s Lara”s turn to scowl at her boyfriend as he looked at her in the stable over my bet with her. ”Parker…”
He doesn”t give in to the slight whine in her voice. ”I”ll catch you later,” he insists. ”You coming with me, Dylan? We can stop by the arcade.”
I”d rather be trampled under a herd of cattle than ride anywhere with Parker. ”I”ll pass. I actually brought my swim trunks.”
The look on his face is priceless. Part disgust. Part fury.
”Someone has to chaperone the kids,” I finish with a shrug.
Lara says goodbye to her boyfriend, and I wait for her before heading toward the house.
”You don”t always have to be at each other”s throats,” she admonishes when we”re alone.
I slide the glass door to the living room shut behind us. ”Is that what you think it was? I thought we were well-behaved.”
She rolls her eyes, heading up to her room to change. When I got here, I shucked my bag beside the sofa, anticipating a dip if the day got hot enough and I needed to cool down. Or if Lara got me too hot under the collar. Then, the Olympic-sized pool”s turquoise waters would become a necessary escape.
I change into my trunks, and minutes later, Lara saunters into the living room in a skimpy bikini with acres of skin showing. My tongue rolls into the back of my mouth, every piece of me attuned to her, eyes on the slim white strings looping around her neck.
The bikini might be adorable on someone else, white with little cherries decorating the fabric. But on her—fuck, it”s sexy as hell.
Lara flicks my shoulder on her way outside. ”Keep it in your trunks, Dylan.”
I”m still struggling to say something when a group of her friends detach from the crowd on the patio to envelop her. The second she”s out of eyesight, I breathe better.
I know better than to think I have a chance with her, but after all these years, I can”t get her out of my mind like that. Every time we”re together, the want is there. I”ve learned to live with it.
I grab a towel from the stack someone laid out and make my way to the pool, midway down, to avoid Amanda and her friend in the shallows. I”m about to sit on the edge before a soft arm loops through mine, and I see one of Lara”s friends beside me.
”You”re not thinking about sitting by yourself, are you, Dylan?” she purrs. ”Come join us.”
”I was—I thought about swimming.”
She”s a gorgeous blonde with hair thick enough to entice fantasies of fisting your hand and tugging. Except she”s not Lara. No one will ever be Lara.
”Aw, come on. Don”t leave me alone.”
She herds me closer to where the others sit with their legs dangling over the sides of the pool and practically sits in my lap. Her breasts are close enough for me to touch if I want, her bikini showing the soft curves of those globes when she leans over me.
”There are so many sweet treats here tonight,” she continues.
And she”s not talking about the birthday cake.
”You”re right,” I agree, unsure what to say when I sense eyes on me. Lara is giving me a death stare from the periphery of my vision. The look effectively grinds to a halt any desire to flirt with her gorgeous friend. Dead ass stops it.
”You”re looking pretty scrumptious, Dylan,” the girl continues. She slides one of her legs over mine, brushing against me suggestively. ”How has no one snatched you up yet?”
I flash a grin at her. ”Your guess is as good as mine, darlin”.”
Her lips follow the way of her legs a second later and carry a promise as they whisper over mine as she leans against me—a single brief touch carrying a load of promise. ”How about we take a break from the crowd and do something more strenuous?” she offers. ”My car is out front.”
”This is a kid”s party, Sloan,” Lara snaps. ”How about you control yourself?”
Sloan chuckles, pressing her palm over my chest before she backs off. Slightly. ”Green isn”t a good look on you, Lara. Especially considering the fact you just sent your boyfriend packing. You can”t have every hot guy in a fifty-mile radius.”
Lara growls under her breath. ”If you think?—”
A scream cuts through the conversation, bringing this charade to an abrupt halt.
Amanda flounders in the pool”s deep end, bobbing up for a split second and dragging enough oxygen into her lungs to scream for help before sinking again. Then, without thought, I push off the pool”s edge and go for her. A single deep breath and I”m under the water with my eyes open to fight my way toward her.
The kid never learned how to swim. Why did she go so far out?
She”s kicking under the water, floundering but making no headway toward the surface. Instead, the scrambling motions only send her deeper.
Hold on, kid. Hold on.
My fear takes a backseat to duty and responsibility for what must be done. Save Amanda. Get her out of the water.
Amanda fights me for a second before going limp in my arms. Then, with a few strong kicks, the girl tucked under one arm, we both break the surface. I swim to the side and to the waiting hands, who grab Amanda and hoist her out of the water.
She coughs, sputters, and struggles to breathe. Her face is pale, and her limbs tremble.
”Amanda? Amanda!” Lara reaches for her sister, pushing away anyone who gets too close and bundling the girl in a towel.
I rest my elbows on the side of the pool to get my breath.
”She”s okay,” I tell Lara. ”I got her in time.”
”What”s going on?” Camille slices her way through the crowd and yanks Amanda by the arm. ”Lara? What happened?”
Amanda breaks into tears before she burrows into her mom”s chest.
”She went too far into the deep end,” Lara replies. ”I”m sorry, I was trying to watch her.”
”I don”t want to hear your apologies.” Camille rubs soothing circles along Amanda”s back but does nothing to stop her crying or shaking. Nothing to erase the near drowning. ”If Dylan hadn”t been there to jump into action with his quick thinking, there would”ve been a terrible accident.”
Lara won”t look at me. ”I know, but she?—”
I resist the urge to shrink, hating the spotlight on me, and the equally strong desire to insert myself into the situation and get involved further.
”You weren”t watching out for your sister,” Camille continues.
Even the music from the band softens until the argument sounds as loud as the shot of a gun.
”It”s not up to me to watch her constantly,” Lara snaps back. ”I have a life, too. There are plenty of adults at this party. Why aren”t you screaming at them? None of them jumped in to save Amanda.”
”You”re her sister,” Camille emphasizes every word as if Lara is too thick-headed to understand them.
”She”s fine, Mother. She”s fine. It”s not like she swallowed any water.”
”I did a little, Lara,” Amanda croaks out.
No one else seems to notice how pale Lara has gone. Or how she has one hand over her stomach and the other arm limp at her side, knuckles white.
”We don”t know what would”ve happened. This time, she”s fine. What about the next?” Camille doesn”t care who”s around to hear the argument. And Lara is too far gone into frustration to realize her smart-mouthed act won”t get her anywhere.
Without warning, she spins on her heel and stalks toward the house.