Kiss Me That Way: A Cottonbloom Novel

by Laura Trentham

Independence battled with a warm feeling of being taken care of. A new experience. A scary one. Did it make her seem weak? “If on the off chance Dylan shows up, I can handle him.”

  He stopped her at the curb between their vehicles. “No doubt, but take pity on me. I’ll be worthless worrying about you if I don’t see you home.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, she shrugged and tried not to let the fuzzy feeling in her chest show on her face. “Well, come on then.”

  She slipped into her SUV and set off, uncommonly aware of his headlights and the grind of the old truck’s gears behind her. As she got closer to her house, she grew more alert, her hands tightening on the steering wheel. Even though she didn’t expect trouble, it was a relief to see her house deserted and dark, no strange cars parked on the street.

  His truck rumbled off behind hers. She walked up to the driver’s side as he got out and gestured around them. “See? No one here.”

  “I’ll feel even better if you let me take a look around inside.”

  She should insist he leave. Instead, she chucked her head toward the front door. The truth was she wasn’t ready to be alone.

  Only the sound of the churning air-conditioning broke the silence of the house. Like a policeman in a movie, he checked all her rooms. Amusement had her biting her lip while she plopped onto her couch.

  Cade was a big man, and his dark beard made him appear that much more intimidating. No wonder Dylan had looked like he might wet himself when they’d faced down. He prowled back into the den, a note of aggression flavoring his movements. Yet he wouldn’t hurt her … or any woman for that matter.

  An idea flashed, and she moved to the edge of the couch at the surge of energy. Facing a flesh-and-blood man had been different from beating up body bags or flipping fellow martial arts students. There was a line never crossed in the gym that didn’t exist in dark alleys.

  “Discover anything?” she asked with fake casualness.

  “You don’t hang your towel up, your flip-flop collection might qualify for a world record, and a couple of rabid dust bunnies have taken up residence under your bed.”

  She laughed. She couldn’t help it. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

  “Good to know,” he murmured, giving her a speculative look she couldn’t interpret.

  “What are you up to Tuesday afternoon?” The question burst out of her. She’d meant to ease into the conversation.

  “Let’s see.…” He silently ticked off items on his fingers, before letting his hands fall with a shrug and smile. “You know I have absolutely nothing going on.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d like to help me out? It can be in place of your therapy at the office.” The gym work would be as good as if not better than the exercises she had him do in her office.

  “What kind of help?” Her enthusiasm apparently wasn’t contagious. He sounded suspicious.

  “I need a dummy, and you’d be perfect.”

  The look on his face was priceless—shades of shock and amusement and insult. She burst out laughing.

  “A dummy, huh?” He sat so close her body tilted in his direction with the shifting of the cushion under his weight.

  “Not like an idiot, but a real, live man to stand in for Bubba.”

  “Bubba?”

  “The stuffed dummy I use with the girls at Tally’s gym.” She turned to face him, one leg up on the couch and tucked against his. “I realized something tonight. My training has been sterile. Always in a gym against inanimate objects or other students. There’s been no sense of unpredictability.”

  “Let me get this straight. You want me to pretend to attack a bunch of young girls so they can practice kneeing me where it hurts the most and breaking my nose?” His dry tone put a damper on her excitement.

  “Put like that, I don’t suppose it sounds very appealing.” She pulled a loose thread out of the corner of the cushion. “Forget it. It was a silly idea.”

  He slipped a finger under her chin and tilted her head up. “It’s never silly to want to help someone. I’ll do it, but my crotch is strictly off-limits.”

  She tossed her arms around his neck for a girlish hug. When she should have pulled back she couldn’t, and the simple hug of gratitude morphed into something else entirely.

  He smelled good. No, better than good, he smelled delectable. Like she wanted to sample him. She nosed into the wiry, tickling hairs of his beard. One of his hands drifted up her spine to cup the back of her head. He pulled away but didn’t release her. His green eyes searched her face. She wasn’t sure what he was looking for or what he found in her eyes. Maybe the same swirl of conflicting emotions she found in his.

  She wanted to kiss him, needed to know. Needed to know if the fantasies she’d nurtured all these years were foolish. Her heart accelerated like hitting the first peak of a roller coaster as she leaned in and fluttered her eyes closed. She brushed her lips against his. The hand in her hair clamped tighter, holding her in place. The slight tug sent pleasure to every nerve in her body.

  His lips were soft and dry. She pulled his bottom lip between her teeth and ran her tongue along the smooth flesh. His beard tickled her chin and her upper lip, the added friction undeniably arousing. He didn’t deepen the kiss or push her away. A mewl of frustration escaped her throat as she threaded her fingers in his hair.

  “What are we doing?” His lips moved against hers.

  “I’m trying to kiss you, and you’re sitting there like a bump on a log.”

  His chest rumbled an instant before he took control. He banded his arm tight around her and kissed her back. Alarms should have clanged in her head yet didn’t. The trust she’d settled on him as a young girl had faded like a picture in the sun but hadn’t disappeared.

  The reality of Cade Fournette didn’t disappoint. He didn’t go too far, too fast; instead, he explored her lips, slowly, thoroughly, gently. The kiss was a seduction.

  Usually, she had a difficult time shutting her thoughts down while kissing. Worries about what the man wanted or what she didn’t want or even her patient list for the next day would steal her attention. She’d never understood the attraction of making out for hours.

  She finally got it. With Cade, her body pulled the plug on her brain. It was too busy sending and receiving pleasure signals.

  Time slowed. Each nip and brush on each other’s lips marked the passing of the minutes. She twisted closer, more of her weight settling against him. His gentleness only threw tinder on the fire, making her frantic for more. More of his mouth on hers, his hands on her body, his body over hers, easing her ache. More of everything. Lost in the present, she forgot about the past.

  He brushed his tongue across her upper lip, and she opened her mouth on a noise she’d never heard come out of her. Something close to a whimpery, begging moan. Their tongues tangled. She straddled one of his legs. Her knee pressed up against something hard that had her squirming.

  He turned his face to the side but didn’t shift her away. She nuzzled into the hair at his temple. His chest rose and fell with the same urgency hers did.

  “Monroe, this is … crazy.”

  Not amazing, incredible, life changing, but crazy? The heat of passion took a detour into embarrassment. The kind that had her wanting a sinkhole to open at their feet. Or maybe an asteroid to hit the Earth.

  She scrambled off him and stared toward her mantle. What had come over her? She’d never jumped on top of a man like that. “Sorry. I don’t even know…”

  “Don’t be sorry. I’ve been thinking about kissing you since you walked into that PT room and told me to take my pants off.”

  She quit chewing her bottom lip and glanced in his direction. “Then why is this crazy?”

  “Because of who you are and who I am. I’ve only been back a week and we barely know each other. Plus, you have to know … I’m not sticking around.”

  She veered from confusion to disappointment. His announcement he would be leaving Cottonbloom wasn’t a news flash. A sl
ow-festering thorn worked into her heart at the truth, but his other excuses rang false.

  “What do you mean, who I am?”

  “You were always too good for me. Sweet and innocent. I’m still a swamp rat. Nothing will change that.”

  The past defined her in ways she could name and in ways she was yet discovering. It seemed she wasn’t the only one. Cade’s past as the high-school dropout forced to accept charity haunted him even though he could probably buy the biggest, oldest house in Cottonbloom, Mississippi, if he desired.

  They were at a crossroads, maybe the first of many. Past or present. Which would define them?

  Bravery is about doing something even though it scares you. His words came back to roost on her chest, the pressure almost too much to bear. With reflexes honed in the gym, she was back in his lap, straddling both his legs and fisting her hands in his hair. She tugged his head back until they were face-to-face, her in the dominant position.

  “I’m not sweet and innocent, Cade Fournette. You can lie to yourself all you want, but I know you better than anyone on earth. I know your secrets. And you know mine. If that scares you? Well, you need to man up and get brave.”

  His eyes flared. She’d surprised him. Heckfire, she’d surprised herself. Should she move from surprise into shock? Was she brave enough? She dropped her mouth back to his. This time he took control on contact. He flipped her and pressed her back into the cushions, his weight over her. His lips moved down her neck, sliding the strap of her tank top and bra over the curve of her shoulder, his lips following.

  He gently bit the sensitive skin of her collarbone. Her breast ached for his mouth and he was close, so close. She arched toward him. He stopped, breathing hard, and propped himself up on his elbows over her. His green eyes were hypnotizing. If he took her hand, she would follow him anywhere, even to her bed.

  “I should go.” His voice was rough, and the press of his body informed her in no uncertain terms, he wanted her.

  Pride edged out her bravery. She refused to beg, sliding her hands from around his neck to his chest and pushing. “Then go.”

  He rose quickly, and she was left to grab the cushion for balance. Cade was doing the smart thing. Her body argued fiercely that being smart was overrated.

  “I’m not used to playing the gentleman.” The thread of humor dissipated a portion of the sexual tension.

  “What are you used to playing then?” She adjusted the strap of her tank and stood.

  “A country boy who isn’t afraid to get a little dirty.” He pushed her hair over her shoulders, his fingers trailing over bare skin, igniting a path of need. “But you deserve more than that,” he added in a whisper, moving to the door.

  She considered shaking some sense into him or kicking his shin or jumping him again. None of it would work. Just like telling herself Sam had no power over her anymore didn’t stop the fear each time he invaded her dreams.

  Somehow she would have to show Cade that she wasn’t the same girl he remembered. Or was a stronger version of that girl. A version who didn’t need his protection. She needed him in other ways now. Ways she didn’t understand herself. Not yet.

  He had one foot out the door when she said, “We’re still on for Tuesday afternoon, right?”

  He hesitated but nodded. “Lock up after I’m gone, okay?”

  Once she’d turned the dead bolt, she leaned against the door. While she was confused about the storm of emotions seething through her body and wondered about the future, there was one thing she knew with certainty—Cade Fournette had felt the same rush from their kisses as she had.

  Chapter Ten

  Monroe peeked around the redbrick corner of the dry cleaner to the other side of the river. Regan poked her under the ribs, making her flinch. “What are they doing?”

  “Talking and looking at the wall. Sawyer is making grand hand gestures, and Cade is pointing at something.” Monroe ducked back around to face Regan. “You know, you might want to consider glasses. And you’re the one with the binoculars.”

  “I don’t want to be obvious. What now?”

  Monroe looked to heaven. Considering it was Sunday, maybe Jesus would take pity on her. She peeked around the side again. “Sawyer is hauling a big ladder over, and Cade is unloading what looks to be several gallons of paint from his truck bed.”

  “That mildewed brick wall is an eyesore. I’ll bet he feels the need to do something to compete with our gazebo.”

  The framed shell of a gazebo stood in a common area on the Mississippi side. The beautiful riot of wildflowers on the opposite bank emphasized the barren mix of grassy weed and dirt on the Mississippi side. If Regan won the festival competition, her vision would turn the common area into the centerpiece of the town and a place to gather.

  “What are they doing now?” Regan asked.

  “Sawyer is fanning himself and … yes, he’s stripping buck naked,” she said in as serious a voice as she could muster.

  Regan jumped out from behind the wall, the binoculars to her face. “He is not.”

  Monroe tried to contain her laughter. “Nope. But you seemed real interested in the possibility. By the way, that wasn’t obvious at all.”

  Regan retreated, hidden once more. “Sawyer and I have been over for years. Yes, he was once an important part of my life, but people change. They grow up and let stupid dreams go and that’s that.”

  Regan’s voice held a vulnerability Monroe hadn’t heard for a long time. Her friend generally went through life with a brash confidence that, depending on who was in her crosshairs, drew either admiration or annoyance.

  Regan and Sawyer had ended things in an explosion whose aftershocks were still being felt. While they hadn’t flaunted their relationship due to Regan’s mother, people had whispered about them. The beautiful, rich Mississippi girl with the poor, yet ambitious, Louisiana boy, but like Romeo and Juliet, the ending was tragic.

  Animosity had taken root in the burned-out ground, blooming since both sides of town had entered the magazine competition. Monroe feared the festivals would tear the towns further apart.

  Regan pushed off the wall. “Here comes my hired help.”

  Delmar Fournette parked his truck on the curb. Monroe looked beyond him, but only a handful of people were out and none of them were headed in their direction with a toolbox except for Delmar. Monroe grabbed Regan’s arm. “You didn’t.”

  A calculating smile replaced any vulnerability on Regan’s face. “He was happy for the work.”

  Monroe shook her head and peeked back around the corner. Sawyer and Cade had started on opposite ends of the wall, yellow spreading like the sunrise. Red would have been more practical, but already the wall looked brighter and added a splash of cheery color to the row of buildings.

  The toolbox bumped Delmar’s leg on every step, tools clanging and tinking. “Hey there, Monroe, Ms. Mayor.”

  Regan glanced at her cuff watch. “You’re a little late, Mr. Fournette. We’re already behind schedule.”

  Monroe gave Regan’s ankle a little kick. If she’d been wearing pointy-toed stilettos like Regan instead of sneakers, her nudge might have made more of an impression. Monroe trailed after Regan and Delmar, listening with only half an ear to her instructions.

  They stepped out of the shadows into the sun. Although it was hot, the air had shed its moisture sometime during the night, leaving things comfortable—as long as you didn’t move around too much.

  Regan grabbed her hand and pulled her back toward the street. “Let’s grab something to drink and enjoy the show.”

  Monroe followed Regan into a small café that did major business during the week. Sundays were slow. Bigger cities lured residents away for shopping or entertainment on the weekends. The festival was the kickoff to what Regan hoped was a revitalization of downtown Cottonbloom. Since the beginning of her term as mayor, she’d offered incentives for new businesses to move into empty storefronts and encouraged the existing ones to spruce up.

 
Bypassing an iced coffee for an ice-cream cone of butter pecan, Monroe strolled next to Regan toward the common area. Hammering echoed off the brick storefronts. While Monroe didn’t approve of Regan constantly needling Sawyer, she couldn’t deny it was entertaining.

  “I had dinner at Sawyer’s house the other night and—”

  “What?” Regan grabbed her upper arm, perfectly manicured nails biting into her skin. “What did he say about me? I mean, about the festival?”

  “He wanted me to tell you he booked the Cottonbloom, Mississippi, marching band for his parade. Got his boss to donate some instruments.”

  “Sneaky little jerk.” Regan dropped Monroe’s arm, walking faster. “How did he say it? Casually, like it was no biggie?”

  “No, he was pretty much thumbing his nose and chanting, ‘Nana-nana-boo-boo,’ as jerks will do.”

  They sat on a buckling wooden bench at the edge of the common area. Regan was picking the polish off her thumbnail. Things must be dire indeed. “Next time you see him, tell him I got the Shriners. And their little cars and funny hats, too.”

  Monroe held her hands up. “It’s not like I regularly hang with him. I was dropping the fund-raiser invitation off for Tally and ended up staying for dinner. A onetime thing.”

  “Mrs. Tarwater is outdoing herself with this shindig. She should be able to raise some good money for your girls.”

  An icky feeling she was using the Tarwaters burrowed deeper. The picture of Kayla crying over the boy who’d left his mark on her strengthened her resolve. “I had to rescue one of the girls from the Rivershack Tavern.”

  Regan gasped. “What happened?”

  Monroe gave her an abbreviated version. The fact that she left Cade out of her story niggled at her conscience, but she wasn’t ready to discuss the complicated range of emotions he instilled. Or maybe because she’d never told anyone about him; habits were hard to break. He’d always been her secret.

  “I do appreciate everything Mrs. Tarwater is doing, but I hate wondering if they’re expecting something to happen between me and Andrew.” Monroe stared across the river at Cade.