The Bad Boys of Summer Anthology

by Emily Snow

  “I’ve played.” And I have, just not well.

  She inclines her blonde-and-black head to the opposite corner of the bar where a tall woman dragging on a cigarette ducks into a dimly lit room. “Play with me?” She jerks her thumb from Ben to Wyatt. “You and me against them.”

  “Ky always loses,” Wyatt tells her. He bites the corner of his lip when I glare up at him. “But, fuck yeah, you’re on. You in, Bluebird?”

  I glance around the bar in search of my best friend, but she’s nowhere to be found, and neither is Cal. I lift my shoulders. “Guess I am.”

  I quickly learn that Ivy’s a bit of a pool shark and a whole lot competitive. She easily makes up for everything that I lack in the game, which is a lot unfortunately. She sinks billiard ball after ball into the table pockets. Each time, she rubs our winning streak in Wyatt and Ben’s faces while pumping her fist to the raunchy anthem about getting drunk and waking up naked that’s blasting from outside the poolroom. I’m ecstatic when I manage to knock one, the red 3, into the hole.

  Between games, Wyatt has disappeared to get himself a drink, and Ben is talking to some of the band’s fans, the three women who stalked Cal and his cousin for signatures a little earlier.

  “You going to Albuquerque with them?” I ask her.

  Ivy downs her Jagerbomb and shudders from the aftereffect. She rubs her hand back and forth over her mouth, bothering the hoop at the end of her nose, before she shakes her head. “No, I live in Katy, half an hour from here, so I can’t go.” She stares longingly at the empty shot glass and sighs. “Plus, I’ve got work in the morning. Guess I should’ve thought about work before I dived into the Red Bull, huh?”

  “Nah. I mean, just drink a few more, and you should be good.” I lean against the pool table, sliding my bottom up to the edge. Cocking my head to the side, I take in the women crowding around her boyfriend. “How long have y’all been together?”

  “Four long-ass years.” She glances over at Ben, who’s signing right above one of the girl’s lower back tattoos. “Wonder if she realizes how long it takes to get Sharpie off?”

  If watching other women fawn all over Ben fazes Ivy, she doesn’t show it. She seems entirely at ease with the multiple sets of breasts being shoved in his face, and I find myself studying the obvious trust she has for him, asking myself how the hell she does it.

  Even though Wyatt and I have promised not to lie to each other—and there have been those times when he’s been so brutally honest that my chest aches for days—I’ve always hated the doubt that comes along with what he does for a living.

  My thoughts are still conflicted when Ben and Ivy drop out of the next game, and Terra and Nate take their place.

  “Wyatt says you sing,” Nate says shortly after the new game begins. “Here, like this.” He comes around the pool table and leans over me to reposition my grip on the pool stick. He’s careful not to touch the intimate parts of my body, keeping his crotch several inches from my ass, as he guides my arm forward. “You wanna get up there with us during the next show?”

  “Yeah, I sing…in the shower.” I glance back into his teasing wide-set eyes. “And I’d ruin your show, babe.”

  “Bullshit,” Wyatt says from across the table. When I lift my head, I flinch at how hard his eyes are despite the laughter in his deep voice. “She’s goddamn amazing—everything about her is—but she’s even better on the guitar.”

  “You play?” Nate asks, standing upright.

  During the tour that changed everything for us eight years ago, Wyatt showed me how to play on Lucas’s old Gibson. I’ve always been a quick study, so I picked it up easily. I’m not horrible, but I don’t think I’m goddamn amazing either. Besides, I haven’t played in well over a year.

  “She’s better than Lucas’s ass,” Wyatt answers for me, his tone a little mocking.

  Jamming the bottom of my cue stick to the floor, I straighten my back and narrow my eyes at him. Other than with my ex-husband, this is the first time in years when Wyatt’s played the jealous card around me. Because his intentions are obviously not to get me into his bed, Nate doesn’t notice Wyatt’s sudden mood change, but Terra does. She’s standing on the far left corner of the table, taking in the exchange, as she slides the tip of her tongue back and forth between her lips.

  “Actually, I haven’t played in so long that I think I’ve forgotten how,” I say.

  Wyatt glides his pool stick forward, managing to knock the cue ball into a red stripe ball. It stops a few mere inches from the pocket. He straightens and glowers across the table at me. “You forgot?”

  My shirt has crept up on my waist, so I pull it back down before I focus my gaze on Wyatt. I nod, slowly and deliberately. “Yeah, I did.”

  Our eyes never waver away from each other even as Nate and then Terra take their respective shots. By the time it’s his turn again, Wyatt slams his cue stick into the rack by the wall, and then he turns to me and jerks his head toward the door leading to the bar.

  “Be right back,” I tell Nate.

  Terra answers quickly, beaming at both Wyatt and me with her megawatt smile, “We’ll be here.”

  Wyatt’s fingers close around my wrist, and as soon as we’re out of earshot, he mutters, “There’s no way in hell you’re going anywhere tonight other than my bed, Kylie.”

  Yeah, we’ll see about that.

  Ivy stops me halfway across the bar. She’s already wearing a jacket, and she yawns as she wraps a fringed scarf around her delicate neck. “I’ve got to go, but friend me, okay?”

  After I get her last name and tell her that I will, I follow Wyatt into a quiet nook located in the other corner of the bar. It looks like it used to be a spot for pay phones, but now, there’s only a dirty ashtray and a crumpled Winston Lights package.

  “You trying to drive me crazy?” Wyatt bends his head, leaning in close to me, with his nostrils flared. When his short wheat-blonde hair brushes the top of my forehead, I automatically reach up to touch it. “You trying to see what kind of rise you can get out of me?”

  I jerk my hand away from his hair. “By what? Playing a game of pool? Abso-fucking-lutely not.”

  He stares at me for a long time before shaking his head. “I’m taking you back to my room, and then I’m fucking you until the only thing you can think about is me.”

  It’s not necessarily his jealousy that makes me want to strangle him. It’s the fact that he’s already the only thing I think about, and he doesn’t realize it. “I’m going to find Heidi.” I start to walk around him, but he swings me back around.

  “Heidi and Cal are long gone. It’s just me and you, just like it’s always been. Why the fuck don’t you get that, beautiful?”

  His words snip a nerve—and believe me, it’s sharp and just a little excruciating—but I grab his forearm and stand my ground. “If you don’t let go of me, I will headbutt you in your perfect teeth, McCrae.”

  He doesn’t seem to care because his lips come down hard on mine, and his tongue is just as rough. Almost effortlessly, he shrugs out of my grip, and his hands travel to the sides of my back and slide into my jeans, pushing down my flimsy panties, so his skin is against my skin. “I hate this.”

  “Touching me?” I demand breathlessly. “Because, trust me, you don’t have to.”

  “No, wanting to fuck-up every man who touches you. It’s—”

  “I don’t know whether to be flattered or freaked out that you’re so jealous,” I taunt.

  He releases a sound and rests his chin on top of my head, but I’m so heated that I can’t bring myself to return his embrace.

  “Come back to the hotel with me.”

  “Why? So, you can beat up the front desk clerk when he looks at me for longer than ten seconds?” I start to ask him if he’s planning to challenge my gynecologist to a parking lot duel, but I stop as his hands travel from their spot on my ass to the inside of the front of my red jeans. Despite how tight my pants are, he manages to maneuver his fingers be
tween my legs. I gasp, tightening my thighs, but it’s no use.

  He’s already found what he needs in the form of my damp panties. A self-assured smile builds on his face. “Because of that. Because no matter how pissed you are right now, your pussy still wants me.”

  I grip his wrist and tear his hand out of my jeans, trembling when his fingertips drag over my clit in the process. Wyatt thinks he has me figured out. He thinks that just because my body responds to him, I’ll fall into his bed tonight, and I’ll get over him being a dick.

  This time, when I step around him, he doesn’t stop me because he’s certain I’m ready to go back to his hotel room. He’s certain we’ll end the night with angry sex and start the morning with it, too.

  So, it must be a shock to his system when I say, “Have a wonderful night, McCrae. Let’s try this again in the morning when you’re not planning on taking your frustrations out on my girlie bits.”

  When I let myself into my empty hotel room half an hour later, I tumble into bed, and it’s a shame that my thoughts are still focused on the way his hands felt. Unable to sleep, I take a shower, standing beneath the steady stream of piping hot water until my skin starts to burn.

  “Get out of my head, McCrae,” I complain aloud as I dress and get back into bed.

  Of course, he doesn’t. And this time, when thoughts of Wyatt assault my mind, I stupidly allow my brain to take things a step further. I think back to the night he showed up at my hotel door—the first time, right after he confronted me about my cutting in the back of Sinjin’s Expedition. When I close my eyes, and let myself be dragged into the memory, I can almost hear Wyatt’s knock on my hotel door—that night is still that vivid in my head.

  “Who is it?” I ask, getting up off the creaky hotel bed. On my way to the door I stop and turn down the volume on the CD player, which is blasting Chevelle. I look out the peephole, expecting my brother to be there. It’s not him. Instead, Wyatt McCrae is outside my door, his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. I draw back in surprise. A few seconds later, when he knocks again, I finally find my voice. “Wyatt? Are you—is everything alright?”

  His lips move into a grin, and I lean my shoulder against the door as I watch him. Wyatt McCrae is breathtaking. I’ve always known he was gorgeous—I mean, it’s obvious—but suddenly, it’s impossible for me to simply look the other way.

  “You worry too much. Everything’s fine,” he promises. Twisting his lips to the side, he leans closer to the door, like he’s trying to see what I’m doing through the other side of the peephole. “You gonna let me in the damn room, Kylie, or do I have to beg you?”

  I throw the door open without thinking, not stopping to care that my long black hair looks messy, or that I’m not wearing a bra beneath my Yellowcard tee shirt. Not that it matters. I don’t exactly have very much going on in the boob department.

  “What the fuck are you listening to?” he asks as he comes inside. He shuts the door behind him before turning to me and making a face. “You bailed on dinner with me to hole up in here and listen to Chevelle? You sure know how to stomp on my ego, don’t you?”

  He’s just teasing me, right? When he called my room nearly three hours ago, I declined going to dinner with him and the rest of the band because my thoughts were still reeling from our talk earlier this afternoon.

  “Is there something you need from me?” I blurt out, lifting my gaze up to his, letting myself be pulled in by his stunning blue eyes.

  His expression is unreadable for several seconds, but then he shakes his head. “I don’t always need something from you, beautiful. I just wanted to check up on you. Make sure you’re alright.”

  Beautiful. He’s calling me beautiful.

  Dear God.

  I turn my back for just a moment in order to catch my breath before facing him once again. Sitting on the edge of the hotel bed, I bring my knees up to my chin and pretend like his eyes don’t follow my every move. “I wasn’t hungry when you called. And I was reading,” I finally say.

  “You’ve gotta eat, Kylie.” He rocks back on the balls of his feet and then leans against the desk on the other side of the room. “So, I came by to walk you to—” But then his eyes land on the balled up fast food bag in the wastebasket by the door, and to the drink sitting on the nightstand, and he shrugs his shoulders. I can’t help but notice the sudden look of disappointment on his face. “And you’ve already gone by yourself.”

  “Sorry.” And I am. I would have never walked across the street to grab something from McDonalds if I’d known Wyatt would show up at my door like this. Alone. Even if my brother did more than likely send him to check in on me. “You can tell Lucas that—”

  Wyatt quickly interrupts me. “He doesn’t know I’m here.” As my lips form into a silent “Oh,” he winks at me and pushes himself away from the desk. Panic rises in my chest as he walks over to the door. “Alright, beautiful, I’ll see you in the morning when we leave for—.”

  Before I can stop to think, I’m on my feet and halfway across the room. “Don’t go, Wyatt. Please just … stay.”

  He drops his hand away from the door handle, and suddenly, he’s in front of me, towering over me before I can process that he’s moved. “You okay?”

  “No. I mean, yes. It’s just that …” How the hell do I tell him I don’t want him to leave because he’s all I’ve thought about since we stopped in Livingston and checked into this hotel. That, I can’t remember a word of the book I’d been reading tonight because my thoughts were solely on him. “You called me beautiful,” I say hoarsely.

  “Yeah, you are.”

  “Why?”

  He offers me a crooked grin. “You’re asking me why you’re beautiful or why I called you that?”

  Both. But instead of answering his question, something compels me forward, as close to him as I can possibly be, and I stand on the tips of my toes and lift my mouth. I don’t know what I expect—for him to push me away or for him to kiss me hard and passionately—but he surprises me when he murmurs against my lips, “You’ve fucked with my head this entire trip, Kylie. I feel like a dick for wanting you, for …”

  I close my eyes. “For what?”

  “Look, if I kiss you, if we do this, there’s no way I’m walking out that door tonight. I won’t be able to keep myself from touching you. I want you, Kylie. You have to have realized that by now.”

  No, I hadn’t.

  But then again, I’ve never been good at paying attention to what’s right in front of me. Maybe, I never will be.

  I reach up, draping my arms over his toned shoulders and linking my fingers together behind his blonde hair to pull him to me. When our lips meet seconds later, it’s electric—lovely, mind-altering electricity. After he pulls away from me, I open my eyes sluggishly, not wanting to lose the moment I have with him.

  “I don’t want you to leave tonight,” I say, my tone confident despite how fast my heart is racing. “And I don’t want you to stop touching me.”

  Now, more than eight years later in another hotel room and a different city, those memories are still powerful enough to make my eyes burn. I fist my hands into the sheets and squeeze my eyes tightly together.

  “You’ve fucked with my head this entire trip,” I whisper aloud, “so give it a rest, McCrae.”

  Chapter Nine

  Shortly after four thirty the next morning, I hear a key card slide into the lock to my room. I’m still so wired from the night before that I’ve yet to fall asleep. The slight clicking noise on the other side of the door makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Fully alert, I slide myself into a sitting position and grab the first weapon I can find—my boot. After what happened back at the hotel in New Orleans, no one can blame me for being on edge.

  My fear quickly dissipates when Heidi creeps into the room, holding her pumps to her chest with one arm, as she eases the door gently shut behind her with the other. She turns around and starts tiptoeing across the floor, but then she freeze
s as I flick on the lamp between our beds.

  “Well, hell, I thought you’d be tied to McCrae’s bed or something right about now.”

  I toss the clunky shoe down on the floor. “Surprise, babe.”

  She drops her shoes and kicks them, one by one, beneath the desk. “So, why aren’t you in McCrae’s bed?” She wrinkles her nose. “Is everything alright?”

  Bringing my knees up to my chest, I circle my arms around my shins. I’ve spent the last several hours lying in the dark, my brain pinging between needing Wyatt and wondering whether or not everything will be fine with him until we return to L.A. I’ve yet to come up with a solution to either.

  But to Heidi, I tip my head. “We’re good. We have to leave so early that we decided to call it a night.”

  She pauses for a few seconds, like she’s about to say something earth-shattering, but then she unzips her strapless top and pulls it off. Rolling my eyes, I glance away from the pierced boobage on display until she clears her throat. When I turn my head back to her, the red silk bustier is draped over the back of the chair, and she’s stretching a tank top down her waist.

  “You don’t think I’m stupid enough to believe that, right?” She loops a ponytail holder through her dark hair, which has started to frizz.

  I rub my hands up and down my legs. “Not at all, but I think you’re smart enough not to make a big deal out of it.”

  “Oh, I am.” She pulls off her jeans and tosses them on top of the red top before she climbs into bed. Adjusting her pillows, she looks up at me from beneath her long lashes. “And before you start making a big deal, no, Cal and I did not sleep together.”

  Stretching my legs back down the sheets, I flex my feet and hold up my hands defensively. “I wasn’t even going to bring it up.”

  “You were thinking it. We just went to a few more bars.” She grabs the remote from the nightstand, but before she switches on the flat screen TV, she cocks her eyebrow. “You tired?”