17. Kade
Chapter 17
Kade
I throw down my cards in front of my crossed legs. “Full house.”
Presley stares at me with a half smirk, one that’s wicked. I know before she puts her cards down that I’ve lost.
Again.
“Royal flush.”
I groan, putting a chip in my mouth before pouring myself another shot of whiskey. She’s lucky I hold my liquor well, or I’d be on my ass already.
“Okay, new game,” I say.
She almost cackles. “I didn’t know you were such a sore loser, Kade.”
“Yeah, yeah. I should’ve known you’d have a good poker face.”
That smile tugs at her lips again. It’s been peeking out here and there as we’ve played the last couple of games, and I’m determined to get a full-blown one at some point.
“What do you want to play, big boy? Go Fish?”
“Man, Presley. You really know how to bust a man’s balls, don’t you?”
She shrugs her shoulders all cutely. “BS?”
Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but I don’t want to play a card game anymore. “How about Never Have I Ever?”
Her eyes widen a bit. “You want to play that with me? ”
“Why not? It’s a fun drinking game, and you need to catch up,” I say, thinking there’s no way she’s done more than me. When she doesn’t answer, I raise an eyebrow at her. “It’s either that or Truth or Dare.”
She puts the cards down and crosses her arms over her chest. “Why are those my only two options?”
“They’re the most fun.”
She sighs, taking a swig of whiskey directly from the bottle. I don’t think she’d normally do this sort of thing, but the more she drinks, the more playful and comfortable she becomes. And I’m not going to lie, watching her lips wrap around the bottle as she takes a sip is sexy as all get out.
Presley puts the bottle down then tips her head up to the loft ceiling. After a pause, she looks back at me. “Fine. Never Have I Ever. But I get to go first.”
I give Presley a once over, my gaze lingering on the flushed skin of her neck and the way the purple ends of her ponytail brush against her collarbone. She clears her throat, and I smirk when she meets my eyes. I’m not going to lie; I’m shocked that she said yes to the game. I thought she’d leave and go to bed, but I’m glad she’s decided to stay.
“Deal.” I’m happy to let her go first.
Presley fills both of our whiskey glasses, giving me another opportunity to drag my gaze over her alcohol-flushed skin. When she’s satisfied with her pours, she puts the bottle down and stretches her legs out in front of her.
“Never have I ever—”
I tut. “I didn’t tell you the rules yet.”
Her mouth drops open. “I know the rules. If you’ve done it, you drink. If you haven’t, you don’t drink. Now let me ask you, Montgomery.”
I snort. This woman. I love that I’m getting to see her personality, and I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who’s seen it so far. I like how playful and snarky she is. I also like how she said my last name. I want her to say it again .
“Alright, ask away.”
“Never have I ever made out in the back of a storage room.”
“Dang, girl. That was a cheap shot.”
She smiles proudly with her shoulders back and a bit of straight white teeth showing through her pink lips. It’s a look I’ve yet to see from her, and it makes my heart beat faster in my chest. It’s even closer to a true smile, which has me wanting to try harder to make that happen, to see her smile with her entire being until happiness shines through every part of her like bursts of sunrays through the clouds. I know it will be beautiful.
With that goal in mind, I take a shot of whiskey then continue to play.
“Never have I ever moved somewhere new.”
Her mouth drops open. “And you called mine a cheap shot?”
“What goes around comes around, Presley.” She bites her lower lip, but her eyes remain playful as she downs another shot, coughing and sputtering once it slides down her throat.
“Easy there, don’t choke.” I lean forward to pat her back.
I don’t know if it’s the alcohol that’s made her more comfortable, but she doesn’t shy away from my touch. I clap her back a few more times before pulling away. Her cheeks are red from a combo of coughing, alcohol, and, I’m guessing, embarrassment.
I hand her a water, and she takes a sip before sitting back with a long exhale.
“You need a break?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Nope.” Then she taps her chin, a tiny smile on her lips as she eyes me. “Never have I ever ridden a horse.”
I almost tease her for choosing another easy one, but then curiosity fills me. “Wait, you’ve never ridden a horse?”
She shakes her head. “Riding kind of scares me.”
“You realize you took a job as a ranch hand, right?”
“Yes, Kade. I don’t necessarily have to ride a horse to do that.”
My chest shakes with laughter. “We’ll have to change that. ”
“I’ll stay on the ground, thanks.”
“We’ll see.”
“Take your shot.”
I do as she says, realizing that maybe this was a dumb game. We need to slow down so we don’t get blackout drunk. But I want to play one more round.
Without pausing, I say, “Never have I ever played in a band.”
Her breath hitches, and her eyes turn to the ground. Fuck, maybe I shouldn’t have gone that far—I let my curiosity get the best of me. But then Presley exhales, her hand moving to pour another shot before she swallows it down.
So she was in a band. I wonder what she plays, or maybe she sings or plays guitar—maybe both? When she lifts her gaze back to mine, her eyes are set with determination instead of anger, fear, or sadness like I would have expected.
“Let’s play a different game,” she says.
I nod, happy she suggested it. We need a little change of pace after I brought the mood down. “True or Dare then?”
“I don’t know if—”
“If you don’t want to answer, you drink. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want or say anything you want to keep to yourself.”
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, thinking over my rules. After a moment, she nods, and I can’t help the relief that floods through me. I don’t want this night to end yet, and by her agreement to play, I don’t think she does, either.
“How about you go first,” I say.
She places her shot glass back down then shifts so she can remove her flannel shirt from around her waist before setting her blue gaze on me. “Truth or Dare?”
“Truth,” I say, liking that her action leads me to believe she’s making herself more comfortable to stay awhile longer.
Presley’s eyes narrow as if she’s puzzled that I chose truth, but she doesn’t miss a beat. “Why don’t you and your brother get along? ”
My chest stings. “You don’t ease into anything, do you?”
She eyes me like I’ve got her totally wrong. But from what I’ve seen so far, she doesn’t seem like the type of person to think things through. The fact that she moved to a small town like Randall then took a bartending and ranch hand job with what sounds like little to no experience—that’s rather impulsive to me.
Not that I’m much better. I don’t often think a lot of things through.
“You drinking then?” she taunts.
I lift the corner of my mouth. “I don’t back down.” Her lips mirror mine as I collect my thoughts to answer. After I take a sip of water, I look her in the eye. “Gavin and I—it’s complicated. It’s not that we don’t get along, it’s that he doesn’t listen to me. He doesn’t try to listen to me. He likes to lecture and talk at me instead.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” she says.
I sigh. “You really want to get into this?”
She leans back on her palms, her handful-sized breasts becoming more prominent so I can see them outlined under her white T-shirt. “You wanted to play,” she says softly. “You chose truth.”
She’s right on both counts. I puff out a breath through my teeth before I begin. “My dad died last year from a heart attack. He left the ranch to Gavin after he said he’d leave it to me.”
Presley stays quiet, her focus on me and her eyes soft. I lick my dry lips and take another sip of water.
Once I find my voice again, I let the story spill from my lips. I tell her about the lie Gavin told and how the dude ranch came to be, but I leave out the parts about my fight with him at the cemetery and the accident, because that has nothing to do with my relationship with him currently, not really.
When I’m done, Presley stares wide-eyed at me. “I’m sorry, Kade. You didn’t deserve that.” Her tone is so genuine, so real, it makes my chest smart. I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone side with me, had anyone apologize— really apologize. And she doesn’t even have anything to apologize for.
I clear the emotion now clogging my throat. “Thank you.” I set my water bottle down before I ask. “What about you—truth or dare?”
Sensing that I need to change the subject, Presley sits a little taller. That almost full smile comes back to her lips. “Dare,” she says.
I should’ve known that’s what she’d pick. My brain sorts through different dares, ones I’ve made my friends do over the years. When an easy one comes to mind, I eye the open loft door. “I dare you to moon the cows.”
She snorts. “You’re serious?”
I shrug. “You wanted a dare.”
She blows out a sharp breath but gets up off the ground, walking over to the open loft door before turning to face me. “Are you going to watch?” Her skin flushes.
“I have to make sure you do it. Remember, you can always drink,” I hold up the half-empty bottle of whiskey.
She glances at the bottle then puts her hands behind her. She pulls her leggings down and up so fast I almost blinked and missed it.
I snort. “That was more like a crescent moon.” Presley huffs and sits back down, crossing her arms over her chest.
“It was a stupid dare.”
“Okay, smarty pants. I pick dare. Give me your best one.”
She squints her pretty blue eyes in thought and strokes her upper lip like an evil scientist with a mustache. Her eyes open comically wide as if she’s had a lightbulb moment, then she flushes bright red.
“What’s the dare?” I urge, now more curious.
Her gaze darts to my lips and then to my eyes again. My heart rate picks up. She’s not going to ask for a kiss, is she ?
When she doesn’t say anything, a smile spills across my features. “What’s your dare, Presley?” My voice is testing. Teasing.
She licks her lips and shifts, recrossing her legs under her. It’s a sign that she’s turned on. I’ve been with enough partners to know the tells a woman gives when she wants me to do something to her body. And while Presley is normally guarded, the alcohol is opening her up like a book, making it easier to read the pages. If she wants me to kiss her, I’m not going to question it.
“Why did you stop calling me Lemon?” she asks.
My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. Okay, maybe I was wrong about the kissing.
“That’s not a dare,” I say.
“Can you just tell me?”
Her voice is so full of pleading that I relent. “When I looked at your texts earlier, Derek, whoever he is, called you ‘Sweetheart.’ I don’t know, I just—I didn’t want to hurt you more than you were already hurting.”
Her body jolts like I’ve shocked her with my words. I shift, moving closer to her when she doesn’t say anything, my mind analyzing why she asked the question in the first place. Wanting to test a theory, I lower my voice and say “Lemon” in a hushed tone.
Presley’s arms break out in goosebumps, and her breathing picks up. My hunch confirmed, I dare to move even closer to her until our crossed legs are only inches apart. “Do you like it when I call you Lemon?”
She doesn’t speak, but she nods ever so slightly.
“Tell me why you like it.”
She exhales a tense breath. “It’s your turn.”
I shake my head. “You asked me something; now I’m asking you. ”
“That’s not—”
“Tell me, Lemon.” I lean the top half of my body closer. “Why do you like it?”
Her eyes track to my lips then back up to my eyes again. “It feels special,” she says, her voice almost a whisper. “I know it was meant as a joke, but—nobody has ever given me a nickname that means something only for me.”
My heart aches at her words, but what she’s saying makes sense. Everyone likes to feel special, to feel as if they mean something. To feel as if they mean something to someone —even if it’s as simple as being called by a nickname.
“You deserve special, Lemon,” I voice, not missing the way her eyes get glassy when I say it. “And the nickname isn’t a joke—or at least, it’s not to me, not anymore. Understand?”
She nods, blinking away the wetness in her eyes.
“Now, tell me your dare.”
Her chest rises and falls underneath her shirt at a more rapid pace, and I find myself placing my finger under her chin so those beautiful pools of blue are looking straight into my eyes.
“Tell me your dare. Don’t make me spank it out of you.”
Her pupils expand, her nostrils getting wider, and the sudden heat in her gaze causes my blood to rush south and the front of my jeans to become uncomfortably tight. That comment aroused her just as much as it did me.
“Do it,” she says, her words rushing out like a waterfall.
I swear my heart stops in my chest. “You want me to spank you, Lemon darlin’?” The endearment slips out attached to her special nickname, but before I can apologize, the smallest of moans escapes her lips. Clearly, she didn’t mind this time. Maybe it’s because of the closeness of this moment, or maybe it’s because she knows I’m speaking it just for her.
I shift myself again so our crossed knees are touching, the heat of her body transferring to mine and setting me on fire, making my cock twitch.
“Presley.” I run my finger down the soft skin of her cheek. “If that’s what you want, I’ll give it to you. But just know, there’s a lot about me you don’t know. I like this kind of thing. I like it a lot. I’m good at it, too. If you let me touch you in that way, if that’s what you really want, I’ll give it to you. But you have to want it.”
Her eyes lock onto my mouth, her hands fidgeting in her lap. The evening sounds seem to deafen as I wait for her answer. Just when I’m about to call it quits, she lifts her chin so our eyes lock. I expect to see fear or unease—but instead, I notice a strength I’ve yet to see from her.
“I dare you to spank me, Kade.”
A smile overtakes my lips, causing the dimples on my cheeks to form. I tuck a stray strand of frizzy blonde-and-violet hair behind her ear.
“Then get over my knees, Lemon. Let me teach you how to be a good girl.”