Chapter 12 #2
“Thanks. You ready?” I ask instead of pushing her back inside and going straight upstairs like I’m tempted to do.
“Almost. Just one thing.” She beckons me with a crook of her finger, and I bend down as she tilts her chin up, the intent obvious.
There’s no shy reacquaintance with us. We both dive into the kiss in equal measure, fighting to taste each other. When she falls back to her flat feet, taking those lips away from me, I growl at the loss. She pats my chest, knowing damn well that she’s driving me crazy.
“Okay, now I’m ready. Let’s go.”
“I kinda hate you right now,” I tell her without any heat as I adjust my dick in my jeans.
“Then my plan’s working,” she says as she goes around to the passenger side of my truck.
I open the door for her, but she rejects my hand in favor of using the oh-shit handle and rails to climb up into the cab by herself.
It’s not graceful, and I get a shot up her skirt.
Her look back says that was intentional too.
I get in behind the wheel and ask, even though I know it’s a softball lob she’s pitched on purpose. “Plan?”
“To tease you mercilessly all night. I’ll decide later if I’m going to do anything about it or just leave you with blue balls.” She taps her lips, which are fighting a smile, as she contemplates.
“What if I work you up all night too?” I ask lightly, finding a flaw in her plan. Well, maybe not so much a flaw as another angle she hasn’t considered.
“You’d damn well better. That’s my intention. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have told you about the plan.”
Oh, she’s considered the angles, all right. Every last one of them, and I’m rushing to keep up with her when my brain is fogged over so quickly around her.
Two hours later, she’s agreed that maybe Hank’s is the singular exception to meatloaf being disgusting, which he accepted graciously from behind the bar by sending over the beers we ordered with a lime wedge garnish.
They’re not Coronas, so maybe a nice gesture, but also maybe a fuck you.
But the meatloaf was good, and Lil Bit admitted it. That much I know for sure.
Using the full space of the booth, I lean in close, putting my head on her shoulder and licking my index finger to make a tally mark in the air. I won that one. She laughs and shoves at me. “Get off me, asshole.”
“That ain’t what you said last weekend,” I tease back quietly, mostly not caring that everyone’s listening to every flirty word between us.
But they are, and I can see those wheels turning in each of their minds. When I look at Erica, I don’t care because she’s holding true to her word and I’m holding to mine. And that’s what matters.
We’ve had fun all night—dancing, laughing, talking, and touching. And it’s just what I need. She’s what I need, like this and nothing more.
Katelyn hops up, and by some invisible signal, the other women do too.
Erica leans down, close to my ear so only I hear her.
“Bathroom break so they can interrogate me. No worries, I’ll talk shit about you so they know I’m only after your dick,” Erica promises and then winks as she struts off behind Katelyn, Shayanne, Sophie, and Allyson.
I can’t help but track her across the room as she goes.
She stands out in Hank’s, her rocker look and spitfire attitude different from the mostly rural ranching types who frequent this bar.
But fuck, if that isn’t what draws me to her.
I realize that Mark’s right. She keeps me on my toes and I like it.
Not that I’ll tell him that, and not that it has some greater, deeper meaning the way he suggested.
“Well?” Brutal asks when the girls turn the corner into the hallway and we can all focus on something besides their asses again.
“Well, what?” Playing dumb seems prudent.
He pops me on the back of my head, knocking me forward. I’m a big motherfucker, but next to my brother, I look like an average-sized Joe. And he sometimes forgets his strength, but sometimes, he sure as hell uses it on purpose.
“What the fuck, Brutal?”
He leans forward, elbows on the table and eyes narrowed. “Get on with it before they get back.”
Bunch of gossipy assholes.
“Nothing to tell. I like her, like fucking her. She likes me, likes fucking me. The end.” How many times am I going to have to say this?
Guys don’t usually do this, do they? Five pairs of eyes are laser-locked on me.
Three blue, two brown, all telling me I’m a dumbass, but I’m not.
“I swear it. She’s as much about casual as I am. We’re good.”
One laughs, I’m not even sure who starts it, but then they’re all chuckling. At me. “Fuck y’all.”
I sit back, arms crossed over my chest, knees spread wide beneath the table, a menacing glare on my face. They laugh harder.
Thank fuck the girls come back, all atwitter. Each of us stands, letting them sit back down, but I hold out my hand to Erica. “Let’s dance.”
“Fuck yes, Cowboy.” She sounds as relieved as I am to get away from the table for a minute.
As we take to the dance floor, Morgan Wallen’s Chasing You pours out of the jukebox and over the swaying couples.
We start to move, nothing fancy now, though I showed her how to two-step earlier and she can follow a lead for some simple turns and switches.
But we need to talk, so I just sway her back and forth.
“How bad was it in there? You running on me?”
A grin stretches her lips, but there’s a tinge of fear deep in her eyes.
“You have a great family and they obviously love you . . . a lot. They were singing your praises, how you’re so good with animals which means you’ll be a great dad one day, how you look after everyone so you’ll be a good husband, how you’re smarter than you let on so don’t let the dumb redneck act fool me, and that once you’re in, you stay in, hell or high water. ”
“Shit.”
It’s nice that they said those things, really, it is.
But I can feel the foundation rumbling beneath Erica and me from their assumptions.
She’s quiet for a second, our eyes locked.
It hurts my neck a little to look down when she’s this close, and her fiery eyes make it hard to say this.
I pull her in even closer, and she lets me, laying her cheek to my chest.
“You know how you said everyone thought you were gonna marry Reed?” I feel her nod.
“My family wants me to get married. It’s sweet, and mostly because they’re all so happy that they want everyone to be in love, but it doesn’t have anything to do with what I want. Nothing’s changed from what we said.”
The tension dissolves and she melts in my arms. “You sure?”
“Hell, you don’t have to be so excited that I’m not dropping to a knee.” I sound harsh, but I’m fighting back a laugh and she knows it.
She smacks my chest. Feels like a butterfly landing on me—okay, not really, because she can pack a punch I’m sure, but she’s taking it easy on me.
“We met a fucking week ago. I’ve already tried to kill you with a wrench, almost sucked your soul out of your dick, damn near killed you with marathon sex, done the meet-the-family deals for the most part, been on two dates, and texted like teenagers who got their first phones yesterday. I think we’re good.”
By the end, she’s laughing too.
“What?” I grab my ear with two fingers, wiggling it. “I didn’t hear a thing you said after ‘suck my dick.’ Was it anything important?”
Her head shake, smile, and the light in her eyes tells me our foundation just steadied. We’re back to where we were, thankfully. Or mostly, at least, but my family damn near fucked this up for me with their expectations. Haven’t they figured out that I’m not good at meeting those by now?
I glance over and they’re watching us on the dance floor. I sway Erica around so her back is to them and flip them my middle finger, eyeballing each and every one of the nosy, gossipy, intrusive, meddling family members at the table. They smile as if I just told them all ‘thank you.’
“Give it a little extra ‘fuck you’ from me too.” Erica knows exactly what I’m doing, and why. I think she wishes she could tell her family the same thing, probably the same way, knowing her.
Instead, we dance. That moment fades to be replaced by the simple pleasure of holding her in my arms and moving around the floor.
I add back in the turns I taught her, catching her and pulling her in tight every once in a while, building a fire between us each time our bodies press together.
I pick her up and tilt her back for a dip, which makes her hoot with surprise, and when I stand back upright, she’s high enough on my body that I can kiss her lips easily.
It’s a sweet, quick kiss, but damned if I’m not rock-hard for her.
She doesn’t taste like sour cherries the way I thought she would.
No, it’s something deeper and more layered, uniquely Erica.
And I want more of it, already addicted to her.
I let her slide down slowly, enjoying every inch of her against me.
When I’m sure her feet are on the floor, I spin her out again, teasing us both, and that fire lights up in her eyes again. “Brody.”
Just my name, but so much in the two syllables. Lust, need, desire, challenge, an order.
I pull her back in, aligning our bodies.
I know she can feel that she’s not alone in her current predicament, being in the middle of a dance floor instead of in her bed, my bed, or shit, my truck in the parking lot, for all I care.
But I don’t move toward the door. I just keep shifting right and left, and she follows me, damn near trying to melt into each other’s skin through our clothes.
I hear a throat clear behind me, and I open my eyes, already pissed that someone’s interrupting my moment with Erica.
“I hate to do this . . . you have no idea how much . . . but Rix, your phone is laying on the table and it’s blowing up. Somebody named Reed called several times in a row and texted too.” There’s a big question mark in Shay’s tone, asking who the fuck Reed is.
Sweet sister looking out for me when it’s always been the other way around.
“Shit. Fuck. Damn. Something must be wrong at the garage.” Erica’s eyes meet mine. “I need to see what’s up.”
I let her go and she struts to the table, grabbing her phone before heading to the bathroom hallway for a little bit of quiet to make her call.
Shay hisses, “Who’s Reed?”
Slowly and lazily, I cut my eyes back to her. “Her employee at the garage.” Shay relaxes. “And her ex.”
Jaw tight, she hisses again. “Well . . . don’t just stand there, do something.” She flaps her hands around, gesturing me toward the hallway.
What does she expect me to do? Charge back there, take Erica’s phone, and tell Reed not to contact her again?
That’d work out pretty shitty when he needed to show up to work on Monday morning.
More importantly, that’s not my place. Even if we were something else and I was dropping to my knee—which I’m not—it would be a bitch move to tell your partner who they can and can’t be friends and work with.
“Shayanne, calm your tits. They’re not like that because Erica doesn’t want them to be.
And we’re not like that either. Just chill.
” She looks at me like I’m stupid, and also, like she’s about to go ten ways of beatdown on me.
I bend down, getting in her face so she hears this loud and clear.
“Y’all need to slow your roll, because whatever shit show you pulled in the bathroom damn near ran her off. Back off. I’m good.”
She obviously has her doubts but doesn’t get the chance to tell me so because Erica walks up. “I gotta go. Reed’s broke down and I need to get the tow truck so I can get his car to the garage. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I say, daring Shayanne to say otherwise. “I’ll drive you home so you can go get him. I’m happy to help if you want a spare set of hands too.”
She shakes her head. “I already called an Uber to pick me up. No sense in us both leaving. Stay and have fun with your family. But can you walk me out?”
I’m disappointed, but I escort her out front. I walk her over to my truck, away from the door at least, and drop the tailgate. I lift her under her arms to set her down.
“I could’ve hopped up here myself, you know.” Stinging words meant to hurt a little.
“I know, but we don’t have much time and I was in a hurry to do this .
. .” I step between her knees and cup her jaw, my lips hitting hers a breath later.
Under the cover of night, I can do what I’ve wanted to do all night on the dance floor.
I trace a hand down her neck, across her collarbone, to palm her breast. No bra.
Fuck, does she even own one? I hope not.
She arches into my touch and I take the kiss deeper.
Her legs wrap around mine, locking me in place as if I have anywhere else to be, and her hands grip my shirt, pulling me in closer.
She kisses me back ferociously, our teeth clacking together and tongues invading, and that’s before she nips my bottom lip, pulling it sharply.
“Fuck, Erica.” I’m contemplating just how out of sight we are in this dark corner of the parking lot when her phone buzzes.
Her posture changes instantly, going from straining toward me to straight-backed. “That’s my ride. Go back in and have fun with your family. Don’t let me ruin a fun night before Shay and Luke leave town.”
“Yeah,” I say, though I know I’m not going back inside to listen to everyone’s opinions on what I should and shouldn’t do. “Is it a bitch move if I say that I’m really pissed at Reed right now? I was hoping to be balls deep in you again tonight.”
Erica tilts her head, teasing laughter in her words. “Aw, Cowboy. You say the sweetest things.”
“You sure Reed’s a good mechanic? Seems like a good one wouldn’t have his car break down.” Fine, so I’m a bit pouty.
“He’s good. Just bad luck, probably.”
“Yeah, ours,” I say darkly, pressing one more kiss to her lips.
I let her push me back and hop down from the tailgate. “Goodnight, Brody.” She rights her skirt and walks the few steps toward the silver sedan that’s picking her up before turning back. “Oh, and you were right . . . the meatloaf was good and the music didn’t suck too badly.”
I grin at her parting words, waving as she climbs in and disappears into the night. I look at the door to Hank’s, knowing my family expects me to come back inside. Instead, I send the family chat group—yes, Shay added me back in—a middle finger emoji and get in my truck.
Fuck those fuckers. I’m going home, maybe reading a book before bed, and waiting to see if Erica texts me tonight when she’s done with Reed’s shit.