Lunchtime Chronicles: Sweet Georgia Peach

by POSEY PARKS

  LUNCHTIME CHRONICLES:

  SWEET GEORGIA PEACH

  LICENSE STATEMENT

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please visit your favorite ebook retailer to purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright © 2020 by Posey Parks

  Published by Posey Parks Publishing

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  EPILOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  WYATT

  I peeked at the scoreboard, then my eyes fell on our team captain, quarterback, and best friend—Deacon Hurns.

  Turning his head slightly, he winked.

  Showtime.

  We were down by three. The right play and we could win the game. Maxon hunched over at the other end of the lineup.

  Sweat dripped down my brow. I tugged the face mask of my football helmet once. We disbursed. I side-stepped Jimmy from Cherokee High. Running down the side of the field, I glanced over my shoulder. Deacon released the ball, and it spiraled through the air. I extended my hands, while peeking at Jimmy in my periphery.

  He ran at top speed toward me. My focus was on the play. I drowned out the cheering crowd, the band, the cheerleaders, even the coach on the sidelines. Everything felt like it happened in slow motion. The ball slapped my gloved palm midair. I tucked it at my side and sprinted toward the end of the field. A surge of adrenaline shot through my body. Felt like my legs were on fire. Two other players reached for me. A third grabbed my jersey. I shook him off, not losing my momentum. The cheering fans struck my eardrums just as my foot made contact with the end zone. Spinning around, still clutching the ball, I stared into the eyes of my ferocious screaming teammates. I slammed the ball to the ground and jammed my index finger in the air. “Number one baby,” I roared, as the guys hoisted me into the air.

  “Yes, we won!”

  Twenty minutes later, after leaving the locker room, my best friends and I met our families on the sidelines.

  “Great job, Oak.” Dad poked his chest out, slapping my shoulder. He looked good for his age. The man didn’t have one gray strand in his jet-black hair. He still worked out a few times a week, maintaining a solid build.

  “Thanks.”

  I hugged my mother and little sister.

  “You were great out there, Wyatt.”

  I was an only child for five years, until my sister entered this world with a head full of dark curly hair. Mom said that was why she had indigestion throughout her pregnancy. The memory made me laugh inside. She’d get our parents' undivided attention once I went off to college.

  “Thanks, Phoebe.”

  My sister and I had the same color eyes as dad. Dark gray.

  Mom’s dark hair framed her smiling face. “I’m so proud of you.” She swiped at a tear.

  “My son’s going to the pros. Just like his daddy.”

  I pulled her curvy frame into me. Her head fell in the center of my chest.

  “Love you, Mom. Don’t soften me up in front of the guys.”

  She patted my chest. “I’ll stop.” Mom sniffled.

  Her green eyes met mine. “Wrap up your conversation with your friends so we can head to dinner,” she stated, with a southern drawl.

  “Ok.”

  “We’ll see you in the truck.” Her head swiveled toward the madness on the football field.

  “Maxon, come on. Toss me into the air. We’ve practiced several times.”

  “Rayne, I’m not a dude cheerleader.”

  She clapped her hands. “Let’s go.”

  “Be careful,” Mrs. Wynters hollered out.

  Mom gasped as Maxon tossed Rayne in the air like a football. Her body twirled above his head. Stretching his hands out, he caught her midair. She screamed, “Yes.”

  Maxon placed her firmly on the ground.

  Sylvie popped up behind them, slapping Rayne’s hands.

  “That was awesome,” she shouted.

  “Oak, your friends are crazy.” Mom shook her head.

  I laughed. “That they are.”

  The second my family walked away; I stole a glimpse of Lakelyn. The little navy and white cheerleading uniform hugged her curves. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her beautiful brown skin glowing under the field lights. Lakelyn’s skin reminded me of the color of the little gingerbread cookie ladies. How I’d like to eat her up. Stealing her from our families, pulling her into my arms, and kissing those sweet lips ran through my mind.

  Side tracked.

  That happened often when it came to her.

  Deacon’s arm hung protectively over his sister’s shoulder, killing the hard-on I had for her.

  Lakelyn Amaya Hurns. I loved the way her name rolled off my tongue. The day would come when my tongue would roll over every inch of her body. I digress. She was one year younger than Rayne, Sylvie, Maxon, Deacon, and me.

  We couldn’t reject her from our crew. Wherever Deacon went, she did, too. That was his parents’ rules.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Hurns, how are you both, tonight?” I asked, with a thick southern drawl.

  “Wonderful,” she smiled, stepping closer to me.

  During the football season, I often watched the games with my best friend and his dad on Sundays. My dad loved the game as much as me. We always watched football together on Thursdays.

  “Doing good.” Mr. Hurns face lit up. “You guys played one hell of a game.”

  He had swag as Deacon liked to say. He wore his red polo shirt tucked into his jeans, which drew attention to his round belly.

  We lived in Buckhead, an affluent suburb in the metro Atlanta, GA.

  Everything and everyone in our town screamed wealth.

  “Thanks. It was a close one.”

  I felt Lakelyn’s heated, mouthwatering gaze. Thumbing her high cheekbones and oval face was one of my many goals. She was five-three and all sass. Her father walked over congratulating Deacon on the win.

  Mrs. Hurns smiled up at me, flashing her brown eyes. She reminded me of an older version of her daughter. A long time ago, Deacon and I were tossing the football around in his backyard. We caught his parents making out in the living room. Let’s just say, we could never unsee that moment.

  “Don’t let Deacon see the way you’re looking at his sister,” she whispered.

  Thank god, Deacon wasn’t in ear shot.

  Mrs. Hurns caught Lakelyn and me walking home from school a few years ago. We didn’t need to walk. We had drivers. There was no way I could ride with her or vice versa. So, I persuaded her to walk home with me from school once a week. Our conversations were innocent. She obsessed over football stats as much as I did.

/>   “Mrs. Hurns, you’re wrong. I’m looking past her,” I lied.

  She chuckled. “Boy, what about all the other times?”

  I scratched my head.

  “Be careful, Wyatt. I don’t want to see you and my son’s friendship fall apart because of your feelings for his sister.”

  “I appreciate your concern, Mrs. Hurns.”

  “Oak, there you are.” Melanie stepped beside me, threading our fingers. She licked her lips, taking in my six-five muscled frame.

  Her tiny skirt left nothing to the imagination, nor did the pale pink cut-off tank top that accentuated her porcelain belly. She stared up at me batting those long lashes over her gray eyes.

  “Y’all, have a good night.” Mrs. Hurns folded her arms and narrowed her eyes at my situation. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she liked the idea of Lakelyn and me. If only her brother was on board.

  “Daddy, I’ll be in the truck.” Lakelyn glared at me before storming off the field. The view of her tight, round ass was perfect, until Michael from the opposing team caught up with her. He slinked his big arm over her shoulder. My fist curled at my side.

  Dating each other was out of the question. Didn’t mean we enjoyed seeing the other romantically linked to another. The thought of going off to college next year and not seeing her face every day squeezed my heart like a grape. I’d return home every weekend if I had to, just to see her beautiful face.

  **P**

  Lakelyn and I separated from our friends at my going away party. We sat on the balcony off my bedroom and laughed and joked about the people hanging around the pool.

  I felt like a jerk talking to my best friend’s sister behind his back, especially, after he made me promise to never make a move on her.

  “You know how I feel about you right?” I stole a glimpse of her lying on the gray lounge chair at my side. Thoughts of ripping that tiny dress off of her body crept through my brain.

  “I know you dislike the company of guys I keep.”

  “You’ve sent the chicks on my arm unnerving glares, too.”

  She arched a brow. “None of it matters. Our interactions only showed how sexually attracted we are to each other. What do our feelings for one another change?” She shook her head.

  I opened my mouth.

  “You don’t have to answer. I’ll tell you. Nothing.”

  She strutted into my bedroom. Two strides behind her and I turned the little woman to face me.

  “Go live your life, Wyatt. Soon you’ll play for an NFL team.”

  “I’ll do everything in my power to play in Atlanta.”

  She eased up on her tippy toes and pressed her finger against my lips. “Wyatt, we’ve shared kisses in the past and now we can add this one night to our special memories and move on with our lives.” Her big brown eyes were full of desire.

  “My brother doesn’t have to know. We’ll never speak of it again.”

  My heart raced in my chest. I knew I wanted more.

  Her hands dropped at her sides. I gripped her oval face, yanking her tiny frame against mine. My brows lowered as are gazes held firm. “Is this all you want between us, sex?”

  Her breasts rose and fell. “We won’t betray my brother after tonight. This is it.” Lakelyn’s hands brushed my abs under my gray T-shirt. I tugged it over my head and threw it on a nearby chair.

  Lakelyn’s eyes were glued to my muscled chest. She wasted no time licking my pecs. Something told me she wanted to do that for a long time. My large hands swept under her cute short coral dress. I snatched her lace panties off and let them fall to the floor, then I scooped her up into my arms. Stalking toward my bed, I sucked on her gorgeous lips. I planned to make love to her all night.

  If I would’ve told her I’d forgo my friendship with her brother, we could’ve started a relationship.

  Lakelyn was right. She’d enter college next year, and I’d go pro.

  One thing was for certain, that special night between us wasn’t enough.

  Problem.

  I’ve tasted the forbidden fruit. Now I craved what was off limits.

  CHAPTER TWO

  WYATT

  No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get Lakelyn off my mind. I partied on a weekly basis during freshman and sophomore year. The women flocked to me. Mainly because they salivated over my body and game, on and off the Notre Dame football field. I fucked so many chicks in college that I grew bored. The only woman I desired I couldn’t have. It weighed on my thoughts and tugged at my withering heart strings.

  Lakelyn and I had a similar pattern. We slept with as many people as we could, trying to fuck the other out of our systems. That shit didn’t work.

  Bet you’re wondering how I knew what Lakelyn was up to in college.

  I found a nerdy kid who attended school with her. For a small incentive, Gill followed her around the GSU campus. Figured using the Atlanta Hawks skybox as incentive was a smart play. He’d appear cool to all his nerdy friends. He delivered the best intel.

  I had a problem with one particular guy. He pushed up on Lakelyn, hard. Trying to come back for second and third fucks. Gill said Cornell was known around campus as a cool guy who could have any woman he wanted. Who do you think he wanted to be his number one bed buddy? Lakelyn. I put an end to that shit.

  I flew home from school just to take care of Mr. Popularity. Gill said Cornell worked out at the strength and conditioning facility a few nights a week. He usually left late around ten on Wednesdays.

  Baseball cap pulled down low, I trudged across the campus behind the bulky son of a bitch at a distance. Gill forgot to mention dude basically lived at the gym. I found a picture online of Cornell kneeling in his football uniform. I thought maybe the pads made him appear bigger. Clearly my girl had a type, tall and ripped. I wanted to kill the bastard. He had no idea he walked into a shit storm.

  A gust of wind swept through my body, chilling me to the bone. Felt like I wasn’t wearing an expensive down jacket. The Atlanta winter weather reminded me of a blistering cold day in Indiana. My fingers curled tighter around the knife in my pocket as I scanned the campus to see if anyone noticed me. Students huddled together under the tall lamps, talking and laughing. Frosty clouds of smoke left their shivering lips. Why weren’t they inside? Back to the task at hand. Cornell stepped past a street lamp into a cloak of darkness right before he reached his dormitory.

  “Hey man, are you ready for the game Sunday?” I asked, stepping beside him.

  He flashed a cocky grin, showing all of his white teeth.

  “Absolutely. You a player or a fan?”

  I wrapped my arm around his neck and dragged his big ass beside a large tree. “Both.”

  “What the fuck, man?” he elbowed me in the gut.

  I winced. “Settle down, bitch.”

  Gripping the knife firm against his neck, I leaned into his ear. “If you like your pretty face, I’d advise you to stay still and take heed to this message.”

  “What?” he growled. Dude wiggled in my arm.

  “Don’t fucking test me.” I pressed the knife against his neck. Blood trickled down his brown skin.

  “Lakelyn Hurns is off limits to you. Don’t fucking touch her again. I have eyes all around this campus. If I find out you went near her again, you’ll wake up in the hospital. Do I make myself clear?” I gritted out, squeezing my arm tighter.

  His eyes fluttered. “Hey wake up.”

  I loosened my grip on his neck, still holding the knife firm.

  “Lakelyn’s off limits. I got the message,” he muttered.

  “Good.” I dropped his ass like a sack of potatoes and darted toward the dark Suburban double parked in the parking lot nearby. I hopped in the back seat.

  “Fosco drive.” He barreled through the streets of Atlanta, headed toward the airport. I never had to visit Cornell again.

  Guess you could say I took cock blocking to new heights.

  **P**

  My skills on the football field ea
rned me a seat at the table amongst my family at the NFL Draft in Dallas, Texas.

  A phone sat on every table. Each player waited for that call that would determine the start of their football career.

  I fiddled with the red tie as my knee bobbed under the table.

  Mom grabbed my hand and squeezed it over her heart. “Wyatt honey, relax,” she whispered in my ear.

  Dapper in their gray three-piece suits, Dad and uncle Bo huddled together discussing football stats while we waited for the call.

  The men in my family were tall with dark hair and tanned skin. Our Italian heritage probably played apart.

  My grandmother Concetta Pitucco named her sons Bruno and Boris. My dad Bruno called him Bo for short and it stuck. People rarely called him Boris. Uncle Bo wasn’t a fan of his full name. Whenever nonna Concetta called him Boris, it brought a smile to his face. Our grandmother preferred we call her nonna which meant grandma in Italian.

  She made sure Phoebe, and I knew how to speak Italian. I missed her. If she was here, she’d spout off things about any and everyone around us in Italian. Just thinking about her calmed my nerves. She passed away when I was sixteen. A part of each of us at this table died that day. Lakelyn sat with me in the backyard for hours after the funeral.

  She said my nonna would want me to play the game harder than I ever did before. I’d never forget Lakelyn’s words. Peace washed over me in that moment.

  “Oak, you got this.” Uncle Bo pointed toward me, then slicked his hand over his black hair. He wore a slick grin. Uncle Bo was a good-looking guy. I hoped to look as good as him and my dad later in life.

  After he retired from the NFL, he bought my aunt Aria a restaurant ten minutes from our gated community. He named the restaurant after her. The place was so popular you needed a reservation. It was one of the most prestigious restaurants in Atlanta.

  Nonna said we shouldn’t use broken Italian. I laughed inside. I remember the little woman, piccolo donna waving her finger at me when she said it. Around my friends, I did anyway. It was all in fun. Maxon asked me to recite lines from the Godfather.