Whiskey Girl

by Adriane Leigh

  “Hang on, where did you sleep last night?” I finally broke my silence. Begrudgingly.

  “I could ask you the same thing.” She buckled herself into the seat next to me, elbows rubbing, thighs kissing again. Just like when we were young.

  I hated that I kept thinking that.

  Augusta Belle and I were two totally different people. Always had been. Different sides of the tracks. Whatever we were to each other for that brief moment in time was what we’d needed. But not anymore. Not ever again.

  “Slept out under the stars. I do it now and again. Good for the constitution, Pa used to say.”

  “Sure.” I caught the roll of her eyes.

  “And you slept where?” I urged.

  “Your truck.”

  I nearly veered into opposing traffic. “What?”

  “Where else was I supposed to go? And you were generous enough to leave me with your keys, so—”

  “I didn’t leave you my keys. You stole them!”

  She shrugged, punching at the radio tuner once and letting it settle on a Reba song. “This is my favorite.”

  “Always has been,” I said instantly, remembering the first time I heard her sing along to the words, sitting beside me just like this as we drove up the ridge, destination set on a new bridge this time.

  Everything about Augusta Belle drew me in, a tantalizing beauty meant to entice me into signing over my fucking soul.

  She may have lanced me with her poison-tipped blade once, but not again. Not ever again.

  EIGHT

  Fallon—Eleven Years Before

  She cuddled up against me, the little polka-dot triangles of her bathing suit top fuller than they had been last summer. The summer I’d found her swan-diving into the Whiskey River like some fearless mermaid, hell-bent on rebellion and stealin’ my soul on the way. From the second I’d laid eyes on her, something had fascinated me. And now that’d we’d spent nearly every day together for almost the last year, I could say it was her fearless bravery that drove me to her. Watching her like a rare bird when every other person in this town was trying to be the same.

  “Which bridge this time?” I turned my truck toward the river.

  She cocked her head to the side, sun glinting in a halo around the crown as she tucked her leg under herself and grinned. “Pine Bluff.”

  “But that one’s the highest,” I protested weakly, knowing she’d already made up her mind.

  “Listen, Fallon Gentry, no use riding shotgun your whole life. Sometimes you just have to jump.” Her eyes twinkled before she launched herself into my lap and pressed her honey-sweet lips to mine in a kiss.

  I pushed a hand in her hair, the soft rocking of her hips against mine driving my control to the very edge of my sanity. “We’re almost there.”

  “Don’t stop kissing me,” she begged, something new, exciting, heavy with the scent of adrenaline coursing through her bloodstream. In all the nights we’d spent together, slept together, we’d never done more than just kiss. Not because I didn’t want to; I wanted to be with her in every way a guy wants to be with his girlfriend. But I wasn’t willing to take anything from her she wasn’t a thousand percent ready to give.

  And no matter how many times she tried to convince me she was ready, she wasn’t.

  “I can’t see, crazy girl.” I caught glimpses of the dirt road, tree-lined and all but vacant at the height of heat on a June afternoon.

  “Just keep going straight. I can see the reflection in the back window. I’ll let you know when to turn.”

  My growl of frustration deepened when she rocked her hips harder against my aching body, strung tight and praying for every last thread of control.

  “Augusta Belle…” I pleaded, unable to keep my eyes from slamming closed when the seam of her damp denim cutoffs made contact with my aching erection.

  “Do you trust me?” She nipped at my earlobe, dainty fingertips crawling up my neck as she pushed against me, digging the core of her hot little body against every square inch of mine.

  “Always.” The word came out desperate.

  “I’m ready, Fallon,” she whispered. “I’m ready for us.”

  I swallowed, brain hopping violently to a dozen various conclusions as one of my hands gripped the wheel, the other tightening on her round ass cheek through her shorts. My heart thundered like a thousand wild horses as I thought about sliding between her legs for the first time, touching her warm body, making love to every square inch of the woman who kept me awake at night.

  “Turn!” she shrieked, pulling herself off my lap just before an old dump truck laid on its horn, careening sideways to avoid my little truck and lodging my heart fully into my throat.

  “Fuck.” I pulled to the side of the road, hands white-knuckling the wheel.

  “See? You can trust me,” she chirped, pushing her door open and climbing out into the haze of dust left in the truck’s wake.

  “Trust you? I almost killed us a second ago.” I switched off the engine of my truck and crawled out on shaky legs, coming around the side of the cab to find Pine Bluff Bridge stretching off into the distance.

  “Woulda been a good way to go though, right?”

  “Augusta Belle, no. No, it wouldn’t be a good way to go. Why do you always talk about death as if it doesn’t matter?”

  One shoulder lifted haphazardly. “Want me to drive the rest of the way? I can see your nerves are a little rattled…”

  I glared at her, at a legitimate loss for words.

  “Or…I could just jump here? It’s not that high up, although I haven’t really scoped the boulder situation.”

  “What if I don’t want you to jump at all? Can’t we just sit here and take in the view? Maybe give me a second to recover from my first near-death experience.”

  “First?” She cast me a charming grin. “That’s your second. First was when you jumped off the Whiskey River Bridge to sorta, kinda, but not really save my life, right?”

  I shook my head, pulling down the tailgate of my truck and throwing an old blanket I kept in back out over the rusted metal bed. “Come.”

  Her eyes flared once before shifting across the little nest I’d made and back to me. “Okay.”

  She crossed the dirt parking lot, and I threaded her fingers with mine when she was close enough. I lifted her into the back, making sure she was comfortable before following her in.

  “Is that all it took to get you into bed? A near-death experience?” She pressed her bikini-clad body up against mine, trying to wiggle ever closer.

  “Calm those hormones, sunshine. No one’s gettin’ in anyone’s bed.” I adjusted her under my arm.

  The soft little pout that pulled down her lips made me want to kiss her.

  The age gap between us never seemed greater than when she was pouting for something I wouldn’t give her.

  Only lately, what she’d been wanting and I’d been withholding was sex.

  “Told you I’m not taking your virginity until the time is right.”

  “Well, when in the hell is that gonna be? I might as well start calling you Saint Fallon.” She pushed up on her forearms, legs swinging off the tailgate as she attempted to ignore me.

  I laughed, sliding to the edge with her and grazing her shoulder. “Nothing saintly about me, I just want what’s right for you. Also, don’t want to give your mama and daddy an excuse to put me in jail. And if they found out how old I really was…”

  “They won’t. Dad just spends his time watching old COPS episodes and reliving the glory days. And Mom hasn’t left the house since before we met.”

  “Doesn’t change the law, Augusta Belle. And while you may be stubborn enough to lie about your age—”

  “It’s not lying.” She screwed up her face at me.

  “Lying by omission is lying.” I corrected her.

  “Plus, I just had a birthday,” she defended.

  “I know, and you made me celebrate with you without once telling me how old you were turning
.”

  She shrugged again, amber gaze turning back to the river that flowed down below us. “I operate on a need-to-know basis, and I’m still not convinced that’s something you need to know.”

  I didn’t bother rolling my eyes; I was used to her wordplay by this point.

  “Sure, telling your twenty-two-year-old boyfriend is of no consequence at all.”

  She caught sight of me over her shoulder, flirty twinkle pulling me into her orbit a little further. “I’ll tell you if you have sex with me.”

  I barked out a laugh. “The fact that you’re willing to negotiate your virginity proves my point about waiting.”

  One delicate eyebrow arched up before she jumped off the tailgate, kicking off her flip-flops. She spun, nailing me with a radiant smile before looping her thumbs into her waistband and pushing the cutoffs down her thighs.

  They landed in the dust at her feet a second later, and she kicked them off, then pushed her hands through her thick hair and wound it into a high bun. “Guess I’m going cliff-divin’, then.”

  I pushed off the tailgate, closing the distance between us and pulling her into my arms, against my hard, imposing body. “How many times you gonna defy death before you realize what you’re lookin’ for is right here, Augusta Belle?”

  She didn’t answer, just let me keep her in my embrace for long minutes.

  “Stop running and let me hold you.”

  NINE

  Fallon

  My mind careened violently out of the memory when a semitruck nearly drove straight up my tailpipe, and the driver pulled on his air horn.

  “Your driving hasn’t improved much, I see,” Augusta Belle chimed in.

  I grunted, casting her a glare before cranking up the volume on the radio, not giving a fuck what crappy, pop-infused country song was playing. Every mile closer we got to Memphis, the nearer I was to convincing myself a bottle in hand would make this drive a little easier. And then I got to thinkin’ turning the fuck around and droppin’ blondie off in Chickasaw might be my best idea yet.

  “So…” She twisted the knob into the off position. “There’s something I need to tell you before we get to Memphis.”

  I narrowed my gaze. “Got a lot of things you need to tell me, far as I can tell.”

  “Yeah.” I could see her fiddling with her fingers out of the corner of my eye.

  “Spit it out.”

  “Right. Well, the reason I came to find you—”

  And here it was. The reason.

  The big fucking reason it’d taken her ten years to track me down.

  I didn’t think I was prepared for it.

  Didn’t think I could stand the wait a second longer.

  “See, when Daddy died this summer, I knew I couldn’t stay in the house. It needs so much upkeep—”

  “Fucking knew it.” I cut her off.

  “Knew what?” She paused, waiting for me to finish.

  “Money. You need fucking money.”

  Her eyes flared before she licked her lips, bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, and then cocked her arm back and punched me solidly in the bicep.

  “Ow. What the fuck?” I rubbed at the still stinging muscle.

  “I don’t need money, you asshole. And the way you just said that makes me want to jump out of this godforsaken truck right now and hitch a ride back to Chickasaw Ridge with a long-haul truck driver!”

  I grunted, realizing none too late that I’d missed my mark and spoken too soon.

  Her words held a serrated edge this time. “Daddy left you money. I don’t know why—best I can recall, he never even liked you—but I think he knew… Well, he knew what you meant to me. I just came to track you down and tell you your share’s waitin’ in a safety deposit box in the Choctaw County Bank.”

  “I don’t want it.” The words came out bitterer than I’d meant them. “Use it to fix up the house.”

  “No.” She shook her head, voice softening for the first time all day. “I can’t spend a minute longer there than I have to, I have to get rid of it, and you have to help me. I hate it. Too many bad memories. Every time I try to remember the good times, you’re always in them.”

  My heart stuttered to a slower beat, her words sinking in and melting away the barbed wire fences I’d built.

  The cab hung heavy with silence for long minutes before I finally answered. “Why d’you need me to sell the house, Augusta?”

  “Because.” She barely breathed. “Daddy left that to you too.”

  TEN

  Augusta—Eleven Years Ago

  “Go be with your whore, then! Me’n Augusta’z bettah here anyway.” My mother’s Southern accent thickened in time with her intoxication. She was a few drinks in and freshly topped on her meds as far as the slurrin’ indicated.

  I pushed a finger through the neon pink concoction that coated the grocery store cupcake my mother had sent me upstairs with.

  I sighed, licking the saccharine frosting off my finger.

  “Christ, if I had to listen to this shit day in and out, I’d throw myself off the nearest bridge too.”

  “Shut up.” I giggled just as Fallon snagged my wrist and pushed my finger into his mouth. His tongue rolled around the pad, and shivers raced down my spine, swirling in the bottom of my stomach.

  I swallowed down the now familiar feeling of physical frustration I’d been dealing with whenever I was around Fallon Gentry. I’d always been attracted to him, the way his eyes followed me across a room, always readin’ me like an open book.

  But now he’d taken to working out.

  His already broad chest was filling out, the hard slab of muscle bookended by biceps rock-hard enough to make my mouth water. And instead of the usual clean-shaven look I was used to, he now sported a regular five-o’clock stubble that made my fingers ache to touch.

  “I don’t remember a day in my life they haven’t been fighting.” I tossed the cupcake into the garbage can, smears of pink frosting running down the sides like unicorn tears. “Happy birthday to me.”

  Fallon scooped me in his heavy grip, snuggling me against him and into the mountain of white down pillows that swallowed my bed.

  It was ironic. All the money spent on the fancy bed and linens to make me comfortable while I slept, and yet the only time my mind seemed to still was in his arms. It didn’t matter where. Long as we were connected, I knew I was safe.

  “‘Nother trip around the sun, hmm?” Fallon’s fingers threaded through mine as he turned over my wrist, dotting sweet kisses across the delicate veins and making butterflies batter all four of my heart’s chambers.

  “According to the birth certificate.” Birthdays were never a pleasant event for me. I always felt too old for them, like the entire celebration of my birth was an occasion meant only to document their existence in future photo albums.

  The fact that Dad had poured his first glass of vodka by six, as usual, and Mom was napping on the couch promptly fifteen minutes after eating half a slice of takeout pizza were only proof of my theory.

  “So…” Fallon tipped my chin to catch my gaze. “Does that mean you get seventeen birthday kisses?”

  My cheeks flamed, the idea of a make-out session more than my fragile heart could take. “How’d you know?”

  He pressed his lips to mine, kissing me once before pulling away and smiling. “One.” He stole another kiss at the opposite corner of my mouth. “It was a good guess. And two.”

  My heart spun in cartwheels, the idea that it’d been nearly a year and a half since Fallon had first found me up on that bridge a wild one. He’d saved me from myself—and the crazy parents ’who’d brought me into this world—plenty of times. All the nights stretched out under the stars, pointing out constellations and holding hands as the summer wind swept up our future hopes and dreams, carryin’ ’em like music into the universe.

  “Thank you,” I finally breathed, choking up at the thought of my life without him.

  His grin turned sideways, palms
resting sweetly on either side of my face as his thumbs wiped away the quiet tears. “No thanks necessary.” His lips caught more of my tears. “Loving you has been the pleasure of my life, Augusta Belle Branson.”

  I sobbed once, his too-kind words nearly breaking me apart.

  “And I wouldn’t be any kinda boyfriend at all if I didn’t have somethin’ to celebrate the day of your birth.” He fished in his pocket before pulling out a slim envelope. “Isn’t much, but every time I see it, I think of you. Figure that means it’s meant for you.” He opened the envelope, pulling out an antique gold chain connected to a tiny cameo with a mermaid perched right in the center. “Was my grandma’s. My dad’s got a pile of her stuff in the back bedroom. She loved to swim. Even now I remember going to her house as a kid and seeing all these swimming trophies and mermaids everywhere.” He smiled, recalling memories of someone I knew meant so much. “My uncles used to shit on her for keeping all that stuff out everywhere, and she’d just wave them off and say she had to remember the good things in life before things like babies and bills came along. Mama said she meant it, though. Said she used to swim like she was part of the water.”

  He smiled, savoring some lost memory. “I never teased her. I thought it was cool, seeing her relive her dreams for just an instant each time she passed those shelves.” His voice lowered another octave. “She’s the only person who ever made me feel safe, protected, loved.” Emotions churned in his moody, dark irises. “So every time I see a mermaid, it makes me smile.”

  “Come across mermaids often, huh?” I traced the delicate details of the pendant with my fingertips as it danced in the air between us.

  “I do lately,” he breathed, placing a kiss under my earlobe before hooking the chain around my neck. “You’re my mermaid.”