Draining my beer, I grab her hand and drag her over to the bullpen. The sign near the gate says anyone who can stay on for thirty seconds gets a beer on the house. I chuckle. Thirty seconds is cake!
“You first,” she says with a wry grin.
My bare feet sink into the thick padding as I walk through the pen and slide onto the headless replica of a bull. How hard could this possibly be?
It whizzes to life, slow at first. I hold on to the reins at the front of the saddle. The mischievous gleam in Casey’s eyes matches her devious smile as she stands at the edge of the pen, crossing her arms over her chest.
The operator spins a dial, and the bull whips around in a full circle, catapulting me off its back. What the hell just happened? In the corner, Casey isn’t just laughing. She’s doubled over, holding her stomach and gasping for air. With bruised pride, I stand and brush myself off, trying to act cool, even though I feel like a dumbass.
“I wish I had that on film!” she spits out between sobs of laughter.
“Good luck, cowgirl. That shit is harder than it looks!”
She slides her boots off and pulls herself onto the saddle, nestling the bull between her thighs. The lucky bastard. With one hand wrapped securely around the rein, and the other wavering high in the air, she nods. The operator hits a button. The bull begins its slow movements but quickly picks up speed. Casey’s thighs tighten around the fiberglass body. Her arm flies back and forth above her head, balancing herself on the massive contraption bucking between her powerful legs. It whips to the right. Then swings to the left. Casey moves with it, rolling her hips with each dip and turn. Inside, I’m dying. Woozy from lack of blood to the brain just watching the sensual way she rides.
The bull whips in a full circle, winning the war and knocking Casey off. Hollers erupt from the watching crowd as she pushes herself to her feet with a bow. That was, hands down, the hottest thirty-five seconds of my life.
“It ain’t that hard,” she quips as she walks past, sliding deeper into that slow Texas twang that turns my dick to steel.
An older dude in a bib shirt tips his cowboy hat and whistles as he passes. I pull Casey against me, keeping my arm secured around her waist as I whisper in her ear. “Is that what a real man looks like?”
I feel her smile on my cheek a second before her breathy giggle floats into my ear. The flowery scent of her hair mingles with the warmth of her hand on my chest while visions of her on that bull still burn into my memory. All of it overloads my senses and makes every outline in the dim bar fuzzy.
“Let’s see if your dancin’s better than your ridin’.”
“I don’t dance,” I reply, but she continues forward, backing me onto the dance floor.
Casey’s hip knocks against mine. I stand stock-still, unable to move even if I knew what to do. Her eyes lock on me as she dances. The beat booming overhead is a killer mash-up of cool country sounds with heavy hard rock guitar riffs, but I’m not paying attention. I’m too caught up in the way her body sways along with a smooth, seductive roll.
First, the bull and now, this. The woman oozes sex out of every single pore, yet still maintains such an air of elegance it knocks me on my ass. She’s on fire. Stomping the floor with her boot and shimmying her hands up her body and into the air, she’s dancing like she’s the only person in the room.
I wasn’t lying when I said I never dance, but for some reason, I find myself taking hold of her, spinning her around, and leading her along the dance floor as best I can. Golden strands of hair fly around her as she twirls. She laughs and spins and slides up against me, holding me close even though my two left feet have to be an atrocious embarrassment to her. I’m so far out of my element.
“I got you, city boy,” she whispers in my ear.
If only she realized how true that statement really is. She’s got me all right, in more ways than she even knows. If someone told me a month ago I’d be dancing in a country bar with a beautiful Southern belle, I’d have died of laughter. However, here I am doing the Boot Scootin’ Boogie, and I don’t give a crap about anything other than this moment right now.
I spin her to the edge of the dance floor, holding her body against mine. The tangy scent of limes lingers on her breath. Being with someone I like is alien territory. I don’t know how to act around a girl like Casey. She’s classy. Nothing like the girls who frequent The Wreck and my bed. I knew she was special from the second I saw her. Pickup lines and overconfidence may work on the masses, but I don’t want to be that guy. I want Casey to see me as I am. A man. One who doesn’t mince words and refuses to play games. Life’s too damn short.
Casey shifts her stance, and her knee slides past mine. Inviting warmth radiates against my thigh, and the only thing I want to do right now is move my hand up her long ass leg and tear the jeans right off her.
Her fingers tangle in the ends of her hair, twisting around one way then the other. I want to know what she’s thinking every time she twirls those beautiful strands of gold. I want to know what she’s thinking in general. Her likes, her dislikes, and, most of all, how that tantalizing little twang sounds moaning my name.
There’s something between us. Surely, she feels it too. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be here. She wouldn’t be holding me like this or watching me with fascinating eyes filled with a look that’s anything but innocent. Casey is not the scared puppy I thought she was. No. She’s a hellhound, and I’m definitely up for the challenge of taming the beast dying to break out of her.
8
Casey
A steaming hot mug of coffee weighs down each hand as I poke my head in Marisa’s room. After last night’s date, I could really use a little girl talk.
At noon, it’s hardly early, but by Marisa’s standards, it may as well be six a.m. To my chagrin, her bed is empty. “Dang it,” I whisper, retreating to the kitchen. She must have stayed out last night.
Half the night, I spent awake, tossing and turning as I thought about my date with AJ. His dance moves are terrible, but that still didn’t stop me from swooning every time he spun me around. Other than the overwhelming smack of desire I felt every time he put his arms around me, being with him was easy and effortless. Resisting his charms is no easy feat.
A musical jingle flows from my bedroom. I run to grab the phone, sure that it’s going to be Marisa, but my elation over last night’s date fades when I see the Texas area code.
Lord have mercy, something’s happened to Mama.
The last time I received a call from an unknown Texas number, my mom needed me to wire her bail money. Mama’s addictions have been a noose around all our necks for years. Every day, I wait for that phone call from Gran telling me she’s gone. When that day comes, I wonder how I’ll feel about it.
Back in her day, Loretta Grainger was something special. Blond and pretty, she was head cheerleader and pageant queen. She could have had her pick of any guy in town, but she wasn’t interested in settling down. Mama always said trouble just had a way of finding her, but everybody knew she went out looking for it. She wanted danger, excitement. All she ended up with was me.
She tried for a little while, but she eventually left me with Gran to find herself a life. Every so often, she’d clean up her act and come home, swearing it was the last time and promising to make it up to me. I always believed her. But each time, without fail, she’d relapse and disappear, leaving Gran to pick up the pieces of my broken heart. I took it for granted, but Gran was always there. She was the one hosting the birthday parties and cheering me on in the stands. She even took a second job cleaning houses to buy me my first guitar for my fourteenth birthday. When push came to shove, Gran became the mother my own couldn’t be.
I brace myself, anticipating a collect call from the Brewster County jail. “Hello?”
“Hi. Is a Miss Casey Grainger there, please?”
“This is Casey. Who’s this?”
“Well, hey there, baby girl. I know it’s been a long time, but I’m crushed you d
on’t remember me.”
The low sexy drawl on the other end is definitely not the sheriff. My old nickname punches me in the chest then sits in my stomach like a rock. It’s a name from my past said in a voice I never thought I’d hear again.
“Austin?” I swallow hard, my heart racing greyhound fast. “You okay?” Beads of sweat form on my palms. The last time we spoke was on Gran’s porch at graduation. When he proposed.
“Yep. Right as rain, just doin’ my thing. You sound different. Hope big city living ain’t changing ya too much.”
I may sound different, but Austin’s voice is exactly how I remember it. He speaks the way he makes love. Slow and deep. Hearing it after all these years is like coming home again. If I close my eyes, I can smell the hay in the stables, feel his dry, coarse hands on my body, and taste his sweat on my tongue. My body reacts. It’s second nature. Austin made me feel things I’d never felt before—desired, lusted, loved, wanted. His scorching touch ignited a blaze in my heart and a firestorm down below.
Ghostly memories of us float around me. The polite way he used to smile when I tried to catch his attention, a stupid twelve-year-old trying too dang hard to impress the seventeen-year-old boy Gran hired to help on the ranch. He was always such a gentleman, though. He never treated me like a little kid, even though I’m sure my presence was more of a nuisance than anything. Austin Krehley is a good man, and I never deserved him.
“No, I’m still me.”
A sad smile crosses my lips. As I grew up, our friendship evolved into something more. I was sixteen when he finally worked up the courage to ask Gran if he could take me out. He worried that being five years my senior would be a problem, but after four years on the ranch, Gran knew he was harmless. She saw the way he looked at me—with love instead of lust. His intentions were true from the start, and the years I spent with him were some of the happiest of my life. He was my best friend and my first love.
Until Davis Cole blew into town.
“Well, darlin’, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but this ain’t a social call.” Austin clears his throat and continues. “I know that mom o’ yours ain’t good for nothing, and you don’t wanna hear from her anyway, so I’m calling you myself. Gran’s passed on.”
The phone slips from my hand and drops into my lap. I hear his distant voice say my name a second time, but I feel like I’ve been kicked by a mule. Gran can’t be gone. I just talked to her last week. She sounded tired but good.
Goose bumps break out on my skin as I silently rehash our last conversation. I miss ya something awful, but singing on the stage is what you left to do, and I’m damn proud of ya for living your dream. Gran knew I worked in a club, but I didn’t have the heart to tell her I was in the pit serving drinks instead of up in the spotlight where she claimed I belong. It was the last time I’ll ever hear her voice, and it was all a lie.
“Casey Jane, did I lose you?”
Nausea twists in my gut. I lift the phone to my ear again, blinking back the tears. “What happened?”
“Heart attack.”
The floodgates open, and fat giant tears roll down my cheeks, soaking my face with salty wetness. I should have been there. Married Austin and taken over the ranch the way Gran wanted. That was the plan, but I just wasn’t ready. I was too young and naïve. I thought I had the rest of my life ahead of me. Now, I’ll never see the ranch again. And I’ll never see her again. She died alone, and it’s all my fault.
“Where’s Mama?” I choke out between sobs. The anger rises up my face just saying the title she never deserved.
“You know how your ma is. She dashed in for a second to sign some papers and split just as fast. Gran was cremated this morning.”
All those years she stayed away, but the minute it came time to collect the deed to the ranch she came running. Of course. Anything for a buck. I wouldn’t doubt if she’s been on the phone with realtors all day trying to get it sold as fast as possible. Gran would be rolling over in her grave. That is if Loretta was warm-hearted enough to have given her one.
“Aww, baby girl. Hearin’ you cry just breaks my heart,” Austin goes on, killing me with the kindness ingrained in him from birth. How can he be so damn nice all the time? He should hate me for what I did. Lord knows I hate me. I told him I loved him, kissed him on the mouth, and then caught the midnight bus to the East Coast with a different man. I’m worse than dirt. I’m just like her.
“Look, I’m fixin’ to finish up some stuff down at the stables. It’s okay if I call on you again?” Austin never could stand being around a crying woman; I’m not surprised he wants off the phone the second my tears start.
“Yeah, of course. Thank you, Austin. For …” the constant support, the tender care, taking control, staying to help Gran, and continuing to love me in spite of all I’ve done wrong, “Everythin’.”
“All right, darlin’. You take care of yourself.”
I disconnect the call and curl into a sobbing ball on my bed, feeling so alone. I should have told Gran how much she meant to me. Now, she’s gone, and I’ll never get the chance. The sound of pride in her voice every time I lied about singing drives a stake through my wounded heart. I lied to an old woman, and I let it get so far out of hand.
When the phone rings again, I swipe the screen and answer without looking at the caller ID. “Austin?”
“Guess again, cowgirl. You okay?” AJ’s Yankee tone sounds gruff compared to Austin’s slow Texas style, but the concern in his voice is equal.
Immediately, I regret answering the phone. AJ and I have only scratched the surface of our relationship; I don’t want him to hear me like this. Even still, I find myself answering his question with a brutal honesty that shocks me. “Not even a little bit,” I sob. “My gran died.”
“Oh shit. Do you have to go back for a funeral or something?”
Tears roll down my forearm when I wipe the back of my hand across my sopping cheek. I need to calm down. “No. She’s already been cremated. There won’t be any services.”
“I’m really sorry, Case. Anything I can do?”
“Just … talk to me.”
The line goes so quiet that I would have thought he hung up if not for the loud rock ‘n’ roll music blasting in the background. A few agonizing moments later, he starts talking again. “A woman wants to find a husband, so she puts out an ad. It says ‘I’m looking for a man that won’t hit me, won’t run away, and can satisfy me.’ A week later, she hears a very loud knock at the door. She answers it, and it’s a man with no arms or legs. He says ‘I can’t beat you because I have no arms, and I can’t run away because I have no legs.’ The woman smiles and replies, ‘How do I know you can satisfy me?’ He grins and says ‘How do you think I was knocking?’”
I furrow my brow for a split second before bursting into a strange mixture of cackling laughter and flowing tears. “You’re disturbed.”
“Maybe. But I got you laughing.”
“You did,” I say. The bing-bong sound of the doorbell rings through the apartment, breaking my train of thought. “Hold on a second. Someone’s at my door.”
Strolling past the mirror, I cringe at my own reflection. More so than usual. My eyes are swollen from crying, and my slept on hair looks like I’ve been through the wringer. I twist it into a quick ponytail and wipe my face. I can’t do much about my puffy eyes, but at least whoever is on the other side won’t have to worry about me trying to eat his brains. With the phone nestled snug between my ear and shoulder, I unlock the deadbolt and slide the door open.
“You sound like you need more than a dirty joke, cowgirl.”
AJ’s voice comes through in stereo. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, I find myself falling into his arms and savoring the way they feel around me.
“I know how much it hurts, Casey.” He steps into the room, closing the door behind him with his foot while his hand strokes my back. “I’m not gonna lie and tell you the pain will go away. You’ll always carry a pi
ece of it with you because you’ll never stop loving her, but I promise you, even though it doesn’t seem like it now, one day you’ll wake up, and it won’t hurt as bad. You’ll see something that reminds you of her, and instead of tears, you’ll find joy in her memory.”
“This is all my fault. It broke her heart when I ran away.”
Trying to be brave and strong flies right out the window as AJ holds me closer to his body. His scent is a mix of clean cotton, oil, and tobacco, mixed with the sweet spice of cologne, a fragrance that will make me think of him from this moment on. An unending river of tears flows from my eyes, soaking his 2112 shirt while we stand near the door in the living room.
“She gave me everythin’, and I never had a chance to thank her for any of it. All I ever did was lie to her. I’m a huge disappointment. Just like my mother.”
“Nothing you did caused this. I’m sure your grandmother was proud up until her last breath.”
My knees give under the weight of my sorrow. AJ’s arm hooks around them, lifting my feet off the floor. He settles on the couch, setting me on his lap. We stay like this, melting into each other’s embrace, for what seems like an eternity. Until I’m completely empty inside.
“You know,” he says after a while. “Whenever I’m sad, I go in my garage and play the drums. I wail on the set until I’m so spent I no longer have the energy to be sad anymore, and I’m cleansed of whatever is bothering me.” He gently strokes the flyaway hairs back from my hairline and tucks them behind my ear. It’s a simple touch, one meant to comfort me, I’m sure, but the tickling sensation from his fingertips sends a feeling of warmth settling in my stomach. “What helps take your mind off things?”
Sitting up, I wipe away the last of my sob-fest. I’ve never given it much thought. For the last few years, I’ve been in a permanent state of discontent and haven’t really done much of anything. Except …
A lost memory hits me like a tidal wave. I was ten years old, and a boy at school was picking on me, saying having no parents makes me an orphan. All the way home from school, I cried, until I reached the ranch and ran into Gran’s arms. She hugged me tight and said, “Don’t cry about the past and don’t worry about the future. Just live in the present and make it beautiful.” We stayed in the kitchen, rolling dough and eating chocolate chips until I felt like I was ready to burst. Gran was good like that. She always knew what to say in any situation, and when in doubt, she always kept the pantry stocked with dessert ingredients.
Sweetest Obsessions - Anthology Page 7