Teasing Destiny (Wishing Well, Texas #1)

by Melanie Shawn

  “I knew today was going to be a long day, so I took off early.”

  I decided to leave out the part where I’d run to the shed and JJ had come in, made me come, and then left. Yeah, she didn’t need to know those details. No one did. Not even Gram. Especially not Gram. She’d always raised me to learn from my mistakes, not repeat them. I had now engaged in round two of the hormone-fueled Battle of Mistakes with JJ Briggs and had come out the loser both times.

  Maybe most girls wouldn’t mind if a guy who looked, smelled, and kissed like JJ got them off and then made like a ball and bounced. But I did. It made me feel cheap and used. Yes, logically, I knew that that was ridiculous. If anyone in this scenario was getting the short end of the orgasm stick, it was JJ. Unfortunately, my heart and my emotions didn’t subscribe to Logic Journal. They were both a fan of Irrational Digest.

  “That spin on the dance floor you took sure did look…intense.” Tami Lynn grabbed her paper-plate fan and waved it in front of her face.

  My nose scrunched. “Did it?” My tone clearly expressed that her statement had come out of the clear, blue sky. Like the intensity between me and JJ Briggs was not something I thought about every second of every day.

  Playing innocent was my only move. If I commented any more than that, she would sniff the truth out like a police dog in a crack den.

  “How does some sweet tea sound?” I asked.

  Tami Lynn’s shoulders slumped as she let out a small huff. “Like a little piece of heaven on earth.”

  “Great. Do you mind watching the booth while I go get us some?” I was already digging into my purse to grab a twenty.

  She waved her fan at me. “Sure thing, pretty girl.”

  The morning rush had been really hectic, but since the day had started heating up, the only booths that had lines were the ones serving cold, refreshing products.

  “I’ll be right back,” I promised as I walked around the back of the booth. I waited for a break in the crowd so I could jump in. It reminded me of when the girls and I used to play Double Dutch. People were shoulder to shoulder, making their way around the town square.

  I kept moving at a steady clip as I waved and said a walk-by, “Hey,” to everyone who spotted me. I was on a mission to get my sweet tea and return to my booth before I had any JJ sightings.

  When Harmony had been helping me at the booth this morning, she’d said that Trace had told her that JJ was still in physical therapy and only here for the weekend. He was leaving tomorrow. So I needed to keep my distance for about twelve more hours and then like Tami Lynn had so eloquently put it, poof, he would be gone.

  Which was what I wanted. Or, at least, what I should have wanted.

  A small amount of relief washed over me because the line for tea was only four deep. Getting behind Gloria Knox, who played bridge with Gram, I kept my gaze straight ahead. But JJ’s words kept coming back to me.

  “I listened to it hundreds of times, thinking of you. I’ve never stopped thinking about you. Missing you. Wanting you.”

  “You are so beautiful.”

  “Damn, I’ve missed you.”

  And those songs. Holy guacamole! Sure, I’d heard those songs before. I’d been to more than one Brantley Gilbert concert. Whether he was playing them live or they came on the radio, I sang along to them. But, last night, I’d gone home and downloaded them from iTunes, which was embarrassing to admit, but…come on! What girl wouldn’t have done the same thing?! I also might have listened to them on repeat once, twice, or a dozen times. Those lyrics—talk about heart-aching swoon-worthiness.

  I shook my head as I stepped forward in line, trying to get all thoughts of last night—the dance, the words, the songs, and the shed!—out of my mind. Because the one thing I knew was that JJ Briggs would be dust in the wind come tomorrow and all of this—whatever this was—would be gone with him.

  “Two sweet teas.” I held two fingers up to Mr. Graham, who was hard of hearing, yet the Rotary Club had him manning the cash register.

  “That’ll be six dollars even. How’s your grandmother doin’? I haven’t seen her today.” Mr. Graham commented as he handed me the teas.

  I grinned as I paid him. “She’s around here somewhere, I’ll tell her to stop by and say hello.”

  “You do that.” With a wink, he tipped his hat.

  Maybe Gram has more than one admirer. Distracted by that thought, I wasn’t paying attention when I turned and I walked straight into a brick wall—or a brick chest. It was a miracle the teas hadn’t spilled, which would’a caused me to be an unwilling participant in a wet T-shirt contest.

  “Sorry, I didn’t see you!” I explained as my head tilted up.

  Great! I’d walked into the second-worst person I could have run into at this festival.

  Brady Calhoun.

  “Well, I saw you, Red. I was hypnotized by those damn Daisy Dukes you’re wearing.” He rubbed his hands up and down my bare arms, which had the opposite effect JJ’s touch had on me. His breath reeked of alcohol, and his trademark toothpick looked like it was trying to jump off his lip.

  “Nice seeing you, Brady.” I chose to take the high road and ignore his comment about my attire since he was drunk.

  Unfortunately, my attempt to step around him was foiled when his grip tightened to the point that it was painful.

  He leaned down and murmured in my ear, “Come on, baby. What’s it going to take for me to find out if the carpet matches the drapes?”

  Okay. That was it. Business or no business, drunk or not drunk, friend or no friend—Brady Calhoun had just crossed a line he was going to wish he hadn’t.

  Using the leverage I’d gained from his close, tight hold on me, I brought my knee up as hard as I could, straight to his groin. At the forceful contact of my kneecap to his balls, his eyes bulged out of his head and he made a noise that sounded like an animal dying. Doubling over, he fell to his knees.

  As much as I would have loved to watch him writhing in the dirt like the pig he was, his dramatic drop had caused quite a crowd to gather—and I was at the center of it. Panic rose like a tidal wave in my chest, and my fight-or-flight instinct kicked into full gear.

  Flight won. I needed to get out of there.

  With a short hop, I successfully maneuvered around him and I thought I was in the clear until a hand gripped my calf and Brady yelled, “You bitch!”

  Oh, come on?!

  And, just like that, fight trumped flight. I was turning around to roundhouse him in the face when air swished beside me, followed by a loud thump. Then Brady was falling backwards to the ground.

  In a flash JJ was over him, picking him up by his shirt like he weighed nothing, and slamming him against the side of the Rotary Club’s food truck.

  Oh s-h-i-t.

  Chapter 10

  JJ

  “The time to kill a snake is when he raises his head.”

  ~ Grandma Dixie

  “What the fuck, JJ!?” Brady yelled as his arms flailed around.

  “Don’t ever touch her or talk to her again. Do you hear me?” I spoke clearly and calmly as I shoved my forearm under Brady’s chin, cutting off his airway. “Stay away from her.”

  “She…kneed…me…in…the balls,” he managed to cough out.

  “I don’t care what she did.” The fact that this pussy was trying to make an excuse, any excuse, for putting his hands on a woman and calling her a bitch caused the rage I’d already been feeling to multiply by a hundred. Pressing harder against his throat, I repeated, “Stay away from her.”

  Brady nodded once, and I was about to let him go when arms wrapped around me and pulled me back. Before I even turned around, I knew who it was. Not only because there weren’t that many people with that kind of strength, but also because I’d been in enough chokeholds from Sawyer when we were kids that there was no mistaking them.

  “Get off me.” I jerked out of his hold, which he’d released me from. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been going anywhere.

&
nbsp; “I’m pressing charges!” Brady yelled as he grabbed at his throat and coughed dramatically. “You’re going to jail. Do you know how many witnesses I have?! I’m going to get every dime you’ve ever made and your fucking World Series rings. And I’m going to fuck Destiny while I’m wearing them.”

  I lunged forward, but Destiny managed to get between us, stopping me in my tracks, as she spoke loudly.

  “Fine,” she said. “If you’re pressing charges, then so am I.”

  “For what?” Brady said, outraged, before he spit on the ground.

  “For harassment. And not just for today. You’ve been showing up at my job, my apartment, texting me, calling me, for months after I have repeatedly told you that I wasn’t interested. Do you know how many witnesses I have?”

  Fear filled Brady’s eyes, which told me two things. One, he was even more of a pussy than I had originally thought. And, two, this piece of shit had been harassing Destiny for months.

  I was going to kill him.

  “What’s the problem here, boys?” Sheriff Reed asked as he stepped up through the crowd. He was in plain clothes, so he was off duty, but make no mistake—he had his ‘official’ voice on.

  Destiny and I both looked at Brady.

  After spitting to the side again, he sniffed and puffed out his chest, “Nothin’. Just a misunderstanding.”

  Sheriff Reed stared him down and Brady’s gaze shot to the ground. The sheriff scanned mine next. I stared back at him, unwavering.

  After a few beats, he turned to Destiny and asked, “Is that right? Was this just a misunderstanding?”

  “Yes, sir.” She nodded.

  His eyes narrowed briefly before he slapped Brady on the shoulder. I almost laughed when Brady winced in pain.

  “All right, then. Why don’t you and I go on down to the ropin’ contest?” Without waiting for a response, he squeezed Brady’s shoulder and started walking him down towards the stables.

  “You all right?” Sawyer asked.

  My head dipped in a sharp nod, and without another word, my brother walked away. The rest of the small group that had gathered followed suit, leaving Destiny and me in as much privacy as we could get in a crowded festival.

  When her eyes met mine, I saw a sea of emotion raging behind her expressive baby blues, but I had no idea which direction the tide was going.

  “Why didn’t you tell me Brady had been stalking you?” It might not have been the best question to ask, but it was the one I wanted answered right now.

  At least I no longer had a question as to what was going on behind her eyes. Now, anger filled her gorgeous gaze.

  “Are you seriously asking me that?!”

  “He’s an asshole, why the hell did you let this shit go on so long?”

  “Who do you think you are? You show up yesterday and you think you have the right to know anything about my life?”

  Knowing she had a valid point, I remained silent.

  Inhaling deeply through her nose, her chest rose her pushing ample cleavage up over her tank top. “Not to mention that you’re no better. You sat at my job for four hours yesterday until I finished my shift and then later followed me to the shed.”

  Keeping my eyes above her neckline, I countered, “That’s not the same thing.”

  “Really?” She let out a forced laugh. “How is that not the same thing?”

  Leaning down and lowering my voice so only she could hear, I whispered, “Did Brady have his hand up your skirt and make you come so hard your eyes rolled back in your head last night?”

  I hadn’t been trying to invoke her trademark lip-purse, head-tilt, nose twitch move, but I couldn’t say I wasn’t pleased as punch when those things happened. Destiny was madder than a wet hen and cuter than hell. The corner of my lips pulled up.

  I might not have known exactly what she was thinking, but I did know one thing that was going on in that complicated mind of hers. “You’re spell-cussing me out in your head right now, aren’t you?”

  Her mouth fell open. “How did you—”

  “I know you, Destiny. Better than you think.”

  I only knew that because I had overheard her confessing it to Harmony and Cara one night when the girls, about thirteen, had gotten into my parents’ hard liquor. She’d said that she couldn’t bring herself to say cuss words, even in her head, but she would spell them out. At the time, I’d thought it was the most adorable thing I’d ever heard. Still did.

  “But…” She shook her head. “There’s no way that you could know—”

  “Don’t you need to get back to your booth?” I nodded towards her sweet teas. This was not a conversation I wanted to have with her in the middle of the Fourth of July festival.

  “My wha—oh my gosh! Tami Lynn.” Without another word, she sprinted back towards her booth.

  As I enjoyed the view of her jogging in Daisy Dukes, someone called my name. When I turned around, Trace was walking towards me, holding his phone out.

  “I can’t leave you alone for a minute.”

  On the screen was a poorly shot video of the drama that had just played out.

  Shit.

  “Where did you get that?”

  “It’s on the Wishing Well Facebook page. It already has over a thousand views.”

  Double shit.

  My phone buzzed, and I looked down to see the number of my PR firm, SBC.

  “Hey, Jessie,” I answered.

  “TMZ just contacted me with a video they are uploading as we speak.”

  That’s what I loved about my publicist, Jessie Sloan. She was no-nonsense. No small talk. She cut right to the chase.

  “Yeah, I saw it.”

  “Keep your phone on you. I’ll e-mail you when I have a statement put together.”

  “All right.” Then the phone disconnected.

  That was the other thing I loved about Jessie. She never flipped out, never lectured—she just did her job. Honestly, if I hadn’t been head-over-heels in love and she hadn’t been married to one of the few people in the world who could kick my ass, the reigning lightweight boxing champion, I’d think she might be the one.

  But that role in my life was already taken by a feisty redhead who silently spell-cussed in her mind.

  Chapter 11

  Destiny

  “A drought usually ends with a flood.”

  ~ Grandma Dixie

  Pulling off the third dress I’d tried on, I was getting more and more frustrated with myself by the second. Why did I actually care what I looked like to go watch fireworks? Of course I knew the answer to that question, but that just made me more upset. It didn’t matter what JJ thought if he saw me. Nothing was going to happen with JJ tonight. Nothing.

  Sure, he’d said that, if I still wanted to do “this” tonight, then we would—after the fireworks. I didn’t. Okay, I did, but I wasn’t going to act on that particular desire.

  As much as I wished that it could, my battered heart would likely not survive another break. Which was exactly what would happen when JJ walked out of my life again after we had sex. If we even had sex, and that was a big if. Twice now, I’d really thought things were headed in that direction, and twice, he’d put the brakes on so fast that it’d given me whiplash. Who’s to say that he wouldn’t do the very same thing tonight?

  After grabbing a shirt, jeans, and a couple of dresses out of my closet, I threw them on the bed as Team Go For It and Team Play It Safe debated my activity schedule for the evening. Part of me wanted to throw caution (aka my heart!) to the wolves—um…I mean wind. And the other part of me wanted to build moats filled with alligators and eels around my heart, my body, and my soul to protect myself.

  Dress or jeans and a shirt? My eyes bounced back and forth between the items of clothing like a volleyball over a net. Ugh. This was ridiculous.

  What would I wear if JJ weren’t back and threatening me with all kinds of good times?

  Decision made.

  Once I’d pulled the baby-blue T-shirt over
my head, I sat on the bed and put my jeans on. Standing up, I checked my reflection in the oval mirror in the corner of my room. I looked casual. Like I wasn’t trying. Yes, I had blown my hair out and put on mascara, a little bronzer, and lip gloss, but hey, I’d drawn the line at a dress. That was something to be proud of.

  After snagging the cowboy boots I’d had since sophomore year out of the closet and stepping into them, I took one more look, flicked my light off and headed out.

  As I put food for Captain Pickles down, I determined that I needed to come up with a game plan if I wanted to get through this night without getting down and dirty.

  At the dance, I’d tried to ignore JJ in my sad, pathetic game of cat and mouse, which had proved to be a poorly executed plan. This afternoon, I’d taken a different approach, opting for putting pretend blinders on, which had been a big, fat fail. So, instead of trying not to notice my surroundings—JJ—at the fireworks, I planned on being hyperaware of him. I would locate and keep a twenty on him the entire night. He wasn’t going to be able to make a move without me knowing about it and responding accordingly.

  I needed to think of the park, where the entire town always gathered to watch the sparklers display, as a chess board and JJ and myself as the pieces. He moved, I moved. If I didn’t pull this off, then my check was definitely going to get mated.

  Before walking out the door, I paused to breathe and take a little inventory.

  Keys. Check.

  Game plan. Check.

  Sanity…

  Well, two out of three ain’t bad.

  Honestly, the thing that was driving me the craziest was how in the name of God and all that was holy did JJ know that I spell-cussed in my head? No one knew that. I had never given anyone a peek into that little corner of my quirky neurosis. But he knew. No one guesses something so specific. Was he like Sookie from True Blood? Could he read minds?

  Oh, dear Lord, I hoped not. I’d thought some pretty dirty things about him, and spelled even dirtier things.

  Pushing that scary thought out of my mind, I opened the door as I looked down to make sure that Captain Pickles hadn’t sneaked out. And then, for the second time that day, I ran smack-dab into a solid brick wall. This time, my body knew exactly who the wall was without any visual confirmation.