“Don’t tease, precious.” He slapped my ass. “It makes me think very unfriendly thoughts.”
In my hurry to leave before the blushing sit in, I kicked a piece of glass across the wood floor.
"I hope that wasn't priceless," he said and eyed the figurine that had fallen and shattered on the floor.
"I hope not. The house was fully furnished when I moved in, so it's not mine."
Lucas whistled and gave the room a quick glance. "Why don't you go change so we can get out of here?"
I needed a shower, and quite frankly, I needed to pee. I grabbed clean panties, a bra, a pair of cutoff blue jeans, and a soft pink blouse that covered the scars out of my dresser. Pink had always featured my ever-present tan, and gave me the shot of confidence I was lacking. Candice and her merry gang of suck-ups always appeared pulled together in their designer clothes. At the present moment, I owned three dresses, four pair of shorts, two pairs of blue jeans, and twelve shirts, and not one of them carried a designer label.
Out in the hall, I shot a glance at Lucas, who was picking up some odd clay sombrero saltshaker. Being part Mexican myself, I found it strange how many small Hispanic touches were around the house. And if I didn’t need to pee so badly, I would’ve watched Lucas and tried to discover his fascination with the objects around the place. However, nature wouldn’t wait any longer.
Once I showered and dressed, I hung the towel and bath cloth over the shower door, brushed my teeth, and added deodorant before checking my face in the mirror. I’d never been one to wear makeup. I wanted to look in a mirror and see me, not some painted clown of myself. However, when I thought of the girls who hung around Lucas, I decided to place a little mascara on my lashes, hoping it would do a little to bring out my green eyes, and ran a hand through my hair before pulling it back up in a bun.
I rushed to the living room, having taken a little more than ten minutes but not much more.
He placed some whatnot back on the shelf. “See you got the salt shaker? Any idea where the pepper shaker is?” he asked.
“Not mine, so the answer will be a no.”
Lucas turned and almost knocked off an empty picture frame when his eyes caught mine. “I guess you’ll do,” were the words that came out of his mouth but his face told an entirely different story. His eyes blazed and hungrily devoured me. “We match,” he added and winked. I raked my eyes over his body and realized my subconscious was working overtime again. He had on a pink and green plaid button-up shirt, blue jeans, and those damn cowboy boots. I laughed, hiding my secret desire for my newest and biggest turn-on, those damn cowboy boots. I hated him for a second; he didn’t have to be designer to look like a runway model, just slip on a pair of plain brown boots.
I hurried when he opened the front door and stood back, waiting for me. A true gentleman. My feet halted on the spot when I walked out and where his motorcycle usually sat was a white Jeep Gladiator with metallic rims and an immaculate paint job. He had already placed the basket in the bed of the Jeep, and I was still frozen in place.
He held opened the car door. “Come on, precious. I don’t have all day. The potato salad is going to go bad.”
“Where’s the bike?” I asked as I crawled into the Jeep.
His easygoing expression disappeared and in its place, he had a look I couldn’t quite describe; it was almost reflective. However, it didn’t last long before that Lucas Carter patented side smirk flashed on his face. “I have to have a truck for all my bitches,” he answered as he slammed the door.
Once he was inside the Jeep, Lucas adjusted the air conditioner and cranked the engine. He had grown quiet. I hated the silence. It was unsettling.
“So since I get to ride the bike, does that make me not one of your bitches?” I asked, and punched him lightly on the thigh.
“I don’t know what it makes you,” he said and took my hand in his. “I guess my best friend because the bike is just a me and you thing.”
That was quite possibly the sweetest thing he had ever said to me.
He continued to stay silent until we pulled off onto the cotton field beside the cemetery where my mom was buried.
Lucas placed the Jeep in park. “Pennies for your thoughts?”
“Where is this?” I asked, almost scared of his answer.
“See that house over there?” He pointed to the house that shared the hill with the cemetery.
“Yes,” I replied.
“That is the only home I’ve ever known.”
That was Lucas’s house. I’d sat in the cemetery often and wondered about the family who lived in that house. It was a sprawling ranch, sitting on a rolling hill with several patches of cotton and wheat fields. A horse barn stood beside three silos and a large pond bank. The whole scenario reminded me of the dad’s house in The Parent Trap, even down to the spotted horses in the pasture. I couldn’t imagine having anything other than the perfect childhood in a place like that.
“My great granddad built it and left it to us when he passed away. My dad’s side of the family has lived on this hill for over two hundred years.” He pointed out a huge oak tree in the corner. “That is where my tree house is.”
I craned my neck out the Jeep window until I could see an old rickety latter, swaying in the wind. “Tree house?” I asked, more confused than anything.
He turned toward me with a mocking smile. “Will you come play with me in my tree house?”
“Really?” I tried to smile back, but the smile was totally unconvincing.
“When I was little, I spent every waking moment up in that tree house. As I got older, it was where I went to escape the parents. It is where I smoked my first joint.” He paused and looked over at me. “Lost my virginity.” He stared out the front windshield. “I haven’t been back since the night it all got to be too much and I snapped.” He shrugged his shoulder. “I want you to help me reclaim this spot.”
“You seriously bringing me to your make-out spot?”
“Yeah, I guess I am, but if it makes you feel better, I don’t want to have sex, just talk.” He flicked the tip of my ear and chuckled before opening the door.
Yeah, it feels absolutely amazing to be the one girl you don’t want to screw.
I wanted to be hurt, but as I watched him intently as he walked around the front of the truck, it was impossible. He was hurting enough for the both of us. His cocky, confident walk had been replaced with a walk of defeat. His long, luscious, million shades of blond hair fell around his face, covering his stoic profile. I willed him to look at me, and when he finally did, I gasped at the look of despair in his eyes. Why didn’t anyone else seem to notice how he was hurting? His proud, confident walk was a mask to hide what was really going on beneath the surface.
When he opened the door, and took my hand, he squeezed a little too tight. His tension was almost palpable and led me to believe this was a big deal for him. In the distance, I heard the roar of a tractor and the honking of geese overhead. But nothing could distract me from the gloom and doom on Lucas’s face.
“Are you okay, Lucas?”
He shook his head and looked toward the tree house. “The last time I was here, it was bad. Really bad.”
“Are you sure? We can go somewhere else.” I said as I climbed out of the Jeep.
“No, I need to do this.” He paused and then looked back at me. My heart ached like an open wound at how beautiful he was, and yet still there was something about him that was broken and in pain. “I can do it with you,” he said hoarsely.
Lucas guided me through the trees and held onto me with an ease that went way beyond a simple friendship. Before we reached the ladder, he bent and plucked a dandelion from the earth and held it up to his lips. Closing his eyes, he blew as the fluff floated away. The dread embedded in his face had me praying that one of those seeds would reach the ears of God himself.
He led me a tad farther until we reached a ladder hanging down and swinging in the breeze. “Ladies first,” he said and helped
boost me up onto the ladder. “Nice view,” Lucas said and popped my backside with the palm of his hand, causing a twinkle of spark to shoot across his eyes.
When I pulled myself up into the tree house, I did a double take. The place had been kept in immaculate condition. The planks covering the wall were honey-colored, same as the floorboards.
Lucas came up behind me, let out a breath that sounded like relief, and placed the picnic basket on the floor. His hands instantly went to my waist. “What do you think?”
I leaned my head back onto his chest as I took in more of the room. The south side of the tree house had a large opening with a view of acres upon acres of farmland. The west side of the structure had a half-sized pool table and one of those basketball net games. On the opposite wall was an old, ragged sofa; it was almost a relief that everything wasn’t perfect in his world.
“If I get kicked out of the place I’m living, can I live here?” I asked and walked over to a table piled with Harry Potter books.
He laughed, the corners of his eyes wrinkled up in delight, and nodded.
“I knew you were the one I wanted coming up here with me but,” he said and cracked his knuckles in the palm of his hand, “I like it here with you.”
“I like it here too,” I said, smiling back. I loved the idea he wanted to share part of himself with me, even if it was another time the lines blurred between us.
He walked over to the large window on the south wall and unlatched a hook, pushing open the whole wall. His wide muscular body blocked out the sun for an instant, causing the light to cast a halo around him. Incredible perfection. He sat on the edge of the tree house, letting his feet dangle off the edge, and patted the spot next to him.
“The last time I was here. I snapped,” he let flow from his lips when I sat down beside him. “The pressure of being Wes and Jennifer Carter’s son, people telling me that my life was perfect when it was everything but. My dad is in love with some woman I don’t even know. My mom lives in the past and can’t stand to look at me. She always says I’m just like him. I’m like none of them. They’re all crazy. They had this built for me when I was eight just so I would stay out here and away from them. No one has ever just cared about me, only what I could do for them. But you care. You don’t ask for anything. You didn’t care where I live. What my family has. That I’m a Carter or what that even means in this town.”
I placed my hand on his and worked my fingers around his. “You’re pretty great all on your own. I just like being around Lucas. I could care less about the Carter part.”
“Please tell me you were really happy growing up. ‘It was great’ is not just some excuse, you don’t have to talk about it. You deserve to be so damn happy.” He ran his fingers through his hair; he had that far-off look he got when his thoughts ran deep.
“The first fourteen years were almost magical. I lived with a couple named Charles and Ruth Anne Williams. It was like living with the world's greatest grandparents ever. Their life revolved around me and my dancing.”
“You dance?”
“I did. I love ballet, and was one of the youngest member of my ballet school to go on pointe. I was only nine. But when Mimi, my foster mom, died, the wills-that-be wouldn’t allow me to stay with Pawpaw. So, the next four years, I was shuffled from home to home.”
“Were they good to you?”
“Not bad, just didn’t care. I was a check to them.” I wasn’t ready to discuss what the first couple’s son did to me. I was positive I never would be. I loved it when he looked at me with an almost hungry look. I liked having someone look at me with something other than pity. If Lucas only knew what those boys did to me, he would never look at me like that again. I would become just another charity case. Poor pitiful little Annie.
“Do you still want to do the ballet crap?”
I laughed at the term crap. Lucas didn’t know all the secrets of my past. He couldn’t begin to understand the pain I’d suffered. He flirted with me without measuring how his words might make me feel, he didn’t hold back any punches. He pushed me to my limits. With him, I felt normal. I liked feeling human almost as much as I loved the dimples he was flashing at me at that moment. “It’s been too long now. My dreams of being a Prima Ballerina are long gone.”
He hooked a foot around my ankle, which was dangling off the side of the tree house. Lucas sung the chorus of Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer” into my ear before kissing the side of my temple.
I ducked my chin onto Lucas's chest, creating a veil of my hair to hide the redness on my cheeks. “I love that song. I did one of my last solos to it.”
“Yeah, my granny Ann loves the ballet. Her and my dad used to go all the time.” He tucked my hair behind my ear. “My granny would love you; you kind of remind me of her. Maybe you can meet her sometime?”
“I doubt Candice would appreciate you taking me to meet the family.”
Lucas laid his chin on the back of my head and wrapped his arms around my body. His embrace was excruciatingly hard, and he made no apologies for needing me, too. “I don’t give a damn what Candice would like.”
The sun overhead was warm and glowing, and Lucas watched it with a steady glare. He often looked at me with a depth that was well beyond his years, and at times, I’d caught him studying objects with a fascination that was unexplainable. Lucas held more in him than he let anyone know, but for some strange reason, he allowed his shield to slip slightly around me.
“Why did you come to Carterville?” he asked.
“I just wanted to know something about my past. I need to know if I have any family out there. Why do you ask?”
He laughed; the sound was a mix of nervousness and joy. He startled me when he lifted my hand and softly brushed his lips across my knuckles. “’Cause all I want to do is get out of this town. Can’t figure out why someone would want in.” He squeezed my hand he was holding three quick times. “I hope you get your answers, but in all honesty, I’m just glad you’re here.”
A small buzz hummed through my body when Lucas rose to his feet then helped me to mine. He led me over to a small medium height table and placed me in one of the three ladder-back chairs sitting around the table.
He opened the picnic basket and took out a pair of Beats Pills. His iPhone synchronized with it instantly. He flipped through his music and smiled before pressing play. The lyrics of Goo Goo Dolls’ “Iris” filled the treehouse. Lyrics about wanting someone to know who he was. I tried holding his gaze as I listened to the words of that song.
Did they represent his feelings for me?
It made me want to weep at that possibility.
Lucas held his head down as he gathered the food out of his picnic basket, but a small trace of a smile never left his face. When the song ended, he glanced up at me, smiling bright enough that both of his dimples were prominent on his face, turned down the volume on his phone, and placed the last of the food on the table. I needed him to say something about that song. Instead, he zoned out.
Music had always been an escape for me. I would let the music pound in my ears and ride my Harley for hours. Then Annie happened and music no longer held the power to erase the images in my head, the endless pain, the never-ending crying of my mom, the thoughts of when it would all be over.
Then a song I haven’t heard in ages started to play, and in that instant, it was obvious, I would not only play that song for Annie, but I wanted her to know me like no one ever knew me before. I wanted her to hold my hand as I walked my next few steps through this life.
I wanted to tell her everything. Tell her I was broken. But I would settle on her simply being near me. “Eat up, my granny worked hard on this.” I handed her a plate and looked around at the variety of food Granny had packed for me. I called her at six AM and to no surprise to me, she was elated to help, almost too thrilled to be cooking for a girl she had never met.
“Your granny made all of this?” she asked and scooped up a spoonful of chicken salad.
“Yes, and FYI, she was glad it was you and not Candice I was wanting it for,” I said, sat down beside her, and took a bite of the apple slice she was holding.
Then that smile that made me higher than any drug appeared. Simply calling it a smile seemed wrong when it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
The more time I spent with her, the more I realized how much she was taking over my every thought, and I loved it.
“Do you have more songs on that thing?” she asked and pointed to my phone.
I nodded and pushed the phone in her direction. She held my gaze as I stroked my hand over hers. Her skin was soft. The touch of it felt as if she had doused my skin with accelerant and it would burst into flame any minute. I reluctantly removed my hand from hers and started to smear some chicken salad on a slice of bread.
She flipped through the music on my phone. “How many songs do you have on here?”
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