The car glides down the street, heading into town, the streetlights getting more frequent as I go. The clock reads almost one in the morning, and my body shivers against the cool summer night.
A set of headlights comes my way and the driver clicks them down, turning off the brights. As we pass, I glance over my shoulder and see Cross’s face.
My heart leaps in my chest as his tail lights come on in the rear view, his tires squealing as he rips the truck around. Before I know what’s happening, he’s behind me, traveling in the same direction.
The high school is a block ahead and I turn my turn signal on in hopes he’ll slow down a bit and get off my ass. My throat is constricted as I pull in, my blood pounding in my veins as I stop the car. He’s out of his truck and around the front before I ever even get the door open. He does the honors for me.
His hair is wild, his shirt soaked with sweat. “You okay?”
My feet on the asphalt, I stand and breathe him in. “I was coming to look for you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Nope,” I say, shaking my head.
“Dammit, Kal—”
I take the words out of his mouth with my own, pressing my lips against his so quickly it shocks him. My hands go to his damp hair, urging him to kiss me harder. I need this. I need…him.
He finally pulls away, dragging in a lungful of air. “Kallie?”
“I am sorry,” I say, resting my forehead on his.
“It was me that had her in my truck.”
“And it was my insecurities that let that matter. I mean, yeah, don’t do it again”—I laugh—“but you didn’t exactly do something wrong.”
“It was wrong if it makes you feel anything but great.” He wraps me up in his arms, pulling me to his chest. “I was at the gym, working out, and all I could see was you standing there mad at me.”
“I was sitting on my bed and kept thinking about how last night I was in yours, how many nights I wished to be there, and how tonight I wasn’t because I was mad, like a child.”
He squeezes me tighter. “I was also wrong when I said I couldn’t make you love me. I damn sure am going to try for the rest of my life.”
My hand stills on his back, his heartbeat picking up against my cheek. “Cross?”
“Yes, I want to marry you,” he whispers under the lights of the parking lot. “But I want to ask your mother before I ask you, and I want to find the perfect ring and the perfect spot first. You deserve that.”
“I don’t need any of that,” I say, choking back a sob. I’m so desperate for him, my chest coming undone and overflowing. “I just need you. I’m never letting you go again.”
“Damn right you’re not.” His body shakes with his chuckle. “Do you want to ride with me back to my house or have me follow you?”
Grinning through my tears, I pull away and look into his spectacular green eyes. “Follow me.”
“The view of your behind is one of my favorites.”
I swat at his arm, but he pulls me in for a quick kiss instead.
“Hey, Cross?”
“Yeah?”
I grab his hand and lace our fingers together. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Epilogue
Cross
A few weeks later
“Why does golf always end up with fucking? Not that I’m complaining.” He grins, looking at me over his shoulder.
The streetlights create shadows in the cab of his truck as we make our way back to his house after a night of fun. We watched a chick flick that he hated, ate seafood that I hated, then capped it off with four holes of putt-putt before we turned our sticks in and parked on the first desolate back road we found so we could have sex.
“I guess you like the way I handle balls,” I suggest, making him laugh. “Really? I don’t know. It’s weird though.”
“I guess it’s not that different from anything else we do. Dinner?”
“Fucking.”
“Laundry?”
“Oh, I love when we do it on spin cycle,” I note.
“Painting the back porch?”
“Yeah, but sex in public isn’t my thing. You caught me on a bad day.” I giggle.
“First of all, it’s not public. Second, I was thinking it was a really, really good day.”
Grinning, I blow out a breath and settle into the seat.
Being in Linton has changed everything for me—finding Cross again, reconnecting with my mother, finding a career in a firm that’s a lot quieter, but more fulfilling.
When I was younger, all I wanted was to get out of my hometown. Everything here was boring, predictable, without opportunities to do anything great. It’s not without its faults, that’s for sure. I still deal with the whispers of women who want Cross, still hear murmurings at the soda fountain at Goodman’s while I get my daily drink, but now that I’m older and maybe a little wiser, none of that matters as much.
“Crave is up ahead. Want to go in for a while?” Cross asks. “Machlan wanted to talk to me about expanding his business. I thought it might be a good investment.”
“Sure, but do you think you can talk to him on a Friday night? Crave is always so busy.”
“If not, at least we’ll be entertained. I’m sure something is going on in there.”
He pulls the truck over to the side of the street. We climb out and he grabs my hand like he always does.
“Hey,” I whisper, nudging him. “Is that girl hitting Walker’s truck with a bat?”
Cross looks to the left as we keep walking. “Probably someone he fucked and chucked.”
“I hate, hate, hate that terminology,” I mutter.
“I don’t know how else to describe it.”
“As long as you don’t subscribe to that theory, I guess I’ll survive.” I sigh, squeezing his hand.
He stops and stands in front of me. His green eyes look like slices of pure jade in the hazy streetlights. “I subscribe to one theory, and one theory only.”
“What’s that?”
“To keep you wanting to be my girl.”
“Always.”
Want to read more of the Gibson Boys? Walker’s story, CRANK, is available now on Amazon and in Kindle Unlimited. Check it out!
Books by Adriana Locke
The Exception Series
The Exception
The Connection, a novella
The Perception
The Exception Series Box Set
The Landry Family Series
Sway
Swing
Switch
Swear
Swink
The Gibson Boys Series
Crank
Cross
Craft—coming January 2018
Standalone Novels
Sacrifice
Wherever It Leads
Written in the Scars
Battle of the Sexes
Lucky Number Eleven
Twelve Days Until Sunday—fall 2018
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About the Author
USA Today Bestselling author Adriana Locke lives and breathes books. After years of slightly obsessive relationships with the flawed bad boys created by other authors, Adriana created her own.
She resides in the Midwest with her husband, sons, two dogs, two cats, and a bird. She spends a large amount of time playing with her kids, drinking coffee, and cooking. You can find her outside if the weather's nice and there's always a piece of candy in her pocket.
Besides cinnamon gummy bears, boxing, and random quotes, her next favorite thing is chatting with readers. She’d love to hear from you!
www.adrianalocke.com
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