Here With Me: A Best Friend's Brother stand-alone romance.

by Tia Louise

  “I can help you.”

  I quickly remove the damaged rubber from the rim and grab a tire iron to ease the new one in place. She stands watching with her hands on her hips.

  For some reason, it makes me chuckle. “How?”

  “Well…” She looks back and forth from me to the waiting ATV. “I can keep you company.”

  “I don’t need company. Do what you need to do.” The rubber is on the rim, and I check the seal. A few minutes hooked to the air compressor has it full and ready to go.

  “I can drive it back to the house… if you trust me on it.”

  “Actually, that would be helpful.” I lower the jack and carry the tools to my truck, dropping them in the back. “Hop on and make sure I got it secure.”

  I walk back to where she’s already carefully stepping over the mud to straddle the vehicle.

  She rises on the pegs to kick the starter and her skirt floats up, giving me a teasing glimpse of the smooth skin running up the back of her thigh.

  I’m sure it’s why I make the rookie mistake of standing right behind the damn three-wheeler when she hits the throttle and the new tire spins, showering me with a spray of thick, black mud.

  “Shit… Ease off!” I shout over the noise of the engine.

  It takes a few seconds for the large tire to find traction, and when she lets go of the throttle the vehicle rolls forward to firm ground.

  “What’s wrong?” Mindy looks over her shoulder at me, and her eyes go round as saucers… right before she explodes in peals of laughter. “Oh no! Sawyer!”

  “Yeah. Oh no.” My voice is flat.

  She kills the engine and hops off, running to where I’m looking down at the mud covering the entire front half of my body. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…” She’s saying the words, but they’re punctuated by nonstop giggles.

  “For some reason, I don’t believe you.”

  “No, I really am… Sorry…” She snorts.

  She actually snorts.

  “I’ll let you drive my truck back.” I’m not getting in it like this.

  “Hang on.” She grabs my hand and gives me a tug. “Come on.”

  I glance up at the pond, and my stomach tightens. With the way my mind has been fixed on her today, it feels dangerous. “No, I’ll head back—”

  “Sawyer LaGrange.” Her voice adorably fussy. “It’s hot, you’re a mess, and the pond is right there. Noel will have a fit if you go in the house like this.”

  She’s right, and I figure I’m mature enough to handle swimming in a pond with an old friend. Until she elbows me in the ribs.

  “Last one in’s a rotten egg!” She takes off running, and I must have a moment of temporary insanity. I take off after her, almost beating her to the pier.

  She lets out a shriek when she spots me, but I lose time pulling off my cowboy boots. Her bare feet thump on the boards as she runs all the way to the end of the pier and lets out a victory yell.

  I only have a second to register her pink lace panties as she grabs the hem of her dress and whips it over her head before jumping into the water.

  I guess I’m the rotten egg.

  Instead of stripping off my muddy clothes, I wade into the warm waters, slowly making my way to where her dark head breaks the surface.

  “This feels so good!” She cries, turning to face me and immediately frowning. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to get the mud off my clothes.”

  “Seriously?” She dog paddles towards me. “How are you going to get home with your clothes all wet?”

  “The same way I was going to get home with them all muddy.” I’m moving deeper into the pond, closing the space between us, feeling like I’m venturing into a house fire.

  She grabs at my waist. “Take that off.”

  “Hang on…” I catch her hands beneath the surface.

  “Take it off, and I’ll help you scrub it.”

  I do as she says, going under to get the shirt over my head. When I come up, I stand, my jeans heavy on my hips.

  “Now take those off and scrub them.” She turns her back, moving away with my shirt. “Old prude.”

  Her mutter makes me grin as I struggle with wet denim. “I heard that.”

  “You should’ve taken them off first.” She swims to the end of the pier and pulls herself up to hang my shirt on the edge, giving me a glimpse of her wet body in her now-transparent bra.

  Her dark areolas are visible through the thin nylon, and heat rises below my belt. She drops into the water again and swims over to take my jeans.

  “I didn’t want to be a rotten egg.” The tease in my voice surprises me.

  Her pretty green eyes narrow with her grin. “Too late, old man. You’re it.”

  She shoots off toward the pier, but I swim after her. I might be playing with fire, but hell, it’s been a long day in the sun. “Old man? I’m only thirty.”

  “Thirty-one.” Again, she pulls herself out of the water to hang my jeans on the other corner of the pier. This time I get a full shot of her butt covered only by wet pink lace.

  I want to touch her. I want to pull her against my chest and kiss her like we did last night… before I stopped it. I don’t have time to consider the consequences when she shoots forward into my arms, lifting her fingers to the side of my face.

  “You’ve got mud all over you.” She scrubs her fingers gently above my ear, along my hairline.

  “I can’t believe I stood there like an idiot.”

  Another giggle bubbles up from her chest, and it makes me grin. Warmth is humming in my chest. I like holding her this way, letting her take care of me.

  I am not being wise.

  She lowers her hand, and when our eyes meet, I’m very aware of her body pressed against mine beneath the surface. She was in my bed last night, curled against my chest in the darkness, but this feels more intimate somehow.

  “Hey.” Her voice is soft, and her green eyes flutter to my mouth.

  “Hey.” Mine is deeper, but equally quiet. I don’t know what to say, so I stick to what’s safe. “Feeling better today?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Her cute nose curls, and she blinks up to my eyes again. “Glad I was able to get some sleep last night.”

  “Glad I was able to help.”

  “You always help me.” Her eyes drop, and she traces a finger along the top of my shoulder. It feels good. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”

  “You never bother me.” It’s the truth.

  “Thank you.” She hugs closer to me, placing her cheek against mine.

  My eyes slide closed. My hands move from her waist to the soft skin of her back, and I hold her in a hug for a heartbeat. She feels good in my arms, right. Taron’s words are in my head, what’s right in front of me…

  There’s no denying my body’s response to her. We’re out here in this lake, alone and secluded from the rest of the world. Anything could happen. Clearing my throat, I slide my hands to her waist again, easing us apart.

  Cold water fills the place where she was. “We haven’t really talked since I’ve been back.”

  “Okay.” Green eyes blink to mine expectantly.

  “A lot has changed.” I’ve been waiting to feel ready for this, but it never seems to happen. Now I’ve got harvest hanging over my head…

  “A lot is still the same.”

  I exhale a short laugh. “Nothing changes here.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  Frustration tightens my stomach. None of this is going right. Releasing her, I swim to the pier and hoist myself out of the water. Standing on the pier, I push the water off my skin roughly with my hands.

  “I thought you were moving to Dallas.”

  She’s in the water holding her hand up for me to help her. I bend down and lift her out of the pond.

  “Is that what’s bothering you?” She’s standing in front of me practically naked, dripping wet, and my blood is hot in my veins.

  “Nothing’s
bothering me. Taron and Leon are probably wondering where I am.”

  I’m not sure why I’m pissed all of a sudden. My clothes are still damp, but there’s no way I’m riding back to the house in boxer briefs. I pull my jeans over my hips.

  “I talked to Leon earlier.” She slips the dress over her head. “He really wants to get more involved in running the orchard.”

  “Is that what he’s saying now?” I scoop up my shirt and we’re walking back to the waiting vehicles. “Last year he wanted to work in sports radio.”

  “Maybe… sometimes you think you want one thing, and situations change. You realize you want something different.” A tiny smile curls her lips.

  “Leon is too young to know what he wants.”

  “He’s older than you were when you took over the place.”

  “I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Hey.” She catches my arm, stopping me. “What happened back there?”

  “I just remembered I’ve got a lot to do.”

  Her eyes narrow, and the smile disappears. I don’t know why I’m pushing her away, other than I’m frustrated. I don’t like feeling like I have no options.

  I want her to have everything she wants, and I’ve got one hundred acres of peaches to harvest. How does that situation play out? I don’t know, and it’s getting to me.

  7

  Mindy

  Oprah says, you are where you are in life because of what you believe is possible for yourself. Maybe I don’t believe it’s possible for me to be with Sawyer. Or maybe I don’t really believe I can show him I’m a strong, independent woman.

  All I know is he pissed me off yesterday at the pond. I practically threw my naked body at him. I was in his arms in the water, sure he was going to kiss me. Hell, I could feel his semi against my thigh, and he just shut down, pushed me away.

  We haven’t talked since he got back? No shit, Sherlock.

  Maybe this is more like the situation where Oprah says a man will only treat you how you let him.

  “Melinda Claire, I need your help!” Ma is down in the kitchen cooking enough food for an army.

  I got home from work and ran upstairs for a quick shower. Now I’m dashing around my bedroom, pulling on a denim skirt and tank top, smoothing some lotion on my freshly cleaned face. Adding a touch of eyeliner and pink lip gloss. I don’t bother with shoes, running downstairs to take over pasta preparation.

  “Is that what you’re going to wear?” She holds out a hand. “You’re not even wearing makeup.”

  “It’s just Deacon, Ma.” I put the quart-sized boiling pot under the sink to fill, then spin around her to add it to the stove. “Why are you making so much food? He’s not a glutton.”

  The door opens as if on cue, and Noel pushes inside, balancing a glass casserole dish in one hand and a loaf of bread in the other.

  “Hey, you look pretty!” She smiles and sets the dish down before giving me a hug. “We’re a little early, I hope that’s okay?”

  “What are you…” My jaw drops along with my stomach. “Who all is coming?”

  “I told you not to bring any food.” Ma gives her a hug, always fussing.

  “It’s just a little dessert. I found this tiramisu recipe online, and I figure you’ll tell me if it’s garbage.”

  “Hmm… You made it, so we’ll eat it.”

  “Nice.” Noel gives me a look, but I’m too distracted by the men filing in behind her.

  “Smells delicious in here.” Taron steps forward to kiss my mom’s cheek. “Did you make all this?”

  “What do you think?” I deadpan as he makes his way to me.

  Sawyer is the last to enter, and he barely makes eye contact. “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself.” Only want the people who want you. I recite my Oprah mantra.

  “Where is my little angel?” Ma cries, breaking my mantra-moment.

  “Dove wanted to stay home with Leon and practice her singing.” Noel rolls her eyes.

  “Well, where is Leon?” Ma is relentless.

  “He’s going to bed early, if you can believe it.” My bestie puts the bread on the counter and cuts it into slices. “He wants to get up and meet with the men in the morning.”

  I can’t resist tossing a told you so look at Sawyer. He dismisses it, and Ma shouts at me, “Mindy! Your water’s boiling.”

  I hop over to the cabinet to grab a handful of linguine while she tosses a pinch of salt into the bubbling pot. Deacon arrives as I’m breaking noodles and lowering them carefully into the water.

  “I didn’t know it was a party.” A smile is in his voice, and I glance up to see him kiss my mother’s cheek.

  “Such a gentleman.” She dips her chin, and I’m pretty sure she blushes. What the heck?

  Noel dances over to give him a big hug. “I read over your plan last night, and it’s perfect! I’m so excited.”

  “Writing everything down helps.” His voice is warm.

  “It really feels real now. Like it’s going to happen.” Noel’s eyes are so bright as she blinks up at him, and I have to wonder what the heck is up with my friend Deacon all of a sudden.

  “Let a fella breathe,” I call from the stove. “He hasn’t even made it in the door yet.”

  “Look at you.” He walks over to kiss my cheek before glancing at my bare feet. “I didn’t know this was going to be formal.”

  “Don’t be an asshole.” I bump him with my hip.

  “Melinda Claire!” Ma shouts, and Deacon snickers.

  “Sorry, Ma.” My pasta has come to a boil, so I cut the heat before it boils over and push past him to the sink. “Make yourself useful and pour us a glass of wine.”

  He lifts a dark green bottle of Sangiovese. “This okay?”

  “That’s perfect.” As I’m returning to the stove, I catch Sawyer at the table glowering at us.

  He can get over himself. If he has a problem with Deacon giving me attention, he can step up and do something about it.

  Ma tosses the pasta into a bowl, and I carry the salad to the table. Noel is sitting beside Ma’s chair at the head with Taron between her and Sawyer. Deacon sits to Ma’s left, leaving me across from Mr. Impossible.

  We say a quick grace, and then it’s a free for all as the salad is passed followed by the pasta and the sauce, the fresh-ground parmesan, the bread. I try not to steal glances at Sawyer and fail. I used to feel like I knew him so well, but now I have no idea what’s going on in his head.

  “Ma didn’t tell me you all were coming over.” I pass the marinara to him, hoping to break the tension.

  “I didn’t know until an hour ago.” His voice is low and irritated.

  “Sounds like you guys need to start talking to each other more,” Noel quips from the other end of the table.

  “Is something wrong with Sawyer?” Ma checks in from whatever planet she’s been on. “Is everything okay down there?”

  He looks up and actually smiles at her. “I’m good, Miss J. Dinner’s delicious.”

  She nods and returns to fawning over her new favorite visitor. “So Deacon, what should I do with my bees?”

  Deacon’s blazer hangs on the chair behind him, and when he props an elbow on the table, I can’t help noticing his biceps… even if his table manners aren’t so great.

  “What are your goals?” Ma makes a confused face, and Deacon continues, “Try thinking about the next year, the next two years, then the next five and write down what you want to happen.”

  Ma pauses with her fork between her plate and her mouth. “Well, I don’t know exactly. I guess I’ve never thought about it.”

  Deacon pops a piece of bread in his mouth. “That’s okay. Just start brainstorming and when you’re ready, we can talk about it.” He bumps my arm. “Hey, good work on the pasta.”

  I laugh and push his arm. “Elbows off the table.”

  “Winnie would be so ashamed.” He grins at me, and I stab my lettuce, my eyes flickering to Sawyer.

  He’s holding his fork over
his plate watching us. My eyebrows rise, and I think put a ring on it as I swirl a fresh bite of pasta and lift it to my mouth.

  “Deacon just helped me write my five-year plan.” Noel holds a napkin over her mouth as she speaks. “He thinks it’s important for women to be financially independent.”

  “Is there a reason for that?” Taron winks at him.

  “Prettier clients.” Deacon grins, taking a big bite of pasta.

  “That is not true,” I argue, pushing his arm. “He really feels strongly about it. Tell them.”

  His brow furrows, and he finishes his bite before speaking. “We all know or have heard about a woman who gets married young, dedicates her life to her kids and family, then her husband dies, and she’s left with nothing.”

  Ma shakes her head, lifting a hand to the heavens. “Thank the Lord Mr. Ray prepared for the worst.”

  I lean closer to Deacon. “Benjamin had the Benjamins.”

  He nods, continuing. “Not all women, but many shelve their dreams and financial security for marriage or family. I want to be sure they’re protected… and happy.”

  “I agree with you.” Sawyer’s quiet assent surprises me, but he’s studying the glass of wine in front of him, not looking at us.

  “That’s very noble of you.” Noel adds. “Were you raised by a single mom?”

  “Single dad, actually, but money was never a problem at our house.” He almost seems embarrassed to admit it.

  “Deacon takes care of his great-aunt Winnie,” I tell them, and Ma puts a hand on her chest.

  “Are you close with your aunt?”

  “Not very. No.” The words come out on a bitter laugh, and my ma is confused.

  “Ma, remember how people acted when you moved here with Dad? What they said about you?” My mother nods at me. “She’s like that.”

  “Oh…” Ma’s chin rises, and she pats Deacon’s hand. “Looks like you managed to rise above it.”

  “I think the more people you know, all kinds of people, the less racism makes sense.”

  We’re finished eating, holding glasses of wine, and Noel hops up to grab the tiramisu. I stand and start collecting dinner plates to carry to the kitchen.

  “Deacon is so dreamy. No wonder you want to go to Dallas with him.” My bestie is practically bouncing on her toes.