by L. P. Maxa
Why did I want to see it? I’d seen cannabis plants before, plenty of times. What was this sudden disconnect between my brain and my mouth? I felt guilty, but as I watched her dark eyes assess me, I also felt excited. I wanted her to deem me worthy, which made no fucking sense.
She nodded. “Yeah, sure.”
As we moved through the door, I was shocked. This wasn’t some little pet project undertaken by a couple of teenagers with cash to burn: this was a major operation. There were five rows of plants, maybe six deep.. There was a state-of-the-art lighting system and vents interspersed all over the ceiling. A small lab was set up against one wall, and a gardening station against the other. The air smelled like dirt and cannabis, the earthy musk of good weed.
I stepped down on the concrete floor, taking it all in, as impressed by what I was seeing as I was concerned.
“How old are you?” I was almost positive she was sixteen still, which was a thought that crossed my mind every time an unwarranted image of her had popped into my brain over the last few months. “Surely not old enough to have the licensing it takes to operate all this.” I threw my arms wide, encompassing the impressive setup she and Jett had in the basement of the old red barn on their parents’ land.
“You a narc?” She raised one eyebrow.
“No.” I smiled at her accusation. “It’s just, well… This is a lot of cannabis. The penalty for getting caught would be pretty damn steep.”
“Did you ask to follow me down here so you could lecture me?”
“No.” Because the reason I asked to follow her down here was not one that I could share, nor fully understand.
She kept going. “Should I call Jett in so you can scold him too, scold him about something you know nothing about? Or does this little talk only pertain to me because I’m a girl? And girls shouldn’t do things that can get them into trouble.”
She’d cut me down in mere seconds, making me feel sexist and dumb as hell. She didn’t know me, at all, but that hadn’t stopped her from speaking her mind and standing up for herself. And she did it all with her cute hip jutted out to the side and her dark eyes dancing. She enjoyed handing me my ass. Thing was, I enjoyed it, too.
“Trouble.” I nodded, chuckling softly to myself. “You are trouble, Marley Connors.” I liked her lips, the way they looked and the sharp comments that seemed to constantly flow out of them. I liked her sass and her brain. The only damn thing I didn’t like about her was her age, and maybe her lack of self-preservation.
She pulled some shears off the steel table, the sound of their blades scraping against the metal surface making me wince. She walked in a circle around one of the large plants in the front row before cutting off a few brownish green buds and placing them in a reusable plastic pouch.
I watched her every move, my breath becoming ragged. Shit. I became obsessed with the way her pink tongue came out to wet her lips when she was assessing which buds to harvest. Watching her was dangerous. And what I was thinking…feeling, was illegal. I knew I’d lie awake all night feeling guilty as hell about it.
“Here.” She held the pouch out toward me, waving it impatiently in the air between us. “This is a new strain, you’ve got to smoke it out of papers.”
“You want me to roll a joint?” I winced, feeling a little lame for what I was about to admit. “Sorry, I haven’t rolled a joint in ages.” When she sighed, like I was an annoying child, I rushed to continue, “But I’m sure Brody can do it.”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” She shook her head, laughing humorlessly. “But it’s like watching a toddler try to use scissors for the first time.” She reopened the bag, dumping the contents on a table. “We take most of the harvest and turn it into oil for vape pens and CBD. But when we’re testing a new strain, papers seem to get us the cleanest data on the physical side effects.”
I watched, my jaw hanging open as she quickly picked apart the bud and rolled it into a picture-perfect joint. She licked the paper, making the breath shudder in my chest. Damn, it was like she was created for me.
“Brody knows what we’re looking for as far as initial testing so—”
“Why don’t you come with us?” The words flew from me before my brain had time to register the decision. I wanted to put my hands over my mouth and shove them all back in.
What the hell am I doing?
So what if she wore vintage concert shirts and scuffed-up boots? Who cared if she was sarcastic and tough and sharp tongued? Why did it matter that watching her roll a joint had melted my brain? She was fucking sixteen and I needed to get my shit together.
“I have some work I need to do here.” She handed me two joints, her eyes doing that dancing thing again. “Thanks for the invite though.”
“Yeah, sure. I meant you could get the data yourself. I mean…” Fuck, I was babbling. “You could smoke with us.” Did I invite the underage chick to come get high on her illegal weed with me? Was I high right now? Jesus H. Christ. “I mean if that’s your process or whatever. I don’t want to step on your toes.”
The corner of her mouth lifted, like my rambling was funny to her. “I don’t smoke often.” Her gaze moved to the joints in my hands, and then up to my face. “I don’t really know how to tell what feels right, what feels good.”
“I can tell you what feels good.” For the love of all things holy and right and just in the world, I need to shut my fuckin’ mouth. “I mean, I’ll tell you how your stuff feels.” I cleared my throat, closing my eyes for a brief moment to try to fix the hole I was digging deeper with every word. “The weed. I’ll tell you how the weed…I’ll take notes.”
Her lips twitched again, like she was finding this hilarious. Which she should. I was a fumbling idiot who couldn’t string coherent sentences together.
“Thanks, Talon.”
She said my name.
Her perfect plump lips formed my name and my stupid fucking dick, which had been hard as steel for the last five minutes, decided now was a good time to dance against the zipper of my jeans.
I barely suppressed a groan.
Sixteen. Maybe if I kept repeating her age inside my brain, my body would stop betraying me.
Sixteen. She was underage. She was jail time.
Sixteen. She was off limits in so many damn ways.
Sixteen. I was being tested, and every time my stomach tightened at the sight of her, or the memory of her, or the words that came out of her mouth, I was failing.
Miserably.
Chapter Five
Talon
Before
I’d been on the Devil’s Share compound for the better part of a week, and I was headed to Cali tomorrow for the last couple days of the band’s break. I’d avoided Marley at all costs after our encounter in the basement. I’d even skipped out on a big family dinner. I’d said I wasn’t feeling well, but in reality, I didn’t want Dash to catch me staring at his underaged daughter.
Which I would have because she was like a fucking magnet, and my eyes, mouth, and dick didn’t get the message my brain kept sending. Sixteen.
It was late, and my last night here. I’d stayed up with Wyatt, taking the midnight feeding so Brody and Landry could sleep. Or fuck, if the noises coming from their bedroom were any indication. I waited until I was certain they were finished, and then I opened their door and put little man in his bassinet next to Landry’s side of the bed. I’d miss all three of them when I left. It had been great being part of their new family for the past few days.
Standing in the dark kitchen, I was rinsing Wyatt’s bottle in the sink when I saw her. My hands stopped working and the bottle slipped, soaking the front of my shirt with water and soap suds. Her dark hair was blowing in the breeze, twisting and turning, catching the moonlight every few seconds. I looked over at the oven and saw it was after midnight, and she was waltzing through the dark fields like she didn’t have a care or a fear in the world. Hadn’t she seen Children of the Corn? Where were her parents? Dash wasn’t keeping much o
f an eye on Marley. And where the hell was Jett? If she was headed to the barn, it was for work. And wasn’t he her business partner? What if she cut herself, or blew something up?
I should go check on her. It was the responsible adult thing to do.
I slipped on my shoes, exiting the house as quietly as possible so I didn’t wake anyone, including Brody and Landry’s massive dog. That was all I needed, the dog barking and disturbing the whole house. Where were you going in the middle of the night, Talon? Oh, you know, thought I’d follow your underage cousin down into an abandoned building.
I used my cell as a flashlight, keeping the beam pointed at the ground so it didn’t accidentally find its way into any faraway windows. The door to the barn was already closed when I finally got there, but I’d memorized the combination the other day. In case of emergencies. It was called being practical.
The main floor was empty, which meant Marley was already down in the state-of-the-art basement. I’d crossed the room, hopping over a stack of old pizza boxes, before coming upon the hidden panel for door number two. I’d memorized that code as well. Don’t judge.
Marley whirled to the door, her hand to her chest like I’d startled her. “How did you get in here?”
Her reaction surprised me. I didn’t think Marley was even capable of feeling shock or fear. Every time I’d been around her, it’d seemed like nothing could ruffle her feathers.
“I lifted the code from Brody’s phone the other day.” I tapped the side of my head. “Funny enough, the passcode to get into his cell is the same as the passcode for his front door.”
I moved down the stairs, letting my gaze travel over her body. She was wearing an old ratty Devil’s Share sweatshirt and some tight black yoga pants. Her glasses were on top of her head, and her hair was a tangled mess from the wind on her walk over.
“Can I help you with something, Talon?” I pulled my attention from her ass, meeting her narrowed glare. She’d caught me checking her out, which was as unsmooth as it was inappropriate.
Can I help you with something, Talon? When it came to her, there were a million things I could think of needing help with. But that would be breaking all kinds of laws so I went with deflection instead. “It’s late. Do your parents know you’re here?”
She rolled her eyes and turned her back to me, stepping over to the rack of gardening tools. “No.”
“You don’t think they’ll realize that you’re gone?”
“If they don’t realize Crue is currently making my sister moan his name, why would they realize I quietly snuck out?” She selected a pair of sharp shears, moving the handles in and out so they made that slick snipping sound.
“Consequences not big on the Devil’s Share compound?”
“More like supervision’s not big on the Devil’s Share compound.” She moved down the first row of cannabis plants, inspecting them carefully, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. I liked her tongue, but I hated that I’d paid that close attention to it. “Did you follow me over here to give me a hard time? It went so well the first time, you thought you’d give it another go?”
“I followed you because it’s dark, and it’s late. And you were alone.”
She snorted, pausing to clip off a large bud before placing it in the canvas apron tied around her slim waist. “That sounded sketchy as hell, you know that, right?”
“Yeah, after I said it, I realized. Yeah, sorry.” It sounded sketchy because it was sketchy. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have let the urge to follow her take over. “I was worried about you, I guess. I wanted to make sure everything was okay. I had these visions of you cutting an artery while trimming a plant, or maybe heating something combustible.”
“So you followed me because you think I’m a clumsy child who doesn’t know how to properly use tools or my own lab equipment?” She nodded slowly, methodically, with her lips pursed. “Nice.”
“No, that’s not what I meant.” I certainly didn’t think of her as clumsy or incapable in any way. And obviously I didn’t really spend a lot of time thinking of her as a child either. “I… I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Well, now that you’re here, you may as well earn your keep.” She gestured to the rack of pruning shears on a pegboard against the back wall. “Grab a pair, and then one of those canvas bags.”
I followed her instructions because I wasn’t ready to leave. If this was what it took to be in her company, I’d prune these massive marijuana plants until the sun came up. I was leaving tomorrow, and I wouldn’t see her again for a long time. There couldn’t be any harm in helping her work, right?
“So where’s Jett?”
“He’s out.” She checked her watch, nodding. “Banging some vapid cheerleader about now, I’m sure.”
“And that doesn’t bother you? That he’s out partying and you’re here working?” I gestured with the shears, encompassing the harvesting we were doing.
“Nope.” Clip. “Jett works really hard, but he doesn’t deal with the plants as much as I do.” Clip. “And part of his job is putting in face time with our clients, maintaining those relationships and making sure they keep our secrets.” She shoved a handful of buds into her apron pocket.
Face time with clients? “You grow to sell at high school keggers?”
She shook her head, pausing to look through the row of plants at me as she brushed a dark strand of hair off her forehead with the back of her hand leaving a smudge of dirt in it’s place. “No, we sell at high school keggers to fund the rest of what we do.”
“Which is?” I was truly curious because I was an asshole who wanted to know everything about her.
Her eyes narrowed on mine for a moment, before she spoke again. “I don’t even know you.” She looked away, turning her attention back to the plant between us. “Why should I talk about any of this with you?”
She had a point. We barely knew each other. I knew of her, and she knew of me. I thought she was gorgeous and smart and sarcastically brilliant. And the urge to know more was too strong for me to give up. So, I’d share first, if that was what it took to keep her talking.
“Well, you know I’m a guitarist in Clashing Swell. I’m Wyatt’s godfather, and Brody’s best friend. I like to surf. I grew up in California, I—”
She shook her head, causing her glasses to slip to the side as she cut me off. “Those are all things I can easily read on your Wikipedia page. If you want my secrets, you’ve got to work for them.”
I took a few moments, scouring my brain for more personal things I could share with her. “I love to cook, and I hate germs of any kind. I carry hand sanitizer and Lysol everywhere I go. Your Uncle Luke basically has to contractually force me to shake people’s hands at meet and greets.” I stopped clipping to watch her work. “My parents are wealthy, and I’m an only child. I taught surf lessons all through high school and used my salary to pay the tuition of kids who couldn’t afford it. I drive a hybrid and forced the crew to recycle through our whole tour, they hated me for it. And I love Greta Van Fleet.”
“Really? Me too.” She smiled at me, it was direct and real, and contagious as hell.
“I know. The first time I saw you, you were wearing one of their concert shirts.”
She studied me, her head cocked to the side like I’d suddenly intrigued her. “You remember what I was wearing when you first saw me?”
I probably shouldn’t have told her that because it didn’t sound like something an acquaintance would remember. But it was out there. Again. I couldn’t shove the words back into my mouth. Which was something that was happening much too often in her presence.
“Yeah, well, it was pretty memorable. Brax came over and told us you and Jett were getting high at Brody and Landry’s baby gender reveal party.”
My admission caused Marley to throw her head back and laugh. Holy hell. I’d made her laugh and it was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. I never wanted her to stop, I wanted to follow her around like a puppy, cracki
ng jokes and making her laugh like that always.
“We weren’t getting high, even we aren’t that ballsy.” She laughed some more, like she couldn’t control it. “Jett threw some trash from his pocket into the barbeque pit and it ended up being half a joint.” Her laughter faded into giggles and I knew I was grinning like an idiot from the sound of it.
She sobered, studying me through the plants again with a contemplative look in her dark eyes. “Most of our real clients, the ones we care about, are cancer patients.” She shrugged, like she wasn’t telling me she saved lives for a living. “That’s why we started to grow, and that’s what we’re always working toward. The perfect painkiller. The perfect blend of chill and body buzz for them to feel better when they’re in pain. The perfect strand to prove that cannabis can reduce cancer cells. It’s not about a party, it’s medicinal.”
This brilliant young girl with the surly attitude and resting bitch face was risking everything so she could help sick people feel better and cure cancer. If I hadn’t been full-on into her before, I sure as fuck was now.
“Look, I need to head back.” She cleared her throat, taking a handful of buds out of her pocket and putting them into a thick plastic bag. “Here, why don’t you take this with you. It’s completely sealed, can’t be sniffed out by drug dogs or anything, and in your suitcase it’ll look like a toiletry bag.”
Should I take more illegally grown weed from the underage badass? Probably not. Would I deny her anything? Nope. “Is this another new strain?”
“Yeah, hand me your phone.” She held her palm out, and I quickly gave her my cell. I was overeager about this chick asking for my number, and it was pathetic. “You have my number, let me know what you think?”
I nodded, taking my phone back, my fingers accidentally brushing her wrist. “Sure.” I took a deep breath, overcome yet again with the need to protect her. “You want me to walk you home? It’s late and dark, I wouldn’t feel right—”
“I know my way home, Talon. I’ve lived here my whole life. I know every dip in the landscape, every step I need to take. I’m a big girl.”
