by Jane Anthony
AJ pulls out my stool and waits while I sit. “Watch this.” The bartender, a man with a handlebar mustache and gray sideburns, doesn’t even look up. Just throws down two bar napkins and asks us what we want.
“We’ll take a Bud and the biggest margarita you got,” I say, a smile tugging at my lips.
Crystal blue eyes snap to meet mine. Ray’s aged quite a bit since I’ve seen him last. His ear-to-ear grin is a little less white and his face a little more worn, but deep inside that warm, inviting gaze is the same old Ray who used to sneak me Cokes and chicken fingers under the table on those rare occasions when I was left in Loretta’s care. “Casey Jane? Shit! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? Get over here and give your Uncle Ray a hug!”
The smells of peppermint Skoal and Old Spice tingle in my nostrils as he reaches across the bar, grabbing me up in his thick arms. Yet another time machine scent sending me back. “Whatcha doin’ down here in these parts?”
“Takin’ a break from grass and hay.” I smile up at AJ, who looks about as comfortable as a raccoon after sunrise. “My friend, AJ, here has never been to Texas. Thought I’d bring him down and show him off,” I say with a wink.
AJ greets Ray with a, “Hey, man,” and a hearty handshake, his voice just slightly deepened. He’s still on edge from having to deal with Austin and playing Alpha Dog for the moment. As if he has anything to worry about. Ray’s been kind of like a dad to me. At least, what I imagine a dad would be like. Not that I have any basis for comparison.
“We gonna get you on the stage tonight, pretty lady?”
Ray’s watery eyes glimmer from the swatch of light beaming in from the kitchen side of the bar. His guitar was the first one I ever picked up. He taught me my first chords, my first notes, while Mama sat in the corner with her man du jour. He told me, “Pretty voices are nothing if you can’t pluck the strings.”
“Nah. I hung up my voice. Kissed it goodbye for greener pastures.” I press a kiss to my fingertips before adding, “Literally.”
“That’s a shame, Casey Jane. You have an amazing talent to be wasted on them horses.” Ray makes quick work of preparing our drinks and sets them out on the bar for us. “On the house. Nice to meet you, AJ. You take care of my girl here.”
As the night wears on, the crowd gets thicker, and the drinks go down smoother. I have a solid tequila buzz and a smile that makes my cheeks hurt. Old friends pour through the door. People I haven’t seen or heard from in years, yet still manage to pick up where we left off, like no time at all has passed. They welcome me back with open arms, laughter, and tears. I’m happy. More so than I can remember being in a very long time, and it’s not the booze, even though it helps. It’s this place. My home.
“Holy shit! Casey Grainger!” The voice booms over the music playing on the jukebox. Before I even see where it comes from, I’m knocked off my feet in a bear hug. “When the hell did you get back?”
“Ah hell, Renee! Look at you!” Bar lights glint off the star-shaped badge displayed proudly on her ample chest.
Having grown up on the farm neighboring ours, Renee is my oldest friend. I’ve hardly a dirty-kneed childhood memory that doesn’t include her.
“You’re a sheriff’s officer now? Didn’t we get hauled in for trespassing on private property; drunk and disorderly ... I don’t know ... a few dozen times at least?”
“Yeah,” she says with a snort. “I’m off the clock now, though. My husband’s with the band. I married Earl Hinderman. You believe that shit? Who you here with?”
I crane my neck and catch sight of the black Zildjian cap bobbing near the stage setup. Naturally, AJ gravitated toward the band. Why am I not surprised? “Come on. I’ll introduce you.”
Grabbing Renee by her pudgy hand, I drag her through the ever-growing crowd of people. A guy I don’t know balances a banjo on his knee. His drawl’s so thick, he’s incoherent, but AJ stands politely listening to him talk about Lord only knows.
“Havin’ fun?”
AJ turns toward the sound of my voice and grasps my hips, pulling me closer. The man has this gift. A crazy habit of making the rest of the world disappear with the tiniest caress. Every touch sends sparks skittering along my skin and now is no different. A scorching burn courses up each side as his thumbs graze along the strip of exposed skin between my tank top and skirt.
“Rusty was giving me a quick rundown on the history of bluegrass.”
That smile. I haven’t seen it since our early days at The Wreck. The flirty, unsure of himself grin that sets my heart blazing now as much as it did then. Seeing it, feeling his sizzling touch, a pulsing pound begins to throb between my suddenly slick thighs.
I take a step forward, but the sound of someone clearing their throat brings my head back where it belongs instead of in the clouds where it flew the second AJ put his hands on me. We’re not alone here.
The old Casey Jane is emerging from the cocoon of misery that’s held me captive for the last handful of years. My wings are unfurling, and I finally feel like I could soar. I pull AJ’s head to my ear and take in the clean scent of cotton and the smoky smell of tobacco. “Say hello to my friend then excuse yourself through that door on the right.”
He pulls back with a raised brow but doesn’t question my motives. Instead, he extends his hand toward Renee with a respectful smile as I make introductions.
“Excuse me, ladies. I got to go hit the head.” His smoldering gray gaze flickers past me as he turns away from us and saunters off.
“Damn, girl. You always had a thing for big, dumb animals. Cute, though. Does he know that’s not the bathroom?” Renee asks.
“He’s had a bit to drink. I’ll be back.”
I turn away from my friend, following AJ’s path through the door clearly marked Storage on the front. A pull string swings back and forth from the naked bulb hanging above our heads. Extra tables and stacked chairs line each wall. In the corner, a broken down mechanical bull sits among its various pieces waiting for Rodeo Night to be set up for the ride.
AJ leans against its frame, his knuckles resting on the saddle, and his long legs crossed at the ankles. “Challengin’ me to another ride?” I ask.
Without warning, my feet leave the ground, and my ass hits the bull sidesaddle. “My riding days are over, cowgirl. But yours have just begun.”
Our lips crash together. The taste of beer and whiskey playing on his tongue teases me as it tangles and twists with mine. We’re sloppy. Unbridled. The room spins around us in a drunken haze of booze and lust. Outside the door, the crowd of people gets thicker by the moment. Anyone could come in, but the danger of that risk fuels the naughty need already beginning to gnaw at me.
The band begins to play, and AJ starts inching up my skirt. The airy material flutters along my skin as he tugs at my underwear. I shift my hips from side to side, aiding in his hot pursuit to tear them down with clumsy hands, but the cheap elastic pops, snapping against my thigh like a firework.
Hooded eyes lock me in their hypnotic gaze. He drops to his knees on the brown tile floor. Stubble scrapes against my thighs, tickling the delicate skin as hot breath feathers along my damp flesh. My urgent need for him is agonizing. I teeter on the edge of the saddle, waiting for him to drive me into oblivion.
With rough hands, he grasps my thighs, forcing them wider. “This …” A calloused fingertip skims past my slick entrance, causing my hips to buck. “Is mine.” A series of whimpers and whines falls from my mouth as he slips two fingers in down to the knuckle. “You want my mouth on this gorgeous pussy?”
I nod, writhing against his palm as he works me over with his hand. “Then say it. I need to hear the words escaping those pretty lips.”
“It’s yours, AJ. Kiss it. Fuck it. Take it. It's yours.”
“I won’t share you with that redneck fuck. Whatever you had with Austin is done. Understand?”
Another whimper, another nod. He’s torturing me with pleasure, giving me a taste but holding back what I really w
ant as punishment.
“That’s my girl.” Taking hold of my leg, he drops it over his shoulder. His tongue glides from bottom to top. One long, languid lick that sends a hushed moan tumbling out of my mouth.
“Moan louder. I want everyone in this bar to know who you belong to.”
His stern voice vibrates deep inside me. “Don’t stop,” I mewl, dropping my head back as he flicks my already engorged clit with rapid-fire fervor.
The band is killing it on the stage. The erratic beat of banjo twangs loudly through the door, but as AJ delves deeper between my legs, everything becomes muffled. His hat lies forgotten on the floor at his knees. My fingers tangle in his unruly waves. I’m lost in the moment, drowning with desire. Holding his head and fucking his tongue until a muted shriek rips through my clenched teeth.
“Hold onto me, baby. I’m nowhere near done making you mine.” Pleasure whirls through my body as his arms tighten around my backside and lift me in the air. He settles onto the bull with me on his lap. “Go on, cowgirl. Ride.”
Still reeling with aftershocks, I fumble to position myself over him, sliding down his entire length until I’m straddling both him and the bull. The way he growls when I start to move is almost enough to make me come on the spot. No space resides between us. He fills me completely. Not just my body, but my head and my heart as well. Every part of me is his.
“Whose cock do you love?” he barks with a firm smack on the ass.
“Yours,” I breathe, trembling with another impending release.
His palm comes down on my ass again. “Who owns that pretty pussy?”
“Oh … oh, AJ … you do.” My nails dig into his shoulders as he jerks my hair and bites down on my neck hard enough to draw blood. Stars pop behind my eyes.
“Watching you fall apart is so fucking hot. Come for me again. Now.”
The taste of me is sweet on his tongue as AJ attacks my lips, matching the beat of my body with his own slapping hip movements, as he slams upward into me hard. Fingers bite my ass. An unashamed cry tears from my lungs and thick spurts of heat overflow my insides.
“What did you do to me, woman?” Goose bumps prickle my oversensitive skin as AJ’s hands roll up my back and slide under my hair. He’s as affectionate as he is possessive. Owning me, yet loving me at once. Harsh and gentle; ruthless and tender. Everything I need tied up in one deliciously decadent bundle of muscle and man.
“What do you mean?” I giggle.
He pushes us up, and our bodies come apart with a pop. Gray eyes search my face. His gaze is earnest and strong, shrinking my smile and raising my heart rate. “Ever since I lost my family, I’ve wanted to start one of my own.” He rests his palm on my cheek. “I still want that, and I want it with you. I love you, Casey.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
AJ
What the hell is wrong with me? You can’t fuck a girl in a dirty bar storage room then start talking about babies and shit. When did I become such an emo bastard? And ... did I just tell her I wanted to marry her?
Her body just feels so warm next to mine, melting into me with its floral fragrance that drives me wild. Her hair is like a garden of lilacs, and her skin as soft as jersey knit cotton. Maybe it isn’t the most romantic setting to be dropping the L word, but to me, the moment just seemed right. I love her, and I want her. When I close my eyes, I don’t just see today; I see tomorrow and day after. Years in the future, with Casey by my side. My partner, my lover, my life.
Jesus Christ, I really am an emo bastard! Fuck!
Her mouth opens then shuts like a ventriloquist doll. She doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. My gaze snaps to hers, trying to read her mind before losing my cool. I’ve never seen a woman look quite this freaked out.
“Casey Jane? I know you’re out there somewhere, girl. Get your cute little butt up on this stage!”
Until now.
“Shit!” she whispers, scrambling off me. The busted strip of panties falls further into her boot. She does a little hopping dance trying to grab it out to pull it off, then wads it in a ball to wipe what’s left of my cum away.
“I can’t do this, AJ. I ain’t Casey Jane anymore. I can’t sing in front of all these people.”
An iota of relief washes over me, hoping that deer in headlights look on her face is a severe case of stage fright, rather than the rejection I worry is coming. “You are, and you can.”
“How?”
“Just focus on me. Let all those other people fade away and stay right here.” I point at my eyes with two fingers.
With a deep breath, she nods. “I’ll go out first. Wait until you hear me talkin’ and then follow. Got it?” She drops a kiss on the corner of my mouth then disappears out the door.
I look down at the soiled wad of cotton she pressed into my hand with a snort. What am I supposed to do with these? I stuff them in my pocket and adjust my fly. I’m still half-erect. Impressive, I know. The smell of sex hangs in the air; the combined fragrance of honey, flowers, and sweat all mingling together, making me want to go for another round.
Or two.
“Hey, everybody! How y’all doin’ tonight?”
Her sweet voice melts under the crevice, beckoning me to come out. Opening the door, I slip through the crack undetected and force my way to the stage as the crowd erupts with applause. Show lights bathe her in a yellow and red glow. The stage is makeshift. A platform, really. A homemade mix of two-by-fours and plywood. But with Casey on it, it could be Madison Square Garden as far as I’m concerned.
She stands in front of the microphone with a shy smile, her dimples highlighted by the combination of lights and shadows dotting her face. Next to her, the burly dude with the ZZ Top beard slips the guitar off his neck and hands it to her. She hesitates. Her eyes dart over the crowd, no doubt looking for me, but I’m still fighting my way through, trying my best to get to her as promised.
“Looks like Casey Jane needs some reassurance,” Burly Dude drawls into the microphone. A cacophony of hoots and hollers waves through the crowd, filling up the tiny space.
I saw the pictures, and I heard the stories, but seeing it firsthand is remarkable. All these years she’s been gone, yet no one forgot. They all still love her. Want her. Casey Jane may not be the household name she’d hoped it would become, but here, in this tiny podunk Texas town, Casey is as big a celebrity as any.
Her hands shake when she reaches for the guitar and straightens the strap over her slim shoulders. Burly Dude claps and stands back, giving her the full spotlight.
“I hadn’t really prepared anything …”
Seven years of silence is a mighty long time. Her lips tremble as she seeks me in the crowd, but calm when she finds me with her pool blue gaze. Her hands move over the strings, a haunting, purposely off-key tune plucked by her delicate fingers.
The words come out timid and weak. She pauses for a second but continues sliding her fingers along the frets. When she tries again, the song bursts out of her chest like a caged bird taking flight. I don’t recognize the song, but it draws me in. The words are magic, washing over me. Nightmares, wreckage—a premonition falling from her angelic lips. I, too, have been sleepwalking. Living my life in burned-out ruin, unable to right the wrongs I’ve committed.
Chills break out on my skin. She looks different now. I always thought she was beautiful, always referred to her as an angel, but I never realized how astute that comparison was until right this minute. The voice that comes out of her is like nothing I’ve ever heard before. It reminds me of church at Christmastime. Beautiful, spiritual.
All around me, the crowd sways to the music. Some sing along, others just watch with half smiles plastered on their faces, while I look on with awe. They all want her, but I have her. She belongs to me, and I refuse to share.
Under the majestic yellow and red lights, her gaze locks on mine. The crowd disappears. It’s just her and me and that sweet voice singing to my soul.
A horse stable isn’t like the picture
I had in my head. I imagined animals just hanging out, walking around, and sniffing each other’s butts and shit. In reality, it’s nothing like that. The large wooden structure looks like a house from the outside and fancy horse jail on the inside.
Long snouts poke out from each individual enclosure, lined up one after the other on the left-hand side. Each stall has its own door, both in the front and the back so the horses can enter the stable or run through the pasture. Along the right is a row of low shelves. Above them, saddles hang in a neat row one after the other on racks and, in between, hang various other items like ropes and blankets.
Just outside the stable, a concrete slab sits alone surrounded by wooden posts with a hose dangling off one of them. Today is grooming day, or so I’m told. Each horse gets a bath, followed by a treat for good behavior. Casey hands me a plastic bucket filled with brushes, shampoo, and conditioner and tells me to wait. A strange face in the stable can upset the horses. The slow clop of hooves on dry earth turns the corner as Casey emerges with the first horse I’ve ever seen up close. His black coat gleams in the sunlight. She holds the rope loosely and lets the beast guide her, not the other way around. “This is Barney.” Casey’s voice is tender as she strokes the horse’s mane. “You ready for your bath, big guy?”
Barney huffs a breath out his nose in response but doesn’t walk toward the slab. “Barney’s a sweet old stallion, but he’s a little skittish at times.” She continues to comfort him, humming with the same gentle tone. “Talk to him.”
This is crazy. The only thing that comes to mind are the old Mister Ed reruns I used to watch on late-night television, but I’m sure yelling “Wilbuuuuur” isn’t going to win me any bonus points. “Uh. Hey there.” I feel like an idiot. “You must be an earring. ‘Cause you look like quite a stud.”