by Louise, Tia
“Sawyer, thank God you made it! I thought we were going to have to cut the cake without you.” I’m a dirty mess, and when I check the clock, it’s ten til seven. Shit. I’m supposed to be at Mindy’s at seven.
“Why can’t I go to the ball? I can dance like Angelina Ballerina.” Taron enters the room wearing a tux and carrying Dove on his hip.
She’s in a pink nightgown, and I can tell by her eyes she’s tired.
“It’s a dance for grownups, baby.” She drops her head on his shoulder, and he smooths his hand down her little back. “Suzanna’s going to watch movies with you and eat popcorn and look, we have birthday cake.”
Dove makes a little whine, and Suzanna, her thirteen-year-old babysitter watches from the doorway separating the kitchen from the living room.
“Stop right there!” Noel grabs my arm before I’m able to make a quick exit to the shower. “Now all of you get around here. It’s time to sing.”
The candles are all lit, and Leon drops his head back as we start singing. Dove punctuates every verse with cha-cha-cha. I have no idea how that started, but she’s been doing it since preschool.
“And many more!” Noel sings, dancing over to kiss our little brother’s cheek and give him a hug.
We all take a few bites of cake, and Leon slips out the back door. I’m about to go when Noel stops me again. “You coming tonight?”
“I always do.” In the past, I’ve just gone to be a presence. She has no idea I invited a date this year.
Another worried glance at the clock, and I’m not sure I’ll have one if I’m too much longer.
Twenty minutes later, I’m climbing into my truck in a tuxedo. I’ve had it since Noel decided it made better financial sense for Leon and I to own tuxes instead of renting them for all the school functions and the annual ball.
It’s the first year I’ve used it. When I go as a member of the Grower’s Association, I hang around the back in a suit and slip out before it gets too late. Pulling up in front of Ms. Ray’s dark house, it looks like I’m not going anywhere.
I jog up to the door and knock loudly, peering through the glass. A lamp is on in the living room, but the place seems deserted.
“Mindy?” I shout.
I know Ms. Jenny’s at the ball helping with the concessions. Knocking again, I call her name once more, but it’s silent. Stepping back, I look up to her bedroom window. The light is off, and I can’t climb a tree in my tuxedo.
Pulling out my phone, I don’t see any missed texts or calls. I should’ve done this earlier, but I shoot her a quick text. Sorry I’m late. Are you at home?
The little notice under my text says delivered. Then it says read.
Then it goes silent.
I wait a few seconds, and Fuck.
She’s not answering me.
Going around to the back of the house, I jimmy the lock and slip in through the kitchen. It’s way too easy to break into this house. I need to come over next weekend and install a dead bolt and make them use it.
“Mindy? Sorry I’m late.” I dash from the kitchen into the sitting room. “Mindy?”
A clear bottle of what looks like some kind of liquor is on the coffee table. I pick it up, and see it’s tequila. I jog up to her bedroom, but the light’s off. The bed is empty.
Frowning, I head downstairs again. Where is she?
I’m back in my truck, heading to the civic center when my phone goes off. Waiting until I’m parked outside the building, I pick it up and read her reply. Don’t bother. Nobody’s home.
No shit. My jaw clenches, and I hop out, going around to the back entrance to avoid the line. Inside, the lights are low, and a band plays loud at one end of the room.
“Sawyer? Is that you? In a tuxedo? My goodness, you look handsome.” I’m not interested in talking to Liz McMillan.
I’m interested in the girl across the room in the green dress holding Deacon Dring’s arm. What the fuck?
“Hey, Liz.” I don’t even look at her. “Tell Pat I said hi.”
I’m crossing the room, my entire focus on Mindy. Her dark hair hangs in large waves down her back, and her dress is strapless, exposing her smooth shoulders. It’s short, so her legs are on full display, long and shapely and ending in silver heels.
She’s fucking gorgeous, and possessive anger blazes in my chest. I cut across the dance floor, going straight to where she stands. “What are you doing here?”
Mindy turns and wobbles a little. Her brow lowers, and anger is all over her expression. “I’m sorry. Are you speaking to me?”
She’s still holding onto Deacon, and it’s pissing me off. Reaching out, I catch her forearm and pull her to my side. “I went to your house to pick you up. Why weren’t you there?”
She snatches her arm out of my grasp. Her full lips purse, and she’s so feisty, I want to throw her over my shoulder. “I waited for you, and you never showed up. You never called or texted—”
“So you came here with him?”
Deacon turns, and when our eyes meet, it’s like steel clashing. “Excuse me?”
He’s not smiling, and I’m not either. “You’re excused. Mindy has a date.”
“Actually, Mindy arrived by herself. It seems you were MIA.”
“Make a note. She’s with me.” Grasping her hand, I turn and lead her across the civic center. She tries to pull her hand away, but I don’t stop or let her go until we’re in a sheltered spot behind a vine-covered lattice.
I stop, and we face each other. “You said nothing was going on with him.”
“I hope you’re joking right now.” Her green eyes flash. “Deacon is here with Mrs. Irene—as if you have a right to ask.”
She wobbles again, and I remember the tequila bottle. “Are you drunk?”
“Don’t change the subject.” She points a finger in my face. “You stood me up.”
I catch that finger in my fist. “I was late.”
“I’m tired of waiting.” She tries to go, but I’m not letting her.
I pull her against my chest. We’re both breathing hard. She’s in my arms, soft, tanned skin, glowing eyes, hair. “Noel got a cake for Leon’s birthday.”
“And you couldn’t call me?” Her voice cracks. “I’m not doing this anymore, Sawyer.”
The glow in her eyes looks like tears, and my stomach drops. She tries to pull away, but I slide my hand along her back, pulling her closer, speaking right in her ear.
“I should’ve called you.”
“Yes, you should’ve.”
I dip my chin to kiss the side of her temple. “I’m sorry. Will you dance with me?”
“I don’t feel like dancing.”
“Come on.”
The band is playing “The Heart That You Own” by Dwight Yoakam, and I lead her to the floor. It’s dark and crowded, but I hear a few murmurs as we pass. We sway for a few bars in silence, listening to the words. She feels so good in my arms.
Looking around, I notice a banner hanging behind the stage with this year’s poster on it. It’s a man and a woman sitting together in an orchard. She’s on his lap, and his arm is around her waist. They both have dark hair, and they both look familiar.
“I really like this year’s poster. It’s not what you showed me. It’s better.”
“I almost didn’t finish it.” Her face is turned away. “I lost my inspiration.”
I remember her saying I was her inspiration, and my eyes close. Have I lost her? Still, I’ve got her in my arms. We sway side to side as the song continues. The scent of lilac floats around me.
“You’re very beautiful tonight.”
“It was supposed to be a special night.”
“It’s not over.”
“We didn’t come together. Nothing’s going to change.”
Reaching up, I slide her hair off her cheek. “We didn’t arrive together, but we could leave together. If you want.”
She finally looks at me, her green eyes intent. “What do you want, Sawyer?”
Our g
aze holds, and I want so many things. Things complicated by something I can’t control. “I want you to have everything you want. I want you to be happy.”
Her eyes close, and she drops her chin, her voice quiet. “I want you to let me in. I want you to want me. That would make me happy.”
My arms tighten around her. She has no idea how much I want her. Everything in me wants her in a way I’ve never experienced. She’s my anchor, holding my hand and keeping me grounded. I want to take care of her, protect her, treat her the way she deserves.
The song ends, and the band strikes up the Acadiana two-step. Couples move in fast around us, and I lead her off the floor.
“You’re in a tux? You’re dancing? What is happening right now?” Noel grins, hugging me, but Taron hangs back giving me a concerned look I don’t like. “Did you convince him to do this?”
My sister turns to Mindy, who shrugs. “I’ve never been able to convince Sawyer to do anything he didn’t want to do.”
It’s a two-way dig. “Figured it was time to dust off this monkey suit you bought me.”
“You are very handsome.” Noel slides her hands on my lapels. “I want to find Leon and get a picture of all of us together. All the kids, Mindy, you, Leon, and me.”
“I thought you were going to show me how to two-step.” Taron puts his hands on my sister’s waist, and she laughs.
“Okay, but don’t run off, big brother. I want a dance with you, too.”
They go to the floor, and Mindy’s expression is resigned. “I have a really good bottle of tequila at my house.” She crosses her arms, watching the couples dancing. “We could get it and drive out to the lake.”
My eyes run down her body, down her legs to those silver shoes. As pretty as she looks in her party dress and heels, tequila at the lake sounds even better.
“Lead the way.”
21
Mindy
“Brown sugar!” I’m not the greatest singer, but I close my eyes and belt it out along with Mick on Spotify.
The air smells like pine and damp leaves and summer. My shoes are off, and I flip the ends of my chiffon dress with my fingers. I’m full of tequila and swinging my hair, doing my best Lana del Rey as I dance in the glow of the high beams of Sawyer’s truck parked in front of Darby Lake.
He’s leaning back against the hood watching me. His jacket, tie, and cummerbund are gone, and his white shirt is unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up. The lines of his stomach deepen with his laugh, and I can just make out the sprinkle of dark hair across his chest.
He’s pure sex, and I want to wrap my legs around him.
When I was waiting for him earlier, I sipped just enough Dwayne Johnson tequila to piss me off, and I decided I wasn’t sitting home alone with my hair freshly done in my new dress and shoes, with my mani-pedi. I called an Uber and got a ride to the ball.
Deacon and Mrs. Irene spotted me when I walked through the door, and even though he’s a cocky, arrogant rich boy, Deacon has a soft heart. He took Mrs. Irene as his date and treated her like a queen, and when he saw me wobbling through that door buzzing and pissed, he pulled me to his side and took care of me.
I love him for it, but he’s not my Sawyer. Nobody’s my dark, broody stubborn as a mule man who is so fucking hot.
“You taste so good, baby girl.”
Have I mentioned how much I love that he calls me that? It’s kind of dirty, and Sawyer’s only five years older than I am. Still, I love it.
“I want to spend the night here, under the stars.” I lift my arms over my head, swaying my hips.
My movements cause my strapless dress to slide lower on my breasts, and I open my eyes slightly to see Sawyer’s hooded gaze on them. Lowering my arms, I walk slowly forward, to where he’s standing.
“You like what you see?” Placing my hands on either side of him, I lean in for a kiss.
“Abso-fuckin-lutely.” He captures my lips in his and consumes me.
Rough hands unzip my dress, and it falls to the ground. He cups my breasts, pinching my nipples with his fingers. It’s so hot, I hold his neck, wrapping my legs around his waist as he lifts me by the ass, turning me so I’m on the hood of his truck.
“I want you inside me.” I purr, pulling his bottom lip with my teeth.
“Is that so?” His fingers graze the skin of my thighs, raising goose bumps as they trace higher to my thong. A swift rip, and it’s gone.
“I want you all over my face.” He growls at my ear, and it’s a bolt of electricity through my core. “I want to hear you screaming my name.”
My knees rise, and I pull him by the shirt closer. “Like I always do?”
My mouth is open when it meets his, welcoming and warm. His tongue licks the corner of mine on its way inside to curl with my tongue. We’re sloppy, and I laugh. He scoops both hands into the sides of my hair, and I love how he grips me, holding my face with so much possession as he kisses me.
“You are so fucking gorgeous.” I’ve seen Sawyer so many ways, but never like this. Tonight his eyes make my stomach flip.
He looks at me like he’s the desert, and I’m the first drops of rain.
He looks at me like he loves me.
“Lie back.” His voice cracks, and my insides flood.
I lie back already halfway to the moon, and with the first brush of his beard against my sensitive skin, I gasp. His fingers cut into my ass, and he’s on me.
Rum makes you a villain, whiskey cheers you up, but tequila makes you crazy. It was only a week ago this man was racing us home from the lake, worried someone might see us out here fucking. Now he’s all over my pussy like it’s a drug.
I let him take me, hands spanning my ass, fingers caressing, penetrating my most private parts. It doesn’t take long for my thighs to shake, for the fireworks to shoot through me with fiery-hot sparks of light.
He fucks me hard and fast on the hood of his truck. I come with my eyes closed and my back arched, moaning loud. His groans join mine in the night, and it’s so fucking hot. I feel him hot and slippery inside me.
We’re breathing fast as I sit up to wrap my arms around him. My breasts are pink from his whiskers, and his come is on my thighs. The air is thick with moisture and heavy with sex.
“Can we swim?” I want his body next to mine.
“Might as well.” He scoops me under the ass and carries me to the water.
My arms are around his neck, and. I trace my tongue along his skin, mixing his salt with the tequila on my tongue. We’re lazy and relaxed in the water, sliding our bodies together as we kiss and cool down.
“We’ll have to leave a review for Mr. The Rock’s tequila. It’s good shit.”
His buzzy words make me grin. My eyes are closed, and I lean my head on his shoulder. “It’s a perfect night.”
“Come on, sleepyhead. Let’s stretch out under the stars.”
I hum a consent as he carries me in his arms back to the truck. He spreads a blanket over the bed and deposits me on it before climbing over the side. My insides are electric as we slip beneath the layers.
His naked body is behind me, and we spoon ourselves to sleep. I’m too high to worry if he’ll run away again. I only know the man I’ve loved all my life just fucked me senseless, and I’m curled up in his arms, my soft pressed against his firm. His taste is on my tongue, and I’m happier than I’ve been in a while.
Deep in my heart, I know, no matter what, this night will change everything.
The sky is glowing gray when I’m awakened by a strange noise.
Sawyer’s no longer at my back, and I sit up rubbing my eyes, looking for him. “What’s going on?”
The blanket falls from my shoulders, exposing my breasts. The moon shines down on us, but Sawyer is shadowy, on his feet, squatting with his back against the cab.
“It’s not safe.” His voice is low, tense, and terror grips my stomach. “We didn’t sweep the area.”
“Did you hear something?” My voice is barely a whisper.
I clutch the blanket over my nakedness, wanting to jump into the cab and lock the door, but too afraid to move.
“Get down.” It’s a hoarse bark, and I do as he says, scooting lower in the bed.
I have no idea what’s happening. Is it hunters? Teens playing a prank? We’re in freakin Harristown. Nothing bad happens here, but all the scary movies I’ve ever seen bubble up in my mind. I’m relieved I’m here with a former Marine. Sawyer can kick everybody’s ass.
His eyes are low, and he almost looks like he’s sleeping. Or he’s listening.
“Sawyer?” I whisper. “What is it?”
“Shh!” He holds out a hand to me. “It’s too late.”
I don’t know what that means. All I know is I want to be closer to him, so I rise to my feet and creep to where he’s crouched with the blanket over my shoulders.
He looks up, and his eyes widen when he sees me. “No!” He jumps forward, grabbing me around the torso. “Drop it!”
“What?” I’m confused, and he’s got my wrist in a hold that feels like it’s breaking. “You’re hurting me!”
“Drop the knife.” His grip tightens around my arm, and I’m sure he’s going to snap it like a twig.
Only then it hits me he might be having a nightmare. “Sawyer, it’s me, Mindy! Wake up! You’re in Harristown… You’re safe!”
My heart thuds in my chest, and his grip tightens. Pain radiates through my forearm, and I’m getting light-headed.
“Please, Sawyer.” My voice breaks with tears. “Please wake up now… It’s Mindy!”
His grip relaxes, but he still has me around the chest, holding me fast against his body. He’s breathing hard, ragged, and I kick against the blankets, trying to get him to release me.
“Sawyer…” It’s more of a grunt as I pull my arm against his grip. “Let me go, Sawyer, it’s me…”
Finally, his grip relaxes. He lets me go and falls back, shaking his head and scrubbing his face. “What happened?”
I fall to my knees, holding my wrist and trying not to cry. My heart is beating so hard, but I’m trying to stay calm. If it was a dream, he couldn’t help it.
“Where are we?” He looks around, genuinely seeming lost.
