by S. E. Hall
Whitley is already bouncing in her chair. Clearly Hayden had told her first.
“Hayden is having my baby!” He beams, happier than I’ve ever seen him.
Well, that ol’ dog. He gets a plan in his head and he goes after it all right.
I still worry they’re too young, because I’m so old and wise and all, but ya know what? There’s been enough sadness and loss in this family, this home, lately… Why not be happy about this new life, the blessing that it is?
Yup, that’s my new plan.
Angie jumps from her seat, already crying, and lays kisses all over both of them, Whitley right behind her. Zach and Sawyer mumble a “congratulations,” and I sit and watch for a minute. I wish Dale was here to watch his son get married, hold his first grandchild, and meet my sweetheart.
“Evan?”
“Sorry, what?” I look at Parker, grinning at me, waiting for my acceptance.
“Wedding’s moved up; Hayden here doesn’t want a bump in her dress, even though I said it’d be beautiful. So time to ask—would you be my best man?”
“Of course I will.” I stand, as does he, and give him a man’s hug. “Congrats, man, you’ll be a great dad.”
“Ya think?”
“Yeah, Parker, I think. Uncle Evan…” I muse, puffing out my chest. “That kid’s gonna love me.”
“Not more than their Nana,” Angie pipes in, waterworks still going strong. “Now let’s eat ‘fore I flood the place.”
“So when are we thinking for the wedding, and where?” Whitley is salivating, I can see it from here. My little event planner; so damn cute.
“I was thinking end of the month, maybe in the barn?” Hayden replies.
“Outside, in July, in Georgia?” Whitley asks. “Hayden, you might get sick in that heat in your condition.”
“Whitley?” I try to interrupt.
“I’m just thinking of Hayden. I know what you’re gonna say, I’m being bossy and trying to take over and it’s not my wedding, but I just don’t want poor Hayden—”
“Babe!” I cut her off.
“What?” she looks at me, already defeated. “The horse barn is air conditioned.”
She takes a minute, staying calm and maintaining her dignified face. “Nobody laugh,” she points at Sawyer, “I mean it.” We all focus on our plates stoically. “I think that’s plenty of time, Hayden. I’ll be happy to help with that,” Whitley forces out, proper and ladylike.
“Thank you,” Hayden barely gets out with a straight face. It really is easy to do if you don’t have to look at her.
“You gonna help me plan a bachelor party, boys?” I ask Sawyer and Zach.
“Do you really even need me?” Zach grins. “Pretty sure Sawyer was born for that job.”
“Is he allowed strippers?” Sawyer asks Hayden, literally willing her answer with his pitiful eyes.
“Of course, but no lap dance for him. He can’t touch them and they can’t touch him. I think that’s reasonable, okay?” she zones in on Parker.
“My word, sweetheart,” he swears with a nod. “Plan away.”
Sawyer gets the go ahead and almost falls back in his chair with his exuberant fist pump and “yesssss!”
SLICE OF HEAVEN
“So what’d you ladies decide to do tonight?” I ask, unable to keep my hands off her. I’d much rather stay here with her tonight, maybe take a moonlight dip in the lake, but she tells me the best man must go to the bachelor party. We all know we’re having the damn thing under traditional façade only so that Sawyer won’t throw himself off a cliff, but Whitley’s having no more argument from me.
“We’re throwing Hayden a mobile bachelorette party. She can’t drink with the little muffin baking, so we had to think of something fun and different. It’s a scavenger hunt around town, and the other girls have to do shots at all the stops so Hayden can laugh at them. I’m driving.”
“You sure you don’t want me to go and drive so that you can play?”
“I’m sure.” She pats my cheek. “You’ll have a good time, just behave. Strip club,” she mutters, shaking her head. “Don’t even think about crawling in bed with me tonight if you have a speck of glitter on you or smell like cheap perfume.”
“You know better than that, pretty girl. You’re all I see. And it’s not exactly a strip club, they don’t have those here. It’s a few girls Sawyer hired, dancing in our Podunk bar. Not the same thing, and only for Sawyer’s, and maybe Zach’s, benefit,” I explain with a laugh.
“Well, don’t keep Parker out all night; he has to get married tomorrow. If he rolls in hung-over and ruins my carefully orchestrated ceremony, I will personally blame you.” She pokes at my chest.
Whitley had worked her tail off on this wedding. The horse barn has been converted into a cathedral that’d make the Pope weep. Chairs, tables, streamers, flowers, candles—you name it, she got it and draped it everywhere. Hayden’s a good sport, too nauseas most of the time to care, and gave Whitley free reign. I shudder to think about the day I marry my girl. There’s no telling what she, armed with my mother, will come up with.
“He won’t,” Parker says, walking in behind us. “I’m already ready to be home with my lil’ mama. Before we head out, though, I wanted to catch you both. Hayden and I have a gift for ya.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” Whitley starts, though her eyes get glassy.
“Sure we did. You’re our best man and maid of honor, after all.” He pulls my woman from me and to his side. “Hayden doesn’t have anybody here, Whit, well, ‘cept me and Mama, and you helping her these last few weeks, being such a good friend, and dating my best friend; well, I’d say you’re the perfect little puzzle piece to it all.”
I really should be the one hugging my now hysterically weeping girl, but no, Parker seems to be basking in it, his eyes getting teary now, too. He does realize the more he keeps saying things like to her, the worse it’s gonna get, I hope.
“Come on,” he chuckles, kissing her head.
Hayden’s waiting outside for us, a beautiful glow to her as she rests one hand on her stomach and holds out the other to Parker. “Did you tell them?”
“And steal your thunder? Do I look stupid, sweetheart?”
“Then why is Whitley crying?” she asks, giving Whit a comforting smile.
“Evan told her she couldn’t sing at the wedding.”
“What?” Hayden screeches, turning a flesh scorching glare my way.
“I did no such thing,” I quickly tell her, holding up both hands in mercy. “You’re just running around getting everybody stirred up tonight, aren’t ya?” I shove Parker in the back.
“Y’all get in,” he stumbles and laughs, helping his bride into his truck.
“Park, where we going? The guys are waiting,” I protest, already knowing I’ve lost and helping Whitley in.
“Let em’ wait,” I knew he was gonna say that, “this here’s about us four, and all that matters.”
Whitley casts a nervous, curious glimpse my way and shrugs, taking my hand in both of hers. The ride into the back of the Jones’ land takes about ten minutes, but today closer to twenty as he dodges and slows for every dip or hole, eyeing his pregnant fiancé at every single one. She’s around 15 weeks, last I heard, and not that I’m positive, or would ever ask lest Whitley’d slap me sideways, but she seems to be getting big fast. That baby will definitely be built like its daddy.
“Here we are,” Parker announces, getting out and walking around to Hayden’s side.
I’ve seen this exact piece of land more times than I’d even attempt to count, so I’m not sure what’s he’s showing us. Even Whitley’s seen it at least fifty times, it’s my favorite spot on this whole farm. There’s a slight hill with a view of more wide open land to the east and north, the old hay barn to the south, and to the west…Amigo Creek.
That’s what we’d named it, Laney, Parker and I—Three Amigo Creek. The town ledger says Mule Elk Creek, but we don’t care; that’s o
ur creek, more than a mile of it running through the Jones’ land. It’s where I first went skinny dippin’ with Parker and two females, neither of which was Laney. Laney was there when we hung the rope swing and Dale yelled at us that it wasn’t deep enough and we’d break our necks and made us cut it down. She’d been to all of our campouts on its bank and popped the raft with us (again, not deep enough in some spots) and right over there…my tree stand still sits in the perfect deer hunting spot.
Yeah, this is what heaven looks like to me.
“You ready now?” Parker pushes on my shoulder, ornery smile in place.
“Huh?”
“Told ya.” He smirks at Hayden.
“You sure did.” She giggles and pats my shoulder. “Now I see what you mean.”
What?” I ask, the plot still evading me.
“I told Hayden, don’t matter how many times you stand in this exact spot, you always do the same thing. You leave the rest of us here and drift off, thinking about everything you love about this place. No one will ever appreciate my land, especially this land,” he stomps his foot, stirring up dust, “more than you, Evan.”
“There’s just something about it, I guess.” I half-smile sheepishly, not knowing how else to explain it really. “Feels like my happy place.”
“That’s why I’m giving it to you.”
Somehow I hear Whitley’s gasp, and hold her up, or use her for support, it could go either way. “W-what?” I mutter, dazed.
“Besides Hayden and my Mama, you’re my best friend in the whole world. Laney,” he chuckles, “Laney’s gonna get taken care of, gonna go great places and see great things. I got real lucky, Evan. I didn’t have to wait a lifetime to meet the best people I was ever gonna. I met them at birth, then grade school, and third day of college.” He smiles adoringly at Hayden. “I won’t ever need anyone else. I couldn’t do any better, and I’d kinda like to keep ya close.”
“Park, you can’t just give me—”
“I can do whatever the hell I want. Already did, in fact.” He pulls some rolled up papers out of his back pocket all businesslike. “This spot, and 80 acres all around it, are yours. We can build you and Whit a house, be lifelong fishing partners and sneak each other’s kids shitloads of sugar.” He has me in a bro hug before I can even respond. Or bawl like a little girl.
“Love you, man.”
“Park. Hayden.” I look between them, unsure of what to say. I can’t quite grasp what he just said. This land is mine? “I love you, too, but this is—” I start to say. “I mean, thank you.”
“Oh my God. Evan. You guys,” Whitley sobs.
This time I move quickly, my reflexes downright catlike, making sure I’m the one to comfort her, while Parker and Hayden slink away discreetly, giving us some privacy. “I’ll only do this if you do it with me, hummingbird,” I whisper in her ear. “When we’re done with school, we can move here, build any kind of house you want. Could you be happy like that, Whit? Maybe teach at a school in town, then come home to me and raise cows, chickens…babies?”
Her pause makes me panic so I lean back to look at her, sweeping under her eyes with my fingers.
“Can we have pigs too?”
“Yes, love, we can have pigs.”
“Then I am so in!” She jumps, wrapping her legs around me. “We have three years until I’m done with school, babe, three years to plan and build your dream house.” I place a kiss on the end of her button nose, then, to really seal the deal, I carry her with me to pick the wildflower I spot about ten steps away and hand it to her. “Try not to have it all planned out by the time I get home tonight, okay?”
“Will it always be this good, Evan? I love you so much, everything feels perfect; surely it can’t stay like this forever.”
“Nope, it’ll get better.”
Tate and Bennett, Dane and Laney, Evan and Whitley…Sawyer and Zach. Anyone else see the problem with this fucking picture?
Do I want a girlfriend, a relationship? Hell no. That’s what I’ve always known to be true; the one constant I’m sure of.
But lately, something’s eating at me and I can’t shake it. It wakes me up at night. I shoot up in a cold sweat and look around the room…am I late for class? Did I hear my phone? Did I leave water running?
Nope, nothing, just some unseen force greater than myself rattling my nerves. Again.
Everyone is moving on and growing up around me. I’m stagnant, the same carousing, partying, unattached, extremely sexy guy I was when I got to Georgia.
Where’s my too-good-to-be-true woman with Bennett’s loving and kind sex appeal, Laney’s sporty, witty smartass hotness and Whitley’s caring, innocent and always happy gorgeousness? Oh fuck, I want all three rolled into one.
I could go for some real lovin’, some day after day, but no one comes close to holding my attention longer than it takes to knot off the condom and pull my pants up. No, I get easy, clingy, uninteresting girls. Hell, since Whitley got initiated into The Crew, I don’t even get the ones with the tiggest bitties anymore either.
And this bachelor party for Parker, who I’ve known maybe eight weeks—God, I’m jealous as hell of him. That Hayden of his fucking adores him, and she’s even hotter knocked up than she was before. And she dotes on his ass in a very independent, non-blood sucking leech kinda way. Why can’t I find a girl like that?
Obviously I’ve had too much tequila since I’m hosting my own little titbag party over here, feeling sorry for myself. Fuck this. I hold up two bills in my hand, I think they’re twenties, and silver cowboy boots come over way too eagerly.
Challenge me, dammit! Engage more than my dick! “What’s this get me?” I slur, shoving the bills at her.
She kicks one ankle, then the other, getting my legs just as far apart as she wants them and climbs over them, onto my lap. “This,” she croons and starts to grind. Her attempt to pet my chest all sexy- like is an epic fail, snagging one way too long silver nail on my nipple ring. She better not rip my fucking shirt—I love this shirt.
“How much to go in the back?” Two months on a farm is damn lonely.
She cuts quick, nervous glances around, then leans into my ear. “Not my usual club, so not in here,” she whispers. “But for a hundred, I’ll meet you outside after.”
Just when I’m about to finalize the exact details, “Shook Me All Night Long,” my favorite song ever, starts blaring. Now this dance I gotta see, moving Dracula Nails off my lap and outta my view to the stage, aka the flat area in this place.
Spank me and put me to bed…who the fuck is that? “Zach?!”
“Zach?!” I yell louder.
“What?”
“Who. Is. That?” I point to the, um, we’ll go with “dancer” for now.
“Cause I know her? I think they said Karma or something, but I doubt you’d find her in the phone book under that. Why?”
Look at him trying to be all smartass… Well, he fucked it up— who the hell uses a phone book?
“No reason.” I bounce my shoulders in what I hope looks like casual nonchalance, never taking my eyes off her. That may blow my cover, but damn if I could look away even if I tried.
I’m thinking it’s the beer, strike that, tequila goggles; has to be. I was just dogging every chick who came near me, ready to pay for a meaningless quickie, a scratch to an itch, and sheer perfection happens to strut in to my favorite song?
Yeah, and when I’m done here, I’m gonna ride home to the Playboy mansion on my flying fucking dragon that I bought with my lottery winnings.
This isn’t real and up close she’s probably a big mess with bad breath and a whiny voice…and herpes. Gotta be.
But here’s what I do know, no guessing, no wishful thinking, no maybe to it—take it to the bank: her hair is so dark and shiny that you can damn near see reflections in it and it has purple streaks in it— hot as hell. AND, wait for it… IT. IS. IN. BRAIDS.
Usually two braids or ponytails are known as “handlebars” in my language
, but on this girl, they’re cute; cute, wet dream-inducing braids.
Her eyes are as dark as her hair and hold the fear and anxiety of a kitten stuck in a drainpipe when it’s raining. I may never know where it came from, this instinct that up until this point I would have sworn on a stack of Bibles I didn’t possess, but I swear I hear her mind screaming to mine, “you’re big and strong! Protect me, Sawyer! Take care of me, hold me, make me unafraid!”
That body of hers is tiny. Not frail, just petite, and tan and muscular…and her own. She turns it to the side and away from the onlookers and keeps her hands over her barely covered breasts like the tease is part of the dance, but it’s not. I’d bet you a nut this girl has never danced or stripped before in her life. And if she has, she should stop immediately, because she absolutely sucks at it.
Those come fuck me heels she’s wearing? They’re two sizes too big and she’s never walked in them before. Also something she should stop doing immediately. If the teetering and wobbling didn’t draw attention to her shapely legs, it’d just be sad, but the legs are worth the painful show. Oh and fuck me, she’s skipping around in a circle, I hope she doesn’t think that’s a good cover for her lack of dance skills…skipping, for crying out loud.
And lastly, she loves this song. She’s mouthing the words, keeping her eyes unfocused and on the back wall, dying for everything but the song itself to be over. And when it is, she runs like she’s on fire for cover behind the curtain.
“Who was that?” I ask Dracula Nails, still standing beside me. “New girl,” she answers snidely. “First night, can’t you tell?” She laughs.
“Yeah, I can.”
“So, I’ll see you later?” She curls those inflated lips at me. “Maybe, if I see ya I see ya.” I get up, walking over to Dane.
“Where’d you get these girls?”
“Hell if I know; Brock hooked it up.”
“So the company, it’s local to us, like in Statesboro?”
“I think so, why?”
“Find out for sure, I’m gonna hit the can. Be right back.”
