by J. Daniels
Now, when it all becomes too much, when the warmth in my blood reaches the surface of my skin, when an unforgiving pressure forms between my hips, and my lungs struggle to keep up with the pace my heart is setting, I can’t look away to catch my breath. He forces me to keep my eyes on his. He overloads me with stimuli, and then pins me down, stealing my reaction as if he’s earned it, or as if it was his all along and he’s taking it back. I’m sure it’ll be like this tonight. I’m sure he’ll do something, or say something that will provoke my body. Even if it is a night where every touch will be an act, I get to be around someone who makes me smile more than I’ve ever smiled in my entire life. So, no, I can’t help my excitement. I want to be around Reed, and I’m not ashamed to admit that.
Even though I am filled with unrestrained enthusiasm, I hold off getting ready for as long as I can. I read a little, watch The Fault In Our Stars with my aunt, hold ice cubes under my eyes to relieve some of the puffiness brought on from watching The Fault In Our Stars, and read some more. I take a bath instead of a shower, trying to stretch out my minutes. I spend longer than I ever have on my hair and makeup, and still finish with an hour and forty-five minutes to spare before Reed is due to arrive.
It’s a habit of mine. I’m an early person, and I always have been. Luckily I’m also stellar at killing time. Being a lover of books has its perks. There’s always a story waiting to be read. A hero to fall in love with. A heroine to adore. Sometimes I think I should change genres and actually give the potential men in my life a chance.
My expectations of love are dangerously unrealistic.
Danny is already at the bar, and I know Hattie will be leaving soon to head into work. She mentioned earlier when we were sobbing next to each other on the couch that she wished she had memories of me. She would’ve loved to have held me when I was a baby, or been there to watch me walk across the stage at my high school graduation. I would’ve loved that too. I want her to have the time she missed with me. I can’t give her that, but I can give her something that might help ease some of the ache of knowing she’ll never get those moments. A small thank you for being here for me now.
She’s at the kitchen island, sifting through some mail when I walk into the room. Her face turns up and gentles considerably at the sight of me.
“Wow, darlin,’ you look so beautiful.” She grabs her purse and digs out her phone, holding it out to take a picture. “Sorry. I have to do this.”
I hold the shoebox behind my back and bend my knee, giving her my best smile. “Good?”
She looks down at her phone, nodding before setting it back in her purse. “Of course it is. Davis genes, honey. We can never take a bad photo.”
I step up to the island and pull the shoebox out from behind my back. A crease forms between her eyebrows as I slide it across the counter.
“I wanted you to have this. There’s so many pictures of me in here. Ones when I was a baby, up until right before my momma died. I thought you could look through them and live out some of the memories with me.”
Hattie attempts to blink away her tears, but a few slip past her lashes and drop to her cheeks. She brushes them away quickly and places a hand on top of the shoebox.
“You are just the sweetest thing, Beth. Thank you. Of course I won’t keep this. These are yours, but I would love to look through them.”
“There might be a few of me with my mom. I don’t think I’ve ever really looked through the entire box.”
She pops off the lid and peers inside. “Would you mind if I scanned them into the computer? I’d love to get copies printed.”
“Nope. I don’t mind.” I grab a mint from the small dish in front of me and pop it into my mouth. When she doesn’t say anything more, I think Hattie is flipping through the photos, until I look up and catch her eyes on me.
“Are you sure this isn’t a real date?” she asks, lifting a skeptical brow.
Her question has me biting down on the mint, shattering it into pieces. I bring a hand up to my mouth to shield her from bits of peppermint as I respond. “I don’t think he sees this as a real date.” I chew up the mint quickly, fearing I’ll choke if I don’t get this down before she asks me anything else.
She tilts her head. “But do you?”
I swallow down the last bite of mint and wipe my fingers along my mouth, removing any trace of it. “I don’t know,” I answer honestly, watching her expression somber a bit. “I like him. I know that.”
The doorbell sounds behind me, causing my chest to pinch. I look over my shoulder as a loud, breathy exhale pushes past my lips. The chill of peppermint cools my mouth while my skin becomes hot with excitement.
He’s here. He’s here. He’s here.
Reed.
“Beth?”
“Hmm?” A gentle touch on my shoulder has me spinning my head back around, meeting the curious stare of my aunt.
She laughs gently, then nods in the direction of the door. “You might want to get that before he starts banging.”
Reed. Banging. Banging Reed.
I move quickly through the kitchen, waving a hand over my head at my aunt. “Don’t wait up!” I yell, grabbing the small clutch off the table in the entry way.
I pull the door open and pray for a Reed who disappoints. One who didn’t dress up for this, because I’d like the use of my vocabulary.
Maybe he’s hoping for the same thing as our eyes move over each other. Maybe we’re both caught up, struggling to communicate. He’s not wearing shorts and a T-shirt. He totally dressed up for this. I open my mouth to speak. He does the same. One word is shared between us.
“Fuck.”
And we both say it.
Reed
THOSE FUCKING BOOTS.
I don’t know what I was expecting. Heels, I guess. Most women wear heels with dresses. But Beth isn’t most women. I knew that before I drove over here tonight. Hell, I knew it a week ago. I should’ve been prepared. Before I got dressed, I jacked off in the shower, but maybe I should’ve done it more than once. Maybe she knows I’ve pictured her in nothing but those boots while I live out my dirtiest fantasies, and that’s why she’s wearing them. Maybe she’s trying to kill me slowly. What a fucking way to go though. Looking at her, right now, like this. Alone, there is nothing sexy about those boots. But those legs, in that fucking tiny black dress that’s hugging every perfect curve of her body . . .
“Fuck.”
She says it too. I imagine her tacking on another word. Me or yes or please. Her ass in my hands while she whispers it against my lips. The word getting stuck in her throat while I fuck her mouth.
Shit. Not helping.
She shuts the door behind her and steps down onto the small porch I’m standing on. Her hand flattens against my tie. “You look nice.”
“Nice?” I ask, tilting my head. “That pretty mouth of yours just cursed at the sight of me. We both know I look damn good.” Her fingers pinch the material of my tie, then release it all too quickly as she gauges me with uncertainty. “You look damn good too, sweetheart.”
She wets her lips. “Thanks. So do you.”
A smirk tugs at my mouth. Fuck, I love that I do that to her. Make her forget what she’s just said.
I guide her down the steps with a hand on her lower back. “We covered that already. But if you want to continue boosting my ego, you can tell me all night long how amazing I look. No guy minds hearing that.”
Her eyes narrow before she swats at me with her purse. “Like your head can afford to get any bigger.”
“It can. I’m actually not told that enough.” I step up behind her after she opens the passenger door. “Ready?” I ask, hands gripping her waist.
She looks at me over her shoulder, then nods.
I’d draw this moment out if she was wearing anything else. That plump ass is barely covered. I don’t need it in my face when I’m parked in her aunt’s driveway. Not when I’ve done some of the filthiest shit to it in my head.
“R
eed!” she squeals as I toss her up into the truck. Her body slides across the bench seat to the driver’s side with the force of my hands.
Fuck, I forgot she weighs nothing. I could’ve thrown her clear through the window.
She moves back over where I meant to put her, her mouth fighting a smile. “Eager?” she asks through a subtle laugh. Her fingers rake through her dark hair, untangling it at the ends. It’s wavier than it was the other day. Disheveled from the lift I just gave her. I imagine this is what it looks like after she’s rolled around in a bed. Or the aftermath of fucking her in the bed of my truck.
Why? Why would you give yourself that image?
“Reed.”
“Yeah?” My eyes snap to hers, pulling away from the fingers in her hair.
Her hand reaches blindly for the harness. “I asked if you were eager.” She studies me with curiosity.
I probably look like a creep with a hair fetish.
“Yeah,” I say, finally giving her an answer before shutting the door.
I am fucking eager. The shoes aren’t helping. That fucking dress isn’t helping. Beth isn’t helping.
I climb up into the truck and start it up. I pray she’s buckled because I can’t handle strapping her in right now. Not when I know how close my hands will be to the parts of her I want to taste.
“You good?” I ask, backing out of the driveway, my eyes on the rear-view mirror.
“Mm. Yeah. A little nervous.”
“Why are you nervous?” I shift into first gear and risk a quick look in her direction. Her head is turned away as she stares out the passenger window.
“I know I’m going to kiss you again tonight.”
“Right.” My knuckle cracks as I squeeze the steering wheel.
“I’m just nervous about it,” she adds, her voice growing quiet. “Not because I don’t want to kiss you. I just don’t want to feel like I have to do it.”
I slow to a stop at the end of the street, then look over at her. “If you feel that way, don’t kiss me.” She turns her head and our eyes lock. “We can be a couple who doesn’t do PDA. There’s no reason why we have to be all over each other for this to be believable. And you shouldn’t be doing anything you don’t want to do. Not with me or anybody else.”
“I don’t think I’ll feel that way. I don’t feel that way right now.” She shifts her gaze to the dashboard. “When I kissed you before, I wanted to do it. If I kissed you right now, it would be because I wanted to do it. But when we walk in there, everything you do is going to be for her to see. If you kiss me, it’ll be for her. I don’t want to feel like I’m kissing you back because I have to play along.”
“If I kiss you, that’s going to be for me. Not for some bitch I don’t give a shit about.”
Her mouth falls open with the softest gasp. “Oh.”
I look past her shoulder to clear traffic, then drive forward. My gaze shifts between the road and her profile, lingering on the latter.
“Don’t be nervous. Just be how you are with me. And quit looking away when you need to tell me something.”
The corner of her mouth lifts slightly. She tucks her hair behind her ear, pulls her shoulders back, and reaches into her small purse.
“Do you know where Swan Harbor is?” she asks, pulling out a teal blue card and studying it.
I grind my jaw. My head falls back against the seat as I inhale through my nose.
If that shit wasn’t already printed on that fucking invitation, I’d swear Molly picked this venue just to see if I reacted to it.
“Yeah,” I answer, shifting gears as I cut through traffic. I’m suddenly ready to get this night over with. Ready to show up, prove I don’t give a damn, and leave with Beth on my arm.
Swan Harbor. What a cunt.
“I know exactly where it is.”
BETH LEANS AS CLOSE TO the dash as her harness allows as I drive down the rocky path. She’s straining to see the source of the light and music in the distance, but the packed parking lot isn’t making that task easy.
Some asshole in a bowtie signals me with a flashlight in his hand to keep moving.
No, I was planning on parking right fucking here. Block people from getting out.
“Look at this dipshit. We get it. File in behind the car in front of you.” I gesture with an open palm at the kid, who indicates for me to pull into a spot. His flashlight illuminates the grass with quick streaks of light.
“You okay over there?”
I pull into the spot and glare at the bowtie wearing douche. “He’s probably making more than I do in a day for two hours of shining a damn flashlight.”
The kid smiles at me, clearly hearing what I’d just said through my cracked window. He tugs at his bowtie and takes a step back. I lift my chin.
“What time is your mom picking you up?”
Beth smacks my arm. “Reed, relax. Why are you so edgy all of sudden?”
“I’m not edgy.”
I’m fucking edgy.
I turn the truck off and step out onto the grass, inhaling the night air as I drop my head back. The sky is clear enough to see all the stars. Not a cloud in sight. It would actually be a nice night to be here with Beth under different circumstances.
A car door shuts, and I drop my head as she rounds the front of the truck.
Fuck. Again? Can’t this woman wait until I get over there to help her get down?
“I’m going to leave my purse in the truck. You don’t think I’ll need it, do you?”
“You could wait for me, you know,” I tell her, stepping forward and ignoring her question. My keys get tucked into the back pocket of my khakis as I reach her side. “If you fell out of my truck, I’d be pissed.”
She looks up at me through dark, thick lashes, her eyes almost black in the night. “It’s not too high for me to jump down. I just can’t get up in it by myself . . . easily. In fact, if I ever fall out of your truck, I probably am the one who’s pissed.” Her grin stretches across her mouth. “As in drunk.”
I tip my chin down. She tilts hers up, shamelessly giving me that damn smile.
“Easy, sweetheart,” I warn, stepping closer.
She doesn’t budge. Doesn’t move back, or ease up on that killer fucking smile that warms the inside of my chest, making me feel like I’m the reason for her happiness.
“One of these times I’m gonna kiss that smile right off your face.”
Her eyes double in size, the black irises swelling at my threat. Her lips pull down, then open slightly. The tease of her tongue wetting both like she’s getting ready for me.
I shake my head. Not yet. Not now.
She pulls her shoulders back and squints. Fine. Your loss.
I snort. Yeah. Don’t I fucking know it.
We share a quiet laugh. Beth turns her head in the direction of the music, looking out across the packed lot. A nearby lamppost illuminates the side of her face and sends streaks of light through her hair.
She looks like she’s glowing. Shit, I feel like she should be. No woman has ever stood out to me like this before. Yeah, a lot have caught my eye when I’m out, earned them a spot in my bed, but there’s nothing special about them. Nothing that makes them any different from the others. Even talking to them feels like we’re both working off a script. But with Beth, I’ve never felt that way. I’ve never felt like I could easily swap her out for another and not be able to tell a difference.
I couldn’t leave you alone.
I said that to her at McGill’s. It was probably more of a line at the time, but now I’m not so sure. Maybe I wasn’t spouting bullshit. Maybe I would’ve gone mad if I hadn’t walked over to her.
Walked? Right. I practically sprinted.
I lift my gaze from the exposed skin of her neck the second she looks back at me.
“Ready?” she asks, holding out her hand for me to take.
I guess this is part of it. Couples hold hands.
Beth loses her smile when I hesitate, but it materiali
zes again the second my palm slides against hers. I give her a stiff nod and begin leading her through the parking lot, our fingers slowly interlocking, sealing us together. Nothing about this feels awkward. Not even how small her hand feels in mine, like I could crush it if I’m not careful. She stays quiet, tucked against my side, taking everything in.
Swan Harbor is a popular spot for waterfront weddings in Ruxton. It sits on over five hundred acres of farm land that’s been landscaped, with a wildflower garden that’s showcased every summer in the local paper. It’s open to the public all year round, and people come up here to sit under the gazebo that overlooks the lake, or walk along the garden to take pictures. The restored farmhouse comes into view first as we make our way up the lawn. Caterers filter in and out as they carry trays of tall champagne flutes toward the large white tent in the middle of the field. We file in behind other guests and step under the cover provided.
Beth reacts to the sight by squeezing my hand.
“Wow,” she whispers, her head lifted as she looks along the ceiling of the tent.
I follow her entranced gaze.
Strings of lights run along the edge of the white cover, then cut across the top and connect with a large chandelier that is suspended above the dance floor.
“Thank God I went shopping for this.” She looks around the room at the other guests.
Everyone is wearing dresses and suits, but none of the women here look close to as good as Beth looks.
Tiny black dress without straps, exposing more of her skin to me than I’ve seen up until this point. Those fucking boots, looking like she’s had them for years, all tattered and scuffed up, but still somehow sexy as hell. She looks like she’s ready to enter a damn pageant, then kick the asses of the other women in it after she takes the crown. Beauty and badass rolled into one hot little package. Fuck the chicks here in heels. Fuck Molly, wherever she is, no doubt wearing something worth more than my truck. Nobody is holding my attention like Beth is.
“You wanna get a drink?” I ask her, spotting the bar at the far end of the tent. My eyes land on Mr. McCafferty, Molly’s dad, standing by a table talking to a few other guests. I’ve always liked him.
