And I did so like to win…
A few silent seconds passed before I heard a door open, then shut again down the hall. Hannah returned with Sarah and Beth, who were wearing black dresses very similar in style to the ones they’d been wearing the night we met, only without their bonnets and aprons. They’d obviously let Hannah do their hair—Sarah’s was down and straight, and I could tell she’d had it trimmed a little. Whatever she’d done to it, it looked radiant against her alabaster skin, a touch of flame lighting up the darkness of her very conservative dress.
Then there was the makeup. There wasn’t much of it, but holy hell, it made a difference. Sarah’s already smooth skin was flawless like fresh butter, and Hannah had draped a soft, brown halo around each eye that drew my attention to them immediately. Sarah’s lips were just a little bit glossy too, pinker than I recalled, though if she kept chewing on that lower one they were going to turn more red. I imagined how they’d look after I kissed her. Swollen. Bruised. The color of raw passion…
“Well?” Hannah prompted. She was staring at me. Her eyes were hard.
I stood up, smiling even though she’d pulled me from my thoughts so hard the room spun. “Sarah. You look great.”
Sarah smiled, but faintly. She didn’t look entirely comfortable without the bonnet on. She kept tugging at her locks, threading her fingers between them nervously. “I’m… glad you think so,” she murmured.
And I did think so, which came as something of a surprise. I wasn’t totally into girls who dressed this damn modestly, but on Sarah, it worked. I was still dying to know what that lithe little body looked like under those heavy clothes, but that wonderment had become kind of fun. I was curious about her in a way I’d never been about a woman before—not since I could remember, anyway. I’d told Ash before that the chase was one of the best parts of getting a girl. That had proven especially true with Sarah, thus far.
I wasn’t one to normally pursue a virgin, either. I liked my women experienced. It made sex better for everyone involved. But the thought of getting to break Sarah in, of being the first to ever climb that insurmountable obstacle… that was fucking hot. It would be like thrusting a flag into the top of Mt. Everest, knowing I was the only one who’d ever seen that particular view. The more I looked at her, the more I wanted to pull that dress apart and show her soft, lovely body all the things it had been missing out on.
Sarah regarded me warily, almost as if she didn’t believe I was staring—as if she had no idea what I could possibly be so attracted to. The fact that she had no idea how beautiful she was struck me as a bonus. I wasn’t dealing with a chick with an ego here. And that meant it’d be so much easier to tear down her walls.
Before I could start thinking in-depth about what else of hers I might like to tear down, Beth peeked out from around the corner and caught Wyatt’s attention. He was, to my surprise, a lot smoother than I was—or at least, more eager. Hannah didn’t have to prompt him to comment on Beth’s appearance. He went straight for the jugular.
“You look awesome,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. I got the impression it was to keep himself from reaching out and touching her. She was dressed just the same as Sarah was, yet looked much more confident than her older sibling.
“I’d look better if Sarah hadn’t insisted on us wearing these…,” she said, scowling at Sarah. “How are we supposed to have any fun if we’re tripping over our skirts the entire time?”
“We’ll figure something out,” Ash assured her, eyeing Hannah from across the room. She was wearing a pair of low-slung skinny jeans and a sleeveless, white blouse with the Misfits logo printed on it, a far cry from the modest ensemble her sisters sported. “Let it never be said that the Brody Bunch can’t show their girls a good time—come rain, sleet, snow, or ankle-length hemlines.”
When Ash smirked, Hannah returned it. She narrowed her eyes just a little, as if silently admitting that was clever. The fact that she didn’t say it out loud gave me some hope that Ash hadn’t found a way to get the upper hand yet.
Speaking of which, I was eager to get us all onto territory that was more familiar to me. Someplace I could stand out and shine. Someplace that gave me all the tools I needed to convince Sarah of how slick and impressive I could be. It was time for me to take this competition seriously. I wasn’t about to let a stupid misstep throw me off my game and force me to forfeit the advantage I’d so easily cultivated.
“We should get going,” I said. Reaching out, I guided my hand to the spot between Sarah’s shoulder blades and ushered her toward the door. “You ever take a spin in a classic car before?”
Sarah shook her head meekly and refused to meet my gaze. “Riding with Hannah was my first car trip ever. What makes yours a classic?”
“Same things that make anything a classic,” I answered, lowering my hand to the small of her back. I heard a soft, yet sharp intake of breath whistle through her lips and grinned down at her. “Style, speed, and curves.”
With a self-deprecating laugh, Sarah tugged at her sleeves and said, “I don’t know anything about those things.”
My grin pulled wider. I couldn’t help it. She was playing right into my hands. “Then I’ll just have to teach you.”
I opened the door on her side and watched her slide in, face red, freckles peeking out past the blush. When I shut it, I glanced over the roof of my Shelby to see Wyatt and Beth hurrying toward his truck, talking and laughing all the way. I narrowed my eyes. I wouldn’t have thought of Wyatt as a contender before now, but he had this natural chemistry with Beth that made me wonder if he wasn’t the dark horse in this race.
Ash, on the other hand, wasn’t faring quite as well. He emerged from the apartment just as I was starting the engine and trying not to laugh when Sarah squealed at the unexpected sound. He walked to his bike alone as Hannah locked up and made her way to her car, a shitty red Toyota that had clearly seen better days and surely appealed to her more because of its price than its condition. I made a face at Ash as he passed and he offered only a shrug in return. Jesus, how was he striking out this bad? Was Hannah really that much more of a challenge than I’d thought?
Well, shit. Far be it for me to look a gift horse in the mouth. I slung my arm over the back of Sarah’s seat and pulled out of Hannah’s apartment complex, doing my best not to thread my fingers through Sarah’s strawberry-blonde hair and finally find out if it was as smooth and silken as I thought it was.
6
Sarah
I’d never heard the words “overstimulated” or “sensory overload” before, so when Beth, Reid, Hannah, Wyatt, Ash, and I walked from the unassuming gravel parking lot and into the fairgrounds proper, I found myself completely unable to articulate my state of distress.
I suppose it isn’t even accurate to call it distress. Not really. The truth is that I was in utter awe of my surroundings, and unfortunately, sometimes awe can be painful.
The neon lights that blinked and flared and buzzed up ahead of us dazzled me, made me stop short so I could stare, jaw-sagging, at all the myriad colors streaking through the night. There was a temperate wind that tousled my hair, one that brought with it a cornucopia of scents: churros, cotton candy, popcorn, hot dogs, and a hundred other delicacies I’d never experienced before. I could practically taste them on my lips, so sticky were these fragrances, and the lilt of carnival music rang in my ears as it slowly crescendoed the nearer we got.
There were other sounds, too, and sensations. The pull of the crowd and its weight. Laughter and shouting, the squealing of excited children. A buzz of energy I couldn’t quite place. The heat of Reid’s body, so close to mine, much closer than any man’s had been before. Even Father’s hugs felt less intimate than this, and Reid and I weren’t even touching. His presence was enough to overwhelm me, and when combined with all the other sights and sounds vying for my attention, it made me feel like the walls were closing in.
Dizzied, I reached out and latched onto his arm, my fingers
finding purchase on his leather jacket. It wasn’t smooth and buttery like the seats of his car. Rather, it was coarse, like the jacket was well-worn and well-loved in the same way mementos from my childhood were. I wondered if it had special significance for him, and when I looked up into his face, I realized I’d been staring and worrying the material between my fingers for too long.
“Sorry,” I murmured, and moved to pull away. But Reid stayed my hand, placing his own overtop my knuckles. His fingers were just as coarse as the leather of his jacket, but much warmer. Soothing, in some strange way. I didn’t quite understand it—my feelings on Reid seemed so at odds with each other. Part of me wanted to exercise caution, even admonished me on the dangers of English men and what he might expect of me. He was a man with a reputation, after all—Hannah had made that much clear as Beth and I dressed for our evening out. She’d told me to “take no shit”, and that was a direct quote. But I wasn’t used to standing up to men like she was, even less so in the context of courtship. If that’s what this was.
Another part of me, one whose voice I did my best to quell, encouraged me to latch harder onto Reid’s arm. To slip my fingers through his and let him lead me wherever he dared. His eyes, caressed by the neon, seemed to glow, making him seem otherworldly—though not angelic. Not a demon, either. I wasn’t sure there was a name for such a creature as Reid Brody, and though that should have frightened me, it only made me want to know more.
I tried to ground myself by once again pondering his beard. Hannah had reassured me, time and time again, that English men wore beards whenever they pleased and it was not a sign of marriage. Still, old perceptions die hard, and every time I looked at Reid I was taken aback by the sight of it. It made me feel, perhaps unfairly, that he was hiding something. And made me think about how it would feel rubbing against my cheek. Or my lips.
Embarrassed, I blinked the thought away. Two days in the English world, and already I was having sinful thoughts. But what Amish girl didn’t grow up wondering what the touch of her husband might feel like? It was a silly correlation to make out here, but I couldn’t blame myself too harshly when it was all I’d ever known. I just hoped I could say the same for Reid. I desperately wanted him to approve of me. To think I wasn’t entirely weird.
I wanted to belong. Not in this world, but… with him. I wished I had my bonnet to hide behind when he quirked an eyebrow at me like I’d been off in my own little world and had forgotten all about where we were and what we were doing. Which was exactly what had happened.
I looked around. Hannah, Ash, Beth, and Wyatt had all gone on ahead to the ticket counter, leaving me and Reid standing in the center of the entryway, the crowd parting around us like the Red Sea. I opened my mouth to say something, anything that would justify having got so lost in thought, but nothing intelligent emerged. I was sure he’d laugh at me.
But Reid just smiled. “You okay?” he asked me.
I nodded, but I could feel how wide and unconvincing my eyes were. “Yes. It’s just… a lot to take in.”
Reid looked—for the first time, really looked—up at the lights and the speakers blaring that sickeningly upbeat music. “I guess it would be, if you’ve never been. Shit, I remember comin’ here when I was a kid. It was awesome, but…” He fidgeted a little. “I’d always end up wanting to go home early. It was just too much all at once, and I could only stand it for so long. You know?”
I nodded, following his gaze. “I know.” That was exactly how I felt now.
Reid said, “You can hold onto me if you want, Sarah. I’ll keep you grounded.” The smile that thinned his lips made my heart pound. “You don’t have to worry about anything else but sticking close to me. Cool?”
He still hadn’t let go of my hand. His touch was slowly burning me, like an ember returning to life, beginning to flame. I swallowed hard when he maneuvered my arm through his like a proper escort might, but I did not fight him. How could I, when this was exactly what I wanted, right or wrong?
“Th-thanks,” I stammered, looking away from Reid finally. I had to, or I’d spend the whole night trying to figure him out, trying to understand why I simultaneously felt so safe, and yet so terrified, in the presence of a veritable stranger.
I clung to Reid as he purchased our tickets at the counter. Beth gave me a quick, sideways look meant to convey concern for me. When I smiled at her weakly, she turned to Hannah and muttered something I could tell was in our mother tongue. Hannah had been talking with Ash, her voice low and a sly smile on her face, but when Beth spoke she straightened and turned her attention to me.
“I’m all right,” I said before Hannah could ask me. She scrunched her nose; either she didn’t like being cut off, or she didn’t quite believe me. In Dutch, I elaborated: “Everything here is new and a little scary. But Reid has offered to take care of me, so I think I’ll manage.”
Hannah’s expression softened. She turned her gaze on Reid, evaluated him, then nodded slowly. And all six of us made our way into the fairgrounds proper.
We split up almost immediately, but Hannah assured me and Beth both that she wouldn’t be far. She’d left before either of us could ask any more questions, though, and soon I found myself spirited away through the tide of bodies to an alley lined with games. Men and women stood beside the booths or within, calling out to passersby that the odds were “in their favor.” Many of them gestured to prizes suspended from the ceilings or mounted on their back walls, mostly stuffed animals in various sizes and breeds.
I marveled at them. They were so… colorful. So intricate, compared to the toys my sisters and I had grown up with. And fluffy, too. Not made of burlap or straw.
Reid must have caught me eyeing them, because he grinned and swung around so we were standing face-to-face. “Like what you see?”
I looked him over and blushed. I was doing a lot of that lately, but I couldn’t help myself. The low growl of his voice threatened to undo me, and it got even worse when he rumbled with laughter.
His eyes flashed. “I meant the prizes, you know.”
“I… I know what you meant!” I insisted, chewing the skin off my lower lip. It was a bad habit, I knew, but my nerves were frayed and I would take comfort wherever I could get it. “And yes. I think they’re quite cute. Especially that bird. The black and white one.”
I gestured to what appeared to be some kind of shooting range, only the guns didn’t look real. Reid followed my line of sight and squinted. “The penguin?”
“Yes.” I’d have to take his word for it. I’d never seen one before.
Reid grinned. It was downright feral. “What the lady wants, she gets,” he said before pulling me toward the booth.
I stood to the side as he paid the gentleman manning the booth for the chance to take a few shots from what I now realized was an air rifle. Pumping it, Reid pressed the butt against his shoulder and assumed what I could only surmise was a practiced stance. I’d seen our men go hunting before, and none held a gun so well as Reid did, nor did they look half as good doing it. The way his jeans stretched taut over his rear made my core shudder and pulse.
I hated that I was having these feelings, but at the same time, I wanted to revel in them. Wanted to explore them. Wanted to find out what they meant and learn what might happen if I indulged them. The kind of sweet, succulent jolts that would run through me as a teen, and now as a young woman, were a taboo subject where I came from. The only time women were educated on “wifely duties” were when they were about to become wives, and then, as I understood it, they were only provided the vaguest of details.
I bet Reid had the answers to all my questions. And I bet he could provide those answers without uttering a single word. I swallowed thickly and raised my gaze to his face, memorizing his narrowed eyes, the look of concentration that pulled his jaw tight.
He lowered his finger from the trigger guard to the trigger. And then, as a parade of wooden ducks went shuffling to and fro across the booth’s back wall, Reid began to fi
re.
The rifle hardly made a sound, but I saw one of the ducks collapse. Reid pumped and loaded the rifle again, returned to his stance, and fired a second time.
Another near-soundless assassination. And after that, three more. Five shots, five “kills.” I stared in wonder. So did the carnival worker. So did several onlookers who obviously hadn’t expected to see Reid succeed, let alone rack up a perfect score.
“Jesus, dude,” the attendant said, followed by a disbelieving bark of a laugh. “I mean, holy shit. You some kinda ex-Marine, or something? Head of SEAL Team Six out for a night on the town?”
I wasn’t sure what most of those words meant, but Reid laughed, so it must have been a kind of compliment. “Nah. Just good at what I do.” He winked at me. “Besides, I couldn’t disappoint the lady.”
Now all eyes were on me. I felt a flutter in my chest that told me my heart was coming out of sync with the rest of my body. I shifted under the weight of their stares, surreptitiously pulling a few strands of hair out from behind my ears so as to hide a bit of my face. I looked to Reid, hoping he would save me, but he was pointing to the penguin I’d spotted earlier, eager to present it to me.
In just a short span of time, Reid had gathered something of a following. But not everyone was as impressed with him as I was.
“You’re a fuckin’ cheat!” I heard someone say.
Reid turned, raising an eyebrow at a man with a foamy cup of beer in his hand. He was waddling and swaying between the worst of the throng, a sneer on his pale lips. “Come again?” Reid said, though I was certain he’d heard him; the man wasn’t exactly using his inside voice.
I took a step back as the man surged forward, sweat beading on his upper lip. His short, mud-colored hair clung to his forehead and he reeked of alcohol, even at this distance. I raised a hand to cover my nose and mouth as he said, “You heard me, asshole. You’re a fuckin’ cheat. I been at that thing half the damn day tryin’ to score, but you just waltz up and claim a prize? No way. No fuckin’ way.” Now he was turning to the others. “He’s a fuckin’ plant. Some fucker they hired to make us all think we got a chance. These games are all rigged. He ain’t really that good.”
PRIDE: A Bad Boy and Amish Girl Romance (The Brody Bunch#1) Page 5