Chapter Three
Sebastian
I often wonder how the hell I survive the way I do.
Locked up in my cabin, the windows blowing in warm, dense air, an old baseball game on that I don’t even care about. It is a beautiful day out despite the heat swell, but here I sit all alone with no plans to change that. Even though I want to, I cannot stop thinking about the adorable waitress at The Rusty Nail.
Scout. Something about her has shaken me to my core.
For days I have looked at that receipt with her number on it, unable to make a move. Unable to gather the courage to text her or even call. I don’t know how to do this sort of thing. How to flirt, or even worse, how to date.
“Can’t find out if you’re too chickenshit to call the girl,” I mutter.
Considering this and how much I want to see her again, I decide. I might not like crowds or big to-dos, and yeah, I am a little grumpier than most, and I never try to make friends outside of my crew. It is no way to live life, to shut the entire world out because of a few bad experiences.
Yes, the first woman I was with—who I thought I might marry and have children with—chose someone else. And yes, my parents and I do not have the best relationship. Their constant infidelities set a terrible example of how to behave in a relationship. But I have watched several of the Felle Landing guys find wonderful women, start families, and get to have it all.
Could I have it all with Scout?
“How about you give something a shot, you goofy fuck,” I tell myself before I push to my feet, my body aching from sitting for so long.
Heading for a shower, I try to clear my head. To think of something other than Scout. It has been impossible to shake my thoughts off her. Of that round ass of hers in those tiny shorts she wore that day. How her thick thighs looked so damn delicious I just wanted to be buried between them.
“Well, fuck,” I hiss at myself as my cock jerks to life, the hot water and filthy thoughts offering no relief. “Scout is a sweet little thing, I bet she would taste sweet. Sweeter than pie, that little slice of heaven between her thighs, I bet,” I grunt as I fist myself, tugging roughly at my hard shaft.
Pumping my fist faster, I almost punish my cock for how hard it gets just thinking about her. It is not the first time I’ve rubbed myself out since we met. All I can think about is how sweet she will sound when I fill her pussy with my thick cock. How wet she will get when I lick her for hours, eating every sweet drop of her cream.
Closing my eyes, I imagine her here with me, full, round tits soapy and wet, brushing against my chest. I imagine her rubbing that soft body against me, begging me to fuck her until she hurts. Until she comes on my cock and tells me she needs me, that she wants just me, only ever fucking me.
“Ah, fuck,” I grunt, coming as I imagine her sweet voice telling me to fuck her harder, harder , make it hurt. “That’s my girl. Fuck, that’s it Scout.”
Coming hard, I shudder as the orgasm works its way through me. It burns up my spine as my cum swirls down the drain, rope after rope of it. I want to come on her soft tits, on her pretty pussy, even on her beautiful face. I have never wanted these sorts of primal, possessive things with anyone before.
With her, everything feels different. I was so nervous that day at the bar. It didn’t stop me from going back half a dozen times since. I cannot help it. I am not sure I have ever felt what she makes me feel. At work, on the landing, I am confident. I am good at what I do. I am even good at leading a crew of roughnecks who sometimes behave worse than kindergarteners.
I am not good with people. I fumble over my words; I get anxious when I am in a crowd. I never much liked school because I never found where I fit. Once I got in the military and found others who struggled the same as I do, everything clicked. I had found where I fit.
Now I have no idea how to make these thoughts, these feelings about Scout, fit. All I know is I want to see her. I want to find out if she likes baseball or prefers football. I wonder if she would want to sit with me here in the quiet of my cabin, just letting me hold her while we watched a game or did nothing at all.
I want to find out if she can fit with me somehow.
Driving towards town, I am a ball of nerves. I am just going to the bar to have a drink. To see if she is there. It has been a week since she gave me her number and I hope to hell she hasn’t given it to anyone else. Just thinking about someone else talking to her, flirting with her, doing all the dirty things I have thought of doing to her has me stomping on the gas.
“No fucking way. That fucking girl is mine ,” I growl, as if telling myself what I’ve felt since the moment I laid eyes on her.
Kicking up gravel as I sail into a parking spot out in front of the bar, I take a moment to calm myself down. I have no right to think that. To feel it. To want it. Not yet, at least. For all I know, she just gives her number often. No. No, that is not right . There were three other guys at that table—she gave that number to me. For me to have it, for me to call her.
“Hey stranger,” Tre calls as she exits the bar, a smirk on her face. “I thought my new help might’ve scared you off. You good, Sebastian?”
Blinking at her, my face flushes as I struggle to steady my shaking hands. Yes. I am good. I am about to see Scout. About to talk to her again. Hell, I might even get the courage to ask her out. I doubt it, but I can work my way up to it in time.
“Evening, Tre. I am good. You heading out for the night?”
Tre’s grin widens as she nods, tipping her head towards a waiting car. I recognize the man waiting for her as the tattoo artist who just opened shop here in Driftwood. Explains all the fresh ink she has been showing off. Telling them to have a good night, I take a moment to prepare myself.
Stepping inside the dark bar, I immediately am aware I am not prepared. The soft melodies of a familiar George Strait song fill the air. Along with that sweet strawberry scent, I know is Scout. Standing behind the bar, she sways side to side to the music, singing along as she wipes down the sticky bar top.
Jesus, she is the most perfect thing I have ever seen.
Standing behind the bar in a bright white ribbed tank top that shows off a lot of golden skin, she smiles as I stride towards the bar. In another pair of tattered jean shorts, her plump ass bounces as she turns to fill a mug with ice. I do not even pretend I am not staring when she turns back. How could I not?
“Evening, Sebastian,” she calls with a smile as she pulls a foamy draft of beer, sliding it my way before I even ask.
“Hi, Scout,” I manage before I duck my head, unable to hold eye contact with those cool blue eyes.
Sitting at a stool, I stretch my legs out beneath the bar, drumming my fingers on the bar top. Crossing her arms, she leans over, cocking her head. Her gaze is as intimate as a touch, as if she had reached out and walked her fingers down my bare skin. It heats my body until I am sweating in my nice flannel and jeans.
“Somebody forgot how to use their words. Can’t call a girl after she passes you her number, sugar?”
Flushing so hot I am sure I must ridiculous, I nod my head. For what, I am not sure, but it is all I can manage. “I would... I wanted... I mean... yes .”
“Yes, you cannot call a girl? Yes, you forgot how to use your words?”
Blinking at her as she grins, I cannot help but smile, too. I shake my head, take a sip of the cold beer, and respond. “All the above, I guess? I came here tonight to see you. To see how you were. How you like it here.”
“Here as in The Rusty Nail? Or Driftwood Peaks?”
Scout grins even bigger, winking as I become flustered again. It takes very little effort to fluster me. I sip at my beer again, trying to work out what to say to her. How to talk to her. I inhale her sweet strawberry scent, my heart racing in my chest as she stares at me. I am not sure what she sees, but I fear I am making a fool out of myself.
“Sebastian, how do you feel about games? Board games, trivia games, card games. That sort of thing?”
Glancing up, I frown at the odd question before I shrug. “Well, I suppose they’re a good time. Used to play cards with an uncle of mine. Pretty sure he did time in prison because he cheated all the time.”
Scout laughs, the sound deep, warm, drawing me closer to her orbit. I stare at her for a moment, not ignoring how the air seems to arc between us. For the past few days, I tried to tell myself it was all in my head. What I felt that day we met, but it is not. It sparks between us right now.
“Got it, cheating uncle. I buy it. How about we play a game?”
For a moment, I am sure my heart stops beating. I stop breathing. I am flooded with a dozen visuals of games I would love to play with her. None of them could we do here and now. I palm myself beneath the bar, shocked I am hard as stone from her simple question.
“Wh-what sort of... I mean, a game ?”
“Yeah, we will have fun with it. We all need a little fun, don’t we?”
“Yes, I suppose we do. What sort of game, Scout?”
Narrowing her pretty eyes, she cocks her head. Those eyes light up as she slams her hand on the counter. “Truth or Dare. The best way to find out about someone is to play some truth or dare. What do you say?”
Nodding, I empty the beer she poured me, needing the courage. “I say yes.”
Scout positively beams as she claps her hands. It is the cutest thing I have ever seen, and I want to make her smile this way forever. Tapping her finger on her pouty pink mouth, she seems to consider her options.
“I will go first since I chose the game. Sacrificial lamb. I will take... truth. Ask me whatever you want.”
Sitting there with her offer twirling in my head, I go blank for a moment. I want to know a thousand things about her. She was right—this is the easiest way to find out about each other. Discarding half a dozen questions, I land on the most obvious.
“What brought you to Driftwood?”
Quirking a brow as she washes out a glass, she hesitates. “I had nowhere else to go. My mother died a few years ago, so I hit the road to handle my grief. It made it easier for me, having no one to call home to, no one wondering, nothing waiting for me to come home. Once I had gone to all the places I wanted to go, I realized I had nowhere to come home to.”
Knowing she lost her mother, went out into the world alone, and had nothing much like I do makes an ache burn in my chest. I can do it but someone so sweet, so lively, she should never be alone or have no one. I tell myself maybe this can be her home, not the bar, not even Driftwood... maybe I can make this place a home for her.
“That is... that is brave. Going out on your own. Facing that alone. You dodged the truth, honey,” I tell her with a smirk. “Why Driftwood?”
“You got me,” she smiles back, her cheeks flushing rosy. Gosh, she is the most adorable thing. “Some of my girlfriends from high school came here to protest you lumberjacks. Not much of a protest because Quinn married herself a hot lumberjack.”
“Oh yes, I am aware of those girls. Caused quite a ruckus up there.”
“That is what they do,” she shoots back, sliding a drink down the bar to a waiting customer. “I am a little less... rowdy than those girls.”
“Pretty sure that remains to be seen, honey,” I tease with a wink.
“He has jokes,” she teases back with an adorable smirk. “Truth or Dare, big guy?”
“Truth. That gleam in those pretty eyes has me afraid to do a dare just yet,” I answer honestly, sipping at my beer again.
There are a few other patrons here at the bar, but she has focused her attention on me. I welcome it. There is something about her, about how she looks at you with intent eyes, how she listens with interest. It makes you feel heard, it makes you feel seen. I never thought I wanted either, but with her, I want it all. I want her to know me and I sure as hell want to know her.
“Oh, wise man. Wise man. Truth.... let’s ease in here. Same question. What brought you to Driftwood?”
“Mack Felle did, quite literally,” I answer as I look back at the past for a moment. “I was lost. Retiring from the military was not a choice. I got hurt on my last OP, so they gently pushed me out. Being a Marine was the first thing that made sense to me. Mack was one of my squad leaders, so he called me to come settle here with some of our other buddies.”
Scout stuns me, reaching out to cradle my jaw in her soft hand. Tipping my head up, she forces my gaze to hers. Something inside of me snaps. The bow tied neatly around little piles of worries, fears, troubles inside of me. It breaks as she stares across the bar, her eyes shimmering.
“How dare you call me brave? I know nothing about being brave. You do. Anyone who gives up their freedom, their spirit, to protect the rest of us fools, they’re the bravest souls in the world.”
Touched by her kind words, I am stunned to feel tears in my eyes. I joined the Marines because I had nothing else. It was the first time that I was good at something. I was not a natural born leader, but they made me one. It made me grow up, let go of some of those tidy stacks of fear and doubt that I tuck away inside myself.
“Thank you. I am not sure how brave I am, but I will take that.”
“Good. All this talk about being brave... I am choosing a dare now, sugar. Hit me with your worst. Or will it be your best?”
Watching her for a moment as the amber light from the setting sun lights her up, I can think of a thousand things to dare her. Each of them is a little cruder than the last. I rein myself in, clearing my throat as I swallow back some filthy words I am not prepared to let her hear.
“How far can I go, Scout?”
My eyes drop to her mouth, to that pretty, pink, plump mouth. I have already thought about that mouth a hundred times. Scout bites her lip as if she has every idea of what I am thinking about. It must be written all over me. I watch as that pretty mouth turns up in a teasing smile.
“How far can you go, Sebastian?”
Glancing to my left, then right, I see we’re almost alone now. No one would even notice. If they did, I don’t think I would care. Reaching across the bar, I cup the side of her face, rubbing my thumb over her pouting mouth. A little sound hums against my thumb. Jesus, I’m done.
“Would you dare to let me kiss you?” I rasp, my throat itchy, my heart thundering. Staring at me in the dim light, she nods her head. Just once.
Pulling at her jaw gently, I lean over the bar separating us. I smell her sweet scent, inhaling it deep as I brush my mouth over hers. Scout lets out a soft whimper as I lick her pink lips, then push my tongue inside her mouth. Her warm, wet tongue is waiting to lick at mine hungrily.
It is the single deepest, wettest, hottest kiss of my life.
I promptly decide she will be the last woman I ever kiss.