Sweet Agony

by Christy Pastore

  “Yes, Coach,” they shout out.

  “All right, hit the showers. Get out of my face,” Sawyer tells them.

  “See ya, Coach,” Billy Warren, one of the captains calls out and jogs off. A few of the other kids fist bump Sawyer and head back toward the school.

  I knock my shoulder to Sawyer’s. “Geez, man, you’re kinda scary,” I joke.

  He laughs. “What’s the old saying . . . rule with fear, but earn respect through your actions?”

  I shrug. “Are you talking about ruling will fear rather than love?”

  “I didn’t really pay attention during English class,” he admits. “Thanks for helping out today.”

  My hands land on my hips. “I’m not really sure I did anything.”

  Sawyer taps his clipboard. “You out ran every single one of them and beat my fastest guy by three and a half minutes. They won’t let it happen again. You can bet on that.”

  Sawyer and I have been friends since we were kids. Ma works for Sawyer’s brother, Aaron. He’s the local doctor. Took over the family practice from his father. Ma was their dad’s secretary too. In the last year, Aaron has expanded the practice and upgraded the technology. Ma had been urging their dad to invest in a new system for years, but he never did.

  Sawyer pulls open the door to the gym and I’m smacked in the face with a cool blast of recycled air.

  “So, how’d you get roped into coaching cross country this year?” I pop the cap off my water bottle.

  “You didn’t hear? Mister Jacobs, Carl, decided that he wanted to become a nomad. Sold off all his possessions including his house. He bought a van and decided to travel around North America.”

  My brows shoot up. “Wow, I had no clue. I have so many questions. Like where does he shower? What about going to the bathroom?”

  Sawyer shakes his head. “Starbucks. Walmart. I dunno. It’s not the life for me.” We come to a stop outside the gym. “So, how about helping me out again?”

  I stare at him for a beat. “I can probably help you for the first week. But once school starts, I’m not sure how much free time I’ll have.”

  “Is that because you’ve finally decided to start dating?”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m not talking to you about my dating life.”

  “No need, I saw the way you and Brant were dancing last weekend.”

  I shove his shoulder. “Dude, don’t be gross. What about you and Maybelle? Y’all have been together for over a year, right?”

  He scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, we’re doing great. I’m not thinking marriage and neither is she, but I’ve been hoping that she’ll move in with me.”

  “Awesome. What will you do if she says no?”

  His blue eyes snap to mine. “Now, why the hell would you go and say a thing like that?”

  I hold up my hands and wave them in front of me. “I’m only managing your expectations.”

  Sawyer’s been what one may label as a bit of a player. He’s a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy.

  Was.

  He spent most of his twenties and early thirties, making up for being scorned by the opposite sex. His college girlfriend dumped him after his baseball injury. And when I say right after, I mean in the hospital. When the docs said he’d never go pro, aka career ending, she dumped him that night. Bitch.

  Maybelle’s the first woman I’ve ever seen him become super serious with . . . ever. I just hope he knows what he’s getting into. Because of that rejection, Sawyer tends to have knee jerk reactions. But maybe loving Maybelle has changed his viewpoint.

  “So, what if she says no?”

  “Then I guess we’re not meant to be together.” He spears a hand through his dark hair.

  “Wrong answer,” I state flatly. “Maybe she’s the kind of gal who doesn’t move in until marriage. You never know. And her saying no might be a deeper issue.” I put my hand on his shoulder. “Don’t give up . . . if she does say no. All I’m saying is prepare for anything.”

  “Geez, okay,” he drawls out. “You know that you’re kinda scary too.”

  “Correct.” I take a long drink of water.

  “So, what kind of gal are you, Caroline?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “The living together kind? Or are you the kind of gal who needs a ring before you live together? Remember when Sage’s mom flipped out when she discovered that she and Reed were living together before the wedding.”

  I shake my head and laugh. “Yeah, but Doris Maxwell is on a completely other level.”

  Meaning that her religion tends to make all her decisions for her, which is her prerogative. What would the townspeople think of her daughter shacking up with a man? Mrs. Maxwell is known as the town busy body.

  Once at the market, Ma couldn’t stay and chat with her in the deli more than five minutes. I forget why she was in a hurry that afternoon. Two days later, Jenna Rae’s mom told Ma, “Doris Maxwell told everyone that you weren’t speakin’ to her.”

  Small towns.

  “So,” he drawls out. “What kind of girl are you?”

  My hand shields my eyes from the sun. “I’ve never given it much thought, honestly. Guess, I’ll cross that bridge if I ever come to it.”

  The gym doors fly open and a pack of teen boys rush out making a beeline for the parking lot.

  “Well, thanks again. I gotta go evaluate the damage to the locker room,” he says and hooks a thumb over his shoulders.

  “Bye, see you later.” I walk into the girls’ locker room and then unlock the faculty showers. Mayfield High had a large donor a few years back. So, the school decided to renovate and make room for faculty showers and a coffee bar.

  The warm spray feels good against my skin. I’m in and out in under twenty minutes. My shower time is in sync with my average 5K finish time.

  As I walk to my car, the late summer air swirls around me. The scent of hay and molasses hangs heavy in the air. Molasses makes me think of Brant.

  Then I wonder for a moment what kind of gal I am . . . the marrying kind? The life partner kind, like Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell.

  Hmm. Time will tell, I guess.

  On my way home. I pull off to the side of the road and shut off the engine. My eyes roam over the pasture and the horses grazing. I take a moment to enjoy the serene view—Belcourt Estate. Brant’s family home.

  It’s so beautiful. Like postcard gorgeous. I’ve never been an envious person. I’ve always been happy with the things I have in life. Sure, I’d love to be able to do more—travel, replace Ma’s refrigerator and even get a gym membership. But I know that if I keep working hard, I’ll get those things and maybe more. Anyone who says they don’t want more is lying, in my opinion.

  My phone rings. It’s Chrissy.

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Hi, Caroline,” she rushes out. “I’m sorry to bother you, but you wouldn’t happen to be free this week to work at Thistle and Ivy, would you?”

  Chrissy is the owner of Thistle & Rye and her new location in downtown Mayfield, Thistle & Ivy. I love their food, it’s why I hired her to cater as many of the weddings at Cranberry Ridge as she could handle.

  “I’ll owe you. I need someone to serve on Thursday and Friday from four to ten.”

  “Sure, I’m happy to help you out. Count me in.”

  “Thanks, Caroline, you’re the best. I owe you one.”

  Over the years, I needed to make extra income in the summer when the school year ended. I worked out at the old marina for four summers. When the new owners took over, I put my notice in and by some miracle Chrissy was hiring servers and bartenders.

  Then business at Cranberry Ridge took off, so I had to reduce my hours. Chrissy keeps me on the payroll and I get a shift or two a month. I like to help out when I can. Extra cash is always good.

  The hum of an engine roars from the hilltop. The horses race across the pasture as the car picks up speed.

  Brant’s car rolls up beside me. When I se
e his face, my heart skips a beat and collides with my ribs.

  “What I’d tell you about staring?” he drawls out.

  “I wasn’t staring . . . I was enjoying the view until you interrupted me,” I tease.

  A slow sexy smirk spreads across his face. “I’ll let you get back to your view.”

  I twist in the driver’s seat. “I dunno, I think I like this view better.”

  “I gotta better view for you, sugar.”

  If it’s me looking up at your sexy face while I’m under you in your bed, I’m all for it.

  “Oh yeah, what’s that?”

  “You got a swimsuit?”

  “I sure do.”

  “Great, I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

  “Okay, I’ll be ready.”

  Brant tosses me a wink before he drives away. I watch until his car is out of view in my mirror. Butterflies take flight and dance around my belly. My hands grasp the wheel and I let out a tiny scream of excitement.

  I don’t allow myself to linger. I start my car and pull back onto the road. With a permanent grin cemented to my face, I drive home and replay his words in my head. I don’t know why I’m so giddy.

  Yes, you do.

  How many of us get a second chance with our first crush? Can I handle it if this crush ends up crushing me again?

  Brant

  You’d think after a long day in the office I’d be ready to call it a night.

  Nope.

  After I pack my suit into the dry-cleaning bag, I slip into my swim trunks and toss on a grey t-shirt. Just as I’m filling up a cooler with a few beers and bottles of water, my cellphone pings with a text from Weston.

  Bro, how was the first day back in the office?

  I laugh. When the next text pops up, my eyes roll toward the ceiling. It’s a picture of him on a surfboard. The caption reads: “My office is better than yours.”

  I send back a thumbs-up emoji. I know that will irritate the shit out of him. For a laid-back guy, he gets pretty worked up about the thumbs-up emoji reply. Although, I’ll never tell him this, it’s literally the worst and people who do it are the worst.

  My phone pings with the response I expect, the middle finger emoji.

  Once I secure the lid on the cooler, I make my way to the parking garage. I’m taking Caroline to Mayfield Falls. It’s a beautiful waterfall that’s a short hike from the other side of Calais Trace.

  In no time I arrive at Caroline’s place. I kill the engine and hop out of the car.

  She’s standing at the door wearing a pair of white jean shorts and a blue collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

  “I hope you’ve got a bathing suit on underneath that.”

  She opens the door and then she opens her shirt . . . fuck me—a little white bikini peeks out from beneath the fabric. I can’t help it when my eyes fall to her tits.

  “Eyes up here, cowboy,” she teases.

  Smiling, I bend to kiss her and her hands fist at my t-shirt when my tongue dives into her mouth. My hands slide into her hair and she presses against me.

  “Caroline.” Her name is delicious on my lips. And her touch is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Her sexy moans and breathy gasps make my blood pump hard though my veins.

  Her fingers slip under my t-shirt and her nails scrape against my abs sending slight tremors of pleasure shooting up my spine. My cock demands to be let loose as my hands drift to the swell of her ass.

  “Mm hmm,” she moans into my mouth.

  “You said it.”

  “Brant, please,” she begs as I knead her perfect ass.

  Her teeth nip at my jaw and down my throat. It’s the sweetest agony having her this close to me.

  “Holy fuck . . .” I breathe when her lips scrape across my collarbone.

  She rears back, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth.

  “Damn, sugar, you are something else.”

  “Same goes for you, but if we keep doing this, I’ll be tempted to drag you to my bedroom.”

  I smirk because lord knows I wouldn’t object, but I’m going to remain a gentleman . . . for now.

  “I’d love to see your bedroom . . . and the rest of the place.”

  “Well, lemme give you the grand tour.” She hooks her thumb over her shoulder.

  I follow her down the hallway until we stop in front of a set of sliding barn doors. “My room is in there.”

  That’s all she tells me before skipping back down the hallway.

  Vixen.

  Caroline’s place is cool. Where my apartment is mostly black with dark colors, hers is all white and light woods.

  “Wow, it’s hard to imagine this space was a barn before.”

  We walk into the kitchen. The island takes up much of the space and has a farmhouse sink. “So, this was laid out along the central breezeway.” She motions toward the living room. “I had the barn doors removed and added in this large picture window.”

  The view of the woods is incredible.

  Next she points to the fireplace. “That used to be two stalls. Now, it’s my back door and dining area.”

  My gaze pings to the window at the right. A large picture window overlooks the stalls. There’s a giant black horse staring at me.

  “Is that window . . . safe?”

  She laughs. “Yeah, silly. And that’s Alan. He’s harmless.”

  I step closer and notice all the books lining the shelves underneath the counter that spans the length of the wall.

  “Read much?”

  “Not as much as I’d like. When I have free time it’s mostly spent catching up on Netflix,” she confesses. Her blue eyes swim with curiosity as she asks, “Do you read?”

  I nod. “Crime novels, mostly.”

  “Hmm, we’ll have to compare favorite books sometime. So, where are we going?”

  She grabs her red canvas bag off the barstool. I recognize it as LL Bean. Natalie had one just like it. I hate that I remember something so trivial about her.

  I refocus and return my attention to Caroline.

  “Hello, Earth to Brant,” her sweet voice singsongs. “You gonna tell me where we’re going?”

  “Patience is a virtue, sugar. Remember that.”

  I hold the door open for her.

  “Patience is overrated.”

  “This will be worth the wait, trust me.”

  “I haven’t been here in years.”

  There’s no official trail to get down to the falls, and this is one place you won’t find on the map of the Bourbon Trail. It looks like something out of a fairy tale—an emerald pool and cascading falls.

  “I haven’t either,” I admit.

  We walk along the rocky edge. I guide us, careful not to slip on the moss and mud-covered flat rocks. Caroline grips my forearm for support. When I reach the embankment, I jump down first, then she grasps my shoulders and I help her down.

  “Wow, I forgot how beautiful it is here,” she says.

  We toss our towels onto the dirt and I watch Caroline as she shimmies out of her shorts. She shifts from foot to foot. Her legs seem to go on for miles. Next, she loses the shirt and my dick takes notice.

  She adjusts her top, and her glorious tits shake beneath the white triangles of fabric. I close my eyes and try to not think about how easy it would be to pull the cups away and wrap my lips around her pebbled nipples.

  I lick my lips because Caroline looks hot as sin in the tiny white bikini. Mumbling a groan, I yank my t-shirt off and toss it into Caroline’s bag.

  “You think it’s deep enough to jump right in from those rocks over there?”

  I shake my head and kick off my shoes. “I don’t know. Let’s wade in here first.”

  Caroline doesn’t miss a beat. She’s in the water and dipping under the surface before I’ve got my feet in. I watch her from the shallows, water ripples around my waist when she dives back under.

  She comes up laughing and shakes the water from her hair. Her golden tan skin is slick and sh
iny.

  I swim out to her and wrap my arms around her. Her legs sling around my waist.

  “This is a pretty good spot for a date,” she tells me.

  “I thought this was a good idea.”

  The cool water feels good against my skin. Caroline feels really good against my body. Her skin is soft and smooth.

  “You know what else is a good idea?”

  I smirk. “Hmm, a few things come to mind.”

  She leans back to meet my eyes. Her breathing picks up when I grind my erection against her. Her chest rises and falls.

  She stares at my mouth. “Race me to the other side.”

  Caroline launches herself backward and starts kicking. I’ve never swam with a hard-on.

  Swim. Swim.

  Faster.

  Harder.

  Kick and pull.

  Water splashes everywhere. I hear her laugh, but I can’t see her. I dip under the water and kick hard. When I break the surface the sound of rushing water pounds in my ears.

  My toes sink into the wet dirt. My hands swipe the water from my face. And just like in an 80’s movie, Caroline appears behind the waterfall bathed in sunlight and looking like a mythical goddess.

  “Come here, Brant,” she says, her voice is hoarse almost unrecognizable. But I don’t mistake the hazy look in her eyes.

  I take a step forward closing the space between us. “I want you so badly, I can taste it.”

  “Taste me,” she teases, raking her nails down my chest.

  I grasp her by the waist and take a deep breath. “Oh, sugar, I plan on it.”

  Cupping her cheeks, I hold her in place, tasting her sweetness. My tongue invades her mouth, plunging deep. Gripping my biceps, she moans and in a swift motion, I haul her up my body and her long legs wrap around my waist.

  Caroline writhes in my arms, the friction makes my cock throb with ache. Slipping my tongue between her plump lips, I devour her mouth. Her fingers dig into my shoulder blades.

  Her moans, her sweetness and the feel of her slick skin against mine, it’s all so good. My cock practically begs to be released from the confines of my swim trunks.