My eyebrows knitted. “Our date?”
“Picnic. River. Wednesday. Ringing any bells?”
“Oh…” It all flooded back to me. The middle-of-the-night phone call. My saying I had plans last night, which JJ must have taken as a challenge because he’d ended up party-crashing my plans. His getting off the phone before I could turn him down for the picnic. “You mean the one I never agreed to go on?”
“That’s the one.” He winked as he pushed off his truck and began walking towards me, holding out the bouquet of wild flowers.
My traitor of a heart started galloping in my chest like a runaway horse, going faster and faster with every step JJ took. I hoped that he couldn’t see my heartbeat from beneath the thin, white, cotton V-neck with the Spoon logo over my left boob. The last thing I wanted was for him to think he could show up and send me spiraling with just a smile. I mean…he could…but I didn’t want him to know that! I was trying to pull off aloof and unaffected instead. My cool façade was seriously at risk of being revealed as a fraud, though, when I reached for the flowers and my hand shook.
Oh, come on!
Irritation expanded through my chest at my unwanted and unwelcomed physiological reactions to the man I wanted—no, scratch that, needed—to be numb to. Thankfully, that frustration took the edge off my hormonal overload, so my hands were steady as a heart surgeon in the zone.
It was a small win, but I’d take it.
I mean, come on—how long was it going to take before I started building an immunity to JJ’s special blend of charisma, sexiness, charm, succulent scent, drool-inducing body, chiseled jaw, chocolate-brown eyes I could drown in, and panty-melting smile?
“So…what do you say?” He held his elbow out, which was a Southern boy’s way of extending an offer to escort me to his truck.
Every cell in my body surged to life and my knees went as weak as a newborn baby’s neck. Okay, so…it was going to take a little longer for immunity to kick in.
My mind was spinning with confusion over what to do. Of course my body was firmly of the green-light-go opinion. My heart was so excited at the notion of being in JJ’s vicinity that it was about to pump right out of my chest. But my brain was leaning towards it being a bad idea. And my pride was telling me to tell JJ to go kick rocks.
It was a standstill. Two against two. I tried to do a quick mental pro-con list. On one hand, spending more time with JJ could not lead to anything good. Unless it was exactly what I needed to build up an immunity.
Both sides were still battling it out when JJ dropped his arm with a sigh as he stepped to the back of his truck and retrieved a picnic basket from the bed.
“I didn’t want it to come to this, but…”
When he lifted the lid he revealed at least a half dozen fried chicken drumsticks.
I gasped with surprise, and my eyes widened. “No…that isn’t… It’s not… It can’t be…” I couldn’t even form the words.
Slowly, JJ nodded his head. “Dolly Briggs’s country-fried chicken.”
For as long as I’d known the Briggs family, Dolly had made her world-famous—okay, well, at least Clover-County-famous—fried chicken once a year and once a year only: for her husband’s birthday, which was in March. This was August. Not to mention, if you weren’t one of the lucky chosen to get an invitation to Walker’s birthday dinner, you were out of luck, because there were never any leftovers. She never revealed her recipe, but whatever was in the golden-crispy goodness acted like crack to anyone who tasted it. And no matter how much begging, pleading, bargaining, and bribing anyone attempted, I’d never known her to make it on any other date than March thirteenth.
“How did you…”
“I asked nicely.” He grinned.
“Psh! Yeah, right!” No way was I buying that.
Shrugging he admitted, “Okay, it might have taken a little bit more than just a simple request.”
“What did you do?”
His grin grew bigger. “You’re gonna have to come to the picnic to find out.”
“Done.” I practically skipped to the truck. By the time I made it across the parking lot, JJ had returned the basket to the truck bed and was holding the door open for me.
Taking his hand, he helped me into the seat. As I settled in, I involuntarily closed my eyes and inhaled his clean, woodsy, masculine scent. When I opened them, he was leaning into the truck, his forearms resting on the roof, which showcased the sexy backside of his arms, and his eyes were radiating an intensity that made me squirm in the seat.
“JJ?”
He continued staring at me as he took a deep breath through his nose.
“What’s wrong?”
The energy between us was like Rice Krispies cereal in a bowl full of milk. It was snap, crackle and popping, making it hard for me to remember to breathe.
“I wasn’t sure you were going to say yes.” The relief in his voice was like a sledgehammer to the wall I was carefully constructing around my heart.
“You had me at chicken,” I teased, misquoting a line from one of my favorite movies, hoping to lighten the mood.
“You’ve always had me,” he rasped before shutting my door and leaving me speechless, stunned, and feeling much too emotionally raw and vulnerable to be spending any time with him, much less one-on-one time at one of my favorite places in the world.
I had a sneaking suspicion even Dolly Briggs’s famous chicken wasn’t worth the heartbreak I was headed straight for.
Chapter 22
JJ
“Watch out or you’ll plow up snakes.”
~ Grandma Dixie
Damn. I had to swallow a groan of appreciation as I shifted my legs so that my rock-hard boner wasn’t glaringly obvious. I was beginning to rethink whether or not a picnic with my mom’s chicken was the best idea if I was going to stick to my plan and take things slow.
“This is so good,” Destiny enthused for at least the dozenth time.
Every bite she took was testing my willpower in ways no mortal man could withstand. The unbridled ecstasy on her angelic features when she sank her teeth into a drumstick was bad enough, but couple that with the sighs and moans I’d only heard come out of her mouth when I was kissing her, touching her, or buried deep inside her and I was a goner. My mind knew that this was just lunch, but the brain below the belt was sure reading the situation differently.
Looking out over the river as it rushed by, I inhaled deeply and tried to concentrate on anything other than how badly I wanted to strip the girl sitting next to me naked so that I could be the one inspiring her sounds of pleasure. I couldn’t count the number of my X-rated fantasies Destiny had starred in. This exact scenario was one of my personal favorites.
Perfect sunny day, down by the river, not another soul in sight. I might not’ve been able to read how Destiny felt about me emotionally, but I knew all I had to do was press my lips to her sensitive spot, just below her ear, and whisper what I wanted to do with her—and she would be mine.
Damn.
As tempting as it was—as she was—it couldn’t happen. This wasn’t the place or the time. I had to stick to my plan. Especially now that Grandma Dixie knew my intentions. There wasn’t much this country boy was scared of, but I never, ever wanted to be on the wrong side of that woman’s wooden spoon.
When Destiny’s grandma had asked me to stop by yesterday, I’d been more nervous than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Dixie Porter was small in stature but large in intimidation. I had known I was in trouble when, before I’d even made it in the door, she was rolling her newspaper up.
She’d told me I had two minutes to tell her what my intentions were towards her granddaughter, and although no actual threat had been verbalized, it was pretty clear that I would not enjoy the outcome if she didn’t like what she heard. Thankfully, I hadn’t had to experience the wrath of Grandma Dixie, because not even sixty seconds into my laying my cards on the table, she’d unrolled the paper and given me a hug. Af
ter that, she’d asked if I wouldn’t mind doing some chores around the house. It had only taken me about half an hour to realize she was just trying to keep me busy.
Every time I’d finished a task, she’d had another lined up. I’d started to get concerned that she’d been lonely until the back door had opened and Destiny’s voice had called out that she was sorry she was late. Then it had become as clear as day that someone was playing matchmaker—and having Grandma Dixie back on my side when it came to Destiny was worth its weight in gold.
I’d only been half listening to Destiny as she’d talked during our picnic. Part of the reason was that every time I’d tried to interject something, she’d talked over me. And it wasn’t that she was being rude. It was just that, when she was nervous, she talked. And talked. And talked.
She’d told me all about her plans for Sugar Rush, the loans that she’d been turned down for, the vacant space the stationery store had left. She’d known in her heart that it was the perfect spot, and also that with its prime location, it wouldn’t stay vacant for long. She’d told me all about her regulars, most of which I knew, at the Spoon. How she’d come to adopt her one-eyed cat when she’d found him rummaging in the dumpsters behind her work and had named him Captain Pickles because she’d decided he was a pirate and he also happened to love pickles.
It had been nervous rambling for the most part, but I loved hearing about her life, and I liked that I unsettled her. Also, listening to her voice was no hardship, either. But, when she mentioned the Tim McGraw concert she’d gone to sophomore year of college, I decided to jump in.
“You mean the concert that dork Alan took you to?” I asked casually.
Her head spun so fast that I was surprised it hadn’t given her whiplash. “How did you know about Alan?”
I answered her with a wink. The truth was that I knew about Alan because, the entire time she’d been in college, I’d relentlessly stalked her Facebook page. It had all started innocently enough. At the urging of my mom, I’d made an account under a fake name so that I could keep in touch with my family. My profile picture was a dog. A black lab, my dream dog, and my timeline cover was a picture of the sun setting.
I only had a few friends, mainly family and some fellow ballplayers who also had fake profiles. One day, about three years ago when I was on there, I saw a picture my sister had posted of her and Destiny, and she’d tagged Destiny in it. I’d clicked on her profile, but it was set to private, so I’d friended her. Apparently, she wasn’t too concerned when it came to accepting friend requests, because within an hour, “Aaron Nicholas” was friends with Destiny Porter. After that, I had become slightly obsessed with checking her page for new statuses. Which was how I’d known about her four-month relationship with Alan.
“Did Harmony tell you?” Destiny’s brow furrowed. But, before I had a chance to answer, she saved me the trouble. “No, that’s crazy. If you would have asked Harmony about me, she would have told me, and there’s no way she would have just offered up details about my personal life.”
“Really?” I leaned on my elbows. “You think that Harmony’s loyalty lies with you?”
“No.” Her blue eyes stared directly at mine. “I know that Harmony’s loyalty lies with me.”
“Fair enough.” I grinned, because she was right. My sister loved me, but I was just one of her eight brothers. And, for the girl who’d always wanted a sister, her two best friends were the closest she would get.
Harmony loved me, but if it came down to choosing sides, she would land on Team Destiny all the way.
Thankfully, if everything went smoothly, my sister would never be put in that position because Destiny and I would be on the same team.
“Sooo…” Destiny prompted.
I reclined until I was flat on my back, lifted my hands behind my head, and let out a long sigh as I closed my eyes. No way was I copping to Internet stalking. Destiny could let her imagination run wild.
When I sensed a shadow move over my face, I opened my eyes. Destiny’s big baby blues were staring down at me.
“How. Did. You. Know?”
Shrugging casually, I yawned before answering, “Same way I know about Greg. And Damien. And Ty. And Cal.”
Cal had been the worst to witness from hundreds of miles away. He loved taking “couple selfies” with his hands all over her. Plus, one look at him and I’d known he was a total douchebag and probably screwing half the student body. That relationship had gone on for a painful six months.
Her mouth dropped open. “Did you have people following me? Spying on me?”
“When you were at school?” I clarified.
“Yes,” she answered like she was talking to an idiot.
Which, I had to admit, when it came to her…I was.
“No,” I answered honestly.
When she’d been at school, I hadn’t had anyone spying on or following her. Now, back in Wishing Well, that was different story altogether. Since she’d graduated and been home full time, I might have asked my brothers to stop by and check on her. Over the past month, I’d demanded it and upped the frequency.
But that was over because I was home now. And I was here to stay.
Her jaw twitched and her lips pursed as her eyes narrowed.
“What?” I asked, enjoying the view of her leaning over me.
“Tell me,” she demanded, looking cuter than a ladybug in a tutu.
I played dumb. “Tell you what?”
Her nostrils flared as a fire lit in her baby blues. “How you knew about all of my boyfriends.”
I just smiled. But my nonverbal response only fueled the flames of irritation that were burning brightly behind her aqua gaze.
“JJ, I’m serious.”
“I know. Seriously hot,” I teased.
Destiny’s eyes widened, and something shifted in her demeanor. Someone that didn’t know her might have missed it. But I wasn’t one of those people.
I was one of the most competitive people I knew, and part of beating an opponent was identifying tells. Destiny had lots of tells. Like talking when she was nervous or pursing her lips when she was mad but trying to contain it. And then there was her current tell. She tightened her lips slightly and her shoulders relaxed. That meant she thought she was in control. Had the upper hand in the situation. This was Destiny’s equivalent of I’ve-got-you-right-where-I-want-you.
“You will tell me,” she stated confidently.
“Or what?” I couldn’t wait to find out exactly what retribution she had planned for me.
“Or I’ll make you tell me.”
Oh, this is going to be fun. “How exactly do you think that’s gonna play out, Pip?” I asked, genuinely intrigued.
Her confidence never wavered. If anything, with each passing second, it was expanding. “Answer me or you’ll find out.”
“Looks like we’ve come to the action portion of this interrogation, because I am not telling.”
A have-it-your-way expression crossed her face seconds before her fingers were on me and I was at her mercy. For just a bit, when she started tickling my ribs, all I could do was laugh—I was, in fact, extremely ticklish. I knew I had to do something so this didn’t get too out of control. Grasping her wrist I pulled her down on top of me. In one quick movement, I rolled her so that she was lying beneath me and I was hovering above her.
“You play dirty.” I breathed heavily, still catching my breath from her tickle attack.
Only a handful of people in this world knew my weakness, and Destiny was one of them. She’d witnessed my brothers torturing me with it growing up. Luckily, knowledge of that embarrassing fact had not followed me into the minors or the big leagues. The guys would have had a field day with it if it had.
“I would think you, of all people, like it when girls play dirty,” she challenged.
It was bad enough that, when Destiny was sitting beside me, talking about innocent, mundane things, keeping my libido in check was almost impossible. But lying beneath me,
saying that I liked it when girls played dirty, was too much. My thin thread of self-control snapped.
Her eyes widened, and she sucked in a startled breath as I covered her mouth with mine. This kiss was not tame. It was not timid. I claimed her as I swept my tongue between her lips. She immediately responded, meeting me stroke for stroke. Our tongues tangled as my hands cupped her face and tilted it to the side to give me the best access and the most control.
She started making the same sounds she’d made when she’d devoured the fried chicken, just like I was devouring her now. When her legs wrapped around my waist, her body molded to mine, causing each and every nerve ending I had to come alive with awareness. A wave of possessiveness crashed into me with roaring urgency. I wanted to strip her down and claim her. Make her mine.
All of my good intentions to ‘go slow’ dissolved faster than sugar in hot coffee. My plan to take my time and not rush Destiny had flown out the window the second our lips met. Somewhere, deep down in my consciousness, I knew that I shouldn’t be doing this. I needed to stick to my plan. But that vague knowledge was nothing compared to the powerful need surging through me.
My hand slid down Destiny’s side, bunching her T-shirt up on my journey south. I needed to feel her soft skin. I had spent more years of my life than I’d care to admit yearning to be with Destiny Porter, and it had been torture. But, now that I had, these past weeks since the Fourth had been a special kind of hell. Because now I knew the truth: that the reality of touching, kissing, and loving the girl beneath me was better than any fantasy I’d ever had.
A moan vibrated through our kiss as I sucked her tongue and my fingers grazed the soft skin over her ribs. My hand had just reached the silky material of her satin bra when our bubble of privacy was burst.
“C’mere, boy! Rufus, c’mere!” A shout sounded in the distance, followed by barking; the noises shattered the intimate cocoon we’d been wrapped in all afternoon.
Breaking the kiss, I rested my forehead against Destiny’s as I worked to catch my breath. Her eyes opened after several heavy blinks.
Teasing Destiny (Wishing Well, Texas #1) Page 14