Love You Now (Book Two: Love Hurts Duet)

by M. Robinson

  Before I could give it another thought, Shiloh snatched the note.

  “It’s your birthday! You’re not thinking about Jackson like you do every day.”

  “I don’t think about him every day.”

  She gave me a stern expression.

  “I mean not all day.”

  “Do you want me to be truthful or supportive?”

  “Hmm ... truthful.”

  “You asked for it.”

  “Wait, I take it back! Supportive!”

  “Too late.”

  “Shiloh—”

  “You and Jackson have always had this love hate dynamic. It’s been like this since we were babies, crawling around in diapers. Aunt Alex said it best, Jackson might truly be in love with you, but he has a shitty way of showing it.” She paused for effect. “He’s still messing around with Willow, and you know it. The whole school knows it. You try to pretend like it doesn’t bother you, but I can see it in your eyes, Harley. You’re my cousin, my family, my flesh and blood. I know you, and I know how much it hurts you to see them together.”

  I bit my lip, contemplatin’ what she was confirmin’.

  It did bother me to see them together.

  Why?

  “Do you love him?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “Do you love Trigger?”

  “Eww.”

  It was my turn to give her a stern expression. Trigger was more relentless than Jackson, if that were even possible. He’d been on her butt since middle school.

  “Harley, he doesn’t leave me alone. I have no choice but to pay attention to him.”

  “Ditto.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “Fine. I see your point.”

  “Trigger’s nice, Shiloh. Not to mention, he’s really cute.”

  “He wears the same cowboy boots to school every day. I’m almost certain he doesn’t own anything else in his wardrobe other than white shirts and the same Levi jeans. Oh, and the same button-down he wears to church every Sunday.”

  I smirked. “It’s his good shirt.”

  “If he’s not playing football, he’s looking to drink or fight. He’s a redneck through and through.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “It is to me. I’m going to be the number one lawyer in the world. I need someone who knows how to carry on an educated conversation. All he talks about is his stupid truck.”

  “It’s a badass truck.”

  “Harley! I wear a dress almost every day. It’s lifted so high off the ground, I wouldn’t even be able to step into it.”

  “He could always carry you. Maybe that’s what he’s hopin’ for.”

  “Ugh. Why are you always team Trigger?”

  “’Cuz I like him. He’s nice and funny, and really cute.”

  “He’s annoying and dumb, and a little cute.”

  “But you’re thinkin’ about his wardrobe. Are you also thinkin’ about what he looks like naked?”

  “Harley!”

  “You’re talkin’ to me, Shiloh. Do you want truthful or supportive?”

  “Neither. I don’t want to play this game.”

  “Tough. You like him, I know you do.”

  “I’m way out of his league. His vocabulary is worse than your Jameson bloodline.”

  I smiled.

  “I don’t like him. I can’t help that he’s like this lost puppy that won’t go away.”

  Right on cue, Arnold, one of the animal rescue officers, called my name from out back, “Harley! Come out here, girl! Got a surprise for you!”

  Bringin’ both our attention toward the direction of his voice, I snidely chuckled. “Maybe it’s Jackson, they finally found his real home at the animal shelter.”

  “Stop thinking about Jackson, Harley.”

  Crap.

  We both made our way outside to the van Arnold was standin’ by.

  “What’s up?” I replied, noddin’ to his back that was facin’ us.

  “Well, birthday girl. Look what I found.” He turned around, lookin’ at us, and I instantly fell head over heels in love.

  Gaspin’, “Oh. My. God!”

  There in his arms was a Wheaten Terrier puppy. Not a mutt like expected, a purebred. I could tell by the black fur around his nose and ears, mixed in with the light brown fur on his coat. He couldn’t have been more than a few months old.

  I didn’t have to reach for him, the puppy pretty much jumped into my arms. Whimperin’, layin’ kisses all over my face with his puppy breath.

  My heart melted right then and there.

  “Found him at the park down the road,” he declared. “Looks healthy as can be too. Not a flea on him.”

  “He must have just run away from home. He has to be chipped.”

  “He’s not. I checked.”

  “There’s no way he doesn’t have an owner. This dog costs over two grand.”

  He shrugged, scratchin’ behind the puppy’s ears. “You know the drill, if he has owners they got forty-eight hours to find or report him missing. If they don’t, he goes up for adoption.”

  “Someone’s gonna claim him. I mean, look at him.” I held him up. “He’s like a teddy bear.”

  He shrugged again. “Something tells me they won’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Been doing this a long time, Harley girl. Might as well start the adoption papers because that puppy’s yours.”

  As if agreein’ with him, the puppy barked, and I swear he nodded and winked at me.

  “You think?”

  “I know.”

  “Does that mean Teddy will finally make his new mom enjoy her birthday?” Shiloh questioned, and I ignored her while kissin’ all over my new best friend’s furry face.

  “What are you going to name him?” Arnold asked.

  I didn’t think twice about it, answerin’, “Teddy.”

  <>Jackson<>

  Then: Seventeen years old

  “Just listen to my baby purr,” Trigger muttered, caressing the hood of his diesel engine souped-up Ford F-250.

  His truck, also known as Delilah, was lifted up to the sky, sitting on bogger tires. Custom fender flares accentuated the light kit he had just installed for tonight. It illuminated the undercarriage, tires, and the ground surrounding us.

  The motherfucker was obsessed with his truck like the true redneck he was.

  He’d been talking about this night for months, wanting to show off his most prized possession at the street races. Where a bunch of school kids in the area got together to show off their rides. Some would even race for money.

  It took us over an hour to get here. Where we were literally in the middle of nowhere, the fuckin’ sticks. A huge ass empty parking lot that led out to a long road you could race down. Which was filled to the brim with cars, trucks, bikes, booze, and slutty chicks waiting for the next guy to rail them.

  This place was the talk of the town. Especially for good ol’ boys like Trigger, who had nothing better to do than prove how big his balls were by judging the size of his nuts dangling off the back of his hitch.

  And my boy’s nuts were made of fuckin’ steel.

  I shook my head, looking at the brass balls hanging there. “How are we best friends?”

  “’Cuz I’m the shit.”

  “You’re something alright.”

  “You’re gonna be beggin’ to suck my dick like that bitch over there, when you realize how much pussy we score tonight ’cuz of my girl.”

  “Trigger, I don’t need your truck to score anything. Especially pussy.”

  He held his hands out in front of him. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot, you’re Jackson fuckin’ Pierce. Star quarterback. Recruiters been kissin’ your ass since grade school, right? Well guess what, motherfucker, I’m Trigger Reed. Star defensive end, and together we’re a dynamic duo, so don’t you ever forget that.”

  “Like you would ever let me.”

  He laughed, handing me a beer. �
��I don’t see your birthday girl or my Shy. You think they’re comin’?”

  “This ain’t their scene.”

  “You sure ‘bout that? Harley’s a Jameson. They probably started this shit.”

  “They ride motorcycles, not crotch rockets.”

  I was about to take a swig from my beer, but the deafening sound of two street bikes came to life down the road. Heightening everyone’s eyes toward the street.

  Including, mine.

  The chills down my spine should’ve been a sign, a warning, a goddamn fuckin’ beacon. However, I was too busy, too consumed, too hypnotized by the vision in front of me.

  No one had ever caught my cock’s attention like this.

  This girl, watching her, was wrecking...

  My self-control.

  Chapter 8

  <>Jackson<>

  Two goddesses with chromed out helmets, wearing tiny school girl outfits that showed more skin than the flimsy fabric covered, tore through the crowd on black stunt street bikes. Popping wheelies.

  Not just any wheelies, though. They were standing with one foot on the back of the jump seat handle, while their other foot slightly touched the ground beneath them. Dragging their black combat boots as they held the bikes perfectly upright in two sharp, straight lines.

  The beat of the song “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails came on, blaring off the stereo system of the car following close behind them. The girl I couldn’t take my eyes off of, slammed on the brakes, launching her petite frame to the front of her bike.

  Where she proceeded to pop another wheelie with her legs now resting out over the front wheel, sitting on the center of the handlebars. She floored it before dropping the front wheel back down on the concrete. Only to slam on the brakes again, making her back tire abruptly lift off the street, into a seamless front wheelie.

  She didn’t stop there. She flawlessly released the brake, and the back tire slammed to the ground as she jumped back onto the seat.

  The wind blew her mini skirt up to her waist, swaying her ass in the air as she leaned forward toward the gas tank. Showing everyone her ass cheeks that were peeking through her bright pink panties. Seductively moving her hips to the tune of the music the entire time.

  When the lyrics started, she confidently placed her knees on the seat of the bike to shift her body into a doggie style position. Never once losing control of the bike she was still driving like the fuckin’ pro she obviously was. She was in perfect sync with the music playing as her ass continued to shake in the breeze for everyone to see.

  My hands fisted at my sides, simultaneously with one of hers that rose up from the handlebar to the side of her tit. In one gradual, steady movement, her fingers went from her chest, to her waist, to her luscious ass. Giving it a little spank before sitting back down on the seat. Quickly signaling at her friend to take over.

  She did.

  Repeating a similar performance.

  “Holy fuck, man. I think I’m in love,” Trigger stated, glaring only at the girl’s friend.

  Trent Reznor sang the chorus of his song and the crowd went wild.

  Hootin’.

  Hollerin’.

  Whistlin’.

  Losing their minds for the girls who suddenly captured everyone’s hard dicks.

  My eyes widened, seeing my dream girl lay her chest down on the tank and begin to swerve her bike left and right, so low to the ground her knees almost touched the concrete.

  She knew no fear.

  Making my cock twitch and my balls ache.

  She was sexy as fuck, but reckless as shit with the tricks she was turning.

  “Baby, you can ride me like that any time you want!” someone shouted.

  “No, me first!” another followed.

  It went on and on.

  Both Trigger and I were blown away, and I couldn’t help but get hard as fuck by the girl who was acting out the most.

  She knew what she was doing, having every guy eating out of the palm of her hand.

  The song was coming to an end, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed her ass and tits would stop bouncing as well.

  “You think it would be too sudden if I asked her to marry me?” Trigger joked.

  At least, I thought he was.

  For her closing stunt, she hit the gas and hopped onto the seat. Crouched down on her feet, causing my heart to beat out of my chest.

  She wouldn’t.

  She did.

  Slowly, she let go of handlebars and balanced her hands out to her sides until she was fully standing in the sign of a cross. The bike still hauling ass beneath her.

  Holy shit.

  It was only then...

  That I knew.

  I lost count of how many times I saw her trying to perfect this very stunt on a dirt bike over the strand of a few summers.

  Out of nowhere, my heated blood was suddenly searing.

  Throbbing.

  Coursing.

  Seeing nothing but fuckin’ red.

  The mass of people booed as soon as the engines of their bikes cut off, not wanting the girls’ performance to be over.

  We stood back and watched as they took off their helmets, shaking out their long, flowy dark hair. My eyes staying glued to the girl I’d never be able to forget.

  ’Cuz this baby girl...

  Was mine.

  <>Harley<>

  When Shiloh said she had a huge surprise for my birthday, I never in a million years imagined it would be somethin’ like this. Which was the thing nobody knew about my cousin. She was a good girl at heart with a bad girl side trying to break free. I saw glimpses of the devil on her shoulder sometimes. Case and point.

  Today.

  Right now.

  This was her idea, includin’ the outfits.

  My adrenaline was through the roof, soarin’, achin’, carvin’ deep into my bones. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this high on life. Baskin’ in the thrill and attention of the hundreds of people surroundin’ us. Wantin’ a little taste of what we had to offer.

  I smiled, squealin’ like a school girl just as a pair of strong arms wrapped around my waist. Pullin’ me out of the moment.

  One of the guys who let us borrow their bikes spun me around in a circle, yellin’, “Goddamn, baby! Where did you learn to ride like that?”

  I giggled as he continued to spin me, feedin’ off everyone’s energy we purposely evoked in their bloodstream.

  I ate it all up, feelin’ fuckin’ proud of myself. I’d spent countless summers tryin’ to nail that cross stunt, and I had the endless scars on my body to prove it.

  “You’re a goddamn muse, you know that?”

  I beamed, holdin’ onto him tighter.

  “A motherfucking badass!”

  No shit, I’m a Jameson.

  “I have never seen a girl pull off stunts like that! You know no fear, do you? Baby, my bike is going to be a shrine now after that mind-blowing performance!”

  I opened my mouth to reply, but I was rudely interrupted, “So you’re the asshole who let her ride your bike?”

  Instantly, I stopped smilin’. Tensin’ as rigid as could be in the stranger’s arms.

  “Who the fuck are you?” the guy who was still holdin’ me bit back, sharply haltin’ his movements with my back facin’ the boy I hated the most.

  “I’m none of your fuckin’ business, that’s who.”

  I snapped around, glarin’ at him. “Jackson! What the hell? Back off!”

  “You know each other?”

  “No—”

  “That’s my girl.” He nodded to me. “She’s mine.”

  I swear my jaw fell to the floor. “He’s lyin’! You don’t own me!”

  “Oh, I’m the liar?”

  “Rudolph...” I clenched out.

  He cunningly grinned, cockin’ an eyebrow. Eyein’ solely the guy. “You know she’s only sixteen right?”

  My heart dropped as did the guy whom I lied to because he urgently pu
t me down, takin’ a step back.

  Jackson didn’t waver, addin’, “Sixteen today, actually.”

  “She told me she was eighteen today. It’s why we let her and her cousin borrow our stunt bikes.”

  “She’s lying. If you had stopped staring at her tits for a second, maybe you would have noticed it.” Jackson’s slicin’ stare shifted over to me. “But you are dressed like a slut, so I can see why he wouldn’t respect you.”

  “’Cuz you would know a damn thing about respect! Go fuck your whore, Willow!”

  “Already did.”

  My eyes shot open, and Shiloh grabbed my arm.

  “Jackson! You’re the last person who should be talking about respect, you dick!”

  “Shiloh!” Trigger intervened, gettin’ in her face. “Let the man handle his own business and stay outta it.”

  “Stay out of it? Who the hell do you think you are? She’s my family. You’re nothing!”

  Before they continued on, I stepped back. Noddin’ to the guy with my hand out in front of me for him to take. “You wanna go for a ride? Now or never. Your call, Romeo, ’cuz as you just saw ... I’m damn good at ridin’. Anythin’.

  He reached for my hand, and Jackson released a growl from deep within his chest. Never did I expect the son of a bitch to spew,

  “Ever heard of The Devil’s Rejects?”

  Chapter 9

  <>Harley<>

  All the blood drained from the guy’s face, exactly how it did anytime someone heard those three words.

  Fuckin’ Jackson.

  “Creed Jameson—”

  “Jackson, don’t you dar—”

  “That’s her daddy.”

  “You fuckin’ asshole!”

  “That’s not being an asshole, Gremlin. Now this is being a fuckin’ asshole.”

  In two seconds flat, he was pickin’ me up by my waist and throwin’ me over his shoulder as if I weighed nothin’.

  “I didn’t touch her!” the guy shouted behind us.

  “I know who Creed Jameson is too, and you don't see me standing there with my dick tucked in between my legs, do you? You fuckin’ pussy!”

  “Jackson!” I kicked my legs and flailed my body around. “Put me down!”