“What?” I grin and he shakes his head again.
“That girl is going to end up killing you.” I glance at her and then back at Ford.
“Yeah, but what a way to go.” I clutch my chest dramatically and he shoves me, laughing. Ford and I have been friends for as long as I can remember. We went to elementary school together, played high school football together, and I was a groomsman in his wedding to his high school sweetheart, Zoe. She died after childbirth about five years ago and he’s finally met someone else and things seem to be going well. Her name is Lex, she moved in right next door to Ford and she’s currently in the group of women that Whit is sitting with. Jaxson sidles up next to us with a beer.
“Hey brother,” he says, slapping me on the shoulder before grabbing a beer. “What are you hens over here clucking about?”
“Just about how bad you want your new secretary,” Ford cracks and I guffaw. Literally. Fucking. Guffaw. Jax’s face turns bright red and he punches Ford in the shoulder.
“Dude, shut the fuck up.” He hisses, looking around to make sure no one is listening.
I’m still laughing because it’s true and everyone knows it but him. Can’t wait to watch that little shit show play out. All the sudden a loud commotion comes from the group of girls and we can see Avery sink down in her chair just as Whitley spews her drink everywhere.
“Looks like Avery might know it, too,” I say, tipping my beer that way and raising an eyebrow at Jax. He shakes his head.
“No fuckin’ way. I have kept that shit on lockdown. The only person who I told was Ford who obviously told you.”
“I feel like it’s sixth grade and we’re on the playground,” I murmur with a sigh. “No, you moron. Any person with a brain can see you’re half in love with her,” I say, knowing good and well what a man in love looks like. I glance at Whitley.
Whitley Jean Cantu. Kissed her under the bleachers at a football game my sophomore year in high school during halftime. Been in love with her ever since.
Jax clears his throat, bringing me back to the moment. “Good to have you back, Dean. Not sure I’ve had a chance to tell you that yet.” I tip my beer at him.
“Appreciate it. It’s good to be back,” I take a long pull from the bottle, organizing my thoughts before going on. “Been a long time comin’. I should have come back a long time ago.”
“Had to do what you had to do to chase those demons, man. I get it.” Ford says, and if anyone does get it, it’s him. He spent a lot of years running from his demons but had to do it while raising two kids. I’ll never know what that was like.
“Yeah, but we all know I was a dick about it.” They both murmur in agreement. Left town ten years ago, Everly’s name barely written in stone, and I never looked back. Couldn’t. Looking back meant slowing down and I couldn’t slow down. I had to get the fuck out of this town.
Ford’s girlfriend Lex chooses that moment to come over and see if the burgers are ready and I excuse myself before they start making out in front of me. It’s not long after, we are all laughing, eating, and shootin’ the shit when Whitley excuses herself and leaves the party. I glance at my phone. Seventy-three minutes. That’s how long she stayed, which is honestly probably the longest amount of time I’ve spent around her since I moved back and bought the bar. She’s been avoiding me since I came home, making herself scarce anytime I show up to check on things. She even tried to lay out ground rules at the bar. Saying that I can only be there when she isn’t and if I’m going to be there to let her know so she can make sure she isn’t there. She can hide all she wants but eventually her and I are going to have to talk this shit out, face to face.
That woman is it for me and she’s going to know it sooner rather than later.
Whitley
I silently let myself into my one-bedroom apartment on the edge of town. Just a small apartment, nestled between two others all in a row. I don’t need a lot when it’s just me. The space has a small kitchen, if you can even call it that, that sits at the front of the apartment and adjacent to the living room. The bedroom and bathroom are down a short hallway off the living room. It’s not much, but it’s a place to call my own. I moved out of my parents and into here about four years ago, right around the time Fred made me manager.
The last two weeks have been miserable. My life feels all topsy turvy since Derrick broke things off with me. He texts me occasionally, checking on me, which is sweet, but just confusing my heart even more. I’m questioning my sanity at this point and I really need to get my shit together.
I’m not usually home this early on a Saturday night, but I couldn’t spend one more minute at that cookout with Dean. He’s everywhere these days, invading my life. Work, outings with my girlfriends. I even came home to him mowing my yard last week. My phone dings from the table. I don’t even need to look at it to know it’s him.
Dean: Make it home okay?
Me: Fuck off.
Dean: I’ll take that as a yes.
Me: How did you get my number?
Dean: Avery
Me: You can let her know she’s dead to me.
Dean: She said she loves you.
Me: Are we done here?
Dean: I would be done if you’d let me take you to dinner.
My heart skips a beat like it always does whenever he’s around. Working with him at the bar has been unnerving. I have this incredible urge to kiss him and strangle him at the same time.
Dean: I’ll take that as a yes?
Me: Fuck off.
I power my phone off and chuck it across the room. I may not be able to escape him at the bar, but I can definitely ignore him at home.
****
“Holy shit!” Dean hollers over the roar of the bar, saddling up beside me and pulling tickets off the printer. I breathe a sigh of relief, even though I would rather be working with anyone but him, I’ll take whatever help I can get.
“Apparently there was a concert up the road at some drive-in, Covid style, and it looks like everyone decided to stop here for a drink after.” I shout back, shaking the cocktail shaker in my hands and pouring four margaritas for the girls at the end of the bar. I take a minute to catch my breath as Dean fills some draft beer orders.
It’s been non-stop since around eight thirty and it’s just me and Avery on tonight. I wasn’t sure we would ever get caught up. I glance at Dean, who is now on his fifth bar ticket, mixing what looks to be an old fashioned.
“Where’d you learn how to mix drinks?” I ask him and he hits me with a dimpled grin that I feel between my legs.
“I’ve done a little bit of everything. My favorite job though, was tending bar at this old biker bar in Colorado.” I shake my head and grab the next three tickets off the printer and start filling them.
“Thank you.” I say, just quiet enough for him to hear it, and he glances at me, surprise written all over his face.
“Why, Whitley Jean, I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me since I’ve been back.” I snort and elbow him in the ribs.
“Don’t get used to it, assface.”
We work side by side for the next hour, Avery waiting tables, and the rush of people finally starts to filter out.
It’s 11 p.m. now and I am dog tired. Our last customer leaves just as I’m washing the last beer glass.
“Holy shit,” Avery says, plopping down in a stool at the bar and tossing her apron on it. Dean grabs it and starts cashing her out. “That was insane.”
I murmur in agreement. “Yeah, I had no clue there was a concert up the road or I would have put more people on.” Dean hands Avery her apron back and a stack of cash.
“Go on, get out of here,” he says.
Once she’s out the door it’s just the two of us, something it hasn’t been in a very long time. He counts the drawer down while I put the chairs up. I’m on my way to restock the beer cooler when he grabs my elbow.
“Hey,” he starts, and I glance down to where his fingers are touching my skin.
He lets go like he’s been burned and coughs a little, “I’ve got the restock. Go on home.” He scrubs a hand over his mouth, uncertainty written all over his face. At what, I’m not sure of.
“You sure?” I ask, eager to not be breathing the same air as him.
“Yeah, you’ve been here all day. I’ll restock and lock up.”
“Okay. Well... thanks. Goodnight.,” I say, awkward as fuck, which is usually par for the course between the two of us. I snag my phone and purse from under the counter and hit the door, rushing to get out of here, get to my car, take my first breath for the night. I slide into the driver’s seat and go to look for my keys, but they aren’t in my bag. Fuck. I heave a sigh and jump back out, running back into the bar. Dean’s back is to me and the door to the bar opens with a creak.
Dean
“We’re closed,” I grit out, my voice strained. Mentally exhausted from being that close to Whitley and not able to touch her. Kiss her. Tell her how sorry I am and how much I’ve missed her. Working with her isn’t helping the situation any. Being that close to her but not being able to claim her is driving me out of my mind.
“It’s just me,” she says, her voice shaky and I whip around, not expecting Whitley to be standing there. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers, “I forgot my keys.
“You’ve got nothin’ to be sorry for, Whit,'' I say, gruffly. I’m the one that is sorry. Sorry for the loss of our baby. Sorry for leaving her when she needed me the most.
“I’m so angry at you,” her confession slips out, her voice just a little above a whisper. She inhales a shaky breath, glancing around the bar before letting her eyes land back on me. “How could you just take off like that and leave me behind?” The pain in her voice is fucking destroying me.
“I had to, Whitley. I couldn’t stay in this town anymore.”
“Why?” She demands, louder now, her voice rising. I rough my hands through my hair, tugging on the ends, trying to find the right words to explain to her how badly I had to get out of town.
“I was heartbroken. Couldn’t drive through town knowing my baby was laying in that cemetery instead of at home in her crib,” My voice cracks, remembering how dark that time in my life was, how I felt like I was suffocating.
“You left!” she shouts, “you just up and fucking left, Dean, without saying a word to me. We’d been dating for years, talkin’ about marriage and forever. You left me and her before the grass even had a chance to grow on her gravesite. You didn’t ask me to come. You didn’t ask what it would mean to me if you left. You just took off and spent ten years runnin’ all over the country, livin’ it up. I was left to pick up all my broken pieces and try to move on with my life!”
I scoff. She has no idea what I’ve been through.
“If you think what I was doin’ the last ten years was livin’, Whitley, then you don’t have a fuckin’ clue what I went through.”
“Then explain it to me!” She screams, her voice bouncing off the walls inside the bar, echoing in the silence.
“I’ve been running for years, Whitley. I’ve been to California to see the ocean and I’ve seen the sunrises in Colorado. Been jumpin’ from job to job, tryin’ to chase these demons out of my head. Wasted so many years trying to get the image of my baby in a casket no bigger than my arm outta my mind. But if I learned anything while I was gone, it’s that I can’t. That image is burned in my fuckin’ brain, Whit.” I go on, feeling completely unhinged. “But do you know what else lives there? Images of you ridin’ shotgun in my old two-toned truck, your hair blowin’ in the breeze. You beside me at the river, drinkin’ a sixer and baitin’ a hook. The way you looked the first night I laid you down. I have spent years moving everywhere but on, Whitley. I had to come home. I Had no clue what I’d do once I was in the same room with you, I just knew that I had to come back.”
I’ve ate up the distance between us while I spoke and now she’s in my arms, sobs racking her body. Her eyes meet mine as she clings to my shirt. I haven’t had her pressed against me in so long, I almost forgot what it felt like. I cradle her face in my hands, my eyes flicking back and forth between her steel gray ones. Using my thumbs, I swipe away the tears, sliding my fingers into her hair at the nape of her neck, tilting her face up.
“I’m so sorry for leavin’ like I did, but god damnitt Whitley Jean, I love you so much. I’ve loved you every day for the last twelve years.”
“It’s always been you,” she whispers, her lips trembling as she surges up on her toes and fuses her lips to mine. I drag my hands from her face to her hips, pulling her flush with my body and she melts into me, her body bowing back just slightly as I return the kiss, both of us desperate for the other. My lips are hard and demanding as hers finally soften, allowing me to slip my tongue between them. A groan vibrates from my chest as I trail one hand up her back, pressing her to me as her fingers skate through my hair.
My heart thumps harder as I sweep her legs out from under her and carry her to the office. The door crashes against the wall as I kick it open, the sound bouncing off the walls, a picture clattering to the ground with the force of it. With a sweep of my arm, I knock everything off the desk before depositing her on it.
I take a moment to take in the sight of her, lips swollen and her chest heaving. She slides her shirt up and over her head, letting it drop to the floor. My eyes move all over her, seeing her as a woman instead of the young girl she was the last time I had her like this. She’s filled out more, her breasts larger and her curves more pronounced but she’s still as gorgeous as ever.
Whitley
Dean’s eyes caress my body before he prowls towards me, reaching behind his head and tugging his shirt up and off, letting it land with mine. He’s so close to me, I can feel the heat radiating off him. My eyes hungrily consuming every inch of him. He’s leaner than he ever was as a young boy and he’s still just as handsome.
“Can I..” he stutters, “can I touch you?” He asks, reaching out with trepidation. I nod my head and he wastes no time, dragging his fingers over the curve of my shoulder and down my arm, his eyes blazing a trail right along with it. I reach out and slip a finger into his belt loop, tugging him closer. Alarm bells ringing in my head as I reach for the back of his neck, bringing his mouth level with mine. Danger, they said. Stay away, my mind screamed. But instead, I found myself whispering “don’t break my heart,” before pressing my lips to his.
Need rushes through me as I slip my tongue into his mouth and moan at the taste of him, like whiskey and regret. His lips are harsh, demanding and hungry. Kiss after kiss making me weak in the knees. One of his hand’s rests on the desk as the other travels from the slope of my neck to my hip, causing me to shiver. He grips my waist as I suck his bottom lip into my mouth, letting my hands roam his body, tracing the dips and crevices. Dean was always fit as a young boy but now he’s all sharp edges and hard lines and it’s lighting a fire deep inside of me.
He presses his cock against my stomach, proving just how hard he really is, and I’m scrambling to undo his belt and popping the button on his jeans. He captures my wrists in his hand and breaks our kiss, pulling back so we are eye level. A whimper slips out of me, my breathing ragged. Something akin to a growl rumbles out of Deans chest and I rub my thighs together, desperate for relief.
“I need you to be sure, Whit. Completely fucking sure that this is something you want because once we start this, this is it. There’s no turning back.”
“I’ve never been so sure about anything in my entire life.” I respond and suddenly his resolve snaps. Tearing my leggings down to my ankles and throwing them with the rest of my clothes, he slides his hand back up my thighs and rips my panties off me, stuffing them in his pocket. Holy fuck, that’s hot.
His rough hands snake a path down my stomach, landing back on my thighs and spanning the width of them, spreading my legs apart and gliding his thumb over my already dripping center. A moan pops out of me and Dean drops to his knees, pressing a kiss to the inside of
my thigh and dragging his lips closer and closer. He glances up at me and I drop back on my hands, my legs falling open wider. He parts the seam of my pussy with his thumbs, running his tongue through my folds and I cry out.
He flattens his tongue over my swollen clit, slipping two fingers inside me. The combination of the two has me pressing my pelvis towards his face, begging for more; harder, faster, please. He presses his hand against my stomach, laying me flat on the desk. He hooks one of my legs over his shoulder, taking advantage of the angle, curvin’ his fingers inside of me, going impossibly deeper.
“Oh my god, yessss,” I hiss as he sucks on my clit and pumps his fingers in and out of me relentlessly. He pulses his tongue against my clit and my orgasm tears through me, my leg around his neck locking him in place as he laps at me, his tongue working every single drop of my orgasm until I collapse against the desk, boneless and wrung out.
Dean stands, wiping his mouth and shucking his pants as I watch, still spread out on the desk. His jeans and belt drop, the metal clanking against the concrete floor. His cock stands at attention, thick and curved slightly at the end, cum already dripping from it.
He rounds the desk and slides the drawer open, snagging a condom. Dragging myself off the desk and making my way towards him, I take the condom and tear it open, reaching out with my free hand and giving him one long hard stroke before rolling the condom down his shaft. A groan rumbles out of him.
“Someone was pretty sure he was getting lucky eventually, eh?” I ask, arching an eyebrow. He scrubs his hand over his mouth, eyes roaming all over my body.
“Just optimistic,” he says, and I push on his shoulder, causing him to drop down into the chair.
Come Back for You: Boys of Alabama Page 3
