by Shey Stahl
“It’s not all that bad.”
She downs the beer in her hand and then reaches for another one beside her. “It blows. Let’s go.”
I nod to Grayer, trying to be subtle about my intentions. “I don’t want to just yet.”
Haylee’s eyes follow mine, disconcerted. She smiles. “Oh, damn, girl. He’s a hottie.” Grayer hears her, a soft smile on his lips. “Who’s he? I’ve never seen him before.”
I don’t reply, not because I don’t want her to know, but I’m not sure I want him knowing I know him.
I toss a quick glance back to him. “He’s not from around here,” I tell her, keeping my eyes on his. It’s when Joel makes his way over to us that I drop my gaze.
Joel bumps into me, knocking me into Haylee. “Sorry, didn’t see ya there.”
Blood rushes to my face. “Bullshit you didn’t see me,” I smart off, choking on my anger. “You did that on purpose.” Because he did and guess what? He knows he did.
“Nope.” He pauses, smiles, provokes like usual. “Didn’t.”
My eyes drift back to Grayer, but keep moving so it doesn’t look like I’m staring. Haylee shoves Joel’s shoulder as he’s backing up, his arms spread wide. “You’re a fuckin’ liar.”
Haylee and me . . . we’re not exactly lady-like. We’re the tell it like it is, junk punch you for lookin’ at us wrong type of chicks.
Little Miss Innocent, she’s nothing like that. Look at Violet’s face beside him. She’s pink-cheeked and uncomfortable with our choice of words.
Everyone looks at me. And I do mean everyone. Including Grayer. But he’s not giving me the appraising look the others are. He looks pissed, and not at me. Backlit by the bonfire, it’s enough to see the outlining of his jaw flexing as he grinds his teeth together. I can see his exhalations in the air, quick, steamy bursts as his chest rises and falls. It’s hot seeing him upset, but who’s he pissed at? Joel?
I follow his cold gritty stare and sure enough, it’s on Joel. His posture stiffens, the grip on his bottle tightening and I imagine, satisfyingly, him breaking the bottle against Joel’s thick head. Call me crazy, but I like a man who shows his anger. I don’t trust anyone who hides their emotions behind a wall of silence.
Joel gives me a nod, his question of, “Looking for trouble tonight?” directed my way.
I hate you. You’ve ruined me and Jamie.
My heart stutters and takes a nosedive. The anger, the adrenaline, the alcohol, they’re not done with me yet. It fuels my too loud, too emotional words. “Maybe I am lookin’ for trouble, but it won’t be with you.” Violet’s eyes snap to mine, and I smile at the too good, too pure girl holding the devil’s hand. “Honey, do yourself a favor and leave him before he ruins you, too.”
“Fuck you, ya dumb cunt. No one asked for your opinion, Maesyn!” Joel shouts, red-faced and pissed someone called him out on his shit. Or is he more upset I’m not giving it up to him anymore?
What a fuck . . .
I don’t finish my thoughts when the gravel shifts and suddenly someone’s standing next to me. “I’m pretty sure she didn’t ask for yours either,” he says, voice alight with irritation, so low and rough like the scrape of fine grit sandpaper. I let my vision drift back to the spark that held me on the other side of the fire. The one I’m drawn to. The one with pretty eyes and bathed in smoky night light. He’s standing beside me now and he’s . . . upset? His muscles bunch and tense. His mouth is set in a straight firm line, but he appears distracted staring murderously at Joel.
Damn, this guy’s badass. I picture him and me, together, our proximity close, against his truck. My body arching against him and him freeing himself, barely shoving his jeans down yet inside me, sliding in and out. . . .
Shit, stop the nonsense. This is getting out of control.
I’d love to see Joel get what’s coming to him. His anger’s like a shooting star. It comes quick and out of nowhere, and it’s goddamn beautiful.
Joel’s eyebrows lift in surprise, blinking with uncertainty. “Excuse me?”
I lift my head to watch Joel, glaring venomously at him. Haylee nudges my ribs. “Damn.”
Grayer laughs sarcastically, straightening his posture and squaring his shoulders. “Pretty sure you heard me loud and clear.”
The crowd shifts, the sky rumbling, and I wonder why this guy’s defending my honor and we’ve never met.
“Do you know him?” Haylee asks, watching their interaction. Joel is standing now, holding onto the neck of his beer. His grip tells me he’s threatened by Grayer and judging by the stance of the bull rider I can’t look away from, it’s warranted. I wouldn’t mess with this guy if I were him.
I shrug, twirling the ends of my braided feathers in my hair. Leaning into the tailgate, I glance at Grayer. “I know of him, but I don’t know him.”
I wish I did.
Her smile pulls wider. “Ah, I see.”
Joel turns away, like he knows a fight wouldn’t do him any good and the chances of him winning against Grayer are slim to none.
Grayer’s relaxed, leaning into the truck, crossing his arms over his chest. The sleeves of his shirt pulling tight, biceps bulging and flexing. His eyes drift to mine, raking over me and I feel naked. He should wear a warning. Panties may drop if you make eye contact.
The heat of the fire stings my cheeks, but I smell rain coming.
“What just happened?” Haylee asks, laughing and bringing the beer in her hand to her lips. She takes a drink, then another, watching Grayer from across the fire.
“I’m not sure,” I admit. This guy seems like trouble, doesn’t he? Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to find out. Just as I’m about to approach him, the worst song in the entire world comes on the radio.
My eyes snap to Joel when he cranks it, winking at me. What a fucker.
Non-violent Violet’s about to meet Menacing Mad Maesyn. She’s like Mad Max, but girly, and blonde. And half the size and without the dead wife and kid. Okay, maybe not similar at all. Except for the pissed off part.
Joel wants a fight with me and I’m gonna show him what this girl’s made of.
A bull on the PBR tour.
Let it go. Just let it the fuck go. But I can’t.
His words of, “Fuck you, ya dumb cunt,” rush through me and I see red.
Guys who treat women badly, I don’t stand for that fucking bullshit. Reckless destructive anger gnaws at me. The kind that forms over years and surfaces in the blink of an eye. I have a lot of it. A pain stabs at my temples, an indication I’ve been clenching my jaw for too long.
My eyes lock on the douche staring at me. Who the fuck is this fucking asshole?
“Don’t pay him any mind,” Kade says, handing me a beer. I refuse it, holding up the bottle in my hand.
I want to listen to him, but I glance at the girl again, my stare drawn to her for reasons I don’t understand. My eyes drift back to her, but keep moving, as if I’m trying not to stare. She blushes wildly.
Look away. Fuck her. Let her deal with her own shit. Stop it. You don’t need to get involved in their mess, or with a woman. You have enough baggage back home. And I do.
I don’t know if it’s her sass or the fact that she’s acting like she doesn’t recognize me. Hell, there’s a good chance she doesn’t. And I like that too. The fewer people who know I’m back, the better.
But this girl, fiery “tell it like it is” blonde, she catches my attention with the way she’s moving through the crowd, completely oblivious to the ones who can’t look away from her beauty. And that includes me. Our eyes collide again, a zing of connection fires between us.
It’s when she does notice me and the way she gives me those simple glances and the subtle way she shifts her thighs each time she sees me . . . that gets my attention. I’m well aware of the effect I have on women. It’s not cocky—it’s just the way it is. Maybe it’s the blue eyes and dark hair or the sculpted body, but it’s like a magnet for anything with a vagina. I usually didn’t h
ave to do anything if I was interested, other than look their way. I let them come to me and I was in.
Maybe it’s the curve of her waist or the way it peeks out from under her fringed black top or the gypsy style she has, completely unlike every other girl surrounding her wearing skin-tight jeans and bikini tops. With feather braids in her long blonde hair, she’s different, the kind of girl who dances with a song only she knows and speaks with the rhythm in her heart. I try not to think of the warmth of her pussy, but sadly, I’m failing miserably.
Something else draws me to her. It’s when she’s sitting on the edge of the tailgate with her friend, her legs slightly spread as she passes a bottle of Jim Beam back and forth between her friend. She slides down off the tailgate when Little Big Town’s “Girl Crush” comes on. I’m not sure, but I think the song bothers her for some reason and she kicks the stereo it’s flowing from.
“What the fuck, Maesyn?” a guy to our left shouts. The same guy who hit her shoulder earlier. The same guy I nearly throttled for touching her and I have no idea why. I never react like that, but I did for her. “Why’d you do that?”
Twisting my head, I look over at Joel Peterson. I don’t know him, but I want to send my fist through his face for raising his voice at her. At least I know her name now.
Maesyn walks up to the guy and grabs the front of his flannel, yanking him forward. “I hate that fucking song. That’s why, Joel.”
Glaring, the guy hovers over her short frame. “Why? It’s a good song.”
“It’s about a guy cheating on a girl with another. How can anyone like it?”
She has a damn good point.
Joel rolls his eyes. “It’s just a song.”
Maesyn shakes her head and pushes him back against the side of the truck he’s next to and I struggle to hear her next words. “You know I hate that song.”
He smirks, but you can tell he doesn’t like being pushed. Straightening his posture, his shoulders tense and I step forward too, knowing where this is going. “It’s just a song,” he snaps, eyes on mine when he sees me approaching, but his words aren’t meant for me.
“I’m so glad I don’t have to deal with your shit anymore, Joel.” Maesyn turns to walk away, only to have the asshole grab her by her arm, wrapping his fingers harshly around her bicep. Even in the night, I notice her tanned skin whiten where he’s gripping her.
Yep. He’s pissed me off now.
Joel leans in, whispering, “You don’t get to decide when we’re done. I do.”
Setting my bottle down on the tailgate of my truck, I make my way over to them.
Without looking at me, Maesyn rips her arm from his hand only to have him grab her again, this time by the front of her shirt that’s tied up above her bellybutton revealing a few inches of her perfectly flat stomach. “I mean it. We’re not done. You owe me and you know it.”
“I don’t owe you shit,” she spits back at him, shoving him away from her.
Before he reacts to the shove, because something tells me he’s going to, I sidestep my cousin, who tries to stop me and approach them.
“I think it’s in your best interest to let her go,” I warn, positioning myself between them. I don’t shout, but my voice is firm. My dad always told me there’s no need to raise your voice if you’re saying what you mean. Yelling only means you’re desperate and you need to yell to back your weak words. Or the person you’re talking to doesn’t give a fuck and is trying to piss you off. There’s that.
I’m guessing Joel is the latter because he regards me, again—this time it’s assessing. Like he’s trying to size me up. I’m taller than him, bigger, and quicker. I don’t know him, I’ve never fought him, but I can tell you right now I’d have him on his ass before he even decides he’s going to throw a punch.
“This is between me and Maesyn. Back off,” he hisses through clenched teeth.
I smile, stepping closer. We’re chest to chest now. He’s assessing me. “I know you know who I am. And I think it’s in your best interest to leave her alone.” My words are perfectly delivered, holding the right amount of venom needed to get this fucker’s attention. “Never fuck with someone who isn’t afraid of losing everything. You’ll lose every time.”
He wants to hit me. His fists clench, his jaw tightens, and he lets out a quick harsh breath between his teeth.
“He’s right,” the girl who’s been clinging to his side notes, urging Joel by her hands wrapped around his shoulders. “Just leave it alone.”
Joel doesn’t say any more. I think he wants to, but he’s here with another. He backs up, wraps his arm around a tall brunette, and I can’t make out her face, but just like everyone else, she appears to be judging this tiny spitfire of a girl who kicks over stereos and tells off shit-kickers.
“He ain’t worth it,” I mutter as he walks away, still reeling from the intensity of wanting a fight with that douche.
Maesyn looks over at me, nodding, unable to break eye contact with me.
“I know,” she says, her tone lighter. “He’s a piece of shit. You didn’t have to do that.”
I exhale a sigh, watching her beautiful face and the way the fire flickers in her irises. “I was raised with the understanding men don’t treat women with disrespect. You never lay a hand on a woman.”
Maesyn grins, sipping on her bourdon, eyes glazed over. “So you never lay a hand on a woman?” She winks and then makes direct eye contact with my crotch. Her tongue peeks out and sweeps across her bottom lip.
Fuck. She’s bold.
I smirk back, lifting my bottle to my lips. “That’s different.”
“Oh, is it now?”
I lift a brow, and she bursts out laughing. I fucking love the sound. “Don’t worry,” I say, turning to face her. “I’m gentle. Kind of.”
She cracks up, her laughter so goddamn adorable. “Where’s the fun in that?”
The corners of my mouth pull up as I watch her. My dick thickens and I know where this is heading. “I said kind of.”
I can’t take my eyes off her. Not now. Maybe it’s the whiskey, but I can’t fucking stop my thoughts of her. She ignites my soul and dances in the flames. Staring at her mouth, the idea of her on her knees in front of me as I make her lips open wider with the head of my cock is all I can think about. She looks like she’d be down for a dirty fuck.
Not a lot of women go up to a guy with confidence. There’s a shyness, but also a playfulness in this one I find interesting. It’s something I want to explore, and judging by the way she’s acting, I’m guessing she’d like to explore some shit too.
There are buckle bunnies everywhere I go. I’m not saying Maesyn is one. Hell, I don’t even know if she knows me. My point is when I do take one back to my room, or wherever we happened to be, I go for the blondes. I won’t go as far as to say they’re more fun. I could argue that, sure, but in my experience, they are hotter. It’s a fact and one I’d argue until I’m blue in the face. And have, only to be punched in the face by Reid, my brother, who always goes for the redheads.
The sky around us, once cloudless, rumbles and growls. The scent of rain is dark and heady. Stillness falls over the party as the pattering of tiny raindrops pings on trucks and rusted metal. For a moment, everyone scrambles, but Maesyn and her friend, they laugh, twirl and dance around despite no music. She winks at me, and I know then I want her wearing my shirt with messy hair and sleepy eyes. I want the taste of my kiss on her skin and the lingering sensation of my touch between her legs. I want more. I want every part of me on her.
I take a drink of the whiskey, only I’m drunk on the sight of her, not the alcohol in my hand. This girl, she could be labeled poison and I’d still drink straight from the bottle.
Like she knows what she’s doing, wild and carefree, she watches me, dancing around in the rain like it’s the most refreshing sensation she’s ever experienced, barefoot and rain-soaked. It’s when she looks at me, and even the wind holds its breath, we’re locked in a stare, neither
one of us completely understanding the draw to one another. A streak of hot silver splits the sky. She jumps, laughing, and grabs onto me when the crack bellows through the valley.
Knowing I shouldn’t, but unable to stop myself, I lean over. “Wanna get out of the rain?” I whisper.
She gives me a side-eye with a slanted smile and I give her a charming grin back. Works on buckle bunnies. Could work on her too, right?
Her teeth sink into her bottom lip and she blushes. That only makes me want her more.
She nods, breathlessly laughing and I open the door for her, and then walk around the front to the driver’s side. The boom of thunder rolls across the valley, the rain picking up. Her friend disappears into the barn, a guy wrapping his arm around her.
“Are we safe in here?” she asks, looking to me. “With the lightning. . . .”
“Yeah, it’s fine. That’s miles away.” And then I ask, “What’d that guy do to you?”
Snorting, she takes her hat off and sets in on my dash, all the while looking at me with an expression that tells me she doesn’t know how to answer.
“You fuck him?” I ask boldly.
“How’s that any of your business?” She tucks wet strands of her hair behind her ear. And then she turns in the seat to face me and says, “You jealous?”
Yes!
I shrug.
“Why’d you ask then?”
There’s a spark of mischievousness in her eyes I can’t ignore. It makes my smile widen. “Curious if you’re involved with someone or not.”
“Why does that matter?” I notice how her chest rises and falls with her shallow breathing. I’m getting to her.
I lean forward and lower my voice. “Can I tell you something?”
“What?” Her lips stay parted just slightly and she stares at me with curiosity.
“It’d be a shame if you were, you know, fucking him,” I tell her.
Her lips curl into a reluctant smile, her cheeks blooming into a nervous pink. “Why’s that?”
“I think you know why.” I wait for her light green eyes to reach mine. “Don’t you?”