by Bijou Hunter
“This place has been around since my parents were in college,” he says and studies me. “Did the ride break you?”
“What?”
“You're not speaking.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“Do I stink? In my defense, it’s fucking hot out here.”
“No, that’s not it.”
Colt studies my face before asking, “Then what?”
I use my hands to cover my eyes as the sun beats down on us. Colt waits for an explanation. I can’t think of a good one, so I decide to be honest instead.
“You know that feeling like how you think you’re falling even when you’re not?”
“Vertigo?”
“Yeah, so like my whole life, I’ve felt as if I’m standing on uneven ground and I might fall. Now with you, the world swims, and I can’t steady myself. But if I’m quiet and just look into your eyes where the world is safe and sane, then I can find my footing. I don’t know if that makes any sense, but I guess you overwhelm me,” I say and then add quickly, “In a good way, but I’m still overwhelmed because I’ve never known anyone like you.”
Colt narrows his eyes, probably thinking I’m an idiot or pulling a slut trick on him. Then the corners of his perfect full lips curve upward, and he steps closer. And then closer. Until he’s right against me and I have to stare straight up to look into his eyes. His physique blocks the sun, and I realize the images of him in my head can never compete with the real thing. Colt is a million times better than a fantasy.
When his lips meet mine, I don’t breathe. Even better, I can’t think. Everything about me—Stella Santana Shields—shuts down, leaving only heat and hope.
THE HEIR
Stella tastes like a keeper. I don’t know if that’s a real thing, but only a second of our lips pressed together leaves me a junkie. Is she made of magic? How else can Stella do nothing yet make me desperate for more?
A car door slams, startling her away from me. I don’t move because I don’t give a shit who is arriving or leaving the parking lot. I’m Colton Fucking Johansson, this is Ellsberg, and I’m in the middle of a damn moment.
“I feel dizzy,” she says, wearing a smile and flushed cheeks.
“If you fall, I will catch you.”
Stella stares without getting the reference. I wonder if she’s a country music fan. If so, I’m willing to teach her better taste. Ugh, I’ve suffered through too much honky-tonk crap in my life, but Stella will be worth slogging through more “I love my truck, dog, hat, beer” songs.
“Time after time,” I say, hopefully.
“That’s from the ‘My Name is Earl’ episode.”
“Close enough,” I murmur.
Stella reaches for my chest, changes her mind, and removes her hand. I help her indulge her sweet tooth by wrapping my arms around her and trapping her against my body. Now she can fondle me without feeling too forward.
Exhaling softly, Stella smiles up at me. I take her pursed lips as an invitation for another kiss. This one wakes up the shell-shocked beauty with her wild blonde hair and frisky fingers. I can’t wait to see what she’s like in bed. I’m betting a naked Stella is more like the bat-wielding chick than the scared girl who answered the motel door.
Today isn’t the day to find out about that particular side of her. I’m patient and know to pace myself, but, damn, it still hurts to remove my lips from her sweet pink ones.
“Let’s go eat and talk.”
Stella stares at me like a child in awe of a Christmas tree. I’d be lying if I claimed she was the first girl to check me out that way. There’s no denying I’m a sexy tattooed mammoth, but I need a woman who will see me as more than a beefcake with cash and power.
I take her slender hand in mine and walk into Belmont House. Not knowing what Stella wants to eat, I figure she’ll appreciate the home-style cooking. Her grip tightens once we’re in the door. I hope she’s reacting to the meatloaf rather than the dozens of eyes focused on us.
“I come here a lot,” I say before pointing at an empty table, so the waitress knows where I’m headed.
Stella plops down in her chair and studies the menu as if she’s prepping for a test. Rather than sitting, I wave my arms around and sigh.
“Come on, guys. Gossip quieter,” I say, and the customers laugh—because I’m hilarious and not just because I’m terrifying.
I sit down and study Stella who still stares at the menu.
“The meatloaf is good. Mashed potatoes are great. Fried chicken ain’t bad, but my mom makes it better.”
“Always a good boy,” the waitress, Jill, says and pats my arm. “Mama always does the best cooking.”
I smile at the middle-aged woman who’s been flirting with me since before I was legal. If my mama knew what this mama said to me on several occasions, Jill would get bitch-slapped by a fourth-grade teacher.
“Let’s start with drinks,” I tell Stella, doing my best to keep Jill from embarrassing me—and herself—while I’m on my date.
Stella mumbles she wants ice tea and I order a beer. The spying eyes make me nervous, which is weird since I don’t get anxious about much. Coming here seemed like a smart move, but I greatly underestimated our gossipy audience.
“I’m confused about how you can go out with me,” Stella whispers after we order, “when I did what I did to your friend’s bike.”
“He’s not my friend,” I mutter as my temper flares. “We’re club brothers. It’s more like we’re business partners. It’s different, but I can see how you’d be confused.”
“Is he okay with you being here with me?”
“I don’t care if he is or isn’t. I do what I want. The fucker doesn’t ask me who he dates.”
Stella nods, but her face remains unconvinced. She lost her temper yesterday. Generally, for a girl like her to challenge a man like Rod would result in painful payback. She’s still waiting for those consequences rather than enjoying the sexy surprise across the table from her.
“How did you meet Rae?” I ask, changing the subject since Rod is a boner-killer.
Stella deflates, going immediately from worried to bummed. “We were in the same foster home.”
“Why were you there?” I ask, wanting to hug her and kiss her and take her home with me and lock her in my room so she can never leave.
“There are several reasons, and they’re complicated. But basically, my mom went wild as a teenager and then went back to being respectable and didn’t want the mistakes she made while wild to hold her back.”
“Is she a bitch?”
Stella won’t say yes because most kids with shitty parents still love—and often defend—the assholes.
“How old were you when you ended up in the foster home?”
“Three. It was supposed to be temporary. By the time it was permanent, I was too old for people to want to adopt me. I ended up in different homes until I aged out.”
Stella probably doesn’t want me to pity her, but I do. “What about your father?”
“I don’t know who he is,” she says, shrugging like she doesn’t care but she’s not fooling me. “My mother never told anyone, or maybe she doesn’t know.”
“Where’s your mother now?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“But she’s alive?”
Stella nods. “Rae and Kori are my family now.”
“And you and Rae were at the same home when you aged out.”
“No, when we were younger. Then we got separated, but I found her on Facebook. We made plans to live together when we were eighteen. Even after she got pregnant with Kori, it was our plan.”
“Does the kid’s father help out?”
“He died.”
“How?”
“Heart attack.”
“How old was he?” I mutter, sensing this is another story about a bad man doing bad shit.
“Does it really matter?”
“No, I guess it doesn’t, but I still want to know. I get stuck on stuff easil
y,” I say and then add, “Like a child would, I guess.”
Stella reveals a hint of a smile. She stares fascinated at me until remembering to speak. Spitting out her words in an angry rush, she says, “He was her foster father. It was gross, and he said she came onto him, but Rae hates men and sex, and he was old and fat. Then he died, and his wife acted like none of it happened. Child services moved Rae and Kori somewhere else until she was eighteen. Then she and I moved in together, and I helped take care of Kori who was around sixteen months then.”
“I’m sorry that fucked-up shit happened to her and you.”
“Rae doesn’t fight back when people hurt her. She’s quiet and seems like she doesn’t feel, and that makes assholes think they can take from her without it costing anything. I guess that’s why I lost control yesterday. Rod might not be the worst, but he was the latest.”
I’m a man accustomed to getting his way. While I’ve never killed anyone, I’ve put the hurt on quite a few men. I feel as if I should be able to do the same to Rod Sanders. Rules shouldn’t stand in my way, yet I’m forced to let my father handle something I’d prefer to do myself.
“This is depressing,” she says after we’re quiet for a few minutes and our food arrives. “Let’s talk about happy things.”
“Such as?”
Stella shrugs, glances down at her meatloaf as if she hasn’t eaten in a decade, and then tries to care about our conversation. I give her a break by digging in so she can do the same. Once she enjoys her second bite, she smiles softly and remembers we were talking.
“Is your favorite song ‘Time After Time’ by Cyndi Lauper?”
I’m relieved to know she’s familiar with non-country music.
“No, it’s ‘I Want A New Drug’ by Huey and the News.”
Stella fights a smile, losing quickly. “Okay.”
“People always find that funny.”
“I expected something by The Rolling Stones or a country singer.”
“What country singer?”
“I don’t know any of their names. No, wait, Dolly Parton is one.”
Smirking at her apparent disinterest in country music, I can’t wait to learn her favorite song. “Now your turn.”
“I don’t have a favorite song.”
Stella giggles at my expression, which wrecks me. This woman is fucking magic when she laughs. I’d give my left nut to make her wear a smile for the rest of her life.
Whoa, I know I’m getting ahead of myself, but a guy knows shit, and I know more than most. My gut sends an army of messages to my brain, making me want to sweep Stella into my arms and carry her home for good. No need to know a damn thing about her—including her favorite song.
Her smile seals the deal.
THE UNWANTED
I never remember being this happy. Ever. Colt is so open, fearless, and smoking hot that I forget to worry about anything. By the time the food arrives, and we’re talking about music, I don’t even notice everyone watching us or that the waitress is perving on Colt. The world fades into the background, and we’re alone in this restaurant.
“So fess up on your fave song,” he says after taking a big bite of potatoes.
“It’s a cliched fave song.”
“Try me.”
“‘Linger’ by The Cranberries,” I say and smile at his confused expression.
Colt pulls out his phone, finds “Linger,” and plays it quietly at our table while people give us dirty looks. I feel them looking and hear someone mutter something rude, but I can’t see past the beautiful man across from me. He listens to the entire song while his gaze holds mine.
“This is the kind of music to get stoned to,” he says when the song ends. “You ever light up while chilling to it?”
“Pot costs money.”
“That it does,” he murmurs and leans forward until he’s close enough for me to touch. “For our second date, let’s find a comfy spot under the stars, put on your favorite music, light a bud, and watch the world pass by.”
“If I were more confident, I’d ask you why you’d assume I’ll go out with you again. Of course, we both know that I’ll go wherever you want.”
“Because you want to, and not because you have to, right?” he asks, and I’m amazed to see actual concern in his seductive brown eyes.
“Why, do I have to?”
“No.”
“Well, then what’s the question again?”
Colt wiggles his thick blond brows. “You get gutsy with a little food and music in your system.”
“It’s the company. Trust me.”
Reaching across the table, he runs his fingers over my hand and sends a shiver through me. “I’m not fucking around about that stoned evening under the stars. I happen to have access to the best buzz in Kentucky, and I do love sitting outside in the warm evening. Wait, are you allergic to mosquitoes?”
“No.”
“If you want, I can slather bug repellent on you just to be safe,” he says, and the promise of pleasure hits me square in my gut.
“And I could rub up against you so you’d be protected too.”
Leaning closer, he whispers, “Your compassion is making me warm in all the right places.”
“People are looking at you.”
“I’m a very attractive man with a lot to offer.”
“That you are,” I say, giggling behind my hand. “So attractive and so much to offer that the Huey Lewis thing seems almost cool.”
Colt gasps. “Almost?”
Laughing harder, I can’t believe I’m teasing him. I love how adorable his smugness seems, but it’s even sexier when he pretends to be outraged.
“Is that the only band you like?”
“.38 Special is cool,” he says as his leg caresses mine.
“Never heard of them.”
“You poor, sweet, clueless, sexy woman.”
Laughing again, I wrap my hair behind my ears. I’m so relaxed that I’ve stopped worrying about my hair or the gap between my front teeth. Basking in his warmth, I can pretend nothing else exists in the entire world.
“Ellsberg will be a big fucking boon for you. I’ll teach you about the best music and the best food and the best stretching techniques,” he says, throwing in a wink at the end.
Returning his wink, I know I look like an idiot. Colt’s gotten me giddy. Then he reminds me of how good times never last.
“What brought you to Ellsberg? Did you somehow sense I was here?”
“Yes.”
Colt reaches across the table to caress my knuckles again. “No, really, why did you move here?”
I shrug, wishing we could stick to music. “A neighbor back in Prestonsburg said he was moving here. He claimed there were lots of jobs because of the college. Things weren’t great for us in Prestonsburg, and I thought we’d be better off here.”
“How were things not great?”
Sighing, I really want to go back to talking about music. Movies are a fun topic too. I love going to the theater. That’s what I want to talk about, not how much my life sucks and how I always manage to make things worse.
“Back in Prestonsburg, the jobs are all part-time,” I say while enjoying the feel of his fingers against mine. “Even though rent is cheap, money is hard to make. The schools are bad too. Kori barely learned anything in her first year. Like she already knew how to read some, and she was bored a lot. Plus, the other kids were bullies.”
The oppressive worry returns to my chest. I’m struck by guilt too. “I thought we’d have more opportunities here, but the rent is so expensive because of the college. Rae did get a job right away as a maid, which is what she likes. It’s easy and quiet, and no one bothers her. I’ve applied everywhere, and I have experience as a cashier, but I must make a bad impression because I never get hired for anything full-time. Twenty hours a week at the gas station won’t give me enough to save up for an apartment.”
“And then Rod stole your cash, and you had to sleep in your car.”
&n
bsp; Colt’s furrowed brow warms my heart, making me fall harder, sending me deeper down the hole I’m digging for myself.
“And you gave me money,” I remind him. “We slept in a bed last night because of you.”
“And I’m going to help you with that other stuff too, Stella,” he says as if stating a fact. “Not just because you’re gorgeous or because I feel bad about what happened. I’m a decent man because that’s how my mama raised me. I can help you, so I will. You falling head over heels for my sexy ass is optional.”
“Well, I am falling.”
“And I’ll be there to catch you.”
Fighting laughter, I give him what he wants and say, “Time after time.”
Colt’s arms shoot upward in triumph. I sense—and I’m probably wrong considering I’m horrible at reading people—despite his good looks and power that this man just wants someone who “gets him.” Can anyone so effortlessly cool also feel as if he’s trapped on the outside? Again, I’m probably wrong about the vibe I’m sensing from Colt. It’s more likely that I just want him to be insecure so he won’t be so out of my league.
I wish I could enjoy lunch without thinking about the future. It’s my talent to sabotage every good thing by wanting it to never end. Then I get so focused on how it will fall apart that I can’t enjoy what I have now. It’s a vicious cycle, but I promise myself I won’t do it with Colt who is still grinning at me from our little duet.
Even mesmerized by Colt’s devastating smile, I notice the sudden silence around us. Everyone’s gazes lower, and no one speaks except Colt who hasn’t picked up on the room’s shift. I spot the reason for the increased fear. My reaction alerts Colt who turns around to face a man—who looks too similar to not be related—approaching our table.
My confidence gone and our fun date over, I prepare to meet Cooper Johansson.
THE CHAPTER WHERE THE HEIR ISN’T IMPRESSED BY THE KING’S GROWLING
THE HEIR
My dear old dad decides to act as the world’s manliest cockblocker. I really ought to buy him a coffee cup with that title printed in bold letters. The way he struts toward us makes me think he’d love the gift. Why not celebrate what he’s so damn proud of?
