by Jordan Marie
As I pull up to the wrought iron gate with two giant R’s detailed on it, I do my best to swallow the bile that comes up in my chest. Is this what swallowing your pride feels like? The urge to drive away is strong, but I beat that down too. I’ll play nice. I’ll send in the matches I’ll appear at, and with Riverton behind me, I’ll be welcomed with open arms. Then, fuck them all. Once I win that pretty trophy and jacket, I’m done. D. O. N. E. Then they’ll be the ones crawling to me. I’ll be the one in complete control.
I hit the button on the speaker and tell the voice who I am. The gates open. I pull up and look into my rearview mirror. As they slowly come to a close, I flinch. One season. That’s it. I’ll do this to become what I need to be: the master of my own destiny.
I drive towards the house and the strangest thing happens. I think about this past weekend with CC. That’s where I wish I was right now. Back with her in that damn hotel room, listening to her laugh, feeling her legs wrap around me as I sink down into her. But that’s not what hits my gut and makes my hands constrict so tight around the steering wheel it could almost break.
It’s the realization that the voice of Claude and CC are one and the same.
I’ll be visiting a certain little mechanic again soon. Very soon.
“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Jackson says, as if there are two of him. It always makes me grin. At times he sounds so much like Banger that it hurts.
“Later, old man,” I tell him, getting that look from him I always get. There’s only ten years’ difference in our ages, but Jackson seems so much older. Banger always said life can age you more than years, and Jackson seems to be a walking testament to that. We break apart at our vehicles. Once I start my car, Jackson takes off on his bike. Right before I put the car into drive, I realize I left my cellphone in the garage. With a groan—because I really want to get home—I switch the car off and go back the way I came. I have the phone retrieved and I’m locking the door when I hear his voice from behind.
“I think it’s a crime to cover up hair that beautiful in that cap on your head.”
Before I can even fully turn around, Gray’s reaching up to pull it off. My hair tumbles over my shoulders and halfway down my back. As if by reflex, I use my hand to shake the curls out and comb it away from my face.
“I guess this means you know who I am now.”
“I guess I do,” he says, propping himself up on my door and caging me in.
“I guess I should give you a cookie or something,” I mumble, finally getting the door to lock.
“I can think of something else I’d rather you give me.”
“That’s not happening,” I assure him, stubbornly refusing to look his way.
“Why’s that?”
“That ship has sailed.”
“We could always take it back out to sea.”
“The point of weekend hookups out of town is that they end at the weekend and they remain out of town,” I tell him with a wince, trying to ignore how that makes me sound. “What are you doing here?”
“I had to come to town on business.”
“This place isn’t exactly industry row.”
“No, but it does have its appeal, that’s for sure.” His finger wraps around a strand of my hair. I barely resist the urge to pull it away from him. I’m working really hard on ignoring the way his voice sends chills down my back. The man is like a drug!—one that I’m definitely smart to quit cold turkey.
“Well, I hope you enjoyed your visit,” I tell him, “but I need to get home. It’s been a long day and Cat is waiting for me.”
“You named your cat… Cat?”
“Cat could have been a person.”
“Is she?”
“No.”
“Then I’m right. Strange. I would have figured you for a dog person.”
“Well, you don’t really know me.”
“You’re definitely wrong there. I think I know a lot about you.”
“Considering you didn’t even know who I was earlier today, I think I can safely argue.”
“If I remember correctly, proving you wrong is a lot of fun, so you can argue away.”
“What’re you—?”
“Remember? You said there was no way you could come again, and I told you that you could. All it took was sliding my tongue slowly against—”
“Okay, I think you should stop there. I’ve had a long day, and I’m sure you’re anxious to get back on the road and go back to wherever—”
“Actually, it seems I’m going to be staying in Kentucky for a couple of weeks.”
My heart stutters at his words, and a nervous tension gathers in my stomach. This news shouldn’t affect me one way or another—but it does. I do my best to shake it off and not let it show.
“In that case, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around. Right now, however, I better get going.”
“Right, home to your… cat,” he says, and I don’t correct him.
“Exactly. Take care, Gray.”
“Maybe you could help me first.”
“Listen,” I start, but he holds his hands up as if to stop me.
“I need a hotel. I’ve driven around this place and I’ve yet to see one.”
“That’s because there isn’t one.”
“What??”
“Small town. There’s no need for a motel around here.”
“Where do people from out of town stay?”
“With family or friends…?”
“Are you offering?”
“Not even a little bit.”
“That’s cold. You’d just send me out to sleep on a park bench?”
“I wouldn’t do that if I was you.”
“Are you afraid I’ll be kidnapped for my sexy body and—?”
“Probed anally by little green men?”
“Umm…” I can’t stop from smiling at the look on his face. I’m not sure why I like him, especially after today, but I can’t deny that there’s something about him. “Do you have many alien sightings around here?” he asks.
“Only on nights with the full moon, or the week after old man Jenkins sells some of his homemade preserve.”
“Delightful…”
“Rest easy, Crayon-man. There’s a bed and breakfast about three miles up that street,” I tell him, pointing the way. It’s on the right. Ask for Mrs. Casebolt. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with my bed.”
“Maybe I could double date with you. I bet I could make it more interesting…”
“Cat already beat you to the punch. Nice try, though.”
“We can let Cat have the couch.”
“See you around, Gray,” I tell him, walking to my car.
“You’re just going to turn me out into the cold like this, after all of the nice things I did for you this weekend?”
“They were nice,” I tell him, looking over the top of my vehicle.
“I definitely thought so,” he says, looking like he’s got me right where he wants me.
“But not so great that I’d kick Cat out of bed.”
“You—”
“Later, Crayon. Watch out for Mrs. Casebolt.”
“What do you mean?” he calls out louder as I get in my car and slam the door.
I start my car up and put it in reverse. I back up until my passenger window is even with him and I roll the window down. “She’s got grabby hands. Then again, you might like that,” I tell him and roll up my window before he can reply. I look in my rearview mirror once I get on the road and see him standing there. I can’t make out his face, but I still smile.
I’ve been in Kentucky for three days, only three days, and I’m going insane. Mrs. Casebolt does indeed have grabby hands. My poor ass has been pinched more than a fat baby’s cheeks. Shit, I probably have bruises. Riverton has been dicking me around making appointments that he mysteriously doesn’t show for, but his single annoying daughter does. Cammie isn’t bad-looking, don’t get me wrong, but she’s a bitch. Even while she’s trying
to hide it and make herself appear to be the answer to every dream I’ve ever had, she’s a bitch. It’s this innate piece of her that shines through even with her smile. She’s also on the market for a husband, and that right there is why my dick will never get around Camilla Riverton. I will never tie myself to a woman. My brother Cyan did that, and that had horrible repercussions. We all thought his woman was a keeper, and we were all wrong… horribly wrong. Even if that wasn’t true, however, Cammie would be the last woman I’d ever look at.
After three days of dodging Mrs. Casebolt’s grabby-hands, three days of being catfished by Riverton, and three days of ignoring Cammie’s very large hints, I’m about to go insane. Not to mention the fact that it’s also been three days since I’ve seen CC. That is unacceptable. Riverton is out of town today and if I’m going to survive my next meeting with him, I’m going to need a good distraction.
Which is why I find myself pulling up to Claude’s garage. It’s not sitting great with me that I’m on the edge of chasing a woman. I’ve never done that in my life, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I tell myself that if I were back home in my own element where beautiful women are a dime a dozen, I wouldn’t chase CC—I wouldn’t even think about it. But I’m lying out of my ass. This morning alone, the waitress at the local diner gave me all the appropriate signals and she was definitely pretty, but her hair wasn’t bronze auburn with streaks of gold, her smile didn’t quite make her eyes sparkle, and her curves were lacking.
So here I am…
“Can I help you?” A man asks, coming out of the bay door of the garage. He’s big and broad… and definitely not CC.
“I’m looking for CC.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m a friend of hers. Gray Lucas,” I tell him, reaching out my hand.
He wipes oil off his hands with a rag and stares at my outstretched hand, but doesn’t bother to shake it. “CC’s never mentioned you.”
“Do you know all her friends?” I ask him, starting to wonder exactly what kind of relationship they have.
“Pretty much.”
“Well, we’ve just met recently. So maybe that’s why.”
“Recently?”
“This past weekend.”
He looks me over, and then the strangest thing happens: he gets a big smile on his face. “Now I get it,” he says.
“Jackson, have you seen my torque wr—What are you doing here?” CC asks when she comes outside. She’s dressed in the coveralls she wore last time I was here and, sadly, her hair is all covered up again, but even so, she looks hot. Hell, she looks sexier like this than Cammie does in those short skirts and clinging blouses she’s been wearing around me. My dick stretches against my jeans, hardening and lengthening at once, wishing it was closer to the woman in front of me—who is currently shooting daggers at me. Damn, even pissed off she looks hot.
“Well hello to you too, beautiful.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Is this dude the reason for that wicked smile you had Monday?” the man asks.
“Piss off, Jackson.”
He laughs in response. “I’ll take that as a yes. Hell, it must have been good for the fucker to follow you all the way to Crossville.”
“It wasn’t,” CC says at the same time I add my, “It was.” This exchange makes the man laugh even louder. I might grow to like him. He’s starting to remind me of my asshole brothers. Grow to like him? Nah, I won’t be around that long. But I can appreciate that he won’t be competition to get one more taste of the woman in front of me.
“Maybe you need a reminder,” I tell her with a grin.
“Maybe you need a reality check,” she returns.
“Maybe I do. Actually, I was hoping you would go to lunch with me.”
“Why would I do that?”
“She’d love to,” Jackson says, and yeah, I might like him.
“What? I would not. Jackson, stay out of this.”
“Listen, Claude. It’s lunchtime, and Mary Ann is off today, so it’s your turn. If the dude is desperate enough to track you down, then the least you can do is have lunch with him.”
Okay, maybe I don’t like him. I’m not desperate. My dick could possibly be. Still…
“C’mon, CC. You only live once. I promise not to bite, unless of course you ask me to,” I goad her.
“That won’t happen.”
“It might. Remember Saturday when you wanted me to bite you on the—”
“Stop!” she screams, looking at Jackson.
He laughs, shaking his head and walking back inside the garage. “Bring me a burger box, when you get done playing,” he says before he disappears.
Once he’s gone, CC stands looking at me with her hands on her hips. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”
“Asking a beautiful woman to lunch?”
“Gray…”
“CC, we had a great weekend together. I want to spend more time with you. Nothing heavy, and it doesn’t have to go any farther than lunch if you don’t want it to, but besides the sex… which by the way, was off the charts…”
“It was, but—”
“Besides the sex,” I interrupt her, “I just had a good time with you. You’re funny and cute and just fun to be around in general. So will you please go to lunch with me?”
“You said ‘please’.”
“That, I did.”
“I bet that’s something you don’t say to women very often.”
“Only to my sisters or my mother.”
“Oh my God, you have sisters too?”
“Have lunch with me and I’ll tell you all about them.”
“If I agree, it’s only because I’m curious.”
“I’ll take what I can get.”
“Okay, fine. Give me a couple minutes to get ready.”
“I’ll be right here waiting,” I tell her, feeling something click into place. Shit, maybe I am desperate.
“You clean up good, Cooper,” he observes as he sits across from me. We’re at the local diner and I have the summer salad special in front of me, but I’m having trouble eating. I find myself staring at Gray instead, wondering exactly how this happened.
“I didn’t clean up. I just took my coveralls off.”
“And let your hair out of its prison.”
“My hair wasn’t in a prison,” I tell him, self-consciously pushing my fingers through it.
“It’s a crime to keep that hair covered up, sweetheart.”
“Listen, Gray…”
“It’s beautiful, like the color of a flame that shines in the moonlight. It reminds me of bonfires we have back home.”
I want to ridicule his words for being way too poetic, but instead they make the butterflies in my stomach jump around. The words should sound totally fake, like a man trying to get in a girl’s pants a little too hard. Instead, he makes them sound sincere, as if he truly believes it. Suddenly, the thick, curly monstrosity of hair on my head and my freckles don’t feel like a sore spot to me anymore, and that’s crazy. I can almost feel myself blush at the way he’s staring at me. Damn. I clear my throat, needing to pull this conversation back to even ground.
“Weren’t you supposed to tell me about your sisters?”
Something moves through his face and he watches me for a minute before leaning back against the cushioned seat in our booth. “What about them?”
“Were they named after colors, too?”
“Flowers.”
“Flowers?”
“Yep. If you ask me, they got the better card in the draw.”
“Well, not necessarily. You’d be awful silly with the name Iris.”
“Point made. In any event, I have three sisters. All younger, all designed to drive each of us brothers batty, and all named after flowers.”
“Well, driving brothers batty is what sisters are supposed to do.”
“Do you do that to your brother?”
“I don’t have any, but if I did,
I’m sure I’d make that my goal.”
“What about sisters? Or…”
“No one, just me.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
His apology is sincere, and the grave look on his face is testament to that, but it makes me feel uncomfortable. He doesn’t know me. Why would he be sorry? I shift in my chair, not sure how to react to this man. “It is what it is. So what’re your sister’s names? Daisy, Rose, and Iris?”
“Spoken like a woman who clearly doesn’t know my mother,” he says with a laugh.
“Okay, I’m almost afraid to ask… but what are they?”
“Petal, Maggie, and Mary. Mary being the youngest—eighteen.”
“Well, Petal is a little strange, but still it’s kind of pretty, I like it. Those aren’t bad names. I don’t even see flowers in them, though I guess Mary…”
“Short for Marigold.”
“Umm… okay, not horrid. And Maggie?”
“Magnolia.”
“Yikes. Okay, that one might be a little…”
“Named after the tree under which she was conceived at a free love rally.”
“Oh my.”
“Exactly.”
“Your mom must be quite the character.”
“She is. Are you going to ask about Petal?”