“Brantley,” the familiar voice drawls out. I turn to find my cousin Maybelle standing behind me. Next to her is her boyfriend, Sawyer Collins.
“Hey there,” I say and toss back a sip of my drink. “What are y’all doing here?”
My southern drawl is becoming thicker by the day.
“Date night,” Maybelle answers. “Plus, we love the band that’s gonna be playing here later tonight.”
Ah, couples, it’s always—we. I remember those days.
“You want to sit with us,” Sawyer asks, hooking his thumb over his shoulder.
“Yeah, we got another friend coming,” Maybelle adds. “She works with Sawyer at the high school.”
I cock a brow. “You two wouldn’t be trying to fix me up, would you?”
Couples are notorious for trying to couple single people.
Sawyer laughs. “No, man, I swear. We don’t need that kind of pressure in our lives. Just thought it might make her feel like less of a third-wheel. We’ve been trying to get her to come out with us and blow off some steam. She finally said yes.”
“All right, sounds fun.”
I fish my money clip from my pocket and slap a twenty-dollar bill down onto the bar. I grab my drink and call out to Luke, “I’m gonna sit with them.”
“Sounds good, man,” he says, as I step up to the high-top table where the two of them are sitting.
“So, what’s it like being back in town?” Maybelle asks.
Lifting a shoulder, I plant my ass on the barstool. “It’s good so far.”
“It’s a lot different from your fast-paced life in New York,” she points out.
“Yeah, it is, but I’m looking forward to the change of pace—I think.”
She smiles. “You’re really gonna tell me that you’re looking forward to running the company you managed to avoid for years?”
“I stand by my words and the commitment I’ve made to the family.”
Maybelle settles back into her chair. A server approaches with menus and asks the two of them what they want to drink. My eyes roam over the menu and I order a buffalo chicken sandwich and fries.
My cousin returns her gaze to mine. “That’s good to hear. Really looking forward to seeing what you’ll do with the future of our family legacy.”
I toss back the rest of my bourbon. I’m confident in my abilities, but I’d be lying if I said I’m not a little nervous. In need of another drink, I stand and walk toward the bar.
“Luke, another,” I say, holding up my glass. My eyes roam over the crowd as I lean against the bar.
That’s when I lock eyes with the gorgeous blonde who steps through the patio entrance.
My heart beats out of sync in my chest.
Holy shit.
Caroline just walked in.
Caroline
Of course Brant’s here. And he looks hot as hell, bringing all my rugged, dirty, country boy fantasies to life.
Someone’s getting a real kick out of these run-ins between the two of us.
He’s wearing a tight, grey t-shirt that clings to his muscles, every single one of them and light blue denim jeans. Probably Levi’s.
Please let them be Levi’s.
I amble through the crowd looking for my friends, desperately trying to avoid Brant’s eyes on me. It’s hard not to notice him, his big body towers over everyone in the place. He walks away from the bar and I stop near the jukebox avoiding eye contact.
“Caroline,” Maybelle calls out my name. My gaze flicks to her and Sawyer and that’s when I see Brant standing at their table.
Oh gawd.
Suddenly the urge to duck into the ladies’ room hits me. Instead I look toward the beer decal mirror on the wall. At least I look more put together than when Brant saw me earlier. I changed into a striped button-down shirt and my favorite pair of high-waisted denim shorts.
And of course, the open seat at the table is right in-between Maybelle and Brant.
“Hi, guys,” I say, and slide onto the barstool.
“I’m so glad you made it, Caroline,” Sawyer says and Maybelle nods in agreement.
“Thanks for the invite. This place is packed.”
“The band is pretty popular,” Sawyer says.
“Caroline, this is my cousin, Brantley Cardwell.”
She says it like I don’t know that the two of them are related. Like Brant and I are two strangers. Like we’re all unaware of the small-town rumors that link to our families’ past.
I’m fully aware of all things Brantley Cardwell. Well, not all things, but I’d like to be well-versed on everything about this man.
Stop it, Caroline.
“We’ve met,” I tell her.
“Oh, I didn’t realize. But it’s a small town, so it’s not completely out of the realm of possibilities.” She smiles and sips her beer.
His gaze levels to me. “And it’s just Brant.”
The way he looks at me, those blue eyes peel back every layer that I fight to keep firmly intact.
I need a drink.
“Let’s get you a drink,” Brant says, as if he read my thoughts. “What’s your poison?”
“How about a round of shots?” Maybelle interjects.
“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Sawyer adds.
Brant tilts his head close to mine. “Tequila?”
This guy.
“Yes,” Maybelle chirps.
Brant eyes the bartender and holds up four fingers. Behind the bar, he nods, and turns to grab the bottle of 1800.
Our server appears, asking me what I’d like to drink. I settle on a beer. No bourbon.
“They ordered food,” she says. “Did you want something to eat?”
I nod. “Yeah, if we’re starting with shots, I better eat something.”
Our server, Lisa Marie, walks over to the bar and picks up our tequila.
I take my time looking over the menu even though I know what I want to eat. Well, food wise anyway.
“Chicken fingers basket with fries and ranch dressing on the side.”
Maybelle grabs her shot glass. “To the good times.”
“And hopefully the tequila makes her clothes fall off.” Sawyer nods toward Maybelle.
Brant smiles at me and the energy in the room shifts. My eyes close as I swallow down my shot. The burn from the alcohol slides down my throat and I bite back a wince. I feel him staring at me as I suck on the lime. My eyes flick to his mouth. The lord has never made such a perfect mouth . . . kissable lips.
“I didn’t know that you were a teacher,” Brant says, before tipping his drink back to his lips.
Oh to be that glass.
“I’m not, but I wouldn’t expect you to know what I do . . . professionally.”
Maybelle and Sawyer are huddled close on the other side of the table. I don’t even think that they know Brant and I are here. Actually, I don’t think they even care. I’m glad that I don’t feel like a third-wheel but being this close to Brant makes me feel an entirely different kind of anxiety.
“I’m interested in knowing anything you want to tell me, Caroline,” he whispers.
A shiver races up my spine. Ignoring his question, I tip the bottle of beer to my lips. Sawyer rattles on about the band and then the conversation slips to Scott Benson’s new record. He was Haven’s client, who she dated before she met her fiancé, Tyler.
Our food arrives and my stomach growls. I’m hungrier than that I thought.
“If you’re not a teacher at the high school then what do you do?” he asks and pops a fry into his mouth.
“I’m a secretary,” I answer, and tear one of my chicken strips in half.
He bites into his burger and a dab of ketchup lingers on the corner of his mouth. I’d love to help him out with that but I control my urge to touch him.
“So, you’re back for good?” I ask.
“I’m back for good.”
The words are delivered so smoothly it makes my insides throb with a delicious ache.
And Brant, he stares. It’s not a creepy stare like Bran from Game of Thrones. It’s like he’s trying to find the words. It’s a look that says everything that words can’t. I feel it everywhere. Then again, I’ve misinterpreted this man’s words, both silent and spoken, before. Not to mention his body language. I think I know him, but maybe I’ve only scratched the surface.
He’s handsome.
He’s smart.
He’s this big, broody, sexy as hell cowboy that I want to rope and ride.
I don’t know if I can go down this road again with him. Brantley Cardwell was my first crush . . . and maybe my first love. And we never even kissed. How sad is that?
The evening drifts on in a haze of conversation and another round of drinks. Maybelle and Sawyer do most of the talking. Brant’s quiet. But I’m aware of his presence, because his leg brushes against mine more than a few times.
The patio fills up with a mass of bodies. People hang out in front of the stage waiting for the band. Claps and cheers erupt as the lead singer introduces himself. A beat later, the drums start a low beat and then the guitar brings up the tempo.
When the lead singer starts singing, the crowd goes wild. The front half of the patio turns into a dance floor. Hands in the air and bodies sway back and forth.
“Come on baby, let’s dance,” Sawyer says to Maybelle.
“Y’all staying here?” she asks.
I nod. “Yeah, we’ll make sure no one takes your seats.”
My heart thumps in my chest as I realize what I’ve just said. What if Brant wants to dance?
“I’ll be fine by myself if you want to dance,” I tell him.
His gaze meets mine. “I’m not one for dancing.”
Most men aren’t the dancing type. Until some woman makes them want to dance. I love to dance. I was on the dance team in high school.
“Well, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll go join them.”
“I don’t mind,” he says. “Go on and have some fun.”
I smile. “Okay, I’ll be back after a few songs.”
I nudge through the crowd. When I make it onto the patio, cool liquid hits my skin. Beer slides down my arm and drips onto the floor.
I turn around getting ready to give this asshole a piece of my mind, but bite my tongue because Aaron Collins is already handing me a napkin.
“So, sorry about that,” he says. “This place is crazy and these guys are animals.”
I laugh and take the napkin from him. “Thanks, Aaron. This place is a little outta control.”
“You here with Maybelle and my brother?”
I nod and wipe my hands with the napkin before tossing it in the trash can by the door. “Yeah. What about you?”
“I’m killing time before I go next door to meet my date.”
“First date?” I ask.
He smiles. “Second, finally. Wish me luck.”
“Have fun.”
The band starts in with the second song and Aaron slips out the side door. I’m in a good spot off to the side. I work my hips to the beat of the music. This song is more up tempo than the first one.
“Well, well, if it isn’t sweet Caroline Stratton,” I hear someone say from behind me.
I look over my shoulder. “Hi, Jake.”
Jake Williams is one of the nicest guys in our graduating class. His then girlfriend, Courtney Leigh Carter, is the worst though. I never understood what he saw in her. Back then, Jake was the star of the basketball team and Courtney Leigh was the captain of the cheer team. The popularity hierarchy of high school.
Courtney Leigh ripped a fart during one of our pep rally performances and blamed me. By the end of the day the entire school was calling me “Fartoline.”
I raise my arm and bop back and forth to the music. Jake bumps his hip to mine and then he grasps my hand twirling me around. When his hands land on my hips, I close my eyes and start to move with the electric pulses. Jake guides our bodies further from the crowd.
“So, are you going to the reunion Labor Day weekend?”
Ugh. The reunion. After the drunken disaster that was our five-year reunion, I told myself I’d never go to another one. Aside from that, who has an eleven-year reunion? Oh, my class because our prom queen, Whitney Becks, couldn’t be there due to the fact that she was getting married in New Orleans.
“No, I’m afraid I can’t,” I lie.
“Aww, that’s too bad. Guaranteed it’ll be a good time.”
My gaze swings over his thick shoulder. As if on cue, in walks Courtney Leigh and Whitney. I haven’t seen either one in a long time. The years have been kind to both of them, unfortunately.
The song ends and everyone claps. Whistles of appreciation and hollering filter through the crowd.
“Thanks for the dance, Jake.”
“My pleasure,” he says. “If you change your mind about the reunion, I’ll save you a dance.”
I smile back at him over my shoulder. “You’re on.”
When I turn, I collide boobs to face with Whitney. My boobs smoosh into her face. She’s considerably shorter than me.
“Watch where you’re going, four eyes,” she spits.
I’m not even wearing my glasses tonight. Yet, she finds a way to insult me.
“Sorry about that, Whitney.”
“Still so clumsy,” Courtney Leigh adds shaking her head. Her dark hair swirls around her shoulders. “No wonder we never won any of our competitions back in high school.”
“We never won because you were a terrible leader,” I point out.
“You’re still a snotty little bitch too,” Whitney says and glances down at my shorts. “Still wearing your ma’s hand-me-downs, I see.”
My outfit has an ultra-cool seventies vibe.
Laughing I sidestep the two of them, but Courtney Leigh cuts me off. “You going to the reunion, four eyes?”
Ignoring her question, I try and push past her but she pins me near the door. A few people stop and level their gaze in our direction.
“Please move, Courtney Leigh. I need another beer.”
She sniffs the air. “Do you smell that, Whitney?”
“I do smell it, smells a lot like pig shit,” she hisses.
I feel the flush bloom up my neck. God, they’re going to fucking embarrass me again. The band is still playing so only the people within earshot can hear what they’re saying.
“Caroline, did you shit your pants?” Whitney asks.
Courtney Leigh snorts. “It’s probably her hoo hah.”
I blow a deep breath. “You would know the smell of rotting vagina. And adult women don’t say hoo hah. Grow up, assholes.”
Whitney clicks her tongue. “Are you seeing someone for your anger issues? A therapist can do wonders for your attitude.”
Courtney Leigh scoffs. “She needs some dick. Are you still a virgin, Caroline?”
I close my eyes to keep from rolling them. I’ve always loved living here, there are days though that I’d give up everything and move away.
“There you are, darlin’,” I hear Brant say.
My eyes snap up and he’s looking right at me. He pulls me into his big frame and the scent of clean soap and spice mix twirl up my nose.
“Hi, Brant,” Whitney coos, and the blush rises on her cheeks.
Courtney Leigh’s red lips set into a grim line. And I swear she mouths, “no fuckin’ way.”
“Introduce me to your friends,” he prompts and slides his arm around my waist. His fingers dance right above the curve of my hip.
“Uhm, Brant, this is Courtney Leigh Carter and Whitney Becks,” I say gesturing between them. “We graduated together.”
“Class of 2008, whoop,” Whitney chirps out and pumps her fist into the air. “It’s actually Whitney Monroe n
ow.” She raises her hand showing off her sparkling diamond and pink manicure.
Courtney Leigh gives Whitney an icy glare. Her expression is nothing short of disgust.
“Our reunion is coming up on Labor Day weekend. Maybe we’ll see you there?” Whitney never takes her eyes off Brant.
He lowers his mouth to my ear. “Darlin’, you didn’t tell me about the reunion. I’d love to show you off.”
What’s happening? I hear his words. I feel his hand on me. My nipples chose this moment to harden.
Rude.
“Are you two dating?” Courtney Leigh asks.
Brant’s fingers dig into my hip sending a zap of pleasure straight to my lady business—my vagina.
Cheers erupt and I barely register the next words that come out of Brant’s mouth.
“Yeah, this one here walked into my life and changed everything.”
Swooning here. The teenager in me is fucking swooning. Why didn’t he say these things to me all those years ago? Tonight, he decides to toss these words around . . . swooping in like he’s Prince Charming rescuing me from the evil bitches? I don’t need rescuing.
I’m gone. I can’t be here with him—with all these old feelings re-surfacing. Maybe they never left.
“If you’ll all excuse me,” I say, taking a step back.
“Oh no you don’t,” Brant says, grasping my hand in his. “You’re coming with me.” The soft drawl of his accent is cut with an edge of gravel. I feel it vibrate down my body.
My fingers curl into his palm as his eyes meet mine.
“I had to watch you dance with Jake, it was torture seeing his hands on you,” he says, pulling me with him to the middle of the patio. “Now you’re gonna dance with me.”
He spins me around and before I have a chance to breathe a protest his hands are on my hips and his cock grinds into my ass as we sway to the beat of the music.
Thunder rumbles in the distance and the heat of night takes a dive into this muggy haze of sin and sweat. And this is the moment that I know I’m in big trouble.
Brant
I feel like I can fucking fly.
Caroline crashes into me and I swear to god I almost lose it. The feel of her body against mine is unnerving and amazing all at once. Her sweet ass presses against my cock and I have to bite back a groan.
Sweet Agony Page 3