Chapter 19 #2
“No, Sloan, I …” His lips press shut, and he frowns, searching for the words that I know can’t be coming easily to him.
“I care. About you. I’ve been trying not to, but I can’t anymore.
This isn’t me not caring … it’s me choosing to let myself feel …
whatever is happening here.” He swallows. “You feel it, too. Don’t you?”
I let out a shaky breath.
And nod.
Because I do. I feel the magnetic pull of his body, the sensations he sends racing through me at the slightest touch, the briefest look.
And I know how badly I don’t want to walk away from him without knowing what he tastes like, what his body would feel like under my hands, over me, if we let ourselves give in to this.
His other hand, the one on my hip, finds its way to the small of my back, finally pulling me closer—
“I could use a little help here!”
He jumps back at the abrupt screech, but not quickly enough. Cass pokes her head in before we can completely untangle ourselves, eyes narrowing.
“I’m glad you two are having so much fun while I’ve been busting my ass for you.”
Parker doesn’t bother explaining, but I can’t help myself.
“We were just—”
“Save it. I have a trunk full of desserts that aren’t going to carry themselves.” She exits without asking for help, her boots clicking down the aisle.
Parker meets my eyes, his face twisting in a silent apology. With several feet between us, instead of mere inches, the haze clouding my thoughts has cleared.
Mostly.
I can’t help but imagine what we’d be doing right this second had we not been interrupted. It’s enough to make my cheeks bloom with heat.
He starts to apologize, but Cass’s sing-song shout cuts off his words from the other end of the barn.
“They’re melt-ing!”
I roll my eyes and hurry after her, knowing that she would let them melt to prove a point. I’m generally not one to jump to conclusions about people, but I’m beginning to dislike this woman.
At the same time, my first event will happen in a few short hours, and I absolutely need to focus. So maybe the bucket of cold water that Cass dropped on us wasn’t such a bad thing.
I fly through the house after finally getting rid of Cass, who not only counted the money I paid her right in front of me, but also complained—again—about how inconvenient the whole experience was for her.
I think she forgot I know precisely how much of the work she didn’t do herself, like the shopping and unloading of her car, which I took care of on my own.
For now, everything—which to my extreme relief, looks delicious—is safely in the fridge, precariously balanced in Tupperware and awaiting presentation.
As am I.
I jump in the shower, trying not to think about earlier. Parker’s hands on my waist, his lips close to mine ...
Nope. Definitely not thinking about it.
Focusing on my outfit, I try to find the perfect balance between blending in and not disappearing from the group.
I shouldn’t get mistaken for one of them, so low-cut cleavage-revealing tops are out.
That's not a problem since that style doesn’t usually find its way into my wardrobe anyway.
But after what happened back in the barn with Parker this afternoon, I’d be lying if I said I’m not factoring him in as I make my final wardrobe decision.
I settle on black leggings and a loose, white camisole with lace fringe at the top and bottom, paired with a loose denim button-up rolled up to my elbows. The material is soft and supple, practical for working, which, I remind myself, is what I’ll be doing tonight.
Working. Not flirting.
I finish it off with a pair of black combat boots with a chunky heel, setting me a couple of inches taller than I normally am.
I’ve gone from dreading this whole thing to being excited for the guests to arrive.
My guests. A quick time check reveals that I have enough time to do something with my hair, so I blow-dry it and run a curling wand through it.
When I’m done, my copper hair falls in loose, beachy waves that brush my shoulders.
I swipe some mascara over my lashes and dab on some pink lip gloss, thoughts of Parker once more crowding my head.
After our near kiss earlier, my whole body is practically buzzing to know what his lips would feel like …
what he would taste like. My mind flashes forward to tonight's possibilities, after we send the girls off, the two of us finally alone again.
With one last look in the mirror and a deep, calming breath to soothe my nerves, I give myself an encouraging nod and head to the barn.
The sun dips low over the horizon, casting everything in an orange glow.
I’m about to pop up to the loft for one final check when a movement catches my eye at the far end of the barn.
I squint in the dim light and see a figure standing by one of the stalls.
My heart flips, but I only take a few steps before realizing it doesn’t belong to Parker.
“Can I help you?”
The stranger turns towards me, strolling down the barn aisle. He’s dressed head to toe in black, with scabbed knuckles poking out from the cuffs of his beat-up leather jacket. His greasy hair is pulled back from his forehead.
“Looking for someone. Maybe you can help me.”
The hair on the back of my neck stands up. He stops six feet from me, and something tells me to hold my ground. For whatever reason, I don’t want him to see that I’m afraid.
“Your hired hand around?”
Everything inside screams at me to lie. A flash of the money from Parker’s cabin darts across my memory. What the hell kind of trouble has he gotten himself into? Because trouble is exactly what this man looks like.
“We don’t have one.”
A slow smile pulls at the man’s thin lips, and I work hard to keep my face neutral.
“Sorry, this is a family farm. I think you have the wrong address.”
He sucks his teeth, the sound echoing in the cold barn as he looks around, in no hurry to leave. The floor creaks above me, and my stomach drops. The stranger tilts his pock-marked face toward the sound.
“Look, I have guests arriving in a few minutes,” I say, my voice slightly louder than before. “Sorry, I can’t help, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave now.”
“Come on now, there’s no need to be rude,” he drawls. “Besides, it sounds like you might already have company. And I have a sneaking suspicion whoever it is might be who I’m lookin’ for.”
Fear tickles up my spine. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s no one—”
“Sloan? That you?”
Shit.
Parker pops out from the stairwell to my left a moment later, and I jerk my head in a silent signal.
One he ignores completely, stepping out into the aisle of the barn instead of keeping himself tucked away.
His entire body tenses when he lays eyes on our visitor.
He’s in front of me in a flash, drawing himself to his full height.
When I lean over to peek past him, his arm shoots back to hold me in place.
The man’s thin lips curl back over his teeth, and Parker stiffens before me.
“Well, well, well. Ryan Junior. You look just like your old man. Has anyone ever told you that? Like a goddamn carbon copy.”
“What do you want?” Parker’s voice is tight, barbed. He might not know this man personally, but that doesn’t matter. He’s only half-surprised to see him. Like he’s been expecting something like this to happen.
I peer up at Parker, hoping for some sign of what to do, how to help, but his eyes are locked straight ahead.
“You know where he is?” the man asks, angling his head as he studies Parker.
“No. Looks like you made the drive for nothing.” Parker’s tone leaves no room for interpretation. He’s telling him to leave.
But the stranger isn’t listening. “Well, I wouldn’t say it was completely fruitless,” he says, leaning to get another good look at me. “I got to meet your lovely friend here, after all.”
He sneers at me and Parker shifts, obstructing his view of me. I don’t even recognize Parker’s voice when he growls at him.
“Don’t fucking talk to her.”
The man’s eyes turn black and sharp as he strides towards Parker until they’re standing toe to toe, barely a foot of air between them.
“Listen, Junior. Your old man owes me two grand. Funny thing, he wasn't home when I went to collect.”
“It’s not my problem if you can’t coordinate your playdates,” Parker snaps.
The unfriendly smile drips off the man’s face, replaced by a stone-cold sneer. “Last time your old man did this, it was six months before he paid up.”
“So? What does any of this have to do with me?” Parker says through clenched teeth.
He shifts slightly, making sure I’m still behind him, as far out of view as possible. I don’t know who this man is, but this still feels like the best place for me to be. My fingers reach blindly forward, and Parker’s curl around mine, squeezing.
I flinch as the stranger lifts his hands to brush off Parker’s shoulders, but Parker stays still as a statue even when the man’s grip turns firm, a painful-looking hold. “Since Ryan Senior ain’t at home, you’re going to get a message to him.”
“I’m not his errand boy,” Parker growls.
“No, of course not.” The man’s face morphs into a grimace. “Not a bank, either. But I’m not waiting another six months to get my money back. So, you can tell your dear old daddy that Ray’s looking for him. And if I don’t find him in the next six days, I’m coming back here to get what’s mine.”
He pats Parker’s shoulder and drops his hand, that greasy sneer of his shifting back into a smile that does nothing to fool me this time. His boot heels click across the concrete floor as he leaves. Neither of us moves until the gravel crunches under his tires as he peels away.
“Parker, what the hell was that?” I ask with a shaky breath.
He drags a hand over his face and sighs, a troubled, faraway look in his eyes. “You wanted to know what I got from my parents? That’s what.”