by Lila Felix
But eventually he pulled away. Slowly, so slowly that I was able to relish a few more moments of closeness with him before we were separated again. Once he was across the cab, and inches of seat parted us I felt cold and empty. I wanted his warmth back, his confident comfort. I wanted his hot skin on mine, never letting go.
I had never felt like that before when someone else touched me, never so cared for, never so complete.
Shaking off those out of control thoughts I struggled through an emotionally hoarse voice and asked, “What was that for?”
He looked at me from the corner of his eyes, sliding his hands up and down the steering wheel and gripping it tightly. “For every single thing you’ve been through.”
I slumped back against the seat while he jumped out of the truck and shut his door. I had been called an attention whore my entire life; looked down on by my teachers, instructors and parents. I had been shoved into the corner, forgotten about, left behind and neglected for as long as I could remember. It was what I was used to. It was what I expected. Nobody had ever looked at me like a casualty, like someone that needed rescuing.
Nobody, until Stockton.
He wrenched open my door for me and held his hand out. “Come on, Duchess, I don’t have all day to wait around on you.” A sly smile tugged at his lips and I couldn’t help but fall into it.
I unbuckled and allowed him to help me down from the cab. He didn’t let go of my hand while he closed the door, but tugged on it, leading me into the tiny grocery store.
He grabbed a cart, at which, he finally let go of my hand and we started walking around the store collecting items. I quickly realized this was not a shopping trip for his own family when he picked up a couple toy trucks at the end rack on one of the aisles and then a few discount hair bows in the personal hygiene section.
“That will look good with your eyes,” I nodded at a pink and green bow with polka-dots and butterflies on it.
“Smartass,” he grumbled, but shot me an amused smile. “We’re picking up some things for Mrs. Richter. You know, the mother of all my children.”
“Alright, now that’s just not nice,” I huffed playfully. “I’m sorry about that by the way. I guess I just got a little jealous.” I shot him a sheepish smile and ignored the embarrassed blush that colored my cheeks.
His eyes heated again and I think I forgot how to swallow.
“Oh, yeah?” he asked in his sexy, low-octave timber. “If you want me to eat lunch with you, Duchess, all you gotta do is ask.”
His slow southern drawl was literally going to be the death of me.
I shivered as his words cascaded over my skin, wrapping around my bones and my hormones and sending my heart into overdrive.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I somehow forced out in a coy laugh. “If I ever want you to sit by me.”
He threw his head back and let out a gruff tumble of laughter. “Well, then maybe I won’t wait for you to ask me.”
I could feel heat creep up my neck and blossom across my chest. This boy knew how to flirt and I hadn’t been this affected by someone, um, maybe ever! I was incapable of speech at this point so I gave him a flirty shrug of my shoulder and threw some marshmallows in the cart, along with some chocolate bars and graham crackers that were set up on a display stand together.
“Marshmallows?” Stockton asked incredulously.
“Even us California girls know the power of s’mores, Stockton. I thought you were trying to win over these kiddies?”
“Aren’t you just full of surprises?” He actually sounded bemused, as if he didn’t expect any of this from me.
That pleased me endlessly. “All kinds, Hillbilly, all kinds.”
We checked out, then loaded the truck, laughing and joking the entire time. Somehow, we’d worked out that aggressive bickering between us and what was left was this easy, fun, completely sexually charged-oh, wait. What was left was just this laid back friendship.
It was really nice.
I kind of liked having a friend that didn’t want the Beverly Hills me, that wanted the real me. And I didn’t even know who the real me was yet. But Stockton seemed to take it all in stride, so I just went with it too. He wasn’t the only one surprised at some of the things I was saying.
Constance, Tennessee was this idyllic little town with all the staples the town folk would need-like a Pizza Hut and local bar-and some specialty shops and cute little downtown area. The people all knew each other and were, for the most part, kind with the exception of expected small-town gossip.
So, pretty much the exact opposite of LA.
It didn’t take long to get to Mrs. Richter’s and as soon as Stockton turned the engine off, all kinds of dirty rugrats spilled out of the house and attacked him. He was covered in them as they climbed on his back, held onto his legs and tugged on his hands.
It was adorable.
Good thing we were just friends, otherwise I would have been in great danger of falling for him.
Hard.
I loaded up my arms with grocery sacks, double checking to make sure the s’mores, bows and trucks made it, before carrying them into the house. Mrs. Richter was not that much older than me, maybe five years or so, but her cheeks were permanently flushed and her hair a wild mess that screamed too many children and no live-in nanny.
“Well, hello, who are you, darlin’?” she asked, with that thick-like-honey southern accent.
“Hi, I’m Cami, Mallory Macon’s niece. I’m just helping Stockton today, while he runs his errands around town,” I explained as sweetly as I could. Stockton most likely hadn’t relayed any of our exchange to her, but my ears burned at the memory of how unfair and judgmental I had been.
“Nice to meet you, Cami. I’m Beth,” she smiled at me and then gestured to her kitchen counter.
I shot her an embarrassed look that she quickly mimicked because of the mess laid out in front of me. I balanced the bags, while she quickly cleared off the kid’s cereal bowls, juice cups and last night’s dirty fry pan that was going to take an industrial strength soap before it was usable again.
“So you’re helping Stockton this morning?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye.
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied while finally setting the bags down. “He wanted to show me around town, and I wanted a break from the sheep.”
“Well, I can’t blame you there,” she giggled a little bit. “Never was one for taking care of animals. Now children on the other hand….” she trailed off just as all the kids burst into the kitchen with Stockton fast on their heels, yelling and chasing them. They giggled hysterically while trying to hide behind their mom’s skirt.
”Gotchya!” Stockton exclaimed while scooping up the smallest rugrat and tickling him till he was kicking wildly in Stockton’s arms and tears were streaming down his face.
“Stockton, let him go,” Beth scolded, swatting at his arm. “He’s going to wet himself all over you and I’m just trying to potty train him.”
He immediately dropped the little wild thing, just in time for him to look up at Stockton and stick his tongue out at him. “I’m gonna get you for that,” Stockton warned before the boys were all off, chasing each other through the house again.
“Mama, can you do my hair now?” a sweet little girl, probably about five years old asked.
“I can’t just yet, sweetheart, I’ve gotta get these groceries put away. Maybe in a minute, alright?” Beth’s attention was already on the grocery bags and the mess in the kitchen.
The little girl’s face fell, but she looked around for a way to help her mom. What sweetness! I kind of felt like the Grinch when my heart swelled with compassion, like it had never felt that emotion before.
“I could do your hair,” I offered just loud enough for her to hear me. I held my breath while I waited for her to answer, so terrified of rejection that tears swelled in my eyes. It was silly to be afraid of a little girl turning me down, but something in me just begged for something this innocent, this
good, to look at me and say, yes. My chest ached in anticipation and I forced myself to hold my watery smile. She would definitely say no if I burst into tears in front of her.
“Really?” She beamed a toothless smile-the adorable kind after little kids had started to lose all their front teeth-and her eyes lit up with excitement. “Can you make my hair look like yours?”
I grinned back at her, I couldn’t help it. “Absolutely! Do you have a brush?”
She ran to grab one, plus some detangler and then we set up at the kitchen table. While Beth put away groceries, I combed and fishtail-braided little Lucy’s hair and then added one of the new bows Stockton bought. As soon as she was finished, her little sister who was somewhere in between the youngest boy and Lucy in age, sat down and demanded the same treatment. By the time I was finished, I was so proud of my work I just had to take a picture of the two darlings with my phone. There was just something so rewarding about doing little girls’ hair that I didn’t even know where to put all the happiness. I felt bursting with them and my heart felt too big for my body. These feelings were rare and coveted by me and I knew this moment would stay with me forever. And I had Stockton to thank.
Finally, we said goodbye to the Richter’s and Stockton drove toward the second house on his route. We were mostly silent on the way. I was lost in my own world, thinking about those precious children and what else I could do for them while I was here. And Stockton was lost in, well I didn’t really know what he was thinking about, but he kept shooting me sidelong glances. At first, I thought they were kind of flirty and got excited. But then I noticed his expression was mostly a mixture of confusion and disbelief, so I stopped trying to analyze what that boy was thinking about.
Stockton pulled to a stop in front of a tiny, run down shack of a house and hopped out of the truck without saying anything. The Richter’s house had been one thing, but people didn’t really live in this kind of hovel, did they? It could not have been safe. I glanced around, desperately looking for the Condemned sign.
And then I spotted him, the old man I was sitting next to at the picnic. Of course.
Stockton opened my door and helped me down, before collecting the rest of the groceries out of the trunk. I followed him in silence up the wood-chipped walk and to the porch where he sat lounging on a rickety old rocking chair.
“Hi there, Mr. Lambert,” Stockton called out as we approached. “I brought a friend with me today. This is Cami.”
“Hi, how are you?” I shouted, not sure if he could hear me or not.
By Stockton’s choked laughter, I figured out that Mr. Lambert probably could hear me. He just looked up at me though, his whole body was trembling and his toothless smile was not at all because he was losing baby teeth.
Did they not have dentists in the South?
“I’m gonna go put these away, you should…. entertain yourself for a minute,” Stockton grinned at me.
I stuck my tongue out at him, feeling very much like the little boy he chased around the house earlier. Instead of grabbing me and tickling me, he just laughed some more. Maybe he would tickle me later? How did I get him to attack me with his hands?
“Girlfriend?” Mr. Lambert grunted from his perch on the porch.
“Do I have one? No, I uh, nope.” I replied stupidly, trying to figure out where he got that from. Was it the work boots I was wearing over my skinny jeans? He choked on something, probably his tongue and looked away. Oh, wait. Blond moment. Holy shit, I probably just traumatized the poor old man. “Oh, am I Stockton’s girlfriend?” I asked quickly and loudly, hoping to grab Stockton’s attention inside. “No, um, well,” I faltered, thinking maybe it was a good thing to say yes after my bumble. I finally decided on a, “Not yet.”
That was kind of neutral. That worked.
Mr. Lambert’s eyes lit up at my words and he leaned forward in his chair suddenly like I was a shiny new toy. “He needs a good woman. You’re a good woman.”
Oh, god.
I cleared my throat and then vomited words. “Well, it’s just, that, we didn’t used to get along. And now, even though we’re getting along better, we’re going to try the whole friend thing. I mean, I could potentially want more in the future, but I’m not exactly sure what he wants. And, you know, there’s this thing between us, like, like, this…. uh ,thing,” probably shouldn’t say sexual tension to a ninety year old man, “but neither of us is quite ready to explore it just yet. So we’re sticking with friends. For, uh, now.” Shut up, shut up, shut up.
Where the hell was Stockton? And why couldn’t I keep my f-ing mouth shut!
Mr. Lambert’s grin grew so that it stretched from ear to ear. “Good. Woman.”
Whew, ok, he was not going to go blabbing my out of place speech around town. That was a good sign.
I muttered a resigned, “If you say so.” Even though I knew the truth, that I was exactly the opposite of a good woman.
Stockton came out of the house just then, the squeaky screen door shutting with a bang behind him. He walked down the porch stairs to come stand next to me and started small talk with Mr. Lambert. I couldn’t even listen to anything they were saying, I just kept replaying my stupid confession in my head, just praying Mr. Lambert didn’t blurt out everything embarrassing I’d admitted.
I was pretending to pay attention though, so when something terrifying and rodent-like scurried out of Mr. Lambert’s pocket, I was focused enough to see it. A blood curdling scream ripped out of my throat and I jumped as far back as I could before hitting the solid wall of Stockton’s chest.
Immediately, his strong, warm arms wrapped around my middle and his hands splayed on either side of my hips. I instantly relaxed wrapped up in his tight hold, but my heart was still pounding wildly and my breathing incredibly erratic.
Stockton leaned down and murmured in my ear in a calming tone, “It’s just a squirrel, Cami. Nothing to be afraid of.”
“A squirrel,” I echoed on a pant.
Stockton pulled me impossibly closer against him and I had to close my eyes against the sensation. My body melted against his, my head falling back against the firm, chiseled platform of his chest, my hips tucked nice and tight against the cradle of his. His face was bent against mine so he could talk soothingly in my ear and the way he was holding me, god, the way his arms were so familiarly wrapped around my waist made me think all kinds of inappropriate thoughts-effectively taking my mind completely off the rodent climbing all over Mr. Lambert.
“Look, it’s on a leash and everything, it can’t get you,” he reassured me, and I did relax a little bit.
But at that point I wasn’t sure if I felt better because of the hypnotizing sound of his deep voice, the drugging effect of his incredibly perfect arms wrapped around my middle, or the fact that for some odd reason I did feel safer knowing the squirrel was on a leash.
I swore these rednecks were going to kill me.
“Alright, you kids, get outta here,” Mr. Lambert demanded surely. “You’re scaring my squirrel.”
I snorted a laugh before I could help myself and earned a chuckle from Stockton against my neck.
“I’ll be by later, then,” Stockton promised before pulling me towards the truck.
“Goodbye, Mr. Lambert, pleasure to meet you,” I called out, but Stockton was already opening my door and helping me inside.
Once I was in my seat I expected Stockton to close my door and go to his, but he surprised me by buckling me in instead. I blushed at his sentiment, even while I felt a little silly since I was more than capable. But all of those thoughts quickly vanished when I looked into his heated green eyes and felt the force of something powerful and consuming rolling off of him.
His hands skimmed across my waist as he reached across me, and even while he clicked the seatbelt into place, his fingers splayed across my hip. His free hand, rested intimately on my thigh and all the while he held my gaze.
Holy hell, this guy could make anything sexy.
“Mallory expe
cting you back?” he asked, keeping his hands on me, his eyes never letting me go.
I shook my head, working hard to form words. “I didn’t know how long we’d be. She gave me the whole day.”
“Want to come home with me?” he asked in that low, sultry drawl. I blushed before I could help it. He made me so nervous. “I’ll show you what I do.”
Yes, please, show me what you do!
Ahem.
“Alright,” I agreed quickly.
“Alright,” he echoed and then devastated my heart with a genuine smile.
I was in so much trouble with this friendship.
Chapter 12
Cami
Awe didn’t even scratch the surface of the way I felt as I watched her with Beth’s kids. I was only halfway playing with the boys as she brushed and primped Lucy and Alice—too enamored with what she was doing. If I thought she was tempting before—somehow showing that much compassion and care to those girls had tripled the effect. Not to mention the visions of Cami as a mother that throbbed in my cerebrum.
But we were just friends.
Keep repeating it to yourself Stock, maybe it will sink in that way.
I saw Beth fight against tears as both of the girls pretended to be princesses and beauty queens with their hair fixed up as if they’d had their hair fixed by a member of the royal family. They didn’t know they had—by my duchess.
If only I could claim her as mine.
I’d taken every chance I could that morning to touch her. Something about connecting us physically calmed me—took me away from the sand I was constantly drowning in. Everything became ok, manageable even, when she was with me.
But in my truck, on our way towards my house I became sick with worry. It was one thing to show her the town and the people I helped, but it was a whole other animal to bring her into my world, my shop, my father’s shop—I wasn’t sure bringing her sunshine into my hell storm was a good idea anymore.