Tequila & Tailgates (A Country Road Novel - Book 2)

by Andrea Johnston

  The big guy behind the bar was slightly intimidating and was giving me some really bad vibes. He seemed a little hesitant to tell me he knew Ashton, but when I told him that I was her roommate and hadn’t been able to get ahold of her I think he felt bad. He only confirmed that she was there but wouldn’t give anything else up.

  Looking across the cab of my truck, I feel like a complete asshole. I invaded her privacy and that wasn’t fair. I just couldn’t stand it anymore. Going from laughing, hanging out and watching movies, and sleeping in the same bed to not speaking has thrown me for a loop. I need a conversation and some damn answers.

  I wish I could rewind this night by a few hours. I would’ve stayed home. I would have waited until tomorrow and approached the subject with a clearer head. A less intense confrontation. A more mature conversation.

  I should rewind a few weeks to the first time I followed her. Fuck me, I sound like the biggest stalker ever. Curiosity killed the cat and all that. I just couldn’t stand not knowing where she was going. Why she is always so happy to be leaving, always looking casual and relaxed but beautiful. Who or what keeps her smiling when she comes home. I say always but it’s been only a few times. A few too many in my opinion.

  “Ash, I’m sorry.”

  Silence.

  “Look, I didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t think … well, I didn’t think.”

  “You know what, Jameson? I don’t care. Just drive and leave me alone.”

  “No, I want to explain. Or at least try.”

  Groaning in frustration, Ashton flips in her seat so that she’s facing me. The fire in her eyes is a little frightening. In a moment of instinct, I pull off to the side of the road, throwing the truck into park and turning off the ignition. Expecting her to unleash a wrath of epic proportions, Ashton surprises me. Instead of the wrath, she flings open the door and hops down from the truck.

  What the hell?

  Stomping away, I repeat her lead and am behind her in an instant. Not allowing me an opportunity to speak, she flies around so that she’s facing me. Lit only by my headlights, she is breathtaking.

  “Look, pal,” she says, pointing her finger at me, rage building with each word she spits. “I’ve told you this over and over. I do not need protection. Stop putting your nose in my business. My life is none of your concern!”

  “Yes, it is!” I match her shouting and take a step toward her. She doesn’t move.

  “No, it’s not. You don’t get to have a say in anything I do. You are my brother’s friend and letting me stay at your house instead of me living on the streets. That does not give you permission to treat me like a child!”

  “Is that what you think I’m doing? I’m fucking worried about you, dammit! I don’t know where you are! I don’t know who you’re with! It’s killing me and I don’t fucking know why!”

  “Yeah well, what does it matter? We are barely friends, Jameson. None of this makes any sense.”

  The last part of her statement is a whisper. It breaks me a little.

  “Really? You don’t think we’re friends? We’ve known each other most of our lives and you’re living in my fucking house, Ashton. Not to mention we’ve been fucking for weeks! Weeks!” My anger is close to the surface. Running my hands through my hair, I throw my head back and count to ten. And then twenty because ten isn’t enough to calm me. Slightly calmer, I return my gaze to hers. The fire is still brewing in her eyes.

  “Yeah, you’re right, we’re not friends! Since we aren’t friends, you won’t mind telling me why you go to a bar an hour away from home, alone. You won’t mind telling me why you have a life none of us know about. Tell me!”

  There is no doubt I sound like a complete asshole. I feel like one too. I can’t explain this level of frustration and anger I feel at this moment. Each muscle in my body, from my neck to my toes, is tense. My hands are flexing like I can’t get circulation to my fingers. The worst part is that the feelings aren’t directed toward Ashton, they’re to myself. I’m angry with myself for allowing something so ridiculous to rile me up to the point that I am making someone else cry. Making someone else hurt.

  “I’m sorry, don’t cry,” I say, stepping toward her. The moment she cringes from my touch breaks me a little. “Ash…”

  “Don’t. You have no rights to why I do anything, Jameson. You just don’t. Maybe there was a time you could have, but that time has passed. You, you … never mind. Please just take me home.”

  With that final word, she begins to step around me, but I reach out for her instead.

  “What do you mean? That time has passed?”

  Her eyes meet mine and no words are spoken, but so much is said.

  “You left.”

  Stunned by her words, I let her go and watch her walk away. I left. I have no idea what she’s talking about. Watching as she pulls herself into the cab of my truck, I don’t attempt to help her this time. Instead I walk around and climb in myself.

  Before turning on the ignition, I pause and contemplate whether or not I should say anything. Eventually I turn the ignition and reach for the gearshift, but before putting the truck into drive, I look at Ashton. She’s curled up with her body facing the direction we were just standing, her head leaning on the window, and her arms curled around herself in a hug.

  “Ashton,” I begin, but she begins to speak at the same time.

  “I think it would be best if I move out.”

  “What? No.”

  Her lack of response speaks volumes.

  “What did you mean?” I ask.

  Turning her head so she’s looking my direction, but not at me, she pauses before responding, “Let’s not do this.”

  “No, you can’t say I left without an explanation. Left where?”

  “Fine, you want to do this?” I nod. “That morning. You were gone when I woke up. I get it, you regretted what happened. Fine. But leaving like that? You made me feel cheap and disposable. I wasn’t expecting forever, but I thought you’d at least respect me, our history, enough to give me a ride home.”

  That morning. Four years ago, shit. “I didn’t leave.”

  “I was there, Jameson. I’m pretty sure you weren’t. No you, no note, no ride home.”

  “I came back and you were gone. You left.”

  “Of course I left. You were gone. I understand how things work, Jameson. I’m not an idiot. Look, that was a long time ago. I thought I was over it. I thought I could handle these last few weeks.” A small hiccup at an attempt to cover her tears rips me in two.

  “Let’s just agree that this was all a mistake and move forward, okay? We are in each other’s lives whether we like it or not, but we don’t have to pretend to be more than we are. Now, please let’s go home.”

  “No, it’s not okay. I didn’t leave like you’re saying. I left to get us breakfast. I knew you’d be hungover so I went for coffees and breakfast burritos. I was gone twenty minutes and when I came home you were gone. You left without leaving a note. Then when I called later that day you never answered. I texted and you didn’t respond. You, Ashton. Sure, it was unplanned and unexpected, but I wouldn’t call it a mistake. Is that what your problem has been for four years?”

  “Burritos? From Rosa’s?”

  I laugh because out of everything I just said, she’s focused on the food. Of course, she is.

  “Don’t laugh at me. Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  Ashton grumbles at me, but I won’t let her deter me from what I must say.

  “We’ve been friends for a long time, Ash. These last few months living together have been fun. Not just the fun we’ve been having either. Which, by the way, has also not been a mistake.” A small smile appears, giving me a little hope. “Can we just start over? Obviously we have some communication issues and I’m willing to work through them. We’ll just go back to normal friends. You don’t have to move out and I’ll respect your privacy. I really am sorry.”

 
Holding each other’s stare, I’m reminded of the girl Ashton was and the woman she’s become. I was sincere when I said I don’t consider our time together a mistake. There is no possible way I could. That night, well morning really, haunts me. It’s what I’ve been searching for ever since; the connection, the passion, the trust. Searching and never finding. Until recently.

  “Let’s not make promises we can’t keep. I’m really tired and it’s been a shitty night. Can you just take me home now?”

  Pulling the gearshift into drive, I slowly veer onto the highway and head for home.

  I’ve been laying on my side, back to her as she sleeps. I’d like to believe I’m facing the wall and not her because I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. I don’t want to breathe on her face. Truthfully, I don’t want to look at her sleep. Knowing she’s this close and there’s nothing I can do is eating me up.

  Tonight, when I saw how sad she was, I wanted nothing more than to pull her into my arms and comfort her. I wanted to tell her that she is important, that people love her, and that my best friend is a crap older brother. I didn’t. Instead, I teased her and acted like a pseudo big brother in Ben’s place.

  A few shots and a bummed-out Ashton had my inhibitions down for a quick minute. A minute long enough to agree to her sleeping over. The problem is, I didn’t consider the sleeping arrangements. I’ve only owned my house for a few months and just started the demo for renovations. My oversized bed is crammed into the tiny guest room with no other furniture than a nightstand with a lamp and my docking station.

  Slowly rolling over so that I’m now facing Ashton, I note the way the moonlight casts a simple light on her face. Gone from Ashton’s face is the hurt expression from earlier and now she looks peaceful. Of course, the little snores coming from her are endearing. It tells me that she’s comfortable. That being here, in my bed, isn’t awkward. For her. For me, it’s pure torture.

  Ashton sighs and rolls to her back. As she does the sheet shifts so that it’s low on her waist. Thankfully, the T-shirt I gave her is too long so I don’t see anything I shouldn’t. Frustrated and rising slightly on an elbow, I punch my pillow a few times before laying back down. My position mimics hers as I will my mind to settle and fall asleep.

  The feeling of someone watching me startles me awake. I quickly turn my head to the side and am greeted by a set of eyes that capture my attention. Feeling feather-light touches on my stomach, I note that Ashton is closer to me now than she was when I was awake. I don’t stop her slow movements. I savor them. I let this moment happen; it’s one I’ve dreamt about for a year.

  Turning slightly so that I’m now facing her, neither of us says anything. Staring at Ashton, I search her eyes for an explanation, an understanding, of what is happening. I see nothing but curiosity and perhaps a little apprehension. I have a choice – stop this now or go with it. Part of me knows this is a mistake. This is an action that can’t be undone. The other part of me doesn’t care. We’re two consenting adults. We’re attracted to each other. We don’t need to think of anything but this moment. One night together doesn’t mean commitment. It doesn’t have to mean anything.

  Except I know it does. And I don’t care.

  Raising my hand from where it’s resting on the bed, I place it to Ashton’s hip. Her breathing increases slightly. I’m sure if I placed my hand on her pulse it would be racing. Her eyes widen when I add a little pressure to where my hand rests and I smirk. Her eyes drift to my lips and my smirk fades as I note her tongue peeking out from her lips.

  Fuck, those lips. I’ve had them once and never forgotten their taste, their plumpness, or their perfection.

  Running my hand up her body, taking the hem of the shirt with me, I see a glimpse of her panties and now it’s my pulse that kicks it up a notch. Resting my hand on her lower back, I nudge her forward a little. Our bodies are closer; I can feel her breath on my face. Her hand on my skin feels like hot steel branding me with her mark. The thought of her branding me turns me on more than it should.

  My hand continues its path to Ashton’s shoulder. With feather-like touches, I watch as she visibly shudders. Wishing the moon was capable of casting a brighter light, chills run down my back as I imagine the goosebumps appearing on her skin. This is the point of no return with Ashton. The moment I change everything.

  “No regrets” is the last thing I say to myself before I shift my hand to the back of her neck and lean in to capture her lips with mine. Her hand on my hip grips with a power I didn’t know she was capable of. Tentative kisses quickly intensify to more. I gently tug on Ashton’s hair and her gasp is the opportunity I need; my tongue slips in her mouth and finds hers. Tangled and lustful, the kiss takes on a life of its own. I grab her with both hands until she’s on top of me. Her hands find their way to my hair, a simple tug as payback. I smile as I continue our kiss.

  My hands begin to take on a life of their own, kneading her ass as she rests her legs on either side of me. Her body is half straddling me and half laying. Our hearts match in tempo and, with a slight pull of her hips, Ashton shifts slightly so that there is no question how turned on I am. A slight moan escapes her throat and I know I’ve hit a spot on her that has her as turned on as I am.

  Ashton begins to move her hips and the friction speeds up her breaths. Tugging at the hem of her shirt, I pull it off in one motion. Her eyes go big as our kiss breaks. The slightest pause is her out. She can stop this. Instead of stopping, she kisses me. She makes the choice for both of us.

  Flipping her over so that she slightly bounces, Ashton lets out a squeal and the brightest smile takes over her face.

  “God, you’re beautiful.”

  “Make love to me, Jameson.”

  I don’t have to be asked twice. This time when I kiss her, I savor. I linger. Her feet are shifting on my pants. I understand the gesture and lift my hips so that her hands can tug the waistband down. Eventually my pants and boxers make their way off my body. Nothing separates us but her panties. A thin piece of fabric that is nothing more than a reminder that I need a condom.

  Reaching in my night stand, I pull out a foil packet and lay it on the bed next to us. Ashton reaches for it and I put my hand to hers.

  “Not yet, baby.”

  I can just make out the pouty lip she gives me in response. Kissing away the pout, my lips start a path from her neck, to her chest, to her nipple. Swirling around her nipple with my tongue, I absorb every moan, every sigh Ashton gives in response. Her hands in my hair keep me in place, allowing me to treat both of her nipples with the same attention. Tugs, little bites, licks, and sucks. Alternating between both as I rotate my hips, hitting her where I know she needs relief. Her breaths are more labored as I slip my hand between us, rubbing the fabric barrier that keeps us apart.

  The moment my fingers find their way beneath the fabric, her eyes fly open and close quickly, a smile taking over her face as one finger slips inside of her.

  “Oh, God, Jameson.”

  I peer through my lashes to see Ashton’s eyes closed, her head thrown back, and her arms gripping the headboard. Nothing has been more perfect than this moment, this woman, this night.

  “I’m, I’m…”

  Close. She’s so close. I can feel it as my second finger joins the first. The moment she finds her release is perfection. Ashton is so free, so uninhibited, and, for now, mine. I reach for the condom wrapper and rip it open as Ashton adjusts her body and her hands leave the headboard. Lining up to her, I pause slightly. Our eyes connect and a hiccup of a moment passes between us before she grabs my face with both hands and pulls my mouth to hers. As she does, I thrust inside of her.

  Meeting me thrust for thrust, Ashton wraps her legs around my waist. I need more. I need to be deeper. I have this barbaric need to mark her in some way. To feel like no man will ever be where I am. Flipping over so that she’s on top of me, I note a smile take over her face as she braces her hands on my chest and adjusts to the new position. Ashton says nothing as
she begins to ride me. I let her set the tempo as she throws her head back. My hands stay on her hips, letting her control the situation.

  “Oh, God, I’m going to come again. Ohhhh…”

  Gripping her hips, I thrust and lift my own hips as I reach my own climax. Still moving, Ashton slows our movements and leans down to kiss me before resting her head on my chest. Neither of us moving, we stay like this. Connected. Only, instead of simply a physical connection, it’s more. Something has shifted.

  After a few short minutes, Ashton rolls off me and I kiss her on the top of her head. Standing to dispose of the condom, I grab the towel hanging on my door. First, I tend to Ashton, then myself, tossing the towel aside when I’m done.

  With her eyes closed and her breathing slow and calm, Ashton turns her body so her back is to me. Molding my body to hers, I wrap her in my arms. This was not a hook-up, this was not simple fucking. I just made love and nothing will ever be the same.

  Kissing the top of her shoulder, I whisper in her ear, “Goodnight, Sunshine.”

  A week. A week of Ashton ignoring me, slamming doors, stomping around the house, and mumbling under her breath. I’ve been at a loss; I don’t know how to fix this. I also don’t know who to talk to about this mess. I broached the subject with Julia the other night. She told me she didn’t have time for my problems that weren’t “actually problems because there’s a human punching my organs on a regular basis.”

  Point taken.

  Julia did take the time to point out two things. The first being that I was an overbearing asshole and had no right to follow Ashton nor did I have a right to go inside that bar. The second point was that the only way I could justify even a little bit of what I did would be if I had feelings for Ashton outside of friends with benefits.

  So here I sit, at my lake property, waiting for a fish to bite and wondering why my sister must point out the obvious. Of course I care about Ashton as more than friends with benefits. It’s no different than what I told her before. We’re family. We’ve known each other our entire lives and that isn’t a history you just give up on. Sure, we had a few years of less-than-stellar friendship, but shit happens and you move through it. And, yeah, I liked the last few weeks of her in my bed. In my arms. Me inside of her. I like walking in the door and having to kick her discarded shoes to the side. I like having a meal with someone, having someone to talk to at the end of the day, and someone to hang out and watch movies with. We’re friends and roommates. I guess I didn’t realize how lonely living alone was until I wasn’t alone anymore.