“I can’t believe it.” Tom says, dropping his silverware. It clatters onto his plate. “You’re giving up the opportunity of a lifetime for what? To clean up a golf course?”
“I like what I’m doing,” Garrett snaps back, this time with far more force. “I’m happy with my life. When you gonna quit trying to control it for me?”
Tom scoffs and braces himself with his hands on the table. “Jesus, give me a break.” He points right at him. “Son, you’re a glorified lawn mower. The thirteen year old down the street mows our yard once a week.”
Garrett lurches up from the table, nearly knocking his chair clear over backward. “Right, well. Looks like I’m done here.” Teeth clenched, he balls his napkin up and slams his fist down on his plate causing the glass table to shake underneath us. I can’t be sure the plate hasn’t broken under the force of his fist, but Julia gasps and grabs to steady the tea pitcher. “Thanks for the nice dinner, mom.”
He storms off, leaving me staring at the heap of greens on my plate. Julia hesitates, her eyes trained on him as he leaves like it’ll be months before she sees him again.
“Now Tom, really!” She stands and grabs the tea pitcher and basket of corn muffins, leaving him to his dinner. “You are a real class act some days. Do you have to be so fucking harsh?” The word slices through the heavy summer heat. “Do excuse my language, Rachel.” Shaking her head, she disappears through the back door.
“What? I told him the truth.” I can’t tell if Tom is talking to me or to himself. Stabbing at the chicken, he grumbles something else I can’t quite make out.
“I’m sorry.” For some reason, I feel on the verge of tears right now at Garrett having been so upset like that. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I stand. “Please excuse me, Mr. Anderson. Thank you for dinner.” It’s all I can say before hurrying around the outside of the house and back through the side gate where Garrett’s already in the driveway, jumping angrily into his truck.
“Garrett, wait.”
Slamming the truck door, he shakes his head. “Leave me alone.”
“Please, don’t go. I’m so sorry, I never should have brought that up. I really, I - didn’t mean to.” I try to catch my breath and hold my hands up in a half sort of surrender. “Really. I wasn’t thinking clearly, I swear.”
His eyes pierce through me, cold as steel, and for a second I imagine him driving off without a word. Tough as he is, he probably doesn’t need me in his life, and if he were to leave me for good, it would probably be over this— the job offer. I reach for something to keep him in the driveway.
“You remember that time you found me by the tree out back past the orchard?”
He’s breathing hard now, staring at his steering wheel. Purely stoic like he gets when he shuts down.
“I was crying, and you gave me your Skittles,” I say, hoping to soften him.
Nostrils flared, he shakes his head.
My heart sinks. The fact that I ever thought Garrett Anderson had some sort of caring, vulnerable piece inside of him is laughable, if not absurd. “Okay, well,” I say, sighing. “That’s great, I guess.” I shove my hands in the pockets of my romper. “Sorry for ruining your dinner,” I say, heading toward my car.
“I don’t remember that one,” Garrett says, his voice forlorn. Turning back to him, I watch him take his hat off and toss it in the floorboard of the passenger seat. “But I remember the other tree.”
“Which,” I ask, searching his face for an answer.
He flicks his chin toward the towering pine tree in the front corner of the yard. It had been there for more years than I can remember, ever since the Andersons moved in. He clears his throat and picks at a callous on his thumb. “You remember climbing up there and gettin’ yourself stuck?” He grins at me sheepishly, and I feel my cheeks go warm.
“Must’ve gotten three-fourths of the way up. Not sure how you managed it, but I was impressed when I got home from the pool that day and found you up there. Screamin’ and cryin’. Kate and uh,” he swallows and rubs at the back of his neck. “Kate and Lydia were inside. Said they never heard you.”
The way he remembers this sets my heart to beating. Craving proximity, I open the truck door, and it squeaks an awful sound out into the summer evening. Leaning on the door frame, I cross my arms over my chest. The nostalgic face he’s pulling has me feeling vulnerable. Hearing the story the way he tells it makes me want to reach out and touch his cheek, but I don’t.
“Certainly the tree’s higher now, but you were also a lot shorter back then.” He scratches his knee. “I had to climb my ass up there after you. You were perched on the limb like a tiny bird. Terrified, shakin’ like a leaf. You were always a climber though. Even with your treehouse.”
I nod, remembering the treehouse fort my dad and Franklin had built us in the forest behind my childhood home.
“Anyway, I’m not even sure how you got yourself up there, but you never would’ve made it down on your own.”
Looking up at him, I slowly beam him the brightest smile I can muster and bow in a slight curtsey holding my romper shorts out to either side of me. “Thanks for saving me.”
He returns me an embarrassed smirk and stares at me for what feels like a minute. “Get in the truck, Gator.”
Confused, I straighten myself. “My car is—.”
“Just—” He sighs and slides over to the passenger side on the leather truck bench giving me room to climb up. “Come on, get in.”
Gripping the warm steering wheel, I pull myself up and into the hot truck. Turning toward him, I open my mouth to apologize again, but he stops me.
His calloused fingers find the back of my head underneath all my hair. He presses his lips to mine, warm and damp, and before I can rake in a single breath, we’re kissing. His lips taste like sweet tea and watermelon, and the way he tugs at my waist, pulling me closer to him, makes my core tingle. The heat of the cab pours off of him, and I can feel a few beads of his sweat drop onto my neck as he pulls my legs toward him and lays me down on my back across the bench seat. He’s on his knees now, hovering above me, and I sink into the ever-present scent of cut grass and spicy tobacco here in his truck as he works his way into a frenzy kissing me.
Air is a welcome respite the moment his lips leave mine, though I feel like a ship tossed at sea without them pressed up against mine, without the sweet taste of him on my tongue. I’ve never desired a person more in my life, and the snake of kisses he plants down my neck, past my collarbone leaves me breathless. My thoughts unravel at their seams. He parts my legs with his knee, the leather seat whining out beneath him, and I can feel every inch of his hardness through his khakis on the inside of my thigh, sending a solid flush across my entire body. I can’t help my fingers from wandering down his firm body, wanting him to need more from me. Part of me wants to rip the clothes right off of him here in the overwhelming heat of this truck, but the thought of his parents finding us in their driveway suddenly has me squirming.
“Garrett,” I say, my breath hot against his ear. “We can’t.”
He sighs and shakes his head, not wanting to hear me.
“Garrett, your parents.”
Lifting his solid mass of body off of me, he slides his entire forearm under my rear, laying the side of his face flat against my abdomen in a tortured sort of defeat. I can see the slow rise and fall of his head matching the cadence of my breath— the up and down of our stalling. Cupping my arm around his head, I feel sweat trickling down the back of his neck and the prickly stubble of hair along his jaw.
After we lay there a minute recovering, I speak. “I just don’t want your parents to see us is all,” I whisper. I blame it on them, but really, I’m hesitant because I want him to crave every single inch of my being. Not just my sexual parts. I refuse to try to connect with someone who won’t even attempt to open up to me.
Sighing again, Garrett relents and lifts himself up far enough to give me space to slide out from underneath him. Jumping down to
the gravel, my only thought is how quickly I need to leave so I don’t end up inside his truck again. Because if I find myself pinned underneath Garrett for a second time tonight, there’s not a single hesitation in this town that could keep me from letting him have me.
“You could come back to the house with me,” he says, looking in the rearview mirror, running a hand through his matted hair.
“I can’t, I need to get home.”
“Then I can come to your place.”
The offer is tempting but Kate is clueless when it comes to my feelings for Garrett. The last thing I need is having her find out how much he means to me. “I can’t, I’m sorry.”
“Right, well.” Garrett cranks up his truck and slams the door, shutting me out of his night. He dangles his arm out his open window. “Guess it’ll be me and Dudley alone tonight. Yet again.”
I can’t tell if he’s trying to guilt me into relenting, but I will not feel bad for letting him leave solo. Instead, I smile. “Tell Dudley I said hi.”
Chapter Six
Four days have passed since I ruined dinner at the Anderson house. Those same four days since Garrett and I made out in the cab of his truck. Since we, embarrassingly, almost ended up having sex there in his parents’ driveway. Of course, I haven’t heard a word from him since then either— no text or phone call. Part of me hopes maybe he got the hint that I can’t play it casual with him anymore. As enticing as sex with him is, I want everything else with him, too. The stuff he just isn’t willing to give.
Then again, I don’t have the best track record when it comes to saying no to Garrett. The fact that I haven’t been able to go an entire three hours the past four days without thinking about the taste of his lips or the weight of his body on top of mine says enough. Maybe it’s better that he’s gone silent.
“Rach, are you super busy this afternoon?”
Mindlessly holding the remote, I turn the HGTV channel off. I’ve been sitting here in a pair of boxer shorts and a camisole watching houses being flipped for hours now. I could stand a little human interaction. “No, what’s up?”
Kate digs inside a drawer of the living room desk and pulls out a spiral-bound notebook. “I could really use some help planning the details for the party. Or I mean the memorial.” She grabs a pen from the kitchen counter, her voice nervous. “Or you know, whatever we want to call it, the thing for Lydia.”
The thought of spending any portion of my day thinking about the fact that Lydia is still gone makes me want to throw a toddler-sized tantrum right in the middle of the floor. Instead, I decide to be a decent friend. Kate has been talking about the party nonstop since the River Roast, and I know it means a lot to her. She’s the type of girl who can’t stand to be bored, so when she has nothing else going on, she plans things. Helping her with this one event is the least I can do. “I’ll help however I can,” I tell her.
“Want to go down to the Dream Bean and sit? They’ve got free air conditioning.” She smirks and waggles her eyebrows knowing she’s got me on the line. And she’s right. The suggestion leaves me perking up. The Dream Bean Coffee Shop in downtown Southport is one of my favorite spots. It also happens to be a few blocks from Garrett’s house.
Shit, there he is again.
“Are you kidding? I am Dream Bean ready. Lattes all around,” I shout, jumping up to stand on the couch. “Think I could wear these?” I hike my boxers as far up my stomach as they’ll go and shoot her the dumbest face I can make. Real nerd territory.
Kate slams her notepad on the table and tries not to break into a fit of laughter. “You act like that, I won’t be seen anywhere with you. Change your clothes, and come on.”
This sobers me enough to send me jogging down the hallway like a maniac, my shorts still hiked up clear to my navel.
“I’ll be in the car, you freak,” Kate snorts.
After ordering our coffee, we sit in the corner of the café underneath the air conditioner. My legs are already forming goosebumps as the air blows down on us. I should’ve worn jeans instead of my denim overall shorts. Who knows how long Kate will keep me here with her planning?
“So, hey,” she murmurs, staring down into her cappuccino. “Have you seen Garrett lately? I was surprised he didn’t come to the River Roast.”
“Really? You’re surprised he didn’t show up to something?”
I can tell my question has offended her as she looks out the window. I’m suddenly glad she’s not looking at me because I feel my lips twitch, wanting to tell her the truth. Lying entirely is the worst thing I can do in the situation, but if she knew what I’d been up to with him, she’d probably toss her drink in my face.
“Mrs. Anderson called me to come groom Max and Lucy the other day, so I saw him for a bit while he was over at his parents’ place.”
Both halves of that sentence are completely true.
“Oh my God, Maxy,” Kate coos. “So how was he? Garrett, I mean, not the dog. Is he doing alright?”
Suddenly, I feel defensive. If she cares so much about him, why can’t she just ask him herself? She has his phone number and knows where he lives. “Yeah, he seemed okay. Normal, I guess.”
“Right,” she sighs. “Like any of us would know normal if it smacked us in the face.”
The cold air still whirring down on me, I remember how warm it was in the cab of Garrett’s truck with his body heat surrounding me in pure temptation. I’d give anything for his warmth right about now. A shiver runs down my spine, and I take a sip of my latte.
“Are you okay?” Kate asks, eyeing me strangely.
“Yeah, just a little cold. I’m fine.”
Fine, and unable to stop thinking about Garrett.
Pulling out her notebook and pen, Kate shrugs.
For what feels like hours, we delve into the specifics of the gathering for Lydia. At the River Roast, my dad had given Kate permission to throw the party at our lakehouse in Wilmington, so the plans all center around that. Who’s catering the food, where to put the tables in the house, what pictures of Lydia to blow up and print off on display, what lights to string up outside, who’s in charge of the music, what type of alcohol we want. Luckily, most of it seems a bit detached from actually talking about Lydia even though the party is in her honor.
“You think we should get a keg?”
I feel my phone vibrating in the pocket of my shorts. Digging it out, I nod at Kate. “At least one,” I suggest. “Maybe two.”
Garrett’s name is plastered across the screen of my cell, and I immediately freeze. All week, he’s neglected to call me, but now he wants me? I press to ignore his call, but approximately two minutes later, he calls again which is very unlike him.
Excusing myself from the table, I answer the call by the front door of the café. “Hello?”
“Hey.” Garrett isn’t a man of many words. But hearing him, I sense something is off in his tone. His confidence is gone.
“Garrett? Everything okay?”
He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but when he speaks, his voice feels empty, shredded around the edges. “What are you doin’? Busy with Kate?”
I look back at Kate across the café. She’s got her nose to her paper, probably scribbling down song ideas for a playlist or something. “Garrett, what’s wrong?”
He sighs, and I can tell something is terribly off.
“Hey,” I say, trying to pacify is unease. “Will you tell me?”
He clears his throat. “Nah, it’s fine. Forget I called.”
“Are you home?”
He doesn’t say anything, but I hear him mutter something under his breath.
“I’m leaving now. I’m coming to you,” I tell him right before I end the call.
“Who was that,” Kate asks as I return to the table.
Shrugging, I ignore her question. “I’m so sorry, I have to run.”
“It’s okay, we got a lot done.” She lowers her brow and watches me grab my bag from the table as I sling it across my body
. “Do you want me to take you somewhere?”
“No, thanks. I could use the fresh air. I’ll see you at home.”
Really, what am I supposed to say? Drop me off at Garrett’s, the guy you’re always lusting after, thanks. That would go over really well.
The heat outside feels like a full on assault, and as soon as I drift out of sight from the Dream Bean, I run as fast as I can.
His tiny single-story, white bungalow is nestled off of George Street. Up on the front stoop, my pounding knocks are never answered. My heart starts to race as I edge around back and find Garrett slouched over on an old tree stump in the middle of his backyard. His head is cradled in the lift of his hands, and shining in the setting of the sun in the grass beside him is a pistol. At first sight of it, my stomach flips, and I can barely breathe.
“Garrett?” My voice slices through his silence, but I try to rein it in. “Garrett, what’s wrong?”
He shakes his head. “Of all the ways it could’ve happened. Wasn’t supposed to be like this, you know?” His head bobs up, and I see streaks of tears rolling down his cheeks. The mere sight of him in so much pain splits my heart right in two.
“What happened?”
Suddenly standing, he downs the rest of a glass of what looks like whiskey and drops it. The glass his the earth with a thud. “I told you to be careful out there,” he yells toward his back property line, startling me. His voice lifts into the woods behind his house, his words threatening to crack right open. “You didn’t listen, and look what happened.”
My hands tremble as I cautiously reach for his shoulder, but he shakes me off with several thundering steps toward the woods. “That’s what you get, you wild thing.”
I remain silent, giving him all the space and time he needs, grateful that he has moved away from the gun.
“Why’d you have to go and do it, huh?” He sobs now, the sound of his pain stirring silent tears of my own. I want to wrap my arms around him and make him better, but I can’t do a thing until he decides to let me in. He scoffs and spits at the ground. “You goddamn bigshot.”
All the Wild Ways: A Friends to Lovers Romance Page 4
