Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Sarah had Lucas in her sights.
Except something about seeing Lucas through the scope sent a creepy-crawly sensation over her skin.
Her mother hadn’t been killed with a rifle.
She’d been shot with a handgun at close range while working late in her studio.
The police report mentioned the paint on her brush was still wet when they had arrived.
She’d been working on artwork for a new fragrance bottle…
Don’t think about it.
Sarah shuffled her feet, a few wood chips slipping into her sandals and biting into her toes. Maybe it was the alcohol that messed with her reflexes and put the world in slow motion for a second. Normally, she never thought about the night her mom died.
Her eyes burned and she tried to refocus on Lucas through the scope, but she couldn’t find him—
Beep! Beeeep! Beep!
The plastic disk strapped to her chest by a mini Velcro vest blinked and chimed, startling her. Dropping the gun, she slipped sideways, landing on her butt in the wood chips.
“Got you!” A guy shouted nearby. “You’re out of the game, New Girl!”
She’d been hit. Not with a bullet, like her mom had. Just with a laser in a dumb game. Still, her eyes scorched with angry tears she would not let fall.
Her chest ached so badly she slid a hand beneath the screaming tagger device to press her fingers into the place above her heart.
Her brain told her body to pull itself together, but she seemed locked in a personal freak-out all because she’d played a glorified version of cops and robbers on a playground.
“Hey, Sarah.” The boy skidded to a stop, spraying a few wood chips against her calf.
At first, she could see only denim-covered legs, but then his knees bent until a red T-shirt and lean, muscular arms came into view.
Lucas.
Get it together! The voice inside her screamed.
He grinned, his laser gun—a black M4, which she identified thanks to the weapon tirade given by the kid who’d lent his arsenal for the massive game of tag—slung around his chest by a strap.
She wasn’t Miss Gun Control or anything.
Her father had grown up in the freaking swamp deep in bayou country, so he had guns and knew how to use them.
But something about a piece of crap plastic laser tag rifle was causing her to lose it in front of the cutest boy ever.
She could tell he knew she was flipping out, too, because his grin turned upside down. Forehead wrinkled.
“Wow. You okay?” he asked finally after she’d sat there like a giant dumbass saying nothing for several long moments.
If that six-pack of beer had been close by, she would have chased away the sensation of phantom spiders crawling over her skin by downing a full one. Failing that, she reached for the next best thing.
“Better than okay.” Her hand landed on his knee, the warmth of his body through the denim affecting her faster than alcohol. “I’ve been waiting for you to find me.”
Her heart pounded faster as Lucas lifted a hand toward her.
For a second, she thought he’d touch her.
Kiss her, maybe. But he simply stabbed the off button on her electronic tagger to stop the beeping sound.
He didn’t touch her, but his knuckle brushed close enough to her breast that she could feel the heat of his hand as he tugged the Velcro strap open and pulled off the device. He set it aside.
The quiet helped settle her racing heart until, slowly, the evening came back into focus.
She could hear other kids’ footsteps thumping past as they chased one another to the home base under the monkey bars.
Girls were laughing. Someone blasted a car radio that still wasn’t loud enough to drown out the bluegrass band performing at the other end of the town park.
“I guess you got your wish, New Girl.” Lucas ducked his head and edged closer to her. “Cuz here I am.”
“It’s Sarah,” she reminded him, brushing her hand a little higher on his thigh to make sure he understood what she wanted.
His eyes hooded as he shifted beside her. He understood all right.
“You like making trouble, don’t you, Sarah?” His voice hummed, warm and soft in her ear.
Excitement vibrated along her skin, chasing away the sickening feeling in the pit of her gut. Lucas might be better than alcohol for forgetting her problems. She leaned forward, her lips just inches away from his. She’d never been so bold before, but she didn’t care.
She needed this.
“I like you,” she said simply, needing things to move faster. Now.
His gaze lowered from her eyes to her lips in a way that felt kind of significant. Green light, right?
Sarah tilted her head and closed the distance between them, taking the kiss he’d been thinking about.
Her thoughts vanished like soap bubbles on the wind, drying up one by one until she could feel only the slide of his lips against hers, taste the play of beer and peppermint on his tongue.
She breathed deeply, inhaling the spicy sent of his cologne and the hint of barbecue on the breeze from the outdoor grills at Lucky’s.
He kissed her gently, taking his time. His fingers brushed along her cheek in a way that made her wish she was a different kind of girl.
A girl who spent her Friday nights in a small Tennessee town where she sneaked kisses with cute boys while her parents danced under the stars.
Instead, she was the New Girl from Miami who was a troublemaker with a dead mother, a biological father in jail and an adoptive father who believed she was better off with families like the Stedders, who could be more stable guardians for her than him.
Of course, her father just reached for any excuse not to hang out with her lately, even if it made no sense.
The pain under her rib cage returned and she soothed it by pressing her breasts to Lucas’s chest. The hard feel of him beneath his tee was enough to warm her inside and out.
He tensed all over, going still for a second before his kiss turned hungry.
His tongue stroked between her lips and he put a hand on her waist.
Yes.
He tugged her closer, her legs scraping on the wood chips. Not that she cared. This was the kind of kiss that could make her forget things. Scraped calves were better than thinking about her mom’s paintbrush still dripping with purple paint as she stared down a gunman’s barrel.
Lucas stroked a palm up her spine, sealing their bodies together, and she pressed herself tighter to him as they fell to the ground. When his arms banded around her waist, no longer concerned with keeping her off the cold ground or going slow, she knew she’d gotten under his skin.
Ramped him up as much as she was.
She closed her eyes to focus on all the sensations. Hip to hip. Breast to chest. His thigh settling between her legs in a way that felt so very good. Her lightweight skirt was a girly bit of frou frou that let her feel the play of his taut thigh muscles right where it counted.
He dragged a hand through her hair, his fingers scraping over her scalp and making her skin tingle.
He swept down the back of her neck to pause at the shoulder of her sweater.
And in that little patch of bare skin between her neck and the fabric, he circled the pad of his thumb lightly.
For such a small touch—in a spot so far removed from the usual goodies that boys liked—the soft stroke was damn potent.
She couldn’t concentrate on the kissing. Her head rolled back, giving him lots of room to maneuver.
“You like that?” he asked softly in her ear, the words barely breathed they were so close.
“Mmm,” she managed, humming pleasure, her eyes remaining closed so she could enjoy every moment of this. The more physical things got, the less she had to live in her head and listen to her thoughts.
Bring it, Lucas.
Just as she thought it, he laid his lips against that tender place along her neck, his tongue taking over where his fingers had just been.
The jolt of sexy bliss was better than anything she’d ever done with a guy in bed, and this definitely wasn’t the first time she’d sought out pleasure to get rid of morbid thoughts of death and guns.
Sarah squeezed his shoulders tight, wanting the moment to go on and on. Crazy. But then, she might be crazy. She hadn’t confided half her real feelings or fears to her counselor.
Lucas stopped suddenly, his head coming up. His eyes met hers in the darkness.
“Someone’s coming.” He sat up and pulled her with him. Tossed the tagger in her lap and pulled his rifle into his while she struggled to remember her name and why he needed to stop doing deliciously sweet things to her.
“Lucas?” Her fingers trembled a little as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“Sarah!” A man’s voice shouted nearby.
“Ohmigod, it’s my dad.” She scrambled to straighten her sweater and skirt. Pull herself together. “Go,” she urged Lucas.
“In a sec,” he muttered, taking deep breaths.
She brushed off her skirt and slid out from under the slide. It didn’t matter that she was eighteen and technically an adult. She’d die if her dad caught her fooling around in the dirt under a piece of playground equipment. If he knew half the stuff she’d done…
Her throat went dry just thinking about it.
“I’m here!” She waved to call his attention since he was on the other side of the playground near the monkey bars. She stumbled a little from the lingering effects of the beer, but mostly from the kiss.
He walked with Erin Finley, the lady from Last Chance Vintage with the killer clothes and funky hair.
What was up with that? Sarah’s father did not hang out with other women.
Ever. They might flirt with him and bat their lashes, but he brushed them aside.
It was weird to see him with Erin at night—not in a work situation.
“Sarah.” He picked up the pace as he caught sight of her. “Did your phone battery die?” He held up his for emphasis. “I’ve been texting you.”