“I guess so, but can you help me down, first?”
“Nope. I know you can dismount on your own.” I turn back around, making my way to her side. I’m not helping her off the horse; I want her to do this on her own. She needs to feel a sense of accomplishment. I am just going to stand here, in case she needs my assistance.
Successfully, she disembarks from the horse. “I did it. I can’t believe I actually did it,” she exclaims proudly. Inside, I’m doing a little happy dance for her.
We walk over to the tire swing. Bailey situates herself inside the hole of the black rubber while I check to make sure the rope won’t break under her weight. When I feel confident of the rope’s condition, I say, “Hold on up here.” I point to the section where the rope meets the tire. With her hands secure, I softly shove her forward.
“I haven’t been on one of these things in a while,” she says softly. Bailey tips her head back, letting her long, wavy, auburn locks hang free.
“When’s the last time you swung on one?” I give her another gentle shove.
“I was nine. There was this really awesome park down the road from my house.” She lets out a soft chuckle. “I remember asking my brother for weeks to take me.” This is the first time she’s mentioned her brother willingly, and my heart swells with that minute breakthrough. “Eventually, he broke under my constant pestering. That park by my house had a tire swing just like this. When I first saw this one, and you tried to talk me into getting on… I’m sorry for being so rude to you that day.”
I wave off her apology. I wasn’t exactly the nicest person to be around after my parents died either. “It’s fine. Attitude kind of comes with the territory. So, what happened when your brother took you to that park?” I know it seems like I’m pushing her to open up, but I like to think of it as encouragement. Bailey needs to remember the good times she spent with her brother, and she needs to feel good when she does.
“When we got to the park, I ran straight to the tire swing, yelling for him to come and push me. He followed behind me asking why God gave him a sister who likes tire swings, instead of a brother who would want to play football. He was always joking around like that. I knew he loved me, even if he didn’t say it all the time. My mom would always stick healthy crap in my lunchbox for school. You know, like celery or carrots.” Bailey’s lips curl up, and her nose wrinkles in disgust. “But every day when I’d go to lunch, mysteriously, there would be a candy bar of some sort. I never questioned Trent about it, but I knew it was him. ”
“It seems like he was a great big brother,” I reply shoving her forward again.
Bailey nods. “He was.”
“Is it easier to talk about him now?”
“A little.”
“I’m proud of you.” I stop the tire swing and walk around to where I’m facing her. “You have come such a long way since you first came here. I know you haven’t really taken to the horses like I did, and that’s okay. But, if you don’t mind, can I ask what has brought on this change?”
A bright smile stretches across her face, reaching from ear to ear. Her once dull, blue eyes now sparkle. “John. He helped me more than anything. You did, too, Kenleigh, but John is the main reason.”
“I’m glad he’s helped you, Bailey.”
“Me too. He’s made me realize that I’m still alive. John said God has plans for all of us, and there is a reason I’m still alive. And you know what? He’s right. I don’t know the reason. I just have to sit back and wait, and I think I’m okay with that.” Quietly, she adds, “Can I ask you how your bond with the horses helped you?”
I smile at her genuine question. “It’s hard to explain. You know how you and John can talk, right? Well, for me, I didn’t want to talk to people about it. I didn’t want to hear how I should handle my emotions. I didn’t want people to try and get me to open up. When I was riding, anything and everything just faded away for me. Now, don’t think I’m crazy when I say this, but when I did wanna talk about what happened to my parents, the horses just listened. There was no response. There was no pity in their eyes. They always looked at me the same. I know they didn’t know what I was saying.” I shake my head, laughing at myself because saying it aloud does sound crazy.
“You’re not crazy. In a way, it makes sense.”
“You told John about the accident?” I ask, quickly changing the subject.
“I did. He knew something was up. One day, he brought a football here and asked me if I’d toss it around with him. Immediately, I started crying. John asked what was wrong, and I told him. It was hard at first. But after telling you, and then telling him,” Bailey shrugs. “I don’t know, I just feel better.”
“It feels good, right?” I ask. “To not feel like your whole world is shrouded in darkness anymore. Like a sliver of light is finally able to shine through, and you can see it.”
“Exactly. But after I told John about the accident, and cried like a baby, I asked him how come he always seems so happy. How come he’s not pissed that he’s stuck in a wheelchair.”
“And what did he say?”
“That life is too short to be mad all the time. John knows he’s going to die. He doesn’t know when, but he knows. And he said that when he does, when it’s his time to go, he wants his family and friends to remember how happy he was, not how mad, or sad.” A boisterous laugh escapes Bailey. “And then, when he answered about the wheelchair, all he said was ‘the chicks dig it’.”
I shake my head and laugh as well, because I can absolutely see John saying something like that.
After our fit of laughter dies down and a few deep breaths are drawn, I say, “Speaking of John, I think we should head back.”
“Yeah, me too. I haven’t seen him since before the holiday, and I wanna see how his Fourth of July went,” Bailey replies as she jumps out of the tire swing.
After Bailey and I put the horses away and made our way out of the barn, I spot John right away. “He’s right over there.” I point to the front porch where John is laughing with Wes and Liam. Wes leans against a pillar at the top of the steps, his arms crossed over his chest. I try to dampen down the lust that shoots through me as I take in the tan cargo shorts that hang off him in the most perfect way, and a fitted, black T-shirt. Liam stands casually next to Wes in a baseball cap, the bill covering his eyes, denim jeans, and a fitted, sleeveless, grey T-shirt.
“Hey John!” Bailey shouts as we approach the guys.
John slightly turns his wheelchair to see who’s just called his name. His eyes light up with adoration when he sees Bailey jog toward him. His arms stretch out, welcoming her into a hug. I feel the heat pouring out from Wes’ stare as his eyes rake over me. I stop dead in my tracks only a couple of paces away, watching Wes. He pushes off the pillar, taking the six steps that lead from the porch to the walkway two at a time. In a matter of seconds, Wes sweeps me up in his arms as his lips come crashing down on mine. I’m shocked that he would do this in front of all the kids, but at the same time, I’m too consumed by his passion to care. My hands glide up his arms, over his shoulders, around his neck, and tangle in his hair. Our lips never part, and our tongues never collide, but this kiss is still just as passionate.
“I told you so!” Bailey’s voice rings through. I’m the one to break away from the kiss. I bury my face in the crook of Wes’ neck as I try to hide the blush that I know has taken over my face.
The vibrations of Wes’ chuckle help to soothe my embarrassment. “What do you mean, I told you so?” Wes asks with amusement evident in his tone.
“Bailey and I made a bet.”
I turn to look at John. “What bet?” Now it’s my turn to ask questions.
John shrugs while Bailey answers. “It’s nothing really. I bet John that by the end of camp, you and Wes would end up together, and he didn’t think it would happen.”
Wes’ arm tightens around my middle as he gives John a smug grin. “And why did you think it wouldn’t happen?” Wes asks.
&n
bsp; “No offense man, but Kenleigh is way too pretty for you,” John answers as he looks Wes dead in the eyes, and he rolls his wheelchair back and forth.
Liam, Bailey, and I erupt into laughter. Tears stream down my face, my cheeks hurt, and I have a stitch in my side from laughing so hard.
“The kid has a point,” Liam says, laughing.
I take several deep breaths as I try to regain control of my laughter until I look up at Wes. Obviously, by his tight lips and clenched jaw, he didn’t think it was too funny. I place my hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at me. Once his eyes have found mine, his features loosen, and a grin starts to splay across his lips. I mouth the words ‘I love you’ and he nods. Turning to look back John and Bailey, I ask, “So, now that you’ve won the bet, Bailey, what do you get?”
“John owes me a movie. What do you think? This weekend good for you, John?” Bailey asks.
I don’t know why I didn’t see it before, but if I didn’t know any better, I would say that she has a crush on John.
“This weekend sounds good. But no chick flicks.”
“Uh-uh. I won the bet. I get to pick the movie,” Bailey retorts with a Cheshire-cat-like grin.
John groans. “Whatever,” he sighs.
Bailey walks behind John’s wheelchair, taking hold of the handles, as she taunts him in a singsong voice. “What to see? What to see?”
John shakes his head at the mention of an actress’s name as Bailey wheels him away.
“Well, that was fun and all, but I’m gonna get going. Mr. Will wanted me to help out with the corral today,” Liam says, walking off the porch and down the steps. He shoots us a wave over his shoulder as he walks away.
“You thought that was funny, huh?” Wes asks.
“Oh, come on. You know it was. And besides, you’re the one who’s too pretty for me,” I reply, massaging the back of Wes’ neck.
“Babe, I love you and all, but don’t ever call me pretty, again. Sexy, handsome, good-lookin’, those all work, but not pretty.”
I push up on my tiptoes, bringing my lips right to the shell of Wes’ ear. “Yes, Sexy. But now, I have to go and see what I can help with around here,” I whisper.
The groan that escapes Wes sends lust crashing into the one place I don’t need right now. He grabs hold of my hips and pulls me closer to him, the bulging evidence in his shorts that rests against my stomach does nothing to damper my need. “I need some help right now,” Wes says in that low husky voice that I love. With his hands locked behind my back, he lifts me off the ground, walks up the steps, and into the quiet house. “And you are the only one who can help me at this moment.”
My hands travel up his arms and grip his shoulders. My head dips to the crook of his neck where I place feather light kisses from his collarbone up to his ear. My eyes flutter close. “And what is that I can help you with?” I ask breathlessly.
I don’t notice that we’ve walked through the kitchen and living room until I hear the faint creaking sounds of the stairs beneath us. “I’m about to show you,” Wes groans while I suck and nibble on his ear.
Lust, desire, and need slam into me all at once just from hearing those words. Never in all my life have I felt more desired than Wes makes me feel. His grip slides from around my waist to my ass. The pressure is gentle, yet demanding. I wrap my legs around his waist as he walks me backwards down the hall. The feel of hard wood makes contact with my back only to give way as a door opens. Which door? I’m not sure, but I know it’s my room as soon as my eyes flutters open. Bottles of lotion, my perfume, hairbrush, and whatever else crash to the floor as Wes sweeps them off the cluttered dresser before sitting me on top of it.
“Look at me.” It’s not a request, but a demand. My blue eyes find his. “We may not have a lot of time right now, but I am going to make sure you feel real good. Just like every time before and every time after this one,” he says huskily as he drops to his knees. The combination of his voice and the image of his lips connecting with my ankle only make me want him more. A gasp escapes me and goose bumps pepper my skin when the tip of his tongue grazes the burning flesh behind my knee. “I love that I do this to you,” he murmurs.
My head drops back against the wall behind me as my eyes screw shut. With erratic breaths, I reply, “I don’t know how much more I can take.” My hands grip the edge of the dresser when he switches from one leg to the other, continuing his sensual assault. “I want you, Wes, now… right now.” No longer able to wait, I lift my head and hooded eyelids. My hands fly forward, catching the collar of his shirt. “Now. I want you now,” I whisper, leaning down, crushing my lips against his.
A deep, guttural groan rumbles from deep within the back of Wes’ throat as our tongues collide, mixing and bending and fading into one. His hands travel up my thighs only to reach the button on my shorts. I lift my hips, allowing him to tug them down my body. His next move sends me into a frenzy. The sound of my panties tearing at the seams cuts through our lust-filled haze. Consumed by want, my fingers make quick work of the button on his cargo shorts. Wes strips me of my shirt and pulls the cups of my bra down beneath my breasts. My generous C-cups spill over the lacy material and they are his for the taking. He breaks our kiss, only to let his gaze travel down my body. “You, right here. This is my fantasy come true,” he says as he takes a nipple in his mouth. My eyes never leave his. The sensation of his captivating tongue swirling around my sensitive nipple as he watches me makes my breath catch in the back of my throat. But that breath releases in a rush when the head of his gorgeous, velvety cock spears me in one swift movement.
My hips buck forward, meeting his thrusts. I thread my fingers through his hair, holding him to my breast. “Wes…” His name comes out as a plea.
“What do you need, Baby? How do you want it?” He switches from one nipple to the next. Slowly and leisurely, he pulls out almost all of the way, only to slam back into me again, seating himself deeper than before.
My head shakes from side-to-side as I try to form the words that I need to say. “I need you to go… harder… faster…” I answer breathlessly.
“God, I love it when you tell me what you want,” Wes pants, picking up his pace and giving me exactly what I asked for. The dresser slams against the wall each time he thrusts into me. Moans, skin slapping against skin, and frantic breaths fill the air in my room. My eyes slowly close as the tingling sensation that I am becoming more and more familiar with blooms within me. “Don’t close your eyes. I wanna watch you cum. I want to see how I make you feel,” he groans as his rhythm increases.
My legs wrap around his waist, and my hands clutch his broad muscular shoulders that now have a thin layer of sweat coating them. My toes begin to curl when Wes’ strong hands grip my hips tighter than he ever has before. I can tell he’s close. Within seconds, I shatter to pieces beneath him. My head falls back as my back arches into his unyielding body. His mouth covers mine, catching my moans of pleasure as we come together. “I love you, Kenleigh, and I always will,” Wes whispers against my lips.
“Kenleigh. Wake up.” The sweet, soothing voice of my mother pulls me from my sleep.
“Mom?” I ask with a just woken voice.
“Happy Birthday!” she crawls into bed with me. I peek up at her as I yawn. “We have lots to do today.”
“Why were you made to be a morning person?” I groan and roll over toward her. Curling into the fetal position, I place my hands under my cheek. My mom lifts her hand and smoothes stray strands of hair out of my eyes.
“One day, you will be, too,” she replies cheerfully. “Come on, get up.”
“Mom, it’s my birthday. Can’t I sleep in?” I whine.
“I guess you could, but then your favorite breakfast would get cold. And you know it won’t taste the same if I have to reheat it,” she sighs.
With that revelation, my eyes spring open. “You made all of it?” I arch an eyebrow. Of course, she did. I‘m her and Dad’s only child.
She nods. “Ye
p. Eggs, bacon, crispy just like you like it, hash browns, and French toast with cinnamon.” Saliva pools in my mouth as I throw back the covers. Honestly, she had me at crispy bacon, and she’s right, it won’t taste the same if it has to be reheated. “But,” she says as she gets up off the bed, “if you want to sleep in…”
“I’m coming. Just let me brush my teeth.” I crawl out of bed, rush past my mom in the hallway, and into the bathroom.
“I’ll see you downstairs,” she chuckles as she passes by the bathroom.
I brush my teeth in record time, scan myself in the mirror, and think, ‘you’re twelve now, Kenleigh. It’s time to start growing up. I brush out the knots in my hair and pull it back into a low ponytail.
My parents greet me as I walk into the kitchen. The plate of yumminess stares at me from across the room, and beckons my feet to carry me to the dining room table where my dad sits, reading the paper. I plop down in my seat next to him. “Hey, Dad,” I say before taking a bite of my eggs. My eyes roll into the back of my head. My mom makes the best eggs ever.
“Happy birthday.” He folds the paper back and puts it down on the table. I nod and tell him thank you around a mouthful of food. “So a little birdie told me that you wanted your room redecorated as your birthday present.”
My eyes find my mom as I swallow some of the best, French toast in all of Conroe, Texas with orange juice. I turn back to my dad. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’m sick of all the pink. It’s time to grow up. Even if that means getting rid of all the ceramic unicorns that I love. Okay, maybe I won’t get rid of them. I’ll just pack them up and put them in the attic. “I do.”
“What were you thinking?” he asks.
I look at my mom again. We talked about this. I told her I wanted to paint my room black and make white, zebra designs. “She wants a zebra print themed room,” my mom answers for me.
The arch in my dad’s eyebrow tells me I need to explain further. I clear my throat and dive in. “I want to paint my walls black, and with make zebra designs with white paint,” I rush out before he has a chance to interrupt.
Serenity Falls Page 22
