Live For You (Boys of the South ~ Book 1)

by Marquita Valentine

I snap my jaw shut.

  Dear God, I need to sit down. Maybe in the freezer, with a bucket of ice. Instead I plop the cake carrier on the middle of the table, then start searching through his cabinets to find a plate or something to transfer it to. The faster I can get this done, the faster I’m out of here.

  Then I can think about his fine butt on my walk back or the way he calls me darlin’. In private. Like a normal person would.

  A little noise bubbles up in my throat. As if this day has been normal. As if my entire life, since the age of thirteen, has been normal.

  “Plates are in the cabinet to the left of the sink,” Cole says from behind, and I jump. “Let me.” A bare arm reaches past me, opening that very cabinet and pulling out a plate. “Don’t think you can reach that high without a step-stool.”

  I close my eyes, trying in vain not to notice the heat of his body or the mouth-watering scent of him. His arm brushes my breast and my nipples tighten. Eyes opening, I spin around and find a wall of muscle. There’s so much of him, all tall and lean.

  Curling my fingers into my palms so I don’t give into the dangerous urge to touch him or worse…lick him, I say, “Are you allergic to clothes?”

  He steps to the side, holding the plate in front of him. A lazy smile graces his lips before he laughs. “I have on jeans, Rae.” The way he says my name makes me shiver. His head dips, those perfect lips of his almost close enough to taste. “That okay with you, darlin’?”

  I won’t be intimidated by him. Although, I don’t get the feeling that intimidation is his goal. “It’s your house, Cole. Walk around buck naked for all I care.” Tossing my hair right now would be the ultimate Violet Lynn move, but she’s gone. So I do what I think Violet Rae with the pixie hair cut would do and take bold step forward.

  *** *** ***

  Cole

  Confession number one: I didn’t mean to drop trou and go all full monty. Sure, I let the towel dip a little, just to tease her, but the damn thing slipped out of my hand. So extra swagger— while exiting and re-entering—was required.

  Confession number two: I want to kiss this girl. Correction, I have to kiss this girl. Need builds up inside of me like a soda filled with Mentos, she’s the agitator and I’m ready to pop.

  When Rae showed up here, wearing tiny little white shorts and a yellow tank top that her Nana should’ve never let her out of the house in, I had been aroused as hell, not to mentioned shocked. I hadn’t expected to see her for a while, and truth be told, at the time, I wouldn’t have cared if she’d dropped off the face of the planet.

  But a man can’t resist cake, especially an apology cake. And he sure as shit can’t resist five foot nothing of curves and shapely legs standing on his doorstep holding said cake either.

  Plus, her response to my accidental strip show…I wanted to sweep her up in my arms and carry her to my bedroom. Spend some time getting Rae used to every part of me.

  Ha. Doesn’t care, my ass. This girl cares all right. She cares a lot.

  She steps closer, those plump lips of hers parting. Damn, I want to taste her there. I want to know if she uses strawberry or cherry lip gloss. If she likes slow and easy glides of tongue, or something a little harder and involving my teeth.

  The pulse at the base of her throat flutters wildly, like she knows what I’m thinking. Black lashes slowly fall to her cheeks, cheeks that are flushed pink because of me, because of my body. I’m ninety-nine percent sure she wants me to kiss her, but that one percent of doubt has me second guessing everything.

  Maybe she kisses everyone in apology, too. Maybe she’s bored. Maybe I shouldn’t fucking analyze her motives and just kiss the damn girl.

  A crash breaks the spell and we both jerk back.

  “What the—” Plates litter the floor, broken pieces everywhere. “Dammit, I meant to fix the shelf earlier today, but—” I groan and scrub a hand over my face. Between work and school and taking care of Kelly, I barely have time to breathe. And I can’t complain about Parker, he’s cut back on his semester hours to have more time to be a bouncer while working at the same time helping me out at The Double Deuce.

  “Don’t move. Your feet are bare,” Rae orders, stepping out the way. She has on purple sneakers that match the tips of her hair. “Where’s your vacuum and trashcan?”

  “Bossy little thing, aren’t you?” I nod at the closet in the hallway, and lean over to the open the cabinet under the sink, pulling out the trashcan. While she hauls the vacuum over, I pick up as many large pieces as I can, mentally going over my monthly budget.

  We don’t have the extra money, not since I hired two employees last week, and what I had in savings had to go to bailing my ass out of jail. Again. Plus I’d promised Kelly that she could take dance this year, which meant special shoes, recitals and tutus…and my head falls back. “Fuck.”

  “Um, Cole?”

  “What?” I snap, then immediately apologize, while gently slinging plates on the counter.

  “Is there a special trick to getting this to work?” She presses the button that should have made it roar to life, but nothing happens. I even check to make sure she’s plugged it in, not because I think she’s incompetent, but—shit—can I get a break for once?

  “No.” I throw the couple of dishes that aren’t broken into the sink, harder than necessary. They crack in several places on impact. I can feel the weight of Rae’s gaze on me. “You need to go home and—”

  “Give me ten minutes, more like five if I run, and I can be back here with a vacuum and probably some paper plates,” she says in one big rush. “We’ll get this all cleaned up before Kelly and your brother come home.”

  Fixing my eyes on Rae, I study her. She seems sincere, and for the most part, not afraid of the Hulk Smash move I’d just made. Asshole move, I silently correct myself. Carefully making my way across the room, I find a pair of Parker’s flip-flops and put them on.

  “Sorry about that. I just…lately, everything that can go wrong has.” Until you, I want to add, but don’t. Because how insane am I for thinking this about a girl I met only this morning at the Piggy Wiggly of all places?

  “No biggie.” She shrugs, sending her tank top higher on one side and exposing the smooth skin of her stomach. “Besides, sometimes we need to break things before things break us.”

  Chapter Five

  Violet

  By the time I get to my Nana’s house, there’s a stitch in my side and I’m out of breath.

  Gasping, I grasp the wood frame of the back door for a moment and stare through the screen. My grandmother’s flowered apron is around her waist and she’s already started supper. Field peas, homemade macaroni and cheese and chicken fried steak are on the menu. My personal trainer, Nina, would kill me if she knew what I had been eating the past thirty days. But I’ve just ran almost two miles in like nine minutes. That should count for something.

  “Landsake’s child! What has gotten you so worked up?” Nana asks when she spots me.

  I fight the urge to tell her it’s a who and not a what that has me all worked up. Has me remembering that I haven’t been touched like that in a really, really long time. “Accident at the Morgans. Nothing serious. I need some paper plates and to borrow your vacuum.” Opening the door, I walk into the kitchen and begin rummaging through the pantry.

  “You plan on hauling all that back on foot?” I hear the wheels of the vacuum scrape the linoleum floor as she brings it in from the closet in the hallway.

  I pause, stack of plates in my hand. The vacuum does weigh about a thousand pounds. And now that I’m away from Cole, I can actually think more clearly. There’s no need to take all this to him. He never actually said he wanted my help. In fact all I’d done after trying to make him feel better, was run out of there, with a promise to be right back.

  “No,” I groan, realizing what a fool I’d made of myself in front of Cole. Making a promise that I didn’t keep was sure to keep him away. For good. And that’s how I wanted it to be. I didn’t
need the complication of him and how he made me feel.

  Turning away from the pantry, I move to the kitchen counter and place the plates on top, then give Nana a pleading look. “Could you do it? I…uh, have a cramp in my leg from running,” I improvise. No, not improvising. I’m lying, once again, to cover up a secret. Though this secret wouldn’t turn the Country Music Industry on its head. Again.

  Her gaze skitters over me and I belatedly remember to wince. Her mouth flattens like she knows I’m lying. “Of course,” she says, turning the burners off on the stove. “Give me a minute to pack up some things I’ve been meaning to bring to them.” She walks out of the room again, leaving me alone.

  I sigh, sagging against the kitchen cabinets, my heart still pounding hard in my chest. No more seeing Cole Morgan, not after this last visit. Disappointment threads through the giddiness I’d felt, tightening around it until nothing’s left.

  At least this way, I’d be able to keep my promise to him and not seem like a total bitch.

  *** *** ***

  Cole

  I blink at the sight of Miss Violet standing on my front porch, holding a large bag in one hand and a vacuum parked beside her. Good thing I put on a shirt. “Where’s—”

  Mrs. Givens frowns a little, then nods back at her truck. “She has a cramp in her leg from running.”

  Squinting in the semi-darkness, I just can make out Rae’s profile. She won’t look this way. Hell, the window isn’t even down. Disappointment coats my insides like lead, heavy and oppressing. I shouldn’t care, but I do. Guess my amazing display of temper scared her more than she’d let on.

  A throat clears and I shift my attention to Miss Violet. “Let me take your bag.” She smiles and hands it over.

  “Lots of goodies in there for y’all. Keep the vacuum as long as you like. It’s my spare one.” Another kind smile and she says, “Tell your mother I said hello.”

  Disappointment gives way to embarrassment. Heat creeps up my neck and burns my ears. I’m thankful for the shadows on the front porch that hide me. “I’ll tell her. She’s visiting her…sister out in—” My mind blanks. Jesus Christ. It’s bad enough people in this town know about my mother’s habits, but it’s a whole other thing to actually admit it.

  “South Carolina,” she supplies. “Florence is such a lovely town this time of year.”

  Instead of making me feel better, my embarrassment spreads, burning a hole in my chest. I know tonight’s going to end with my fist in some random dude’s face. But I need it. It’s the only way I can purge this fucking guilt and loathing that tries to strangle me at every opportunity.

  “Have a good night, Cole.” Miss Violet walks down the stairs.

  Nodding, I glance at the truck one more time. “You, too.” Rae jerks her head back, like I caught her staring at me. Want courses through me, turning dark with what already lives inside. My phone vibrates and I snag my it from my pocket.

  Madison: I’m lonely. U?

  Isn’t this perfect timing? A smirk kicks up the corners of my mouth. Fighting isn’t the only way I can forget. And since Parker’s agreed to wait for the babysitter, I have time to kill.

  Me: Be there in ten.

  I barely hear the crunch of the truck tires as they roll over gravel and grass. Stuffing everything in the hallway, I throw on a coat and trade the flip-flops for some socks and a pair of boots, then head to Madison’s apartment.

  ***

  Tonight the bar is alive while I feel deader than ever.

  Back in the day, The Double Deuce was the place for up and coming country music acts. When my Uncle Max ran it, he had to turn acts away because so many were clamoring to get booked. Photographs lined the wall, with him, my mom and musicians that go by one name only now. One of those even has my sperm donor in it.

  Or at least that’s what my mom claims. She claims that Parker is his, too, but my brother is bi-racial and I’m pretty sure that my sperm donor is the whitest dude on the planet. So…None of us have any idea who Kelly’s is, including my mom. Too bad The Jerry Springer Show is nothing but re-runs now days.

  Since my sperm donor doesn’t have shit to do with us, because he has a real family, complete with a son that’s followed in his footsteps, those photographs were the first to go. The rest Parker moved and I’m fine with it. Nashville has forgotten about us, just like dear old dad.

  So, we make up for the lack of bands by hosting Ladies’ Night and Karaoke Contests. Barely.

  Madison blows me a kiss from the end of the bar and I tick up my chin before she hits the dance floor. I like her. She’s a nice girl. But I don’t love her. And she doesn’t love me. It works for both of us. For now.

  “You look like shit,” a familiar voice says and I roll my eyes. “Not sure if this is the kind of establishment I want to frequent.”

  Not bothering to look up at Wyatt Tanaka, I say, “Yeah, well, we don’t serve your kind here.”

  “My kind? What the hell, bro?”

  Glancing up, I tick up my chin and stare Wyatt down. His black hair has grown out from his military buzz. He still looks like my best friend, only older. Weary. But really, what should he look like after serving two tours in Afghanistan? “Only ARMY boys are welcome here, Marine.”

  He smirks. “Thanks for the clarification. Cause I’d hate to beat your ass for not serving Asians.”

  “You’re Asian? Shit. Wished you told me that eight years ago. Might have saved me a lot of trouble.” I slide a beer his way. “On the house, soldier.”

  Eight years ago, when Wyatt was fourteen, his family had moved from Charlotte to Forrestville. He’d been the only Asian kid in the entire county.

  We met in detention. I’d gotten my ass kicked while defending my mom, and he’d given some kid a bloody nose for making some dumbass racist “joke”. I’d been small for my age and he’d been tall. We bonded over writing sentences about not fighting and running laps. He taught me how to properly defend myself and I taught him some of my favorite WWE Raw moves.

  He grabs the bottle and takes a deep pull, letting out a groan of appreciation. “Damn that’s good.”

  What was good: having him home, safe and sound. I’m not ashamed to admit that I constantly worried about Wyatt while he was in the Sandbox. Probably not as much as her though.

  “How long has she been dancing?” he asks, his gaze firmly on the dance floor.

  What he really means is: Who has she been dancing with? And by she, he means, Lacey Evans. “Got here about fifteen minutes before you.” Lacey does this weird slow-motion kind of dance to Alex Clare’s Too Close. But it’s totally her style. And I’d never tell Wyatt this, mostly because I like breathing out of my nose, but Lacey turned into a full-on hottie while he’d been deployed. All long legs and curves, even if she does try to hide them under loose jeans and even looser tops.

  Thing is: He still stares at her the same way he always has, since high school. Maybe he hasn’t noticed that she’s filled out in all the right places.

  An image of Rae flashes in my mind, shivering as my arm brushes her breast. Fuck. I have to get this girl out of my head.

  “I’m heading over,” Wyatt says, then drains the last of his beer. He sets the bottle on the bartop and strides across the room. Lacey’s face lights up when she sees him, but he makes no move to touch her. Instead he waits and she slowly slides up to him, then she steps back, face flushing and shaking her head.

  Wyatt gives her a goofy grin, then walks away. His grin falls, black eyes narrowing as he heads to the pool tables.

  I wince. “Still in the friend zone.”

  “How long do you think he’ll wait around for her?” yet another familiar voice says.

  “As long as it takes, or until he gets the message she’s been sending him for years.” I glance up at Beau Montgomery. His blond hair is messy, his clothes impeccable. The bastard.

  Beau smirks, lip ring flashing. “Maybe I should help the poor bastard out.”

  The last time Beau tried
to help Wyatt out, he’d sent three strippers to Wyatt’s parents’ house to help celebrate his nineteenth birthday. Mr. and Mrs. Tanaka had not been amused. However, Beau’s dad, racing legend Remington Montgomery, had thought the entire situation had been hilarious and sent over three more.

  “Seriously, bro. Don’t,” Parker chimes in, quickly popping tops off four bottles of beer and passing them to one of our new waitresses. “Your help usually turns into full on disaster.”

  Beau hits his chest with his fist. “Hurts so bad.” A tall blonde, wearing a barely there dress, sidles up to him, batting her lashes and placing a hand on his arm. He smiles at her, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Dude’s always got a different girl on his arm, but he’s always polite to them. Always up front about what he wants.

  “Hi, I’m Sophie, and I’d love for you take me home tonight,” she says, smile toothpaste commercial worthy.

  I bite back a laugh. Apparently, advertising that you only want to hook-up and party yields a ninety percent success rate. Doesn’t hurt that Beau’s rich as hell either.

  “Thanks, but no,” Beau says and I blink. He’s turning down a sure thing?

  “Oh c’mon, Beau,” Sophie pouts, but it doesn’t sway him.

  “I’m with my boys, honey. Doesn’t seem right to not be able to give you the attention you deserve.” Beau leans in and traces the neckline of Sophie’s shirt. “Why don’t you give me your number and I’ll text you later.”

  There’s the Beau I recognize.

  Sophie smiles, taking the phone that Beau holds out to her. She takes a picture of herself, then types in her info and hands it back. “Better text me,” she says, kissing his cheek.

  Beau winks at her right before she saunters away, then his face turns serious. “How much?”

  “Depends on what you’re willing to bet.”

  His grey eyes glint. “Three. I’m feeling…reckless.”

  “You’re in. But it’d better be the good stuff this time or else I’ll beat your ass.”

  “Dude, you know me.”

  “Yeah, hence the caveat.”