Country Kisses (3:AM Kisses #8)

by Addison Moore

  “Undeclared, but I’m planning on switching to business.” It’s true. After seeing the haul Caila brings in and knowing that the club takes a hefty cut themselves, I figure I’d best start up my own franchise of something just as lucrative come graduation. If I can appreciate anything, it’s getting a hefty take. Lord knows I wouldn’t earn a dime rotating on that pole all night long. Another venture I’m looking to pursue is starting my own makeup line one day—Vixen Cosmetics. I figure I’ll get the business know-how first, then work with cosmetologists to develop something specialized that will work well on heavy scars and burns—mine included.

  “Business? That’s great.” He scoots his chair in close to my left, and I all but tip backward trying to scoot the hell away in the opposite direction. “Sorry.” He slides his seat on back where it came from, and I no longer have to worry about the neck cramp that’s been steadily forming. Thanks to our impromptu rendition of musical chairs, my good side is naturally on display.

  “Please don’t apologize.” That fruity glass of strawberry daiquiri courage calls to me, and I take an unordinarily long swig of my drink, draining half of the concoction in a single bound, and my head spins quick enough to spew just about anything from these lips. “Just to be upfront, I’m not gunning to get laid tonight.” Crap. So not what I was hoping would spew from my lips. Where the heck did that little tidbit of sanity come from? The mini Caila on my shoulder stabs me in the eye with her pitchfork, and I wince.

  Our mouths fall open in tandem as we both gape at the awkward one-night stand hole I’ve just hoisted the two of us out of. And, after he so kindly offered to demonstrate that expletive-riddled tirade he’s so good at with the promise of making me scream. I have a feeling I will be screaming later. Only all of the shouting will be directed at yours truly as I angrily impale myself with my new blue boyfriend.

  “I mean, my sister suggested it—the one-night stand.” My mouth keeps moving without my permission, and mini Caila jumps for wicked joy. “She prescribes sex like vitamins.” I flick the little menacing piece of rubber she left behind like a calling card. “She practically gives these away like Halloween candy.” I rattle it in front of him just as he leans in, and I smack him hard over the nose. “Oh my God! I’m sorry!” I drop it like a dead snake and clamp my hands over my mouth.

  “What is this?” He pulls it forward for inspection.

  “It’s sex on the beach, minus the beach or a living male actually required to achieve such a feat.” My hands ride up over my eyes a moment because I’m pretty sure I should be dying of embarrassment right about now.

  “A what?” He pulls it closer with his mouth still agape as if he’s about to take a bite before shouting an entire string of obscenities that ends with, “Shit, fuck, shit!”

  “Now, now with the language. We’re not behind closed doors yet, city boy.” Mini Caila bumps her behind to my face as if to high-five me with her booty. “I get it. You’re a man’s man. Go ahead and drum your fists over your chest a few times if it makes you feel better.” A schoolgirl giggle strums from me as I snatch my blue boy up and slip it into my purse. “I bet an entire herd of helpless women will come running, just begging to swing off your vine.” Please—as if they don’t nightly.

  “You’re a funny one.” He takes a much-needed, testosterone-inspired swig of his beer. “So we’ve established I’m a little too friendly with the girls. How about you? I bet you have to fight the boys back with that little blue stick.” He points half-heartedly toward my purse. “I’ve seen these WB boys in action. It ain’t pretty.”

  “Ditto for the female population.” This time we do toast.

  “You’ll find someone special.” I lean in, bringing my face as close to the center as I’ll allow. “Boys as blessed by God as you are always do.”

  “I can say the same about you.” His eyes bear into mine, sending a spear of heat darting right down to my stomach once again. For a moment, the noise, the jostling limbs of those on the dance floor all melt away to nothing.

  My face burns ten times hotter than the heat emanating from the sweaty center of the room. “That’s nice of you to say, but I’m taking it slow, looking for someone who I’m not even sure exists. The Unicorn Man.” I give a hard wink. “But, since I’m pretty good at mythology math, it might be a while, thus my trusty sidekick”—I hold up my purse a moment—“a gift from my sister, by the way, unused—so you can rein in your naughty imagination for the night.” Not that I want him to. His eyes remain settled over mine with a thick sexed-up gaze, and this, right here, is what I envision being Caila is like. Men flock to her perfection. Her level of confidence commands this caliber of attention—from this caliber of a god.

  “The female version isn’t quite as high-tech, so I’m forced to opt for the real thing.” He winces as if embarrassed to have gone there. “Not that I’ve gone that route. I guess guys just need the real deal because you’re too hard to replicate.”

  “Nice save. And you’re right. That must be why you men whore around so darn much.” I cock my head to the side, unleashing my inner Caila for a moment. Who am I kidding? Caila would have hauled him off to the back and had him twice by now.

  He gives a wistful look around the bar. “I’d like to whore around a whole lot less. If I keep up my current pace, my parts are in danger of falling off, if you know what I mean.”

  “That’s why you should whore around with just one person—you know, to keep things safe and sane. I’d hate to see you saying goodbye to any of your boy parts. It’s always nice for a girl to have a complete trio to play with.” Gah! Did I just really go there? With Piper’s brother no less? If Piper ever finds out I’m speaking to her big bro with such nauseating intent, she might be prone to render me speechless by way of a pillow over my face in the night.

  “Good point.” He tips his beer my way. “And my trio demands to stay together.” He looks pained at the thought of anything contradictory happening.

  “I hear ya. Too bad there’s not a way to have a little fun on the side while separating the sheep from the goats.” I give a wistful look myself to the crowd. “You know, like a service that provided something just this side of platonic that doesn’t get too complicated—a steady Eddie that’s simply there to rev the engine once in a while.” Back in high school, my boyfriend thought it would be a great idea to have a little fun on the side without telling me. Just the memory enrages me. “No cheating, though!” I shout up over the music. “You know.” I down the rest of my frozen concoction in three long drags and feel the icy burn all the way to my stomach.

  “I get it.” He leans in with that smoldering look in his eyes, and my bones melt with lust for this boy. “Someone to warm your bed while the hunt ensues.”

  “Exactly! A glorified bed warmer!” I hack it out over the pulsating rhythm that’s beginning to make my head swim. Mini Caila has suddenly dawned pompoms and is kicking me in the side of the head with her rabid enthusiasm. And much like mini Caila, I’m liking where this bed warming train is headed.

  “Bed warmer.” He belts out a laugh that gets drowned out by the hysteria of the mob that’s taken over this place. “Where do I sign up?” There’s a spark in him that suggests he’s teasing, but that sharp gaze of his is saying game on.

  I pull my purse forward, clutching the leather satchel housing my new boyfriend as if I were declaring my loyalty. Then in an outward act of defiance that makes mini Caila toss a confetti parade of condoms in my honor, I fling my purse with my newfound electronic boy toy to the side.

  “Sign-ups are right here, baby. The first bed warming session begins tonight.”

  Cade

  Cassidy Clayton is a walking wet dream. Perhaps not the most delicate analogy of a woman that my hyper-sexualized brain has come up with, but by far the most accurate. She’s beautiful and witty, and that accent of hers is enough to make me want to rip my beating heart out of my chest and hand it to her on a platter. I’ve done that before, to a girl from Tennessee
to be exact, and in no way am I willing to reenact that painful scenario. I push Sammy to the back of my mind. This is Cassidy. Beautiful, stunningly beautiful Cassidy. And she’s just presented an offer too damn tempting to ever pass up.

  “No,” I flatline before my dick starts in on negotiations. There’s a hard pinch in my boxers as my balls offer up a swift protest.

  “No?” She scoots back in her seat, incensed by my refusal—and she should be. There’s not a man alive who should ever say no to Cassidy.

  “That’s right, no.” I’m pretty sure I’ve met my quota on that word for the night—perhaps for the rest of my life where this girl is concerned. My gut wrenches as I take in her creamy blonde hair, that perfect pout on her lips that my own mouth begs to cover.

  “Why?” Her accent comes in so thick, I bask in its glory a moment. There’s not a thing I miss about my ex, but there’s something disarming about hearing every word come from Cassidy’s lips. “Say it to my face. I dare you.” There’s a fire in her eyes, a rage brewing that suggests she might break my glass and slit my throat with it.

  “Because you finished two drinks, and I don’t know if this is the liquor talking or you.” I’m not sure if that’s what she was expecting to hear, but I do know what she’s been struggling to hide from the moment I sat down. What she doesn’t realize is that I’ve seen it. Not tonight, a few weeks back. She was here at the Black Bear, and for a brief moment walked past me like a dream. I knew then I had to meet her. She turned back to retrieve her sweater off a chair, and that’s when I saw it, the matrix of a scar that’s left a permanent imprint on the landscape of her sweet, sweet face. I’ll admit, it made me pause. Usually, I would have pinned her down like a butterfly, plied her with drinks, and begged her to fuck me, but seeing that brutality woven into her flesh gutted me on a primal level. It made me see her as a person, not a plaything—made me curious, furious at what might have happened—and my imagination has run away with what might have happened. I’ve been stalking the bar ever since, hoping I’d see her again, and here she is, proposing the very thing I would have applauded her for just a few weeks back.

  “Well, aren’t you the gentleman?” Her eyes glow a strange shade of sapphire, and it takes a moment for me to put together the fact that glow is a direct effect from tears forming. “What are you? Some kind of superhero? Saving drunk vaginas on a desperate Friday night?” She tosses back her hair and laughs as if honing in on her resolve. “That’s okay, hon. I’ve never met a cock blocker I didn’t like.” She rises, and, for a second, I accept the fact she might land a drink in my face. I’ve been doused with a drink or two before, but never was it for turning down a proposal. Come to think of it, I’ve never turned down a proposal.

  Cassidy snatches up her purse and whisks by me in a blur.

  “Wait!” I follow her out the door and into the iced night where our breath leads the way with long, spastic plumes. The wind picks up as a boil of black clouds press over Hollow Brook. A storm is due this weekend, and it looks as if it’s coming early. “I like where you were headed back there.”

  “Home?” she scoffs, clearly annoyed. Her brows knot up for a moment as she stares me down, and it takes everything in me not to drift my gaze to her left cheek and inspect her injury up close the way I want to. “Because home is where I’m going.” She pulls her enormous black coat over her shoulders like a shield and strides forward.

  “Home sounds good,” I say, keeping up with her. “I’ll walk with you if you don’t mind.”

  “Maybe I do mind.” She tosses an annoyed look my way as we step off the curb and head across the street to Whitney Briggs. “Listen, hon”—she bats her lashes with the tears glistening like fallen stars, and my heart breaks that I might have sponsored them—“don’t for a minute think you need to hold my hand. I promise you, I’m fine. I don’t have a hurt feeling in my body. Now, feel free to head back to the bar and get that itch in your boxers scratched the right way.”

  “What?” My entire body racks with shame. There’s no way in hell I’m letting this sweet, beautiful girl think this is some easy, pathetic letdown. “My boxers and I are happy where we are. The only thing I wanted at that bar just walked out of it.”

  She pivots a moment, pausing with a laugh caught in that garnet smile. The light hits her just right, and Cassidy glows like an angel.

  The door to the Hallowed Grounds coffee shop opens and closes, wafting out its hypnotic roasted bean scent.

  “Listen—” she rakes her fingers through her thick blonde mane, tempting me to do the same. I’ve always been a sucker for a blonde, and Cassidy has out stunned them all by a mile. “I’m headed in to grab a cup a joe. If I’m going to be up all night with my new man”—she swings her purse between us—“I need to get my energy up. You’re welcome to join me if you’d like—for the coffee—what Battery Boy and I do in private is entirely our beeswax.” She turns a coy shoulder up at me before ditching inside. I follow her in and pay for our drinks before she can whip out her wallet.

  We take a seat in the back, and she positions herself in the dark corner, leaving her face lost in the shadows. Something tells me Cassidy knows all the tricks to hiding her anomaly as best she can. Back at the bar, she made it a point to keep her head turned just enough throughout our entire conversation. There’s something about her struggle to hide her beautiful face that I find tragically endearing. I’d tell her I don’t mind, but I don’t think we’re there yet. If I have anything to do about it, we’ll get there and then some.

  “So tell me about you, city boy.” She gives a playful wink while taking a careful sip of her latte. “What keeps you up at night, other than luring barflies to your bedroom?”

  “I am a city boy—New York City to be exact. And I prefer the barflies take me to their place.”

  “Why’s that?” She reaches over and thumps her hot pink candy-coated nails over the tabletop in a soothing rhythm, and my balls ache, just begging her to find a home for that hand somewhere on my body.

  “I can dictate when I leave.” A part of me hates that I delved right in with the confessional. I’ve never once wanted to stay the night, and now, I’ve put my secret out there, laid it bare for the universe to slice and dice and invite her evil twin karma to the party to serve me my balls on a skewer. Never lead with a horrible confession.

  “I get it.” She averts her eyes as if she’s been there. “I’m not really a morning person myself. Now, your sis—” Her eyes widen as she catches herself. “Your insistence to slow it down—what’s that about?”

  “I’m ready to find the ‘one.’” There, the second nugget of truth she’s managed to excavate from me. “All of my friends are in serious relationships. Heck, my baby sister has landed in one herself. I’m ready to hunt the world to find my own unicorn, much like yourself.” I offer a peaceable smile as I toss the mythological euphemism right back in her court.

  “But?” She bats her thick, dark lashes, and my dick whimpers for affection.

  “But, I don’t want to sleep with everything that moves. That wasn’t quite working for me as far as the unicorn discovery goes. In fact, it might be hampering it.”

  “I’m guessing it made the big three mighty happy, though.” She toasts me with her next sip.

  The big three. A dirty grin begs to bloom, but I resist the urge. “That it did.” I lean back and examine her like this—so young, sweet as candy, with the face of a supermodel even if she doesn’t believe it herself. Cassidy deserves so much better than some silicone prosthetic making her smile. She deserves a real person, a bona fide body warming her bed. “So, when do we begin?”

  Her brows peak with a mild interest. “Begin?”

  “Our unified search for that mythological beast, the unicorn. Now that we’ve found our respective bed warmers, we’re free to take our time shopping for soul mates.” My features harden as I gear up for a proposal of my own. “I’m all for warming your bed. And I’ve changed my mind. I’m ready to start tonight.�
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  Her eyes widen in response. Her bowtie mouth opens and closes as if those were the last words she expected to hear.

  “What happened to your genuine concern for my sobriety?”

  “I bought you coffee.” I lean in, my eyes never wavering from hers. “You’ve sobered up nicely.”

  She clears her throat, doing a quick visual sweep of the vicinity. “That’s all fine and dandy, but there’s no way in hell I’m taking you up to my dorm—not tonight, not ever, city boy. Let’s just say my roommate has a bit of a rotten temper.” The idea of a smile dances on her lips, and there’s not a whole lot holding me back from leaping at her from across the table. “I’m betting she wouldn’t care too much for finding you anywhere near my bed.” That sassy as hell grin of hers finally breaks loose, smooth and easy as if she’s holding back an inside joke I haven’t caught onto yet.

  “My place it is.”

  Her mouth falls open with a silent laugh. “You just said you don’t take girls home. Which is it, city slicker? Or did the big three manage to persuade you into breaking a rule or two for the night?”

  “For you?” I take up her hand and lead us back out into the frosty night air. “I’d break them all.”

  Something tells me that’s exactly what I’m about to do.

  “Buddy,” I call as we head inside. He’s pretty docile for a German Shepard but likes to size up new blood with a bark and an inappropriately placed sniff or two.

  Cassidy and I walked the three blocks over in mostly silence. But, if that grin her pearly whites have been biting down on signifies anything, tonight will be anything but silent.