Live For You (Boys of the South ~ Book 1)

by Marquita Valentine

  “I’ll let you have that.” I dig into the homemade chicken salad, slathering globs of it onto a cracker.

  “Knew I liked you,” he says around another bite.

  “Ha! You just like getting your way.”

  He shrugs, grinning big. “That, too.”

  “Did you have any classes this morning?” I ask, wiping my mouth.

  “Yeah. The bus picked up Kelly and I hopped online.” He grabs the container of orange slices, opens it and sets it between us. “I prefer college this way. I’m less likely to get kicked out for falling asleep.”

  Bless his heart, I think, falling back on the familiar saying while the icy fortress I’d built around my heart melts even more. “I’d rather be on campus, with the falling leaves and professors wearing tweed coats. I can’t just picture it: Walking to class with my soy latte in one hand and a book on existential living the twenty-first century in the other.”

  The orange slice he’s about to pop in his mouth drops to the blanket beneath us. “Are you serious?”

  Smashing my lips together, I hold back the laughter bubbling in my throat. I extend my arm, hand coming up and almost pressing two fingers together. “Just a little.”

  He picks up another orange wedge and shakes it at me. “Watch yourself, Miss Givens. Teasing me won’t get you anywhere.” But the heated look in his blue eyes says otherwise.

  I smile and pop a grape in my mouth.

  *** *** ***

  Cole

  I pace nervously as I wait for Rae to show up. It’s already ten past eleven and I’m thinking that she’s forgotten about our date. Or maybe I’d said something wrong that pissed her off. Or maybe I should stop thinking like a damn teenager.

  Raking a hand through my hair, I roll my eyes.

  I hear something crashing through the woods. No way it’s a hunter, because the ruckus would scare away every animal in a mile radius. A flash of blond hair makes me smile.

  She comes into the clearing, guitar in one hand and that picnic basket I’ve grown to love in the other. Before she can ask for help, I’m jogging to her, taking the basket.

  “Mood music?”

  “Converting music. I borrowed the guitar from Nana. She’s the one who taught me how to play,” she says, then holds it like someone who’s been playing for years and strums a few chords. “Today, I’m gonna change your mind about country music.”

  I scratch my chin, the stubble beneath my fingers prickly. “That so?” It’s not going to happen. My hatred of country music has nothing to do with the beat and everything to do with the man behind most acts. Hell, for all I know he could be behind Rae’s alter ego’s act.

  “Yep.” She smiles. This girl is so damn beautiful that it hurts. I can only imagine what she looks like on stage, performing for the crowd.

  While I set up our picnic, she begins to play. The first song she sings is catchy, with absurd lyrics about horses drinking beer or something like that. I sit down. She stays where she is, playing to me, like I’m a crowd of thousands instead of one.

  “Convinced yet?”

  I lean back on my elbows, the brim of my hat shading my eyes from the sun. “Nah.”

  She sticks out her bottom lip, pouting. “Guess I’ll have to up my game.”

  “Go for it, but you ain’t gonna convince me.”

  Her brow arches. “Is that a challenge, Mr. Morgan?”

  “It’s a fact.” My lips twitch as her eyes narrow. She’s determined now and I’m too damn entertained, not to mentioned impressed by her, to not let her try. “But I am a sucker for blondes in tight jeans.”

  She rolls her eyes and lets out a huff. “Men,” she mutters, then starts up another song.

  “Cheating.” I interrupt her in the middle of the chorus. “That’s not country. That’s Bob Dylan.”

  “I’m singing Darius Rucker’s version.”

  I fold my arms over my chest and shake my head. “If you can’t convert me without resorting to cheating, then I—”

  “Okay, okay. Last one.” This time the song’s slow and seductive as her voice flows. “I’ve been waitin’ on you. Wishing you were here. Skin to skin, lips to lips. My nights lastin’ forever without you. Come on home.” She winks at me. “C’mon to where you belong.” As the last note fades away, I rise to my feet and walk slowly to her. She props her guitar against a pine tree right before I reach her. The strap of her tank top falls down her shoulder.

  I can’t help but touch her bare skin, trailing my fingers down her arm to that thin strip of material. There’s nothing more I’d like to do than to tug it lower. Goose bumps appear as I slide it back in place, slow as molasses as I go. She shivers and I harden against the zipper of my jeans.

  “That was fucking amazing, Rae. You’re amazing.” I mean it. Nothing about my words are meant to seduce, meant to tantalize or tease. Yes, I want inside her, but even more I want inside her head. I need to know this girl. What makes her tick; what she likes and dislikes. I need to know all of this, despite not knowing how long she’ll stay here.

  She flushes, then her nose scrunches and she gives me this lopsided smile. “I wrote it the other night. You’re the first to hear it.”

  “You wrote that in one night?” My jaw drops.

  “Inspiration hit me.” She shrugs, glancing away. “I couldn’t not listen to it.”

  It occurred to me in that moment that I might be the inspiration she was talking about. “Tell me more about this inspiration.”

  She waves a hand in the air and shifts from side to side. “Oh, you know….see something you like and it won’t leave you alone.”

  “I wouldn’t know.” I grin at her adorable unease. Oh yeah, this song definitely has something to do with me. “Could you, maybe, explain a little more about your thought process?”

  Fisting her hands on her hips, she gives me a teasing glare. “Don’t pretend you like you don’t know, Cole.”

  I take her hands in mine, rubbing my thumbs across the knuckles. Her vivid blue eyes widen. “Rae,” I murmur. Her breath is sweet when she tips up her chin in answer. “You’ll never convince me to start playing country at my bar, but you have convinced me that I shouldn’t lump it all together.”

  She blinks, long lashes dark with mascara. The diamond in her nose flashes. I find it incredibly hot she pierced there. It’s so unexpected, yet completely her. “Maybe I shouldn’t lump guys—things all into the same category either.”

  There a layer of hurt there, and that’s the last thing I want to hear from her. “No, all guys, er things that you’re talking about are pretty much the same.”

  “Really?” A small smile curves her mouth.

  “Oh yeah. Pretty much haven’t evolved out of the Neanderthal stage.” I tilt my head to one side and bite my bottom lip. She watches me intently, her gaze on my mouth. “Except me.”

  “Always an exception, huh?”

  I rake my eyes over her. She’s so tiny that I feel like some hulking beast beside her. For once I want to take my time, to not rush things and just hook up with her. Not that I think there’s a future with us. With me, really.

  Eventually, she’ll workout what’s bothering her so badly and go back home while I’ll stay here, going to school, managing a bar, raising my sister and waiting for my mother to come home from rehab.

  I have nothing to offer anyone, especially someone like Rae.

  Every woman, past, present and future, is better off without me and my baggage. Hell, I doubt any woman wouldn’t want to handle the truth of my life, much less hear about it.

  But as I gaze at Rae, something sparks inside of me. “Always.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Violet

  Surreal. That’s how I would describe the time I’ve spent with Cole over the past four days.

  I know his favorite color: green. His favorite candy: Warheads. His favorite band: Keane. I know he loves his brother and sister. He’s hardworking and smart. He’s grateful for the little things in life.


  Unlike Jaxon, who was practically born (although adopted at birth) with a silver spoon in his mouth and expects everything good from life. Or at least for things to happen that always benefit him.

  I sigh, something I’ve been doing a lot lately. I’m grateful for Cole’s company. Who am I kidding, I bask in his company. I look forward to our dates, get-togethers...spontaneously planned meetings?

  Whatever they are, they can’t happen soon enough. Every day, I watch the clock and Nana watches me, smiling all the while.

  I’m happy. There’s no other word for it. I’ve missed being happy. I’ve missed my music. I’ve missed being normal. And having picnic lunches with a sexy guy, in the middle of the woods, beside a creek is as normal as it gets for me these days.

  Today, I bring out the big guns. No one alive can resist my nana’s homemade pimento cheese. Including Cole. I smile as he woofs down sandwich number three.

  “How long are you staying in Forrestville?” he asks.

  “I don’t know. As long as I’m able.” As long as no one calls me back home. Fat chance of that happening, since I am the girl least likely to be invited anywhere. I’d never seen invitations rescinded so quickly in the past eight months. All over a one-time mistake. I was the good girl of country music, the reigning princess that could do no wrong. But people are becoming less forgiving and their memories shorter. Especially when there’s money involved. Besides, who wants to take a chance on someone who might not show when there are thousands who would and for a cheaper price?

  “You’re not from California, are you?”

  I shake my head. “Not ever the most Southern part has this Tennessee twang to it.”

  He laughs, low and long. My heart flips. “Didn’t think so, but I’ve never been there. So, I kinda went with it.”

  “Such a gentleman.”

  Rolling his eyes, he pops a few grapes in his mouth. I watch his jaw work as he chews, his throat as he swallows. Then he notices me watching him and I jerk my gaze away, focusing on a yellow butterfly floating from flower to flower near us.

  “What do you think of butterflies, Violet, for a girl?” My mother asks, trying in vain to get me excited about the baby she’s having. “If it’s a boy, I want sailboats. Won’t that be cute?”

  I shrug noncommittally and walk away. She calls my name, but I break out into a run as soon as I round the corner, slamming the door to my room and sliding to the floor. Great sobs leaving me, my fist shoved in my mouth to muffle them and my other hand on my stomach.

  I have to leave. I can’t stay here any longer. But how?

  “Well, do you?” Cole asks, breaking through my memories.

  “Do I what?”

  “Never mind,” he says, then wipes off his hands.

  “Sorry, I was daydreaming.”

  “As long as those daydreams starred me, I’m completely okay with that.”

  I snort. He’s too funny and cocky. “Maybe next time.” The sun moves higher and higher into the sky until our shadows are gone and I’m wishing I’d brought my sunglasses.

  “So do you live in some kind of big country music star mansion in Tennessee or an apartment?”

  “Would you think it weird that I still live at home?”

  He grins. “I still live at home.”

  “But you’re taking care of your sister, managing your family’s bar and going to college. That’s a little different from me.”

  That sexy grin of his falls away. “That’s a lot different from you.”

  “Sorry.” I don’t know why I feel like apologizing but I do. I move to what I think will be safer territory and I’m extremely curious as to why he’s the one raising his sister. “What about your mom and dad?”

  He glances away. “Your Nana didn’t share?”

  “No, she’s not big on gossiping. At all. So…” I drum my fingers on my thigh, right below the material of my shorts

  His eyes flash to mine. “My mother is in rehab for the millionth time. As for my dad, he’s off living his life somewhere.”

  Cole sounds so bitter and yet so sad. I can’t imagine living like that. How does he do it? “Oh.”

  “Yeah,” he nods. “This is great conversation, Rae. Damn glad you brought it up.”

  “Ask me anything, anything you want and I’ll tell you,” I say in a rush, wanting to put us back on equal footing.

  “Fine,” he says, his jaw clenching. “Where did you get that scar?”

  I blanch. I can’t help it and his jaw eases.

  “You don’t have to answer that, sweetheart. Ignore my surly ass.” He strokes my cheek and I look down at my hands, clenched tightly in my lap.

  “It’s okay. I got it in a wreck. Part of the windshield of my car was embedded in my abdomen. I’m lucky to be alive,” I repeat the words my doctor, my nurse and my parents have told me countless times.

  “You have options, Violet,” Dr. Benson says. “Don’t let what happened hinder future relationships.”

  My parents hug me, unabashedly crying for my future. I want to tell them the whole truth. I want to tell them everything, but I can’t. My biggest fear is that they won’t be angry with me. Instead they’ll do what they’re doing now: Supporting and loving me while I don’t deserve a tenth of it.

  “The windshield…Holy shit, Rae,” he says and I glance up at him. A mixture of pity and awe converge on his face. “Holy shit.”

  “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. But I’m fine now.” I smile at him, trying to convey that I’m okay now. That it was in the past and I’m a perfectly normal twenty year old that had her womb shredded to bits in a car wreck.

  “Your cheeks are red,” Cole says, twisting open the thermos of lemonade and I blink. The sun is even brighter now.

  I raise a shaky hand and press the side along my forehead to block the sun. “All our shade is gone.”

  He takes a deep drink, then holds it out to me, his gaze travelling over my body. I place my lips on the exact spot his was, watching him over the rim. Since he hasn’t tried kissing me again, this is probably the closet I’ll ever get to his mouth.

  And if he ever found out what I’d really done and the consequences of it, I doubt he’d be so understanding, so in awe of what I survived. I doubt he’d ever look at me the same way again. I’d be a freak in his eyes. A heartless, selfish freak.

  Because, though Jaxon hadn’t said it when I’d told him, the look in his eyes had said it all for him. But I thought he’d had a right to know, regardless of who he was with now. Regardless of the fact that he’d cheated on me with my best friend.

  “We could go skinny-dipping. Promise I won’t look. Much.”

  I choke, unable to catch my breath as Cole pounds on my back. My eyes water and snot dribbles out of my nose.

  “Are you okay?” He hands me a paper towel.

  “Fine,” I croak, turning away to wipe and blow my nose.

  “Remind me to never tease you when you’re drinking.”

  “Remind me to never drink while you’re talking.” Facing him again, I cough and press my hand to my chest, trying to calm down.

  “So you’re saying there might be chance we’ll be talking but not drinking or drinking but not teasing in the future?”

  I can’t help but laughing, which only sends me into another round of coughing. “Maybe,” I finally manage to get out.

  He produces a towel, one from the bottom of the basket I’d carried here. “You missed some places.” Slowly, he eases toward me, then begins to gently wipe the corners of my eyes. Soon his fingers replace the towel and he’s exploring my face, coasting the tips of his fingers over my cheeks and down my neck. “I want to kiss you, but you might have a different idea of how today should end.”

  “Maybe we have the same idea,” I say softly, shivering as his fingers dip lower, over the tops of my breasts.

  “Maybe doesn’t cut it for me,” he says, dipping his head. “I prefer firm answers.” His hand cups my breast and squeezes. I suck in a b
reath as my nipple hardens. I’m not wearing a bra. It’s not like I actually need one, my breasts are barely B-cups.

  “Cole.” His name is a plea.

  “Say it, Rae.” He nuzzles my throat and I shiver. His free hand steals up the back of my shirt, fingers splayed. Heated skin pressed to heated skin. “Tell me all the things you want me to do.”

  “Kiss me, please,” I beg, my lashes fluttering down. “Kiss me and—” His mouth almost slams against mine, lips soft and full. Delicious. I want more, my lips part and he slides his tongue along the bottom, testing me. I suck it inside, trying to let him know what I want from him.

  A low groan and then a growl erupts from his throat.

  Suddenly, I’m on my back and he’s on his side, his hand still on my breast, alternately caressing and plucking at my hard nipple. “You taste so damn good,” he groans against my mouth, then goes right back to work. A slow glide here, a nip of teeth there.

  I love it all. I want it all. My body is starving for his touch.

  Fisting my hands in his dark hair, I tug him closer. “More,” I demand.

  Cool air rushes over the skin on my stomach as my shirt inches upward, his mouth blazing an open-mouthed trail down my throat. My eyes open. I watch as he pushes buttons through holes and my shirt falls to each side, bearing my chest to him.

  His blue eyes blaze bright with hunger and lust. “Better than I imagined.”

  “Really?” I have no idea if he’s an ass or breast man. I don’t really have much of either.

  Dipping his head, he kisses each nipple, then licks them and they harden so quickly that it hurts. “Fucking perfect.” His mouth opens, tongue teasing and then he sucks.

  I moan and whimper, arching my back into him, pushing more into his mouth. He bites down, a little nip, and I cry out. He smiles against my skin and moves to my neglected breast. Still teasing and biting. Still sending sparks of pleasure that find their way to my core.

  He kisses his way down my chest, to my stomach and I slap my hand over the scar, fingers splayed wide. “Don’t, I’m not…it’s not pretty.”