“So nine thirty?” I ask.
“Does that work for you? I mean, you can come whenever, but it’ll be pretty quiet before then,” she says.
“Yup. That’s fine. I have no plans. Obviously,” I tell her.
She gives me a thumbs-up before opening the door and walking out. Somehow, the room gets smaller without her. When it’s just Peck and me together.
“I got groceries,” I say, stating the obvious. But it seems like as good of an icebreaker as any. “I don’t know what you like, so I got the basics.”
He takes an apple out of a bag and tosses it in the air. He catches it easily. “I like about anything. But you didn’t have to do this. I could’ve got groceries. I should’ve, huh?”
A ripple of uncertainty passes through his eyes.
“No,” I insist. “It’s not your job to feed me. I actually enjoy grocery shopping. Is that weird?”
“Does this have anything to do with that Have Line thing?”
I laugh. “It’s HAS Line, and sometimes it does. But I like to buy food even when I’m not angry or sad.” I take out a jar of peanut butter and set it on the table. “I think it’s a control thing, to be honest.”
“Control of the menu?”
“No. More like that I have my shit together. I can buy groceries. There was a time in my life, my late teens, when I couldn’t just walk in the kitchen and get an apple. Things were hard. And now that I can go and buy whatever I want—within reason, of course—it feels good. I think that’s why I like it.”
He moves across the room until he’s standing next to me. I swear that having him this close messes with the electricity in my brain because everything misfires. All I can smell is the scent of his cologne. All I can feel is the electricity sizzling between us. All I can taste is that almost-kiss last night.
Damn it.
Lifting the packages of meat, he carries them to the fridge. “I will tell you a little secret.”
That you regret not kissing me too?
“What’s that?” I ask, holding my breath. He’s not going to mention not kissing me, that I know, but as long as he doesn’t answer, there’s hope.
“I’m actually a decent cook.” He shuts the refrigerator door. “At least, I think I am. No one else may like it, but I do.”
“And you’re telling me this because you’re fixing dinner for me tonight?” I tease. “You sweet thing.”
He laughs. “Not tonight. I need time to consider the menu. Besides, we’re going to Crave tonight, and I don’t want to have to rush dinner. Perfection takes time.” He winks.
I try to play off his charm. It would be really easy to dance a little jig, but I don’t. Because I’m an adult. Ish.
“We are going to Crank?” I ask. “Together? I mean, that’s great, but I just didn’t expect you to go with me.”
“Yeah, well, it’d be good for you to meet the townsfolk.” He winks. “And Navie told you to come tonight. On Friday. At nine thirty. When the place goes a little bonkers, usually.”
“Hey, it sounds fun.”
“Oh, it is.” He leans against the wall and smiles. “But you’re gonna need a bodyguard.”
“Are you volunteering for the job, Wesley?”
He scowls, making me laugh. I toss a tub of butter his way. He catches it and puts it in the fridge.
“I had one of those,” he says.
“Sue me for not trusting it.” I take out a box of crackers. “What time do we leave?”
“Well, I think it’s probably best to get there earlier than nine thirty. But I need to run a couple of errands first. So maybe we meet there around eight? Kind of break the place in first?
“That sounds good. I need some time to get cleaned up.”
“I think you look great.”
I ignore the look in his eye and the riot inside me. He’s being kind. Period. Nothing more.
“Well, thank you, but I need a shower and to change,” I say.
He glances at his watch. “I need to run a part out to a farm for a tractor and then swing by Nana’s and … okay, really, I need to go see if she saved me one of Sienna’s blueberry muffins. But I also need to make sure someone visited her today. It was Lance’s turn, but he called earlier. He and Mariah had something come up with the baby they’re supposed to be adopting, so I said I’d go over.”
“Go. Tell her hello from me. I can meet you at the bar later,” I offer.
He nods. “Sounds good. Just shoot me a text when you’re on your way over, and I’ll make sure I leave. It’ll be my diversion. Sometimes I get over there, and it’s hard to leave.”
“Gotcha. I’m just gonna put the rest of this away. I mostly got staples since you were kind of lacking, well, everything.”
He eyes the food on the table. “Want me to help?”
I do. Not because I need it, but because I want to keep him around. But there’s no way I’d stop Peck from going to Nana’s. She’s such an amazing woman that it’s no wonder Peck and his cousins look after her. I’m almost envious that I won’t get to see her. Although, turning up two days in a row would definitely get her started on the relationship train again.
Not going there.
“Nope. I got it. Have fun,” I say.
He grins. “Okay. Tomorrow, I’m cooking for you,” he says, pointing a finger my way.
“Deal.”
He flashes me a final killer smile before disappearing outside.
I walk to the window and watch him get in his truck. He looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
“That’s what I need to do,” I say, dragging myself away from the window. “I need to have less cares in the world.”
My phone rings on the table. I look at the caller’s name on the screen. I reach over and silence the call from my mom.
“Starting now.”
Fourteen
Dylan
“Who knew there were this many people in this town?”
My voice is drowned out by a large truck with huge tailpipes. They’re so big that I’m pretty sure I could crawl into one of them and hide in the event of a zombie invasion.
Trucks line the street outside Crave. There are a few cars here and there, but it’s by far and large trucks. Big ones. Loud ones. Dirty ones.
I run a hand down the front of my coral-colored faux-silk shirt. Way too much thought went into choosing my outfit to go to some small-town bar. I even went as far as taking selfies in the fullest-length mirror I could find in Peck’s house and scrutinizing them that way. The winner was the pinky-orange shirt that skims my curves and makes my breasts look like they exist. Paired with a pair of denim shorts and some strappy wedges, I don’t look too I-got-dressed-out-of-a-suitcase.
I don’t think.
“It’s just a bar with friends,” I whisper as I pull open the door to Crave.
Surprisingly, it’s not too packed. The building is long and narrow with a couple of pool tables in the back. A bulletin board lines the front wall, and a long bar extends down the right side. Christmas lights hang above a mirror behind the bar, showcasing the bottles of liquor and random signs that seem to have been hung haphazardly on the glass.
Patrons fill the booths dotted along the wall parallel to the bar. Others take their chance with darts and pool sticks in the back. Navie makes a drink for one of the men sitting at the bar. Her head falls back as she laughs at something he said.
Peck is nowhere to be seen.
I suck in a breath and head her way.
“Hey,” she says as I approach. “Where’s Peck?”
“I’m not sure. He said he’d meet me here.” I get situated on a stool. “Um, how are things tonight?”
Navie laughs. “Relax, Dyl. You look like you’re ready to go in for a root canal.”
“I do not.”
She shakes her head and hands me a beer. Hoisting a finger in the air to a woman at the end, she leans in. “Have fun. Meet people. This place is a lot of fun if you let it be.”
&
nbsp; “I’ll try.”
She grins, letting out a little laugh. “I gotta work. But I’ll check on you in a bit.” She scoots down the bar to the woman with the red bandana wrapped around her head.
I take a sip of my beer, giving a forced smile to the man sitting three chairs down. He tips his bottle my way before turning back to the television he can’t possibly hear hanging above the coolers.
“Hey, roomie.” Peck’s voice is inches away from my ear. It makes me jump. He chuckles, taking the seat next to me. “Sorry it took so long. My brother showed up at Nana’s, so I got sidetracked. I haven’t seen him or his boy in a long time.”
“You didn’t have to leave for me,” I say. “Do you need to go back?”
“Nah. He was getting Sawyer ready for bed. I told him to come up here, but I think he was looking forward to a low-key night.”
“I get that.”
Peck grins, and I think the whole place lights up.
My chest burns with some unnamed emotion as he takes off his black baseball hat and runs a hand through his hair. The air is kissed by the scent of his cologne. My view is blessed by the sight of him in a plain white T-shirt. He moves to accept a beer from Navie, and I can almost see the lines of his body move under the cotton.
“So,” he says, pausing to take a drink. “What do you think?”
That you are delicious.
“Um, yeah.” I fight to remember the question. “I, yeah. I think this place is nice.”
He laughs at my confusion. “This place is not nice, Hawkeye. But you get two points for being polite.”
“It is,” I insist, a laugh in my voice. “I like it. It feels homey. Homier than the last time I was here.” I cringe internally because I have no idea where I was going with that, and now I sound like a fool. “You know what I mean.” Even though he doesn’t. He can’t. I don’t even know.
His brows raise, pulling up the corners of his lips into a grin as he takes a drink.
“Look at you two. My two cute best friends,” Navie says.
I glance up to see her standing beside Machlan.
My mouth goes dry. His short dark hair is styled in a way that looks like he just got out of bed and rolled with it. Tattoos dot his skin, and a wicked smile toys on his lips.
Shit.
“I don’t think we’ve actually met,” Machlan says to me. “I’m Machlan.”
“I’m Dylan.”
“Like I told you,” Navie says, “she’s my best friend. Besides you, Peck, of course,” she says with an exasperation that makes us all laugh.
I press my lips together, feeling my cheeks heat. Why in the world was Navie dating a douchebag named Logan if she had such gorgeous best friends and co-workers? Clearly, she had better options.
I’m looking at them. And the night has just started.
Her eyes perk up, and I know some shit is about to be stirred. I grip the sides of my chairs as I silently plead with her not to do whatever it is she’s about to do. She grins.
“Hey, Mach. Did you know Dylan and Peck are living together?” she says.
“I did not,” Machlan says, looking at Peck. “Why didn’t you mention that?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because it’s none of your fucking business?”
“He’s renting me rent a room,” I say. “It’s not a big deal.”
Machlan’s attention lands on me. I shift in my seat under the weight of his gaze.
“Dylan, with all due respect—a woman who looks like you is living with Peck. It’s a big fucking deal.”
He flashes me a grin that would probably melt weaker individuals. But as Peck opens his mouth to fire something back at his cousin, I decide to intervene.
“Well, thank you for what I’m taking as a compliment,” I say. “I’ll be sure to keep you posted on any other ‘big fucking deals,’ should they happen.”
Peck bursts out into laughter. “That’s gold.”
“Coming,” Navie shouts down the bar. She taps the wood in front of me with her knuckle and grins. “Please don’t get into any trouble tonight. I don’t really have the money to bail you out.” She winks. “Come on, Machlan.” She grabs his arm and pulls him down the bar with her.
Peck toys with the label on his bottle and looks at me from the corner of his eye. “So …”
“So …”
We grin at the same time.
“Machlan is an asshole,” Peck says. “Just kind of ignore what he said.”
“No way. He said I was cute. I’m not ignoring that.”
Peck’s grin turns into a smirk. “He said you were hot. Not cute.”
His lips twist around like he’s not sure what to say next. I’m not sure either. I’m not sure I can talk because my temperature just spiked to a million degrees. But if I don’t say something and just sit here in all my feels, this could get weird.
“Well,” I say, “I’m okay with him thinking that too. It’s not bad for the ego to think a guy finds you attractive.”
“He’s not wrong, you know.”
Our gazes collide in the small space between our bodies. His smirk digs in deeper, pulling mine along with it.
The room gets hotter. His cologne stronger. My shirt feels like its plastered to my skin as I let Peck Ward taunt me with his eyes.
Dear lord.
He leans toward me. I’m not sure if it’s to whisper something he doesn’t want to be heard or if it’s … something else. But as I bend toward him, ready to accept either thing, the music overhead changes, and the bar erupts with chants of Peck’s name.
“Can you excuse me for one second?” He grins. “I’m being beckoned.”
Pulling back, he shoves a hand up in the air. The crowd roars loader.
The iconic song by Ginuwine that has absolutely nothing to do with a pony pulses through the building. Peck downs the rest of his beer and then hops up on the top of the bar.
My heart pounds in my chest as I watch him roll his hips as he plants his feet on the bar. He looks down, his hat over his forehead and hiding his face.
He pops an invisible collar. Cheers erupt from the back of the room. He lifts the hem of his shirt just enough to show a sliver of skin, and I wonder if this happens regularly. If it is, where the hell have I been?
I get situated in my chair and watch as he grabs the bill of his hat with one hand and his junk with the other. He thrusts his hips forward a couple of times before twisting his hat on backward. His eyes find mine immediately, and he grins.
Raising a brow, I grin back. He laughs. I can’t hear it over the roar of the music, but I wish I could.
He dances down the bar, gyrating and rolling with the beat. A whistle breaks out through a lull in the lyrics, and Peck tugs on the neckline of his shirt. His hips tilted forward, hat on backward, tongue sticking out of his mouth makes me crazy.
I can only imagine him doing that in that stupid white towel. Or less.
Knowing how hard his body is was one thing. Now I have to know that he can move the damn thing? Having knowledge of both of those delicious pieces and not being able to partake in them shouldn’t happen. It’s not fair.
I squeeze my thighs together as Peck dances back down the bar. He stops in front of me, towering over my perch in the chair.
“Not bad,” I mouth.
He points in my direction and then bends his finger, curling it for me to join him.
I lean back. “What? No,” I say, shaking my head.
His grin grows wider. He squats down, extending a hand my way.
The crowd loves this, goading me to join him. Blood roars through my veins as he looks at me with a sexiness that I’m not even sure he realizes he possesses.
“Peck …”
He reaches forward and takes my hand. His palm is hot and sweaty and such a turn-on that all resistance melts. I climb onto the top of the bar, ignoring Navie’s shocked face a few feet away, and stand next to Peck.
My brain gives up trying to process the sensations ripping
through me at the speed of sound. It switches on autopilot as my endorphins take over.
Peck’s eyes are glued to me as he turns me to face him. I can feel the heat off his body.
The song hits the chorus. Peck puts a hand on my shoulder, leans back, and pops his hips toward me.
“Come on, Dylan,” Navie yells behind me. She’s seen me dance before. I’m not great at it, but I’ve danced a time or two on top of a bar.
I take a deep breath. Go big or go home. I shake my head. Don’t think of home. Home is him in the kitchen with a towel. Think of this.
With a teasing little shrug of my shoulders, I turn away from him. He dances up against me as I sit back and shake my ass against him.
A muffled groan hits my ear as his hands plant on my hips. We move together, in sync, his solid build up against me. His fingertips dig into my skin, slipping beneath the hem of my shirt and touching my body. My head rests against his chest.
The lights are hot as I breathe in the scent of his sweat mixed with his cologne and try to not lose all control.
He takes my arm and throws it behind me, over his neck. My fingers touch the dampness of his skin. He rolls against me. I press back. We move in a circle and end up facing the other way.
The crowd roars as I bend forward and shake my ass his way. He bites his lip for effect, making me laugh, before pulling me against him once again.
“Damn, Dyl,” he whispers in my ear. But I’m not sure if I’m supposed to hear it. Instead, I look at him over my shoulder and wink.
“That’s enough,” Machlan shouts.
It’s only now that I hear the crowd. I’d forgotten they were there.
It takes everything I have to press away from his body.
The crowd boos as we separate.
The back of my shirt is damp from his body, and the eyes of the crowd suddenly feel heavier than before. I look at Peck. His hat is skewed on his head, his cheeks pink from the dance. An effortlessly sexy smile breaks out across his face, and I forget all about the crowd.
“That was awesome,” he says. He doesn’t wait for my reaction. Instead, he hops down as the song comes to an end and takes my hand again. I give it to him without hesitation and let him help me down.
Crazy: Gibson Boys Book #4 Page 11