Mine Would Be You: A Bad Boy Rancher Love Story (The Dawson Brothers Book 3)

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Mine Would Be You: A Bad Boy Rancher Love Story (The Dawson Brothers Book 3) Page 62

by Ali Parker


  It had been disgusting. Horrible. I was trying not to gag just thinking about it. Damn tongues were nasty.

  I pulled away from him and mumbled 'goodnight,' before rushing into the house. Good thing the last thing I thought of was Jeremy being my date and how things would have gone then. A few minutes of touching myself like I knew he would and I was in bliss. I wanted the boy too bad to have him coming here for the summer.

  Margie walked back up on the porch and sat down. "Okay, so after we dropped Harold off at his grandparents, Chuck was supposed to take me home. Instead we drove up to Lookout Point and started making out. It got hot and heavy, and the windows got all steamed up."

  Margie's cheeks flushed, as she got this far away look. "He was nibbling on my ear and it was driving me crazy. Then he whispered to me, and tells me that he loves me. I couldn't believe it, but in the heat of the moment, stuff like that just gets to you, you know?"

  I nodded, but I wanted to say, "No, I don't know. Not at all."

  "He unzipped my dress and started squeezing my boobs. Then he kissed down the side of my neck and tugged my bra down. He put his lips on my nipples and sucked softly and then harder. God it felt so good, Chrissy. I was so distracted that I barely noticed him pushing my skirt up. Before I realized what was happening, he touched me down there, and at first it felt funny, but then he figured his rhythm out and…”

  “And… And what? You can’t stop there.”

  Margie took a drink of lemonade as I bit my lip. How bad did I want this experience to be mine? Really fucking bad.

  I wanted to yell at my best friend to quit messing around and tell the rest of the damn story.

  Margie sat her glass down and finally resumed, seeming to be in a little hurry.

  "He put on a condom and I decided that I didn't want to stop. Prom night was as good a night as any to lose my virginity, and that Chuck wouldn't be a bad guy to lose it to. So I let him do it."

  "What did it feel like?" I asked, my tone hushed. Why did it seem so had to get enough air to breathe all of a sudden?

  "It hurt at first, real bad." Margie lowered her head, and looked down at the floor. "After a few moments the pain started to go away, but by then Chuck was too turned on. He... finished... not long after."

  I frowned, keeping my thoughts to myself. That doesn't sound like much fun.

  Margie shrugged and looked up to smile at me. "I had a good time. The stuff leading up to the actual act was really good, and it always hurts the first time. I'm sure next time will be much better."

  "Next time?" Shock rolled across me. Next time? "You're gonna do it again?"

  "Hell yeah I am!" Margie smiled. "Now that the bad part's out of the way, I'm gonna have a good time this summer."

  I fought back waves of jealousy at having someone half descent to “do it” with. Must be nice. I barely got my first kiss, and what a disappointment that was, and now my best friend is becoming a sex fiend.

  I had been imagining losing my virginity for a couple of years now, but finding a boy that might hold my interest enough just hadn’t happened, unfortunately.

  Well, there was one boy, but he'd never do it.

  I frowned, ashamed of myself. My nipples ached and my stomach tightened over and over at the thought of wanting to experience something with a boy… no, a man.

  Every time I'd fantasized about my first time, one face had occupied my mind.

  Jeremy Thompson's.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Dinner with three extra mouths was a raucous affair, or maybe it was just my cousins. "Raucous" was putting it mildly. The boys seemed to eat enough for an army, and made enough noise for one too.

  Daddy smiled as he glanced around the dinner table, obviously enjoying the exuberant atmosphere. He had always hoped for a son as well as a daughter, but I remained an only child though it wasn’t for a lack of my folks trying. Having my cousins stay in the summer always made my dad able to capture a little bit of that feeling. He was glad to send their asses home by the first signs of fall for sure.

  The living quarters were cramped, but I was used to it. Besides, I had my own room, to which I could retreat to in times of stress, and I often did. My cousins were fun, but they could be awfully tiring after a while.

  They generally had only one topic of conversation: football. Passing yards, receiving yards, sacks and interceptions.

  I sighed, looking over at Hank with a moue of disappointment. I used to be able to talk to him about other subjects, but over the year he had packed on muscle and decided to try out for junior varsity. He wasn’t a little tyke anymore either, but I guess I wasn’t really a tomboy much anymore either.

  Looks like this summer is gonna be a long one.

  Fall would be better. It always was. I was looking forward to getting out of the country and heading into the city where I could learn to be the woman I felt like I was becoming. Far too often I was left still feeling like a little girl. Eighteen and still having momma wash my clothes and braid my hair.

  Fall. Fall would be a time of change. The leaves would be changing and so would my life. The University of Texas at Austin would become my new home, at least during the semesters. I planned on majoring in biochemistry with a minor in French. It was the start to me working hard to get into medical school. Ten years from now, people would be calling me Dr. White.

  I tuned back into the conversation as I heard someone say the word 'Thompson.'

  "He should be here any time." Daddy lifted his hands toward the ceiling and stretched.

  Dammit, I should have been paying attention. Which one are they talking about?

  I put down my fork, my appetite having grown legs and wandered off. I needed to do something or I’d go crazy. I got up and carried my plate to the sink and began cleaning it off. Next I rinsed the dishes left on the counter. I had almost convinced myself that I wasn't thinking about anything related to the word 'Thompson' when the back door creaked open.

  I stiffened at the sink, taking a deep breath and praying to God that anyone but Jeremy would walk through that door. If it was him, please dear Lord, make him fat and smell like goat cheese. My lips lifted in a childish smile.

  "Well, come on in," her father said, his tone welcoming.

  Please don't be Jeremy. Please don't be Jeremy.

  "Hey brother, how's it going?" my cousin Willy asked. I could hear the slap of skin on skin and a few hearty thumps. A handshake and a bro hug. But which Thompson brother is it?

  "You can set your stuff down there, for the moment." Momma was bustling toward the visitor, as bile rose in my throat. I was overreacting. I always did.

  I have to know. Wiping my hands on the dishtowel, I turned around and steeling myself to remain calm and show nothing, no matter what.

  There he stood, over six feet tall and sculpted, like a statue of a Greek hero in marble. Sandy blond hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin that boasted a sprinkling of freckles over a straight nose. His chest pressed against his t-shirt and the boyish smile on his face for sure melted my panties. I couldn’t find words to speak if I had to. The damn house could catch on fire and I would stand there and burn – frozen in time.

  Jeremy Thompson.

  No, no, no. Anyone but him. I turned to face the sink and started to rewash dishes that had already been washed. It was a bad dream. No, a nightmare. The mother of all nightmares. I glanced over my shoulder, unable to help myself. A yelp left me and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

  He stood right behind me, my shoulder brushing by his chest as I turned again. The smile on his wickedly hot mouth drew my attention away.

  "Hey there, Chrissy." His voice was deep and smooth, so much more of a man than a boy.

  It had been the summer when I’d turned thirteen, the first summer Jeremy had helped with the baling. Back then he'd lived down the road so he hadn't needed to stay on the farm at night, but he'd spent most of his days in their fields.

  I had spent too many hours in the shadows watching the sweat roll
off his shirtless body and down into the confines of his tight wrangler jeans. It became more than a crush as I got older. More a yearning to know what it felt like to be his, to belong to him – physically.

  Unfortunately, he had never seemed even slightly interested in me. The reality of that point along brought me back to my senses. I narrowed my eyes and gave him a curt nod, before returning to the dishes.

  "We were just finishing up, but there's plenty of food left on the stove if you want to help yourself." Mother pulled a clean plate out of the cabinet and handed it to him while I pretended to be enthralled with cleaning up from dinner.

  I wish I had worn something else. Jeans and a shirt or overalls. Anything but this damn yellow dress. It was pretty, but almost see through. I needed to change. I had grown into a woman and had the curves to prove it. Not that anyone noticed. Useless waist of fat.

  "Don't mind if I do, ma'am," Jeremy said and my stomach tightened.

  Damn his deep velvet voice. Why does he have to bring his seductive bedroom voice around here to violate innocent ears? He knows what he’s doing. Pompous ass.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him fix up his plate. It towered with green beans, fried chicken, biscuits and gravy and a mountain of mashed potatoes. It was hardly fair that he was more attractive now than five years ago. He used to be fine, but now he was sexy, blistering hot.

  “I guess we’ll call you the cleanup crew?” I muttered, glancing at him as he chuckled.

  “Yeah. I’m happy to clean up when you guys are done. I swear I eat more now than when we were kids.” He chuckled as my mother popped my butt with a towel.

  “Leave the boy alone. I’ll cook more if he wants more to eat.”

  “Yeah, leave the boy alone. He’s still growing.” Jeremy winked at me and I turned, hoping like hell he didn’t notice the dark shade of red I was certainly turning. Why was I such a wuss in front of this boy? We were nothing to each other.

  "When you're done eating, I'll show you where you can put your stuff. We're a little short on space, so you'll be sleeping on the trundle bed in Christina's room." My mother moved up beside me and took the towel out of my hand.

  "What?" I yelled, dropping a pan back into the water where it clattered against the dishes in the sink and splashed my dress with water. "My room?"

  "With the door open, of course." Daddy walked back in and took a seat. "Jeremy Thompson is a respectable boy. You ain't the type to disrespect my house and disregard my rules, are you boy?"

  Jeremy swallowed nervously but shook his head. "No sir."

  "Daddy, I need my space." I moved to the table and tried to wipe at my dress. If it was see through before, it was transparent due to the water now.

  I glanced at Jeremy who seemed stuck between trying to convince my father that he wasn’t a total scoundrel and getting a good luck at my dress just in case my panties were on display.

  It was ridiculous. If I was going to stay far away from Jeremy during his stay for the summer, then I needed a private retreat. It wouldn't work if the one person I needed to hide away from was sharing my damn bedroom.

  "Don't be selfish, Christina. I don't know what's got your tail up, but this is how it's gonna be, like it or lump it." My father lifted his brow and that was it. Final say.

  I'd tell you what's got my tail up, old man, if you wouldn't think about tanning my hide for admitting to impure thoughts. I growled and walked back to the sink, starting to wash the last two bowls remaining. I succeeded in cracking one bowl, nearly losing a fork down the disposal, and pretty much soaking the rest of my dress by the time it was over.

  Great, so this is the kind of summer I have to look forward to. Aren't I a lucky girl?

  Jeremy moved in beside me, pressing his shoulder to the back of mine and smiling as I looked toward him. "I got one more for you."

  I narrowed my eyes again and side-stepped. He might be comfortable being close to someone, but I wasn’t. Being close was for family and lovers and he was neither. "Gee, thanks a lot. Let me get right on that."

  “When you’re done… I have something else you might want to think about getting on.” He smirked and I scoffed.

  “Not in a million years.” I turned back to the sink as heat tore through the center of me. I would be naked in a New York minute if I believed he wanted me.

  “Don’t like motorcycles?” He tilted his head, his face showing clear confusion.

  I ignored him, feeling like a fucking idiot all of a sudden. Of course he was talking about a bike, and here I figured he was referring to his cock. Silly me.

  Daddy stood up and pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his pocket as I turned and pressed my back to the sink. He no longer smoked a pack a day, but he couldn't give the habit up entirely. He currently smoked once a day, after dinner, and headed for the door to have his nightly treat.

  "Christina, go show him where he'll be sleeping," he said, gesturing towards Jeremy. "Make him feel welcomed."

  "As welcomed as an outhouse breeze," I mumbled softly. Jeremy glanced at me, his face tightening.

  "Grab your stuff, cowboy," I said, my tone deadpan. Walking down the hall, I turned and slipped into the room on the left, flipping on the light and waiting for the sexy bastard to come in. All those years of wishing that Jeremy Thompson was in my room and now I would rather brush my teeth with superglue than have him sleeping in the same room with me.

  I paused at the door, letting him go through as I swept my arm outward to indicate the room. "Welcome to your palatial estate, my lord. Don't touch my things."

  I turned away and headed through the front room and out on the porch, leaving the Thompson twit to deal with his own stuff.

  Why did it have to be Jeremy? Sure, all the Thompson brothers were annoying in some way or another, but Jeremy was the worst.

  He'd once been the best of them, her favorite person in the world. Until she'd revealed her feelings and he'd laughed.

  He laughed. Did he even remember doing it? He didn’t seem like the same pompous ass she grew up with, but there would be no giving him the benefit of the doubt. Probably a game he was playing. Well, I wasn’t interested.

  I glanced up at the stars and tried to breathe through my anger thanks to his rejection years before still eating at me. It was alright though. Anger was safe. Anger meant I didn't have to feel what was hiding underneath. Embarrassment and rejection and shame.

  The screen door bounced against the hinges and I looked up. There he was with his dark blue eyes and messy hair. Damn if his jeans didn’t fit him perfectly too. That bulge Margie mentioned seemed bigger than when we were kids. I glanced back up at the sky, not wanting him to think for a minute that I thought anything of him.

  "What crawled up your ass and died, Chrissy?"

  There's that name again. "My name is Christina, and I'll thank you to use it."

  "But we always called you Chrissy.”

  "Yeah, 'Pissy Chrissy. I remember it fondly. Now if you would kindly fuck off-"

  "Whoa," he said, moving in closer. He sat down beside me and put a hand on my shoulder, the warmth of it causing me to stay still as I tried to ignore him. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but I don't deserve this kind of treatment."

  "You don't?" I couldn’t quite keep the sneer from taking over my face. He doesn't even remember what he did. Talk about an asshole!

  "Look," he said, his grip on her shoulder tightening. "If we're gonna be bunking together, we're gonna have to get along."

  "You look," I said, slapping his hand away. "I'm not interested in getting along, and I'm not interested in bunking together. So you can just get that thought out of your head right now!"

  "Your Pa said--"

  "I don't give two farts for what my dad said. I'm sleeping alone."

  I got up and burst into the house, stomping down the hallway to my room and hating myself the whole time I was doing it. I grabbed his heavy duffel bag and dragged it down the hall to the spare room where my three co
usins were staying. There was a pull-out sofa bed and an old army surplus cot. It wasn’t going to kill him to sleep on the floor. He had tons of padding. Those muscles needed to be used for something besides taking up space.

  "What are you doing?" Jeremy asked, coming up the hall.

  "He's in here with you guys," I said, dropping the duffel as my cousins watched with three identical confused expressions. "And if ya'll tell my dad, I'll tell him about last summer when you stole his truck and took Jeannie and Sally Sue out necking by the lake."

  Jeremy walked into the room, his hands on his hips. "What's gonna stop me from telling your dad?"

  I turned and pinned him with a stare that had his eye go wide. "You can tell him, and he can make me let you sleep in my room, but you better sleep with one eye open because I'll be taking my revenge."

  Willy whistled, as Hank started a slow clap, but I didn’t pay those fool a bit of attention. I turned on my heel and headed back to my room, cursing myself the whole way. I almost had Jeremy Thompson in my room and now I’ve ruined it and for what?

  He jogged along the hallway and pulled me to a stop, spinning me around. "I don't know what game you're playing at--"

  "None. I wouldn't bother to play a game with you. It wouldn't be fair, because you'd never be able to win. You'd have no more chance than a June bug in the chicken coop."

  I picked up his blanket from inside my room and chucked it at him before slamming the door. His laugh was sardonic, but still somehow delightful. I stifled a groan at just having him near and walked away, falling on my bed as he had to have the last word.

  “We’ll see, Christina. We’ll see.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I ignored him as best I could for three days straight. I played sick, hiding in my room, asking momma to bring me meals there, and saying that I’d caught some summer flu bug.

  On the fourth day my mom had met her limit. She walked in with a thermometer and shoved it into my mouth. "Okay, young lady, this has gone on long enough. Your temperature is fine, I haven't heard you cough, and whatever bug you got sure ain't interfered with your appetite. So it's time to stop ducking work and get out in the fields."

 

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