by Alexa Rivers
Davy held his hands out for the ball, and Evie threw it to him, pleased when it didn’t veer too far off course.
“Not too shabby, newbie,” he called. “Now the rest of you scram, so I can score us a conversion.”
The girls hurried out of his way and Evie exchanged high-fives with Cooper and Ramsay as she rejoined her team. Play resumed, and she grinned until her cheeks ached, feeling lighter than she had in weeks.
Chapter 10
When the game finished, they adjourned to Ramsay’s bachelor pad, barely a block away, for drinks and a barbecue. While Ramsay and Hemi fired up the grill, Evie snagged a beer from the chiller and flopped onto one of the chairs on the lawn.
Glancing about, she was reminded that she was the only single lady here. On the deck, Avery bickered with Gareth, and Justin pressed Emily firmly to his side. Evie couldn’t blame him—given half a chance, most of the single men in Itirangi would make a move on his girl. Heck, if Emily swung both ways, Evie would make a move on her. The redhead had more curves than an hourglass. Opposite Evie, Sophie perched on Cooper’s lap, giggling at something he’d said. A few seats over, Kayla and Blake passed a bottle of beer back and forth.
Evie scrunched her nose. Gag. Too cute.
She contemplated the unattached men working the barbecue. Both Hemi and Ramsay were good-looking, in their own ways—Hemi dark and dangerous, Ramsay the kind of clean-cut man women introduced to their parents. She and Hemi had always been great mates, and never wanted anything more than that. They were too similar. It’d be like sleeping with her brother. Ramsay, on the other hand, was too buttoned up for her taste. The local doctor seemed to think he could never let loose lest his clients hear about it and desert him in favor of the exactly zero other doctors in town.
Everyone was accounted for, except Davy.
“Enjoying the view?” an accented voice murmured near her ear. She turned to see Davy bent over the back of her chair, resting on his elbows above her, his nose only inches from hers.
“Always,” she replied. “No better view than hot guys cooking. Well, unless they’re wearing aprons, and nothing else.”
“You witch.” He chuckled. “Objectifying those poor men. I hope you’re ashamed of yourself.”
“Oh, I am.” She shamelessly watched Ramsay’s backside as he flipped steaks and fried onions. “So very ashamed.”
“As you ought to be.” Davy paused, and Evie met his mossy eyes. “You look relaxed.”
“I suppose I am.” Her misery from earlier that morning felt like it had been days ago, rather than hours. So much had happened since then.
“I’m pleased to hear that.” He twinkled at her. “I can’t abide the thought of you being so sad.”
“Shh,” she hissed, putting her finger to her lips despite the flutters stirred by his sweet words. “Don’t talk like that. Someone might hear you.”
“Aw, sweetheart. Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” He smirked. “Hate to break it to you, but people are gonna wonder why we arrived together. This is Itirangi. You remember how the gossip vine works.”
She groaned. “It’s impossible to forget.” She’d never succeeded at flying under the radar, though to be fair, she’d rarely tried. “By the way, I told them I was hitchhiking and you picked me up.”
Coming around the chair, he sat beside her, and though they were well spaced, she felt crowded. “Good to know.” He paused for a moment, then added, “I didn’t think it bothered you,” he said. “The attention, I mean. It doesn’t seem to stop you from hooking up with a different guy every time you visit my bar.”
He’d noticed?
Of course he had. It probably confirmed his opinion of her as a heartless she-devil.
But that didn’t quite ring true. Not any longer. Perhaps he’d been jealous. Don’t go there, girl. Even if he was, it would be best if she didn’t dwell on it. That would only be one more way she’d hurt him.
“Tourists,” she said, shrugging. “Never going to see them again, so what does it matter?”
She’d only made out with those guys to distract herself from Davy. Maybe that did make her heartless, but she couldn’t handle the memories that arose when she was near him, or the knowledge that she was responsible for ending one of the best things she’d ever had.
She waited, expecting him to go on, but to her surprise, he stayed silent. Strange. With every conversation they had, she realized more and more that neither of them were the same people they had been. Time had taken the sharp edges off their moods.
Finally, he said, “You know, this is the first time we’ve really spoken in nine years. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been doing since we left school? You must have some great stories.”
“Depends on what kind of stories you want to hear.”
A smile flirted with the corner of his lips, and the glimpse of white teeth did funny things to her insides. “Dodging the question? Not your style.”
She nodded toward the barbecue. “Bring me a sausage in bread, loaded with sauce and onions, and I’ll tell you anything you want.”
“Anything?”
The wicked gleam in his eye sent tingles racing down her spine, and her breath caught. She’d seen that expression before, usually seconds before he dragged her into his embrace and kissed her as if the universe depended on it. She needed to regain control of the situation, but she had never been good at resisting trouble when it came calling. Reaching across, she stroked a finger along the contour of the muscle in his forearm, which was lean and covered by freckly skin and rust-colored hair.
His fists clenched. Then he stood and pushed the chair back, his movements jerky. “I’ll get you that sausage.”
Both of them ignored the double entendre. Evie’s head fell back and she gazed up at the stars that were only now beginning to appear, smiling smugly. She still had it. He still wanted her. Damn, but it felt good to be wanted by Davy.
A bread-encased sausage floated into her field of view, bringing with it the scent of sweet onion and mustard. She reached for it and sank her teeth into the crisp end, which tasted charred, and nearly seared her mouth. Sauce oozed from the side and dribbled down her chin. She hummed contentedly, wiping it up with a finger. Summer barbecues with beer, meat, music and friends. Nothing could beat that.
“Penny for your thoughts.”
She blinked lazily, and Davy came into focus. She waved a hand around. “Just thinking how nice this is. I don’t always slow down enough to appreciate life.”
“Always on the go,” he remarked. “I remember that from before.”
Before. Back when the sight of this gangly boy loping across the grass, a lopsided grin in place, had made her dream about forever, even as she’d broken out in a cold sweat at the thought of never seeing the world beyond Itirangi. They’d had a summer romance, but it had meant more to her than that, and she knew it had meant more to him, too.
“Seems like you kept moving after we finished school,” he said. “Is there anywhere you haven’t lived?”
She thought for a moment as she finished her sausage. “The west coast of the North Island. I’ve passed through, but haven’t lived there. I’ve spent time pretty much everywhere else.”
“Even Stewart Island?” he asked, referring to the heavily forested island off the southernmost point of the country, which was home to only one small town.
“I did a summer there looking after the predator traps to protect native birds.”
“Wow.” He whistled. “You really have gotten around.”
“Hey!” She slapped his upper arm, hard enough to sting, even though she knew he was teasing.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said with a laugh.
“Don’t care how you meant it.”
“Of course you do.” He was right, his intention was all that mattered. “So tell me what kind of work you’ve been doing.”
She recognized the olive branch for what it was and took it. “A bit of everything, really. I’ve bartended, waitr
essed, cleaned, manned a checkout, made coffee, driven a tour bus, picked fruit, worked in a factory, harvested crops, milked cows, worked in retail, dealt cards at a casino, looked after the books for a couple of companies, managed a workshop… Guess I’m a jack-of-all-trades.”
Davy folded his arms over his chest and studied her, his expression inscrutable. “You farmed?”
“Is that so hard to believe?”
He tipped his bottle back and drank, taking his time to reply. “A little bit. Milking isn’t the most glamorous gig.”
“I’m not the most glamorous girl.”
He snorted. “I find that hard to believe. Every time I see you, you’re dressed to kill.”
“Davy, think,” she said slowly, meaningfully. “Every time you see me, I’m at your bar. Of course I look my best when I’m out on the town. That’s not me all the time.”
He frowned as though this thought had never occurred to him.
“Most of the time, I’m frazzled and sweaty and less than my best. So yeah, I’ve worn overalls and been pissed on by a bunch of smelly cows, and I’ve been coated in dust at the end of a long day on a harvester, reeking of rotten potatoes.”
He shook his head and held up a hand. “Stop talking, or I’ll have to re-evaluate my opinion of you. I’m not ready for that much self-reflection.”
Her lips twisted into a reluctant smile. “If it helps confirm your worst suspicions, I also danced at a topless club.”
“You did what?” he demanded, rocking back into his chair, mouth gaping.
“I danced at a club,” she said, shrugging. “Made good money. No biggie. Decided it wasn’t for me. Most of the guys were fine, but there were a couple of creepers. The girls were lovely, though. I miss them a little.” People as accepting as those dancers were few and far between. It was a pity that others weren’t as accepting of them.
“Are you saying you were a stripper?” He looked ready to bust a vein in his forehead.
“Oh, for goodness sake, don’t be stupid about it,” she snapped. “It was something I tried. It’s not like I was ever fully naked on stage, and nobody laid a finger on me. I’ll tell you though, there are some places glitter just shouldn’t go.”
Color rose on his cheeks, and he wheezed a little. “I’m not bothered by it, but that image.”
Edging closer, wearing a mischievous smile, she asked, “Why are you so red?”
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I know that you know the effect you have on me.” His voice was hoarse. “And now I’m picturing you naked and covered in glitter. Have a little mercy, woman.”
Watching him battle his attraction to her stoked something in Evie. She didn’t want him to put that fire out, she wanted him to consume her with it. Though it might be the stupidest idea she’d ever had, she wanted to be with him, even if only for a while. She didn’t know where she was headed after Monica’s orchard, or what she even wanted out of the next year of her life, but today she’d felt more alive than she had in a long time, and that was thanks to him.
“What say we call it a night?” she asked after only a moment’s hesitation. Maybe she’d regret this, maybe she wouldn’t, but she made it her philosophy not to hold back from something she might enjoy because of fear. “You and me, head back to your place. Together.”
Davy stared at her intently, like he was trying to read her soul. Then he croaked, “Hell, yes.”
Chapter 11
Davy and Evelyn barely made it inside his bar before falling into each other’s arms. He kicked the door shut, swept her off her feet and deposited her on the counter. She parted her thighs and he stepped between them, turning his face up to her. His heart thumped wildly, pumping fire through his veins, his dick already hard. Evelyn’s big brown eyes locked on his, and he could read the desire in them.
He couldn’t believe this was happening. He was getting a do-over with this sexy goddess. She could have any guy she wanted with a crook of her finger, but she was here with him. He was under no illusion that they’d have anything more than one night together, but if that was all she could give, he’d take it. Hell, if she asked, he’d probably offer up his heart for her to stomp on all over again.
One of his arms curved around her waist, and the other hand cupped the line of her jaw. He hovered, mere millimeters from her mouth, feeling as though he were suspended above a thousand-foot drop. As though everything depended on what he did next. The anticipation of the kiss, the tortured bliss of waiting while they exchanged breath, almost did his head in.
But then their lips were touching. He hadn’t kissed her, so she’d kissed him.
It was perfect.
Their lips clung, then separated, and the breath eased from his chest. She gripped his face between her palms and shimmied to the edge of the counter so they touched in all the best places.
This time, he took the initiative. He kissed her the way he remembered she liked, soft and unhurried. Her lips parted for him, and the kiss deepened. He clasped her tighter, one hand splayed over her hip and the other on her ass. She tasted like summer, and the forbidden, and he couldn’t get enough.
Pulling back, he panted, “You sure?”
“One hundred per cent,” she said, nuzzling beneath his ear, then touching his ear lobe with the tip of her tongue. “But…”
“But?” he croaked, keeping a tenuous hold of his self-control.
“But I want you to know, this means—”
“I know what it means,” he interrupted. Nothing, at least as far as she was concerned, and he wasn’t about to humiliate himself by begging for scraps of her affection “Don’t suppose you’ve got a condom on you?”
She shook her head.
“Damn. Guess we’ll have to drag ourselves upstairs.”
Evie was short of breath as she ascended the stairs to Davy’s home and waited while he unlocked the door. She couldn’t believe how much he’d leveled up in the kissing game since they were sixteen. He was blowing her mind. Once inside, she pressed him into the door and leapt up, wrapping her legs around his waist. Behind his sports shorts, his cock pulsed against her.
She grinned as an answering throb started between her legs. “Someone’s a little excited.”
“Have to be dead not to be,” he said. “You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever touched, and shite, the way you rub yourself against me drives me insane.”
That’s how she wanted it. As long as they were together in the insanity, all was right with the world.
Davy’s forehead rested on hers, his chest rising and falling rapidly, the lines of his face made harsh by passion. She loved to see him this way. All need. No sign of his joker persona. She fused her mouth to his, tearing a low groan from him.
Fuck, yeah, she loved the sound of that. Like he was helpless, enraptured by her. Tugging the hem of his shirt, she broke away to yank it over his head, then tossed her own aside, too.
They slid against each other, skin on skin. Exquisite. She ran her hands along the tops of his broad shoulders and down his arms, which were tan in contrast to the paleness of his chest and shoulders. He buried his face in her exposed cleavage, his tongue delving into the space between, then tracing the edge of her bra. Pleasure shot through her as his hand came up to cup her breast. He dropped an open-mouthed kiss on the top and moaned in appreciation.
“These are perfect,” he said. “God, I didn’t think you could get any sexier, but you did. Take the bra off.”
“Patience,” she teased, her heels digging into his butt. His hips jerked towards her. “Oh yeah, just like that.”
“You’re gonna be the end of me,” he murmured. “Death by heart failure, age twenty-eight.”
“You poor baby.” She pouted. “You’re seducing me with your words.” Strangely enough, he actually was. Most men adored her body—she was used to it—but his particular brand of humor flattered her more than any pretty words could.
“Hold tight, sweetheart,” he said, then he was carrying her to the liv
ing room, where he lowered her gently to the couch and settled between her legs. The room was dim, but they’d forgotten to switch off the Christmas lights earlier and dozens of stars twinkled around them, casting pinpricks of light and shadows that danced over their bodies.
Reaching behind her, Evie flicked the clasp of her bra open and dropped it to the floor. Davy’s gaze homed in on her naked breasts, then he molded his palms to them and stroked and caressed with a single-mindedness she found astoundingly attractive. The whole time, his eyes never left hers. He watched her watching him, interpreting what she liked and what she didn’t from the play of expressions across her face. It was the single most erotic act she’d ever been involved in.
Damn, boy.
When she was desperate for more, she writhed beneath him, creating sweet friction between their bodies, and slipped one hand into the waistband of his shorts, wrapping her fingers around him.
“Mmm.” He pumped his hips, thrusting into her hand.
“I love the sounds you make.” She slicked the moisture at his head over the silken length and glided up and down. “Don’t stop making those sounds.”
He uttered a strangled gasp. “Don’t think I could if I wanted. Feels goddamn fantastic.”
“Good,” she muttered. “I want you bad.”
Rising on one elbow, he drew her leggings and underwear down and touched her gently. “Are you ready for me?”
“Check for yourself.”
His finger slid between her folds, and when he discovered how wet she was, his eyes flicked to hers. “Oh, hell. You do want me bad, don’t you, sweetheart?”
“Like I said, so get a move on.”
“Patience.” He sheathed himself, then eased his tip inside her in increments, rocking forward an inch at a time.
“Davy,” she growled in warning.
In one smooth movement, he pushed all the way home, lodging deep inside her with a satisfied grunt.
Breath hissed between her lips. “Fuck.”
Davy froze. “Good or bad?” he asked. “Do I need to stop?”