Chapter 15
Tagger
Two hours is not enough sleep.
I scrub my hands over my face, knowing wrestling with my thoughts of Pris will keep me awake. So why fight it?
Opening my eyes, I stare at my bedroom ceiling as images of her populate my mind.
The curve of her jaw when her head tipped back against the steering wheel.
Her mouth hanging open, making me want to fuck it, kiss it, and do dirty fucking things to it.
And the feel of her soft tit that fit so perfectly in the palm of my hand.
My dick is hard just thinking about it. She drives me fucking wild.
Diving my hand under the blanket, I rub over the boxers I wore to bed and then take hold.
I close my eyes, letting my head fill with images of her, the feel of her soft lips, my fingers sliding through the slick folds, and the taste of her skin.
Two more minutes alone and I would have been licking my fingers.
Fuck the cotton barrier. I push them down and get a firm grip, pulling faster and sliding quicker. If I’d had five minutes more with her, I might have been fucking her. I bet that tight little pussy of hers feels like heaven.
It’s not as good as the real thing, but the images of her are getting me there. I jerk faster, the pull deep down tightening.
Images flash as my orgasm builds.
Hard nipples pushed against wet and see-through fabric.
Faster.
There was no hiding. She wanted me to see her. She wanted me.
Harder.
I could have slipped right between her legs and buried myself deep in my desires for her. “Fuck,” I groan, beginning to ache for release. I pump and thrust, imagining it’s her I’m fucking instead.
She came with my fingers poised at her entrance. My touch was so potent that she couldn’t hold on any longer. Fuck, that’s sexy. The feel of her trembling over my hand, her body pulsing because of how my touch is an aphrodisiac. And a mindfuck.
Jerking becomes erratic with my thoughts. I should have fucked her . . .
“Oh fuck.” My orgasm hits sideways, sending the back of my head to dig into the pillow in response.
I come so hard that I lose myself in the darkness and the stars, the fireworks and her face.
I moan as the last of my release escapes, and then my body lies in recovery.
Arms limp at my sides, my legs are lifeless.
My breathing settles after I let the images go and return to reality.
Opening my eyes again, I shift my arm across my forehead, resting it there, and stare at the ceiling.
It’s not the first time I’ve masturbated in this room.
It was a regular occurrence back in high school, but I’ve been out of practice since.
No need when I could get a woman just by saying hello to her.
But there’s something about Pris . . . Shit. I’m in so much trouble.
I don’t know when emotions started factoring into the equation, but it’s good to feel something again. She did that.
Fuck.
Sitting up, I know I can’t leave with how we left it.
I flip off the covers and rush to the bathroom.
Being as quiet as I can, I move across the hall and shut the door.
There’s not much time, so the shower is cold because I can’t wait for it to heat up.
I dry off and slip on my New York clothes, already missing the feel of the jeans and the soft cotton against my skin.
After rushing through getting dressed, I walk down the stairs, keeping my shoes from echoing against the hardwoods. I don’t quite reach the front door when someone says, “You don’t have to sneak around, Tagger.” My mom sits at the table with a glass of water in front of her.
“Did I wake you?”
“No, I can’t sleep.” Her hand covers her chest over her heart. “I’m going to miss you and Beckett so much.”
“I miss you all the time. I know he will, too.” I check the time on my watch before realizing how this must look. Shit. I hate that my patience has slipped when I should be here for my mom. “You can come visit. Anytime. First class.”
“You know your dad is hard to get to travel. Then you put him in a big city, and he’s a fish out of water.”
“Then you come.” I kneel in front of her. Covering her hand resting on the table with mine, I say, “Whenever you want, you just let me know. Okay?”
“You’re a good son, Tagger. Don’t let the world change who you are on the inside.” It’s a hope because she knows I’ve already changed, but being back this week was a good reminder. “Now you better get going, or you’ll miss the opportunity.”
I stand. “How do you know I’m going somewhere?”
She stands and rests her hand on my cheek. “Because I saw how you looked at her.” She nods to the door. “Now go so you don’t miss your flight later.”
One more second won’t keep me from my mission. I embrace her and whisper, “Thanks, Mom.”
With her voice not much louder than a mouse, she says, “She’s lovely.”
She is lovely.
I take off in the truck, driving too fast to be legal and hoping I don’t run into Deputy Dirk again. He won’t let me off twice in one night, especially when I don’t have Pris in the car to soften the blow. Fuck it. I only have this one chance to make it right.
I’m surprised to see headlights on this deserted part of the road. Farmers rise before dawn, but it’s four thirty in the morning, and I know they also value sleep.
They’re a little blinding as they near, but then they’re lowered from the brightest setting. I look at the truck when it passes, my eyes locked on the driver’s. The familiar blues unmistakable even at speeds over sixty miles an hour. Then my brain kicks in.
Oh shit.
I slam on my brakes and look over my shoulder. The other truck has stopped, so I do a U-turn and head back in that direction, stopping with twenty or so feet apart. I jump out of the truck to see Pris standing in the limelight of her headlights.
Carefree hair that refuses to be tamed.
Long T-shirt that covers everything to the very bottom of a pair of fitted shorts that kiss the middle of her thighs. I’ve never been more jealous . . .
Boots and those long athletic legs sprouting out of them.
And my hat on her head looking so beautiful that it’d be a crime to ever take it from her.
I start walking with the sole purpose of letting her know that she made me feel alive again. But she runs right into my arms, her body crashing into mine as she wraps her legs around my middle and arms encircling my neck. I’m kissed before I have the chance to kiss her first.
But I’m not passing this up. Standing in the middle of the road in the shine of our headlights, I hold her tightly to me, pushing her lips open and caressing her tongue with mine. I savor every second, so I remember everything and every moment I get to spend with her.
She pulls back with the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. “Did you miss me, cowboy?”
“I missed you, Pris.” Setting her down on her boots, I push the front of the hat back, so I get the full exposure of that spectacular face. “But I also wanted to tell you something.”
Her smile is still as bright as sunshine, and the rays reach her eyes as she stares into mine. “What is it?”
“A few days was not enough with you.” I look up like I can blame the stars. “I just got here and now . . .”
“Leaving doesn’t have to mean never talking again.” I redirect my gaze to her. She says, “Or even seeing each other again.” I hear the hopeful lilt in her voice. “This is your home, Tagger, at minimum, in your heart even if you don’t live here.”
She’s right, but it’s not so minimal to me. Just four days here reminded me that Peachtree Pass is a bigger part of me than I acknowledged.
Taking her face between my hands, I kiss her again—slow and sweet—so if nothing ever comes of us, I know I gave her everything I had to give.
Her hands wrap around my wrists as she lifts on her toes for more access.
I’d give her anything she asked for, so this is easy.
One more kiss and then she drops on her heels again, her gaze falling with her.
With the minutest of nods, she looks up once more, and a smile that seems forced at the corners appears. “Go on, cowboy, get going.”
I lick my lips, studying everything about her pretty face, but it’s this feeling I want to hold on to most—the feeling that I’m not failing anyone and the best is still yet to come. All I have to do is, well . . . take it.
She’s given me hope again.
I kiss her once more, then we both turn our backs to walk in opposite directions. I get in one little ass pat before she gets too far and peer back over my shoulder. She doesn’t turn back. Not once, because she’s so much stronger than I ever was.
Climbing into the truck, I look at her in the driver’s seat and can just make out her chest rising and then falling again before she drives forward.
Her window is down, and arm stretched out, so I do the same.
One last look is exchanged along with our fingertips grazing as we roll past each other.
I see her heading back to the ranch, keeping an eye on the taillights in the rearview mirror until the distance grows too much, and I’m left in the darkest part of the morning again, just before sunrise.
She planted a seed of hope in me that I’ll tend to back in the city.
I left The Pass before sunrise this morning. Now, almost nine hours later, I should be home, but I’m stuck in traffic from the airport into Manhattan with a kid who was over it all, like his dad, five hours ago.
“But when, Daddy?”
I look around to see familiar landmarks and bridges, and how slow we’re going. I think I could walk faster at this point. “Thirty minutes. Maybe forty-five, buddy.”
“I’m hungry.”
“I’ll have food waiting. What do you want? Burger, pizza? Chinese food?”
“Roast and lima beans like at Grammy and Grandpa’s,” he replies with his full chest, looking me dead in the eye.
Ruffling his hair, I lean over, and say, “A kid after my own heart.” Sitting back up, though, I have no clue where to get that in a city where I can have anything delivered at any hour. “Doubt it will be as good as Grammy and Grandpa’s, but let me do some research.”
No such luck on short notice, so pizza it is. Hot and waiting for us when we walk into the lobby with our suitcases. “How are you, Jeff?” I ask.
“Doing good, Mr. Grange.” Leaning down, he asks Beck, “How are you, fine sir?”
“Hungry.”
Jeff gives me a knowing look. He understands because he has kids. “That pizza is right here, little man. You carrying it or your dad?”
We’ve had a recent tripping incident that spilled the entire meal on the lobby floor. Accidents happen. No use in destroying his confidence. I take the handle of his suitcase and roll it next to me. “You carry it, Beckett.”
Jeff carefully hands him the box.
Beckett grins like a Cheshire cat. “I promise I won’t trip this time.”
My parents believed in me and made me feel like I could do anything I put my mind to. I carried that faith with me through every stage of life, knowing failure was only temporary. I’ll always do the same for my kid. “I believe in you. You got this, buddy.”
I kick the door closed and leave the suitcases as I latch the locks behind me. Beck is already washing his hands, ready to chow down. I’m starving as well. But my phone vibrates in my pocket before I can sit down and eat.
Anna.
I swipe open the message and read:
Is he safe?
The insinuation that I would put our son in danger is annoying enough, but that I can’t even walk in the apartment without the reminder that she needs to ask as she claims “just in case” hits a nerve. And I’m in no mood to deal with it.
But if I don’t, she’ll have the cops at my door.
He’s safe and eating dinner.
It’s like she has a reply locked and loaded it arrives so fast.
Hope there are proper vegetables involved.
Like everything else in her life, there’s a ranking system with vegetable tiers and what she deems good and bad foods. The insult goes deep since she knows I grew up on a farm. She thought it was quaint for a while but then hokey ever since we broke up.
I don’t owe her a response, but keeping things civil is a priority for me. I text her:
Just walked in the door. We’re wiped out. I’ll bring Beckett over tomorrow as planned. Good night.
Maybe not subtle, but she didn’t text back, so the message was received.
It’s Friday night, and I wish I had booked our tickets back for tomorrow. It would have been nice to have an extra day, but Anna wanted him back at hers on Saturday, so he has the weekend to rest before school starts again after spring break on Monday.
I grab a bottle of water for me and a juice box for him. He carries the box to the coffee table like a professional. We both flop on the couch next to each other. I click on the TV to land on the Knicks playing, and we kick back for the night.
He doesn’t make it to eight before he’s asleep.
Fortunately, he was ready for bed and in his jammies already.
I carry him down the hall and cross his room to lay him in bed.
He never budges as I tuck him in and even place a kiss on his head.
It’s not loud living in the sky, but I can hear the faintest sound of sirens in the distance.
We’re not in the country anymore.
My chest tightens as my emotions twist.
I take one more look at him sleeping before closing the door and returning to the living room. To take my mind off the things I left in Texas, I do a quick cleanup, then turn off the TV and shut the blinds, making sure everything is secured for the night.
A shower sounds good, especially since my muscles have been sore in revolt of working the ranch again. From my legs to my arms and some of the linear muscles of my back. Guess running on a treadmill and a weekly pickup game of basketball down at the courts with Baylor aren’t challenging me anymore.
Challenging . . .
The word alone makes me smile, thinking about Pris. That girl. She’s going to do me in body and soul if I’m not careful.
Fuck.
That is, if her brother doesn’t kill me first.