I Do!

by Rachel Gibson

  There was only thing left for her to say. “I do.”

  For the second time that day, chaos broke out at the JH. Shoes flew and clothes dropped to the hay. A hot fury of hands and mouths touched and tore at each other. Becca ran her palms over the defined balls of Nate’s biceps and corded muscles of forearms. The guy lifted engines instead of weights and it showed in tight skin and beautiful hard body. She shoved her stomach into his and felt the rigid length of his hot erection against her crotch. “I do, Nate,” she gasped. “I really really do.”

  Naked, he pressed her to his hot chest and kissed her soul-deep and walked backward with her to the bale of hay. He sat with her standing between his legs, then pulled her closer until she felt his hot breath brush her breast. His gaze looked up into her and he took her nipple into his wet mouth. His eyes closed and his groan vibrated his lips and tongue. Waves of pleasure rolled through her and she ran her fingers through his hair. He knew what he was doing, stabbing and licking and softly sucking each breast until she wanted to beg him to stop even as she wanted to beg him to never stop. As if he read her mind, he looked up at her and slid his hand between her legs. “I love that I make you wet.” A sexy smile curved his lips and lit his sleepy blue eyes. “You want me inside.”

  She nodded. “I do.”

  He grabbed a condom out of the wallet he’d tossed on the hay bale and tore at the package. “I want you to straddle my lap.” He rolled the lubricated latex over the spongy head of his penis and down the thick, long shaft to his dark pubic hair. “No need for both of us to get hay in our ass.” He reached for her waist and she climbed on him. Through the growing darkness inside the loft, his gaze sought hers, intense and heavy with the same lust that wanted him inside her. He paused to kiss her breasts before he positioned his erection between her legs and grasped her thigh. He pushed her down as he thrust up, and in one smooth stroke, he buried himself deep inside like a hot knife. His grasped tightened on her thigh and her back arched. She cried out in pain and the most exquisite pleasure she’d ever felt in her life.

  “Damn,” he said between clenched teeth. “You feel good. Hot and so good.” He lifted her, then thrust upward once more. “Ride me.”

  Her hand grabbed his shoulders and she did as he’d asked. She rode him like he was the bull at Gilley’s. “Don’t stop,” she said through breathy moans. “Just don’t stop.”

  He pumped into her, building the pleasure deep between her legs. “Not a chance. You’re a sweet girl.”

  At the moment she didn’t feel like a sweet girl. She felt like the kind of girl who wanted to bury her face in Nate’s neck and bite him hard.

  He slid one hand to the place where their bodies joined and touched her there without missing a beat of his pumping hips. “Your little muffin’s so sweet.” Another deep groan spilled past his lips “So good.”

  He’s a groaner, she thought just as the first wave of orgasm heated her skin, radiating outward from the hot coil getting tighter with every stroke. “Nate,” she called out as he plunged faster. Harder, as his fingers stayed with her, turning her mindless to anything but the pleasure racing through and rushing across her skin, until she opened her mouth to scream. The sound died in her throat as wave after luscious wave rolled through her. Her muscles pulsed and contracted, gripping him hard. His heavy breathing stirred the hair stuck to her damp throat and he shoved into her one last time as his hands gripped her thighs.

  He whispered her name and crushed her to his chest as if he wanted to absorb her into his chest. “Sweet baby Jesus,” he whispered as Becca saw spots behind her closed eyelids. She’d never had such an intense orgasm, didn’t recall it being so good, and she feared she might faint from pleasure overload. He remained deeply embedded in her body when he looked up at her and smiled. “That was good, Becca. Do you know how good you are?”

  Instead of admitting that she didn’t, she returned his smile. “Do you know how good you are?”

  “Of course. Come home with me and let me do that some more.”

  She didn’t have to work tomorrow. She could stay awake until the sun came up. “Do you need a ride home?”

  “I do.” His penis stirred within her. “Tell me you want to spend all night in bed with me.”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “Yes, I do.”

  Chapter 5

  NATE SQUINTED AGAINST the morning light piercing his eyes through the small bathroom window. He turned on the shower, then stepped inside. In the kitchen, Becca was making pancakes and juice, giving him just enough time to wash up.

  Last night had been the best sex of his life. Every orgasm felt like it had been ripped from the center of his core. The second, third¸ and fourth had been just as intense as the first.

  He hurried and scrubbed his hair and body. He wanted more time with her before she left. And he especially wanted to watch her make pancakes while wearing his old “Parrish Classics” T-shirt.

  He felt more than just like for Becca and he wanted more from her in return. He wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, only that he wanted more.

  He dried his skin and stepped into a clean pair of cargo pants. More of her smiles and laughter and bad date stories. More touches and kisses and more of her sweet, sweet body. He wrapped a towel around his neck and walked bare-chested from the bathroom and into the kitchen. The room was empty and the still frozen juice sat on the counter alongside the box of pancake mix. She hadn’t started to cook. Good, that meant more time for him to watch. “Becca?” he called out.

  “In here.”

  He followed her voice and raised the towel to the side of his head. “What are you doing?” he asked as he moved the living room, but the question hung in the air, unanswered. His feet came to an abrupt halt and his hand dropped to his side. Holly Ann sat in his father’s old recliner, her arms across her chest and her foot bobbing with anger.

  “You’re back in town.” He didn’t want to look at Becca. He’d rather shoot himself than see the anger she must be feeling right about now.

  Holly Ann’s brows lowered over her brown eyes. “Obviously, Nate.”

  “How long have you been here?” He could fix this. He could, but he just had to figure out how.

  “Long enough.” Her foot stopped. “Don’t you think you should have told me that I’ve been replaced?” And started again. “Or is this just a hookup that I wasn’t supposed to find out about?”

  “No.” He finally forced himself to look at Becca, sitting on the couch, dressed in her clothes from the previous night. She didn’t look mad, just deeply hurt. “Ah shit.”

  Her blue eyes filled with moisture and she rose to her feet. “I told you that I don’t like cheaters,” she said, and grabbed her purse. “I told you and you still used me to cheat on your girlfriend.”

  “It’s not like that, Becca.”

  “Right.”

  He held a hand toward her as he watched her walk to front door. “I can explain.” But he needed to deal with Holly Ann. He needed to resolve things with his girlfriend first.

  “Don’t come near me ever again.” Becca ducked her face as a tear slid from her bottom lashes.

  Nate curled his hands into fists to keep from reaching for her as she walked out the door.

  “I can’t believe you’ve cheated on me.” Holly Ann rose and planted her hands on her hips. “If you wanted out, you should have told me.”

  “When?” He lifted a hand and dropped it to his side. “You’ve been out of town for months.”

  “You know I love you and that I was coming back.”

  “If you really loved me, you wouldn’t have been able stay away so long.” He took a breath and let it out slow. “Did you really want me to end things over the phone or by text?”

  “It would have been better than walking in here and seeing your hookup in one of your T-shirts.”

  “Becca isn’t a hookup.”

  “Then what is she, Nate?”

  “More.”

  “How much more?”
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  Good question.

  She swallowed hard. “I deserve an answer.”

  Maybe she did. The problem was that he didn’t have a real good answer. Not for her or himself.

  JACK PARRISH WALKED past his secretary of twenty years, busily directing calls and typing with her long fingernails at the same time. “Give me half a minute, then put him though, will ya, Penny honey?”

  “You know I’ll do anything when you call me honey,” she answered without pause.

  Yeah, he knew. He walked into his office and closed the door behind him, shutting out the whine of spinning sanders and the grind of metal on metal. He moved behind his desk and sat in a comfy new chair Daisy had wheeled in just last week. It was the first new chair he’d had since taking over taken the business twenty-six years ago. Until Daisy had insisted on the new chair, Jack had always sat in his father’s old wooden spindle back that had once belonged to his mama’s dining room set. Though the years, Jack had changed the cushion under his butt, but the chair had always remained the same, only slightly more scratched up and grimy than when his father had run the business.

  He punched a few keys on his computer and typed in a freight bill number for a double pump carburetor he needed for a ’57 Bel Air. He tracked the part to Tulsa and leaned back into the leather of his new chair. After Tulsa, the carburetor had been shipped to Dallas, then had taken a detour south to Houston. His brows lowered as he turned on the chair massager. He hated to admit it, but Daisy had been right. A lifetime of pulling engines and turning wrenches had taken a toll on him. Now in his mid-forties, he had more aches and pains, and he ate more ibuprofen than his doctor recommended.

  The phone beeped and he picked it up. “This is Jack Parrish.” He leaned farther back in the chair to take advantage of the rolling massager on his left side. The pain in his back this morning hadn’t come from heavy machinery, but from sleeping with his two-year-old daughter wedged between him and Daisy the night before. “What can I do for you?” he asked a kid from Ohio who thought he might have something. Jack listened to him because he liked cars from Ohio. Less humidity. Less rust.

  “I’ve got a 426 Hemi Cuda.”

  Everything in Jack stilled and he forgot about the pain in his back. A 426 Hemi Cuda was rare as hell.

  “Convertible.”

  He relaxed and laughed. Only twenty-one convertible Hemi Cudas with a 426 had been produced. They were not only rare, they were practically an urban myth. “Check the VIN,” he said. A lot of people thought they found something rare when they went through their daddy’s and granddaddy’s barns and garages, only to check the VINs and discover the engine didn’t match the frame. The parts didn’t square with the year, and the doors weren’t original to rest of the body. Jack’s brother, Billy, called them “Frankenstein cars.” The brothers bought Frankenstein cars from disappointed sellers all the time and used them for the parts that were original.

  “I did check the VIN on the engine and the numbers all match.”

  “E-mail me some photos.” He needed to see proof before he hauled his ass to Ohio to check it out. “I’ll call you once I get your pictures.” He hung up the phone and shook his head as his son, Nathan, walked into the office, tall and lean and the stamp of Jack’s father clear on his forehead. He remembered the first time he’d met Nathan. The first time he’d walked through that office door. A skinny kid with spiky hair, a ring in his bottom lip, and a dog chain around his neck.

  He’d held his skateboard beneath one arm, prepared to confront his biological father. The chain, lip ring, and skateboard were gone. His hair was still a bit spiky and he still wore his damn pants too low, but he was a good boy. A good man. He’d always been easygoing and never really given Jack and Daisy a lot of problems growing up. Not even that baby-daddy bullshit with Lindsey a few years back had caused too much heartache. Nathan said he wasn’t the daddy, and they believed him. He’d never given them any reason not to believe him.

  “Got a minute?” Nathan said.

  “Sure.” His sisters . . . those two little girls were going to make up for it. Eight-year-old Rosemary and two-year-old Lily Belle were sweet-faced tyrants.

  Nathan sat in the chair across the desk with something clearly on his mind. He worried his bottom lip before he came out with it. “When did you know that you loved Mom?”

  Jack studied his son. When Nathan was serious, his brows lowered and his eyes turned a darker blue, like now. “You and Holly getting serious?” Jack liked Holly Ann okay. He didn’t think she was right for his son, but if Nathan did, he’d have to accept it.

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “Holly Ann and I broke up.”

  “When?”

  “Sunday.”

  It was only Tuesday. Whoever he thought he’d fallen in love with, it had happened pretty quick. Nathan didn’t offer anything more and Jack didn’t push. His son was a man and he wouldn’t pry. Not that he needed to. Daisy could pry anything out of Nathan and then she’d tell him anyway.

  “I fell in love with your mama the first time I laid eyes on her. It was the first day of first grade and I saw her standing by herself on playground.”

  “How did you know you loved her?”

  “Well, she had a big red bow in her shiny blond hair, and once I looked into her big brown eyes, I felt my little chest get tight.”

  Nathan’s brows drew together. “What did you do?”

  He shrugged. “I told her she had the stupidest hair bow I ever did see. She told me I was stupid, then she burst into tears.”

  “That wasn’t very slick.”

  He laughed. “I always did have a way with the ladies.”

  Nate finally smiled as he looked across at him. “Was being with her different?”

  “Being? Do you mean sex?”

  Nathan nodded.

  “Yes.” Jack leaned back in his chair. “Being with your mama taught me the difference between sex and making love. Being with her, I learned that making love wasn’t just a term interchangeable with sex. Making love is more than just using your dick. It makes you feel things in your heart, whether you want to or not.” And God knew, Daisy Lee had always made his chest ache as well as the rest of his body. “You’re a Parrish, son. You’re like the rest of us. Like me. You’re a one-woman man. If you think you’ve met that woman, you better not let her get away. I caused myself a world of hurt and misery when I let your mama get away.”

  BECCA CARRIED HER laundry into her apartment and set the basket on her sofa. A week ago, she’d gone to the lake with Nate. And it had taken one week to fall in love and get her heart broken. That was a new record.

  She reached for the remote and turned on her television, searching for something to catch her interest enough to keep her from thinking about Nate and the lake. Nate and the barn. Nate and his bed. Nate and his girlfriend.

  Just as she settled on a show, a loud knock at the door pulled her attention from Maury. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and when looked through the peephole, she gazed into a pair of blue eyes gazing back at her.

  “Open up. I know you’re in there. I saw you carry your laundry inside.”

  She hugged herself and swung the door open, because the last time he’d seen her she’d been walking from his house, crying her eyes out. This time she wanted him to see that she wasn’t crying over him anymore. “What do you want, Nate?”

  “I want to start over?”

  She shut the door behind him. “With your girlfriend, Holly Ann?”

  “Holly Ann isn’t my girlfriend.”

  She folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Since when?”

  “Since Sunday. Since the beginning of the summer really. She was just never around so I could break up with her.”

  “There’s always a text.”

  “That’s cold.”

  “Guys have broken up with me through a dang text message. I got over it.”

  He nodded. “I probably should have done that, but I didn’t thin
k it was necessary until I met you. I thought I’d talk to her when she got back, but then someone unplugged my iPod and gave me a concussion and I was never the same.”

  “You gave yourself a concussion.”

  He moved toward her and pushed a tendril of hair from her forehead. “I’m sorry, Becca.”

  “I broke my rules with you, Nate.”

  “I’m glad.”

  The backs of her eyes stung despite her hard resolve to show that he couldn’t make her cry. “You broke my heart.”

  “I’ll fix it, Becca.”

  She wasn’t so sure she should trust him. No, she was sure. She shouldn’t, but she was always willing to listen. “How?”

  “I want to start over with you. Start over and do things right.” He smiled and reached for her hand. “Instead of getting all annoyed with you because you gave me a concussion, I should have introduced myself.” He raised her hand and kissed the backs of her knuckles. “I should have said, ‘I’m Nathan Parrish and you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve laid eyes on.’ ”

  That was pretty good. “You’re kind of a sweet talker. You’ve probably said that to other girls.”

  “Never, but I’m not through. There’s more. I’m Nathan Parrish and you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve laid eyes on in my entire life.” He slid her hand to the back of his neck. “And at the risk of sounding like that crappy Partridge Family song, I think I love you.”

  That was really really good. She tried and failed to keep the smile from her lips. “I like that song.”

  “My daddy told me that Parrish men are susceptible to love at first sight,” he continued as if she hadn’t interrupted him. “We’re one-woman men and when we find our woman, we better never let her go or we’ll spend a lot of years kicking ourselves in the ass.”

  “That sounds serious. And painful.”

  “If you’d asked me the day before you walked up my driveway in your red shoes, I would have said that I don’t believe in that kind of love. But I do now.” He dipped his face, and his beautiful blue eyes looked into hers. “And now there’s only one thing left to say.”