by Emily Snow
“Keep doing things like that and you won’t have to worry about it,” I joke, but instead of laughing, a growl escapes his lips. I’m pretty sure Scooby is about to get a show he didn’t ask for.
“That was the wrong thing to say, baby,” he says, “’cause now you’re going to have to put your money where your mouth is.” Right then, he reaches around and cups his hand at the juncture between my thighs, where I’m already feeling wet from his words alone.
“Oh, Trace,” I murmur, relishing his touch as he rubs me…the right way.
I shudder as his lips travel the back of my neck before devouring my other ear, and I’m about to unfasten my jeans so I can feel those soft hands—without jeans in the way—when my dad’s voice echoes throughout the barn.
“Kids,” he calls and I scurry out of Trace’s embrace, attempting to get myself under control.
Trace chuckles and I quickly rub my ass against the front of his jeans, cutting his laughter off instantly. Turning around, I catch the heated look in his eyes just before my dad rounds the corner.
“How was your ride?” my dad asks. Not that his expression suggests it, but I can’t help but wonder if he knows his little girl was just about to have sex on the hay barrel in the corner. Guilty conscience, I guess.
“It was relaxing, Everett…really relaxing,” Trace answers. If my dad wasn’t here, I’d rub more than my ass against him. I am thankful, however, that one of us is capable of saying something intelligible, because I’m not sure I’m composed enough to speak just yet.
“Good, happy to hear it. That’s a beautiful spot. Right, Taryn?” he questions, his multi-colored eyes staring my way.
Afraid he’ll notice the shakiness of my voice, I just nod and give him a small smile in return. My dad and Trace carry on with each other in an easy fashion as we exit the barn and walk toward the house. When we enter the dining room, I spot four place settings spread around the rectangular table.
“Dad?” I holler into the kitchen from the dining room.
“Yeah, sweetheart?” he answers, and I hear some dishes clattering back and forth. Then he appears in the archway and when our eyes meet, he smiles. “I invited someone to dinner. I hope that’s okay?”
“Of course, it’s your house. Mind if I ask who it is?” Please let it be a woman. My dad’s been alone a long time and I want him to have company. Not only that, but there’s no one I already know in this town that I want to see. Before my dad can respond, the doorbell rings and a wide smile crosses his face before he eagerly strides toward the door.
I hear her southern drawl before I see her. When they return, my eyes immediately zero in on their entwined hands before shifting up to their smiling faces. “Taryn, dear, this is Addie Rose,” he says and gently nudges the blonde into the room by the small of her back. Her glossed pink lips smile wider, displaying a set of perfectly straight, white teeth. Her slim figure is accentuated by her casual capris and t-shirt beautifully.
“Hi, Taryn, your dad has told me so much about you. It’s wonderful to finally meet you.” She puts her petite hand out to shake mine, while her green eyes stay focused on me. She appears genuine and I’m glad she didn’t rush toward me and hug me, as though she already knows me after only seeing me on magazines or television.
“Hi, Ms. Rose, it’s a pleasure,” I say, displaying the manners my dad taught me.
“Oh, no you don’t. It’s Addie. Please,” she insists.
“Okay, nice to meet you, Addie,” I say, releasing her hand. “This is Aster.” I can’t help using his real name—I love the way he cocks his eyebrow when I do it.
They shake hands briefly and exchange pleasantries. I’m not sure if she knows who Trace is and I can tell he’s wondering the same thing, but before we can figure it out, she leaves the dining room to help my dad in the kitchen.
“You okay?” Trace comes alongside me, wrapping his arm around my back.
“Yeah, I think I am. She seems nice,” I say and he nods his head in agreement before kissing my forehead. The two reappear carrying several dishes, and I can tell by the ease with which Addie moves around my house that she’s been here often. We all take our seats and Trace’s hand finds my thigh under the table, calming my nerves.
The first thing to catch my eye on the table is my dad’s famous ribs. He prides himself on his special rub and I make a note to myself that I’ll have to pry that recipe out of him someday. Addie brought a cornbread salad, which has my mouth salivating—I hope it’s as good as my Grandma’s. The conversation flows with light humor and normal getting-to-know-each-other dialogue. I discover that Addie owns a bakery in town and that she moved here last year from Arkansas to take care of her ailing uncle. Once he passed, she took over the bakery that he and her aunt had owned. She also alludes to the fact that she brought a dessert with her tonight, and I’m eternally grateful my mom is nowhere nearby so I can enjoy it in peace.
My dad admires her the whole time, smiling at everything she says, and at one point they hold hands on top of the table. I haven’t seen my dad this happy in a really long time and if anyone deserves it, he does. Addie never brings up my fame or career, treating me solely as her love interest’s daughter. As I clear the plates, my dad stands up to help me. Filing into the kitchen, he places the dishes next to the sink and turns my way. “So?” he asks.
“I like her,” I answer honestly. “She seems nice.”
“I’m glad. Sorry for springing her on you, but I really like her and the fact that you are only going to be here one night…well, I wanted you to meet her. I hope it didn’t bother you,” he says, his face etched with concern.
“I was surprised but not bothered at all, Dad. I’m happy for you.” I give him a big hug to reassure him.
“I’m happy for you too, honey. Trace seems like a great fit for you,” he says before releasing me from his embrace.
“Thank you, he really is,” I confirm.
“You just don’t let all that media crap get to you two, okay?” He cocks his head, knowing how much the media can dictate my life. I’m about to respond when he states in an even more serious tone, “Taryn, we need to discuss what’s going on.”
“Dad, I don’t want to discuss Weston or anything that has to do with him,” I tell him, grabbing the pie from the counter and some dessert plates.
My dad listens to make sure Addie and Trace are talking before he continues, “It’s not going to go away, Taryn…he’s not going to go away.”
I watch as my dad grabs the forks and a knife out of the drawer before saying, “I know, but what’s the guarantee? Even if I pay, he could still—“ I stop mid-sentence when I spot Trace standing in the doorway. My eyes dart to my dad and my dad’s eyes dart to Trace, as though we’re in the middle of a standoff.
“We’ll be right in, Trace. Can you take this in for me?” My dad hands him the forks and the knife, while I stand there like a deer caught in the headlights. Trace looks at me questioningly before leaving the room—looks like I’ll have something else to tell him before the night’s out.
“Let’s finish eating and we can discuss it in the morning before you go,” my dad says and I breathe a temporary sigh of relief.
The four of us quickly gobble up Addie’s amazing fudge pecan pie. Trace and I offer to do the dishes since they did all the cooking, and I swear their laughter on the porch is louder than the noise we’re making in the kitchen—and that’s saying a lot. After snapping the dishtowel at my ass every few minutes, I chase him around the kitchen island, laughing the whole way. When he finally “lets” me catch him, Trace pulls me into his arms and dances me around before singing “Feel So Close” by Calvin Harris in my ear. I nuzzle into his strong arms but then he surprises me by spinning me away from him, drawing me back, and then stealing a kiss when he dips me. Although, I guess it’s not really stealing if I kiss him back.
We soon make our way to the porch, where my dad and Addie are sitting comfortably on the swing, her legs tucked under her b
ody and my dad’s arm resting across her legs. Trace leans against the porch railing and I stand beside him, letting him wrap his arms around me as I drink in this idyllic scene. He kisses the top of my head and I catch the resulting smile and nod from my dad.
After a bit, I decide I want to go for a walk to the neighboring field so I can show him the countless stars, which are only visible when you’re out here, away from city lights. I go to grab a few things from inside and when I walk back through the screen door, I see that Addie is now standing up.
“It was nice to meet you, Taryn,” she says, giving me a hug, and I allow her comfortable arms to envelop me.
“You too,” I respond before she releases me.
“It was nice to meet you too, Trace,” Addie adds, and I don’t miss the fact that she uses his stage name rather than the one I introduced him with. I guess she does know who he is. We smile at each other and then Trace and I head out, giving her and my dad time alone.
The short walk only takes us ten minutes or so, and I’m glad I thought to bring a flashlight so we can see what we’re stepping on. I shake the blanket down on the grass and kick off my flip-flops. When I lie on my back, Trace follows suit before gently guiding my head to his chest, where I can hear his heartbeat while he combs his fingers through my hair. I love the fact that he feels comfortable enough to take my ponytail out and splay my locks across his chest.
We both lie still, listening to the crickets chirp as the sound echoes through the night while the radiant stars brighten up the sky. It’s the most romantic scene I could possibly imagine, and I wish we could just stay here and enjoy this peace and quiet that we can’t seem to find anywhere else.
“Peaches,” he whispers and I can hear the question in his tone. I start to sit up but Trace brings me back down, though this time we’re facing each other. The concern in his blue eyes makes me wish I had told him earlier. He rests one hand on my hip and props his head up with the other. “Are you being blackmailed?” he asks, those piercing eyes searching mine for the truth.
I nod before laying it all out there. “It’s the guy I told you about from high school.” I sit up, not able to enjoy the closeness with him when talking about something that makes me feel nothing but shame. Trace sits up as well and takes my hand in his.
“Tell me,” he insists.
“I never told Wes I was pregnant. After I had the abortion,” I say, swallowing hard after finally saying the word, “I never looked back. Somehow he got wind of it and has been threatening to go public. He’s been calling me, my mom, and my dad constantly.” A tear falls down my cheek. The worst thing is that a small part of me wishes he would expose me—then maybe I’d be out of this fish-bowl celebrity life I’ve been living.
“How much?” he asks, his voice tight.
“100K,” I answer and Trace drops his head back slightly, mumbling something that sounds like ‘motherfucker.’
“The thing is,” I say, wiping the tears that are starting to fall freely, “let’s say I pay him. Who’s to say he’ll stay quiet? I could pay him whatever amount of money and then he could turn around and out me within the hour.”
“You’re right,” he responds and I have a feeling he’s been through this before. “Even if you draw up legal papers, there’s no guarantee.”
“So, what should I do?” I ask.
“Right now, don’t worry about it. Let me make some phone calls and see what I can come up with,” he says, lying back down and pulling me on top of him. “One thing’s for sure, he’s not ruining this night for us.”
Our lips meet and his hands rest on the exposed part of my back, right above my waistband. The soft touch of his thumbs has me shivering and goose bumps quickly form across my body in this heated night. “Tell me we’re alone and that no one will see us,” he says softly and I nod my head in confirmation. “Good, because I don’t think I could take no for an answer.”
His hands pull on the hem of my shirt until it’s off my body, before removing my lacy pink bra. As he takes a nipple in his mouth, I push his shirt up, slowly running my hands along every defined muscle. While he lavishes attention on my other breast, my hands glide down his stomach to the button of his pants. When I pop it open, he gasps for air but before I can get the zipper down, he quickly tosses me over on my back, resting on top of me.
“My turn,” he says. He kisses his way down my stomach and I close my eyes in anticipation, my body already on high alert. Then he unsnaps my pants and pulls my zipper down slowly—way too slowly. Placing his fingers on either side of my hips, I lift my ass, allowing him to shrug my jeans off. His moist tongue licks up my leg until he reaches my already-soaked panties, where he snakes his tongue along the seam. I’m already becoming unglued before I feel his fingers near my entrance and I groan, just in case he doesn’t already know where I want them.
I hear an unmistakable rip and my eyes fly open to find my pink panties split in two. “Sorry, I was desperate to taste you,” he tells me with clear hunger in his eyes. After Trace spreads my legs wide, I watch as he devours me, his eyes never leaving mine, and the romantic scene from earlier has now become the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. “So fucking sweet,” he says, licking his lips before descending again. I arch my head back on the blanket, relishing the feel of Trace’s tongue as it flicks my clit before he sucks it into his mouth. My body bucks when he unexpectedly inserts a finger, maneuvering it until he locates my G-spot. One more finger goes in, and I’m so close that it’s taking every muscle I have to not let go because I don’t ever want this to end. He uses his hands to open me up farther, and when his tongue plunges inside me again, I can’t hold off. “Aughhhhh!!”
After a string of curses that anyone in his entourage would be proud of, I close my eyes, lost in the rapturous ecstasy. Before I can open them again, he’s on top of me with his pants off, whispering in my ear, “Now I’m going to bury myself so deep inside of you, you’ll never want me to leave.”
With those words, he does exactly what he promised. We match each other’s rhythm, thrust for thrust, moaning and grunting without abandon. After frantic clutching and squeezing, I release and he follows me seconds later before collapsing on me.
“God, Trace, I…” I stop myself, not knowing if we’re at this point yet. Although I’d be speaking the truth, I’m scared I’ll embarrass myself if the feelings aren’t mutual.
“I know, baby. I love you too,” he says softly against my ear. I can’t help but wonder if it’s the orgasm talking or if he truly means it. I don’t have to second-guess long because Trace pulls back from me, placing his hands on either side of my face. “I love you, Taralyn Starr.”
“And I love you, Aster Manning the Third,” I state as I smile up at him, surprised that he caught when my dad used my given name.
He chuckles before saying, “Have I told you I like it when you refer to me as Aster?”
“No, I thought I was annoying you,” I say with a wink and his fingers tickle my ribs.
“You get a kick out of annoying me, huh?” he asks, his fingers relentless as I squirm in his arms.
“Truce, Truce,” I yell.
“Tell me again,” he requests, smoothing his palms up and down my ribs.
“I love you.” I stare into his baby blues, hoping he can see how much I truly mean the words.
“I’ll never grow tired of hearing those three words leave your lips,” he reveals and bends down to kiss me again.
We remain curled up together under the night sky, enjoying every moment of peaceful bliss that we can. Eventually we grow tired and venture back to the house. I leave Trace at the guest bedroom door after many goodnight kisses before walking to my room, missing him the second his body is away from mine.
The sun shines through the pale yellow curtains and I stretch, feeling refreshed. I’d forgotten how much I love my childhood bed—sometimes even the plushest hotel bed and linens don’t compare. After getting showered and dressed, I pack my bag and make my way downstai
rs toward the smell of coffee and the sound of sizzling bacon, both of which are making my stomach growl.
My dad and Trace are already sitting down and eating breakfast when I reach the kitchen. Trace stands and wraps his arms around me, whispering, “I missed you last night,” while my dad smiles at the two of us.
As I’m getting a cup of coffee, I see my dad pick up his phone as Trace types something into his, before they both place them back down on the table. How cute—they must be exchanging numbers.
We eat breakfast, enjoying one another’s company, but I can’t help but look at the clock on the wall every few minutes, knowing my time with each of them is almost up. Since my dad is driving me to the airport and Trace is meeting Cal in Dallas, this will be goodbye for everyone. The worst thing is that I know I won’t see Trace for at least another month due to our insane tour schedules, and who knows how long it will be until I’m back in Texas.
After we’ve cleared the table, my dad excuses himself—probably so we can have some privacy—and Trace wraps me up in his arms and kisses me thoroughly. “I’ll miss you, baby,” he tells me.
“Same here. You’ll call me?” I question.
“Always,” he responds, and I don’t doubt him because I can see the sincerity in his eyes. I run upstairs to grab a blanket I’d forgotten that I want to keep with me and when I walk outside, I find my dad and Trace talking, their faces serious. I’m really hoping it’s one of those father-daughter suitor scenarios, but then again, maybe I don’t, based on the way they’re gesturing as they talk.
When they see me approach, the two shake hands and then my dad clasps Trace on the shoulder, saying goodbye—guess it must not have gone too badly. Trace climbs into the car Cal had gotten for us, and after a final chaste kiss, I watch him drive down the dirt road, taking my heart with him. I climb into my dad’s pickup, where he’s waiting patiently for me, and then he pulls out onto the same road, kicking up a shitload of dust behind us.