“Sit anywhere,” the server with the ponytail and black bandana tells me as I walk in. “Can I bring you something to drink?
She grabs a tray of crawfish and carries it to a table. “Two Diet Cokes?” I ask. “And a dozen on the half shell to start. With condiments, please.”
She nods once, and I make my way through the diner to the courtyard in the back, the scent of flowers hitting me as I veer through the sparse diners to a table situated on the other side of a tree.
I drop my bag to the ground and sit down at the white, wrought-iron garden table, my chair scraping against the brick floor. The white tent walls billow with the breeze, the plastic windows fogged with the humidity, and I look up as the tree next to me reaches beyond where the roof should be, the sky overhead filled with stars.
The server sets down two drinks and then returns with a tray of oysters on ice, and I pull my water bottle out of my bag, uncapping it and instantly smell the Patrón inside.
“Don’t get started without me,” I hear someone say.
I smile and look up, seeing Liv head for the table.
But my heart nearly stops, seeing her short black skirt, long, golden legs, and black studded heels with a band secured around her ankles, making her look like she’s cuffed to a bed. Her ankles are definitely a feature I missed. One of her best. Fantastic ankles. And calves. And thighs.
Heels. I’ve never seen her in heels. Her faded, black band T-shirt is twisted tight around her body and tied at the back, baring her stomach, and I have no idea who Black Flag is, but I kind of love them now.
She wears faint red lip tint, and her hair is straightened and spilling around her.
She stands there, and after a moment she laughs a little. I realize my mouth is hanging open. I close it, my eyes trailing down her legs again.
I rise and kiss her, lingering close and smelling her soap, perfume, and lotion that all mixes to have this wonderful effect inside my belly.
“Nervous?” I ask.
She smiles. “In a good way.”
“You look amazing.”
She pulls away and sits, and I do too, a blush crossing my cheeks as I meet her eyes. All I want to do is touch her, and she knows. Now it’s just a matter of going through the motions until my bright idea of having a date ends, and we can get out of here.
We sit there for a few moments, the awkwardness of ‘what to do now’ when we’re used to either making out, having sex, or fighting leaves us at a loss for words.
“I own one non-school skirt,” she says, breaking the silence and unwrapping her straw. “And this is it.”
I like it. I slide my legs out a little more, hugging one of hers between mine. She leans her head on her hand, playing with her straw as her eyes fall to the little tears in my white top, the skin peeking through.
“What?” I ask.
“You look amazing, too.”
I feel underdressed now, but…her eyes don’t lie as they continue to linger on me.
She clears her throat as the server moves around the courtyard, music drifting through the entrance from the diner. “I haven’t been on many dates, to be honest,” she tells me. “Not sure how this is supposed to go.”
“We eat.” I unwrap my straw. “That usually takes the pressure off.”
I take a sip and stretch my arms over my head, taking some deep breaths to get those heels off my mind, but then her skirt reminds me of something, and I smile.
“I’ve seen you in that skirt before,” I tell her. “You wore it to a furniture store a couple years ago.”
She cocks her head, not seeming to remember.
“I was there with my mom.” I hold up the tabasco sauce and the lemons, giving her a choice. She points to the tabasco. “I think Army was working there, loading a piece onto a truck, and you were tagging along, I guess,” I tell her as I season two oysters. “My mom spoke to the salesman about our new dining room table she had ordered from their gallery in New York. You were moving around the store. Playing around. Plopping onto beds and couches and faking passing out when your brothers would try to lift things with you on top of them.”
She smiles, her head still leaning into her hand.
“The bay doors were open,” I go on. “Blowing loose locks from your ponytail into your face, your white smile so big even from yards away. I remember I couldn’t hear your laughter, but I could like…” My voice drops to a whisper, remembering the moment I knew I was in love with her. “I could feel it inside me.”
Her smile starts to fall as her breathing quickens.
“A bee caught scent of you and sent you into a panic,” I tease. “Which was funny, because you don’t panic. Army put you in a headlock, trapping you and making you squeal.”
“I think I remember that.”
It was a while ago. We knew each other by then, but I made sure she didn’t see me. I didn’t want her to stop playing.
I stare off into the tray of oysters. “You all seemed so happy.” And then I gaze across the table at her. “You were so pretty. I was dying for you even then.”
It’s actually amazing the skirt still fits her.
I stare at her, both of us suffering a lot of loss in the past few years, and both of us with our own hang-ups—me with my family and she with hers. She might not want to carry this relationship to college, and I might not want to go public and invite criticism for something that’s a fling, but I know without a doubt that I will never hurt her again.
I jerk my chin at the oysters. “Eat one,” I tell her.
She picks a shell up, and I watch as she opens her mouth, tips her head back, and swallows the mollusk, hot sauce running down the corner of her mouth. She dips out her tongue and swipes it up, tossing the shell down and licking her lips as she meets my eyes.
I groan inside, looking at her supple, soft lips.
I set the bottle in front of her, and she struggles to hold back her smile.
Uncapping the bottle, she tips it up and swallows, the plastic container crinkling in her hand.
“Mmmm…” She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, the breeze blowing her hair into her face as she caps the bottle again.
I nod at the shells. “Again.”
She gives me a look that tells me she knows what I’m doing, and she likes it.
Swallowing another oyster, she chases it with a shot, her eyes closing and a light sheen gathering at that little dip in her collarbone.
My thighs warm, watching her mouth move and swallows go down her throat. Everything is warm.
“These are good,” she says, seasoning the rest of the oysters for us. “Almost like we shouldn’t tear this place down to build a golf course.”
I give her a knowing look. “No, we shouldn’t.”
Mariette’s and Sanoa Bay are Florida, and I’d rather have this particular Floridian in front of me here than a sea of tourists making my father richer.
We eat, and I take a couple of shots, hiding the bottle when the server comes by. My stomach growls, realizing I haven’t eaten today besides the oysters, and I kind of want to order a meal, but she’s too far away, and I don’t know if I want to stay here longer.
“I hate this table between us,” I grumble under my breath.
She suddenly stands up, moves her chair next to mine, and sits down, her arm around the back of my chair, and her beautiful leg draped over my lap.
My hand immediately slides up the inside of her thigh as my lips find her neck. “I really like your outfit,” I whisper.
When school uniforms are a thing of the past, it’ll be fun to wear whatever I want and let her taunt me, doing the same.
She takes another shot, and I lick the tequila off her lips. She blinks, surprised as her eyes flit around us to who could be watching, but just this once, I don’t care. “This could be it,” I tell her, taking her again.
She feels too good to stop.
She kisses me, leaning into me and moaning, and I can’t stop smiling.
�
�So, when is this part of the date over?” she asks.
“Are you ready for part two? A romantic walk on the beach?”
“Ugh.”
I laugh. “A movie then?”
She scowls.
“Mini golf?”
She shakes her head, staring at my mouth.
But I keep going. “Followed by an in-depth conversation about our sociological, political, and theistic values, in that order?”
She snatches up my lips, and I’m really glad her house isn’t far away. We can still watch a movie or talk about theology, just in bed.
“Clayyyyy?” A voice booms in the distance.
I still, Liv stopping mid-kiss and hovering over my lips.
Was that…?
“What the hell?” I gasp.
My nerves fire, and I sit up straight, pulling my hands off her body.
Callum. I peek through the tree, seeing him saunter into the courtyard with Milo, Amy, and a couple of his friends in tow.
“What are they doing here?” I whisper, scooting away on reflex with my stomach twisting. “I got rid of that app.”
Shit. How did they find me?
Liv stares at me, but I don’t look at her. I can’t do this now. Not right now.
She waits a few seconds, the option to just take her back in my arms and own this hanging between us, but…
She rises. Scooting her chair back over to her side of the table, she takes out her phone and taps away, and I don’t know what she’s doing, but I just sit there, leaning back and see them head our way.
“Hey, baby,” Callum says, strolling over with a plate of key lime pie, Amy carrying a soda.
I glare at her. Did they follow me or something?
Callum slides a chair over and takes a seat at our table, his posse hovering behind him. He shifts his gaze to Liv. “Hey, baby.”
She scoffs under her breath like her patience with both of us is about gone.
Callum grabs my fork. “Heard you were here without me,” he says. “And here I thought you were with one of the Jaeger boys.” He looks from me to her. “Team meeting, ladies?”
“Bored, Ames?” Liv fires back. “Money, sex, privilege, but you’re still so bored, you gotta come all the way over here to look for entertainment, huh?”
I hold my glass, the icy condensation cooling my palm but not the rest of me.
“All the way over here,” Liv taunts. “Because if I were Clay, I wouldn’t want you.” She glances at me. “If I were Clay, I would find you pretty pathetic, and that must piss you off.”
His gaze sharpens on her, and I watch them, ready to mobilize if he moves.
She fixes her eyes back on him. “I’m even willing to bet you don’t get her hot. Or any woman, for that matter. That’s why you’re sexually abusive, isn’t it?”
Abusive…what?
“They don’t get hot,” Liv says again. “They smile. And they fawn. And they fake.” And then she sits up, rolling her hips a little, and moaning. “Oh, oh, you’re the best, Cal. The best.” She follows with more whimpers and groans.
I bite back my smile.
“Maybe she is hooking up with one of my brothers.” Liv shrugs. “Maybe more than one. I have five, after all. Sometimes they work as a team. I mean, how could you compete?”
I narrow my eyes, kicking her under the table. She laughs under her breath.
Callum cuts into the pie. “Your words hurt,” he says, “but not as much as I will, and you know it. We could carry you and Clay out of here right now and get away with it.”
“Could you?” she retorts.
His eyes gleam. “Five against two, Liv.”
“Is it?”
Just then, howls fill the air. “Ow, ow, ow!” And goosebumps spread over my skin, knowing who just entered Mariette’s.
That’s who she was texting. Her brothers.
Callum straightens in his chair, his blue eyes alert as four out of the five Jaeger boys fill the entrance, looking for their sister. I do a double take, seeing Krisjen holding Trace’s hand.
And Milo’s here. Awesome.
In a moment, everyone surrounds the table where Liv and I sit, the other diners in the courtyard casting glances and noticing something is up, but no one moves.
I speak low to Krisjen. “What are you doing with Trace?”
“We hooked up the night of the brawl,” she whispers over her hand.
I knew it.
I look left to right, the tension thick as the two groups stare at each other.
“So I hear there was a break-in at Fox Hill last night,” Callum says, eyeing my brothers. “Know anything about that?”
A break-in at the country club? I didn’t hear about that.
“I don’t know a thing,” Dallas replies. “We’ll keep an ear out, though. Anything stolen?”
“Nothing,” Callum snaps back. “Strange, huh? Just the face of the founder’s portrait scorched, even though there was a cash register and tons of liquor on the premises.”
“Yeah, strange,” Army tells him. “We’ll keep our ears open.”
“Sure, you will.”
And I dart my eyes between the two groups of people, feeling like I’m missing something. The Jaegers don’t keep the grounds at Fox Hill, nor do any of them work there in any other capacity. They wouldn’t break in just to defile a painting.
I’m not sure who would. Callum seems to know something I don’t, though.
Liv sits back in her chair. “So, um…Callum here thinks Clay is sleeping at our house tonight,” she announces, the truth about to slip off her delighted little tongue as she beams. “He thinks she’s in bed with a Jaeger.”
Her brothers chuckle, and Trace approaches me, grabbing his crotch. “Oh, come on, baby,” he coos down at me. “You know you own this.”
Ugh.
The Jaegers laugh again, because they know exactly where I’m sleeping tonight, and I stare at Liv, shaking my head. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Oh, immensely.” She grins, her face flush with enjoyment as she speaks to her brothers again. “I told him it was probably two of you.”
“Aw, why’d you have to go and tell him that?” Dallas teases.
She shrugs. “Everyone knows you and Iron are a team.”
“I guess our secret’s out, Dally,” Iron boasts, the brothers skimming their palms together and ending with a fist bump.
But Army speaks up. “Why doesn’t anyone ever think it’s me?”
Liv grumbles, “Because baby-mamas are too much drama.”
I laugh to myself. Army is good-looking, but yeah… No one wants to saddle that pony and be a stepmom.
“Maybe it’s Macon,” Iron adds.
I clench my teeth.
Liv nods. “Older man...”
“Experienced,” Trace taunts.
But Dallas cuts them off. “Nah, Macon doesn’t like rich princesses.”
I ball my fists, losing my patience. I don’t want the whole world to know my sex life, but I also don’t much care that it’s being insinuated that I’m sleeping with people I’m not.
“Well, it could be Macon,” Army inserts. “Because…”
And all the Jaegers sing together, “Everyone is our type when they’re naked!” Like it’s some fucking family motto or something.
Liv laughs with her brothers, all of them amused at my expense, and I’m pretty much done.
I reach over, scoop up a glob of Callum’s pie, and fling it right at Liv. It slaps into her damn chest, sticking and splattering on her chin, and she jerks, gasping.
Not so funny now, am I?
Everyone stills, barely breathing as they wait for Liv’s reaction. I lick my fingers, waiting.
“Oh, shit,” Milo whispers, covering his laugh with his hand.
Liv clears her throat and sits up. Iron moves forward, but she pushes him back as she rises. “It’s okay,” she chirps, looking between her brothers and the Saints. “No punching. No blood.” She picks up the tequila an
d downs a shot. “No arrests tonight. Agreed?”
I nod once. It would suck for this to get out of hand and stop being fun.
And just as she sets the bottle down and picks up the Diet Coke, I suck in a breath before she leans over the table, raises it high, and tips it over, emptying it onto my head.
“Ohhhh!” someone laughs.
Callum snaps his fingers, smiling excitedly for Amy to start filming with her camera phone, but I’m inhaling short, shallow breaths as the icy drink mattes my freshly washed hair and plasters my thin tank top to my fucking braless chest.
I’m gonna kill her.
I stand, grabbing a spoonful of whipped cream from the plate and hold it up, ready to launch it at her.
“Don’t do it.” She points her finger. “You got me. I got you. We’re even.”
Slowly, I shake my head, and I don’t care who’s checking me out in my indecent shirt right now. All I see is her.
“Uh-oh,” Trace laughs, and everyone backs away, getting ready.
I whip the spoon, the glob slamming right into her neck, and howls fill the air.
“Food fight!” Trace bellows up to the sky.
And everyone scrambles.
“Whoo-hoo!” someone screams and laughter fills the air.
Liv kicks her chair back and launches herself around the table, and I yelp, running. Trace grabs a pan of key lime, joined by his brothers, and everyone starts slinging food. Nearby diners grab their plates and jam, diving into the dining room and out of the line of fire.
“Keep filming this,” Callum shouts. “Hell yes!”
I grab someone’s abandoned beer on a table and whip around to face Liv. “Insinuating that I’m sleeping with your brother, and more than one at that?” I shout.
I shake the beer, letting it rip all over her.
She screams but then breaks into laughter. “I’m sorry!”
You are not.
I pick up anything I can find, tossing it at her, and she inches closer, holding up her hands to protect herself.
Amy films as Callum, Milo, and the guys pitch fruit salad, cakes, and drinks into the air, Liv’s family giving it back as good as they get, chasing the Saints around the patio.
It’s lucky this hasn’t evolved into a fist fight yet.
I leap over the buffet table, slipping and landing on my ass, but before I can climb to my feet, something warm and gooey spills over my head and down my arms.
Tryst Six Venom Page 33