“Likewise, sugar.” I tug my shirt over my head and toss it onto the floor.
I lift her up pulling her flush against me. In a quick motion, I turn her to face me and angle her just right, then she sinks onto my cock. Pleas alternate with breathy moans as I thrust deeper.
“Oh, yes,” she groans.
Her eyes roll back into her head and I smirk with satisfaction. My hips thrust against her and I stare down watching my cock sliding in and out of her. Caroline digs her heels into my back.
“Oh, Brant, I’m so close.”
My mouth lands on hers. Her inner muscles start to pulse. I continue pumping into her sweet heat.
Her body tenses and she falls apart. I follow her a heartbeat later, it’s fucking stars and everything throbs and burns.
“Brant,” she whispers my name. As if it’s her favorite word in the entire world.
Her long lashes flutter open while I lower her to the ground. My hands frame her face and then I press my mouth to hers. I kiss her slowly. She nips my bottom lip and then her tongue finds mine.
I kiss her harder this time. And in seconds it turns hot and deep.
“Brant,” she says my name again.
“Yeah.”
“I’m hungry.”
I laugh and pull my pants up and over my hips. “We just had brunch. How can you be hungry?”
She readjusts her bra and then picks her panties up off the floor. “Because we just had hot, sweaty sex and I need something sweet.”
Shaking my head, I tug my shirt on. “You and that sweet tooth of yours.”
“I want you to try my blondies.”
My brow cocks. “Is that a metaphor for your . . .” My eyes dart to her pussy. “Because if you recall, I’ve already done that. But I’ll gladly do it again.” I lunge at her and my arm curls around her waist.
“And I’ll gladly let you.” She wiggles from my hold and pulls her sweater on. A curtain of blond hair spills over her face. “But right now, I need something cake like. And really, it’s all your fault.”
“My fault?”
Caroline slides her pants up her gorgeous long legs and stares at me. “Yeah, if we never cleared up the business about what happened at the theater on my eighteenth birthday, then I’d still be cake free.”
Her blue eyes hold mine; a range of emotions sparkles inside them. “But let the record show that I’m really glad to have cake back in my life.”
“A life without cake, I can’t imagine.”
She rolls up to her toes and her hands frame my face. “But I’m even happier to have you back in my life.”
“Same.”
And then I kiss her. All the uneasiness that I felt from earlier, gets pushed down. Way down. I can focus on the two of us without focusing on the business.
I’m in deep with this woman.
Caroline
Same.
This one word makes me happier than I ever dreamed.
Back inside the house, I pop the lid off the blondies and watch Brant take a bite.
“Damn, girl.” His throat bobs as he swallows.
“Good, huh?”
He levels his gaze to me. “Pumpkin and chocolate chips, all good. Really good.”
“Hmmm. Yeah, I told you.” I practically devour mine.
“Now . . .” Brant stands and polishes off the last bite of his blondie. “It’s about kickoff time. So, I thought we’d watch a little pigskin at my place and order a pizza later.”
“I have to go home and let Julep out.”
“Okay.” Brant’s eyes search mine. “Stay the night with me and bring Julep. Will you?”
Before I can answer Brant’s cellphone rings.
“What? Slow down. Tell me what happened.” His voice is calm, but firm.
My brow scrunches and the worst hits my stomach. It’s bad. I can tell.
I hear the person on the other end of the phone and it all comes racing back.
“It’s your daddy. He’s had a heart attack.”
Adrenaline kicks up and makes me foggy. My pulse picks up speed.
“Caroline,” Brant shakes my shoulder.
“I gotta go. It’s Royston. He was in a car accident. I need to get up to Elliston right now.”
“I’m coming with.”
“What about Julep?” he asks.
“I’ll text Ma.”
Ten minutes later Brant and I are on the road.
“How serious is it?”
Brant turns onto the highway. “They don’t know, but Mom says they think he had a heart attack while driving. I guess it happened early this morning, but they couldn’t get a hold of Maybelle.”
My hands cover my mouth. “Oh no.”
“Maybelle’s there now though,” Brant grasps my hand in his.
“Poor Maybelle.”
My heart sinks for Maybelle. Royston is the only parent she has. Shipley, her mom, ran off when Maybelle was just a kid. We were in second grade. I remember because Maybelle cried every day in the back of the classroom for a week straight.
The tears stopped eventually. But she spent the better part of her childhood home alone. I’d sleepover at her house sometimes. Royston was always working late.
I remember when she started doing pageants. Royston went to as many as he could. Always sitting in the front row. Without a doubt he was a proud father.
Maybelle and I drifted apart once she really got into the pageant scene. She won almost every damn time.
Before I know it Brant and I are stepping inside Elliston General. The cool air hits me and so does the smell. My gut churns.
I do not like hospitals. And I still don’t know what on god’s green earth possessed me to come. Oh right, because you care about this man deeply. Not to mention, Maybelle is your friend.
We get to the third floor and Maybelle’s standing there looking utterly disheveled. Her makeup’s smeared and she looks like she needs eight hours of sleep or a huge cup of coffee. Maybe both.
My flats hit the linoleum flooring and she immediately runs to hug me.
“How is he?” I ask, hugging her tight.
“He’s sleeping. The doctor on duty said he’s stable. I fear the worst, Caroline.” Her voice cracks. As close as Maybelle and her dad are now, I can imagine how Maybelle’s feeling. The thought of losing my mother is enough to give me a panic attack. Losing Daddy was painful. I can’t go through it again.
And I definitely don’t wish it on Maybelle or any of the Cardwells.
She steps back and hugs Brant. “We’re here for you,” he tells her.
“Hey, guys,” Sawyer says and hands Maybelle a coffee.
I hug Sawyer and Brant shakes his hand. Maybelle swipes under eyes and blinks back tears when Sawyer pulls her into him.
“It’s okay, baby. That man in there is a tough old goat.”
She sniffles through a laugh. “Thanks. Deep down I know that, but the man has never been sick a day in his life. Seeing him in that bed hooked up to all those machines is tearing me up.”
The waiting is agonizing.
I remember the waiting.
I remember the tears.
I remember it all.
A few hours later, Royston is yelling at the staff.
I’m half awake. The game flashes on the television screen.
“We can’t tell her!” he shouts. “If word gets out, we’ll be ruined.”
My brows scrunch and my gaze swings to Brant who shoots up from his chair. My whole body goes stiff and my nails dig into the itchy fabric on the chair.
More shouting comes from Royston’s room. I can’t hear what is being said exactly. Maybelle is at her daddy’s side and Sawyer waits outside the door. Brant’s parents and Weston sit across from us in the private lounge.
“We gotta find that note,” Royston roars.
Beau stands up as quickly as Brant.
“Let me see what’s going on,” Brant says. “I’ll be right back.”
I nod and watch him walk tow
ard the end of the hallway.
Brant stalks back, his long legs eating up the linoleum flooring, his shoulders pulled back and his mouth set in a line of worry.
Brant’s eyes swing from mine to his dad’s. “They gave him something for the pain. He’s agitated. Doc says it’ll put him right to sleep.”
Iris grasps Beau’s arm. “Come on, let’s get going. There’s nothing we can do right now.”
We all leave the hospital under a cloud of worry. I know Royston was shouting nonsense, but it seemed to alarm both Brant and his dad.
But people can do and say strange things under medication.
The drive back to Brant’s place is mostly silent. Rebel Desire’s latest tune plays on the radio and Brant drums his fingers against the steering wheel.
We turn down the long driveway to Belcourt Estate. I will never tire of this view.
“Still feel like that pizza?” he asks.
“I can always eat.”
A low bark of laughter surges out of him as pulls up alongside my car. “I like that about you.”
“There’s a lot of things I like about you too.”
Brant’s mouth is soft and hungry against mine. “So, go get Julep and meet me at my place.”
“Mhhmmkaaay,” I say.
The ghost of a delicious smirk plays on his lips. “Good.”
I step out of the car. “But it’s a school night so I can’t stay up too late.”
His elbow perches on top of the open door, he watches me intently. “Sugar, I’ll have you in bed by a reasonable hour. Trust me.”
Brant
The morning of the fall harvest arrives with a spectacular autumn rainstorm.
By mid-morning, the sun is shining, the sky is a blue, and everything is drying out under the sun. The scents of bourbon, barbeque and firewood mesh into a fantastic aroma.
I’d forgotten how much fun this event is. When I was in college, the fall harvest usually fell during the times that I had fall break. I think Haven came home for one or two, but her break in classes usually fell on a different week. Instead of coming home, Weston took his breaks to explore the world.
By one o’clock, the party is well underway. Wes pushes through the crowd and hands me a drink. Jet and the boys are rocking the stage and the cornhole tournament is just getting started.
Personally, I’m ready for the game of touch football.
I haven’t seen Caroline yet. She texted me earlier and said Chrissy needed some help at Thistle & Rye. I like that when her friends call, she drops everything to help them out.
Just like this how we’re helping out a local organization, Feed Our Kids. It’s a charity that my future brother-in-law is passionate about. We’re donating a portion of today’s proceeds to the charity.
Royston strolls up to us. It’s been weeks since his heart attack and he’s in really good spirits.
He takes a long puff from his cigar. “Hello, boys,” he says and swallows down his bourbon.
“Should you be drinking?” Wes asks him.
Royston grins. “A little booze and fun never hurt anyone. Enjoy.” He slaps me on the back before walking toward the Houser’s barbeque tent.
“A little booze and fun never hurt anyone,” Wes repeats with a laugh. “Does he remember what happened to Babe Ruth?”
“You know our uncle has never been one for rules.”
“That’s true enough.”
I really like having Wes around. Despite my busy schedule, we’ve managed to squeeze in some time at the gym together. We’ve even watched a few games at my place.
Last Monday, Caroline brought over a pizza and listened to us carry on about the game.
She’s charmed Wes too. “Any girl that brings food, drinks a beer, and can watch sports without asking a lot of questions is cool with me.”
Now that the fall harvest is here, I wonder how much longer he’ll stick around.
“How long you planning on staying?”
Wes runs a hand through his hair. “Well, since Royston’s out of the woods and the ranch is ready for the winter. I suppose I’ll leave next month.”
“Not even going to stick around for Thanksgiving?”
He blows out a deep breath and stares at the crowd. “Nope. I got a gig coming up for tourist season. A buddy of mine needs me out in Maui.”
“Same guy from last year?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. Another guy. He does exclusive excursions. Mostly rich folks. Lots of money to be made.”
“Are you sure that I can’t tempt you to come work here with me?”
He smiles and tosses back his drink. “You couldn’t pay me enough to sit behind a desk all day.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of sales. Since you love traveling.”
“Well,” Wes drawls out. “I’ll make you a deal. If the time comes when I’m in need of money or the distillery is in trouble—I’m at your service.”
“I’ll take that deal.”
“Good.” I tug his shirt. “Let’s go play some cornhole.”
“Then can we get some pulled pork?”
“Absolutely.”
I’m three bourbons in by the time Caroline arrives. She’s cute as fuck wearing a navy sweater and light-washed denim jeans.
It’s been a long week. I haven’t seen her since she brought pizza over to my apartment. Since it was a school night, Caroline went home right before the fourth quarter. I haven’t had my hands on her in what feels like weeks.
I’m not drunk, but I’m definitely in that sweet spot with a mild buzz.
“Hey, baby girl.”
Her brows arch. “Baby? Oh no, no. Sugar is all good—definitely not baby girl.”
I sling my arm around her shoulders pulling her into my chest.
“Do you want a water?” she asks me.
I nod and slump back down into the Adirondack chair by the fire pit. Wes is chatting up some female from Indiana. He seems to be enjoying her company.
Caroline brings me a bottle of water and I chug half the bottle.
“Here,” she says and shoves a plate of food in front of me. Home fries and a pork slider. So delicious.
She walks away and then returns with more food and a bourbon. We eat in silence. Mostly silence. I’m listening to Wes talk to this chick about pork tenderloins. Which I realize isn’t a metaphor for his cock and balls.
“So, in Indiana you gotta eat a tenderloin with mayo and pickles,” she says. “Never mustard or ketchup.”
“Sounds really good.” He pulls her onto his lap.
She bends to whisper in his ear and Wes grins. I know that grin. This dickhead is about to get laid.
“That sounds good to me.” She jumps up and pulls Wes to his feet.
“You coming back for the football game?”
He shrugs and walks off.
Caroline eyes me. “Football game?”
“Touch football, sugar. You in?” I pop the last bite of my slider into my mouth.
“I don’t want to be on your team though.”
My brow scrunches. “You don’t have to be.”
She nods. “Yeah, I’m in.”
This should be interesting.
Caroline
Brant. Brant. Brant.
He’s a little buzzed from the alcohol. I’m going to love taking it out on him on the field. It’s a little warm for the beginning of November. I take off my sweater and toss it into the back of my car.
When I walk back to the makeshift field. Brant is standing there looking fine as hell in his dark denim jeans and a black t-shirt, leaning back against an old Ford pickup. He smiles and I think my panties just slid all the way down my legs.
The only thing I can imagine sexier is Brant looking like this on a horse. Hell, Brant doing anything looks sexy to me.
“You ready to do this, Caroline?”
I laugh. “Prepare to have your ass handed to you.”
Weston runs up to the field minus the girl.
“I
think I’ll be on your team.” He points to me and rubs his hands together.
“Y’all are ganging up on me?” Brant says as his hand presses over his chest.
Maybelle and Sawyer appear at my side.
“I suppose you two are going to be on their team?” Brant’s hands land on his hips and he juts his chin.
“Nah, not me,” Sawyer tells him. “Maybelle is though.”
Maybelle laughs a throaty laugh. “You just want to tackle me.”
“Sweetheart, I got news for you. I can tackle you in bed tonight.”
I made a gagging sound. “Spare us the intimate details of your sex life.”
“All right, enough,” Wes says and waves a hand in the air. “Let’s get this thing started.”
The referee rattles off the rules and the teams get in position. Wes and Brant are the quarterbacks. Everyone else’s goals are to run, catch, and basically try to score. It’s pretty simple.
Winning team gets the pure satisfaction of victory. Brant wins the coin toss.
“Hey, Brantley,” Wes calls out as we take our places on the field.
“Yeah, Weston.”
“How about a bet? Winning QB donates fifty bucks to Feed Our Children.”
The crowd cheers.
“Sure, sure. And the loser donates double?”
He nods. “Sure thing, bro.”
The crowd spills out with more cheers and chants. I eye Brant. He’s bristling with energy. When the whistle blows the crowd is on their feet. Brant tosses a long pass. High in the air and a gorgeous spiral on it.
Damn.
His teammate catches it and while I am busy gawking at the ball in the air, Sawyer tags me.
“Dammit,” I hiss and pound my fist against my thigh.
“Stop gawking at balls, Stratton,” Sawyer calls out over his shoulder. “Get your head in the game.”
The crowd sitting near us chuckles.
Wes calls out and I take off down the field. I move past three players. I’m almost to Brant. Wes hesitates in the pocket for a moment. Then he lets the ball fly in my direction.
“Get it, Caroline,” Maybelle shouts.
It lands soft and perfect in my arms.
BAM!
Brant curls one strong arm around my waist and he tosses me around like a sack of potatoes.
Sweet Agony Page 19
