by Emily Bowie
Out of nowhere, but must have been inspired by our celebrity-centered conversation, Tyson says, “I hate skinny girls.”
Say what? Strike three.
Now I would like to say that I’m thin, not stick model, but I am not fat. My upper thighs have always touched. I never knew other people’s didn’t until social media. I would like to consider myself a size five or seven, but it depends on the brand. Sometimes it’s a nine. I exercise, love food, but try to eat a well-balanced meal most days. I can’t say no to chocolate. It’s a love affair we have had since I can remember.
Did I mention I had not eaten all day and am starving? So I do the first thing that comes to mind, I reach over to his plate and take the remaining half of his baked potato, fixings and all.
The look I’m rewarded with is priceless and full of confusion. I shrug like it’s nothing. “You did say you don’t like skinny girls.” Then I dig into that bacon, sour cream, and cheese-topped carb goodness. It is delicious. I can even hear myself moan over how good it tastes.
*
TYSON
Fuck, did I really just say what I did? It came out all wrong.
The way her mouth wraps around a huge chunk of my potato has me mesmerized. Those lips are plump and sexy as hell. I can feel my pants tightening as I think about what they would feel like.
She takes another bite and I can’t help but think she is honestly the most beautiful girl—no, woman—I have ever seen.
The way she is moaning and licking her lips with each bite she takes has my dick twitching. I could sit and watch her eat every day. It is refreshing to be around someone who is so real, down-to-earth, and not afraid to call it as she sees it.
I mentally kick myself. I started out so smooth. Then the more she talked the more flustered I became. What the fuck was with that?
Throughout the rest of our evening I try to recover but it seems all is lost. At best I get an irritated smirk. The bill comes and I announce, “I have this,” while reaching for the table’s tab. I feel it is the least I can do. I can’t help but flash my fancy credit card, hoping to buy her attention back on me. Her death glare doesn’t escape me. This girl is confusing, chicks usually dig this shit.
Despite giving her my best look that says I’m interested, Jewels looks bored and unimpressed. I can’t help but rake her body over with my eyes. She’s not looking anyway; I can’t do more harm than I already have. Her body is perfect; she has the perfect amount of curves. Just enough to hold onto when staking my claim in the bedroom. Her hair is nothing like I’ve seen before. It’s a shimmery golden blonde with light red highlights. It’s thick and I want to give it a little yank to elongate that swan neck so I can taste that flawless cream skin. Typically, by this point of an evening, my date would be wrapped around my arm, hoping that I will ask them for a nightcap. Instead, Jewels has her chair as far away from me as possible, her legs pointed in the opposite direction.
We all get up and I try to lead her out of the opaque lounge by placing my hand on the small of her back. I have an urge to touch her, and I can’t help but try to lessen the space between us. To my dismay she keeps her stride two steps ahead of mine, my fingers barely able to brush against her.
Like a gentleman, I walk her right to Kent’s truck. Mandy and Kent stay a few feet ahead of us, even with Jewels keeping a steady pace. Then Mandy stops right in her tracks, Jewels practically runs her over, taking half of Mandy’s shoe off as she trips over her stationary cousin. I have to muffle my chuckle as I reach out to Jewels to help her from not falling onto the dirty parking lot.
“I forgot my purse!” Mandy tells Kent, who looks to me and gives me a knowing smile. “Come with me to get it.” The two turn to go back into the restaurant, leaving Jewels and me alone. Jewels has no time to protest as she straightens up, shaking my arm off of her.
“You’re welcome.” I grin, knowing she won’t be thanking me for saving her.
The truck is only a few feet from us and I smile bigger knowing she has to make small talk to me. I can’t help but stare at her pouting lips. I want to nibble on them.
“Tell me,” she begins, and I’m surprised she is initiating the conversation, “how do your dates normally go?”
“Well, for starters, I would be driving them home at the end of the night.” I lean into her, trying to show her that I am flirting. Opening the back door, I try to show her that I can be chivalrous. Hoping it will sweeten her up.
She leans back into me; I think I’m starting to get my magic back again. “And that’s all, you would just take her home?” Her head is tilted looking at me, and those eyes are fucking stunning.
I place my hand at her lower back. “Now, that part is always up to her.” I wink, as I rub my hand across that smooth skin that peekaboos from her shirt hem.
“And that’s what I thought.” She hops in the truck and begins to do up her seatbelt.
What just happened here?
“Tyson Bennett, I think you are too much of a player for me.”
I have no time to respond before she closes the door, almost taking me out with it.
Chapter 3
JEWELS
Mandy is still on her quest to help me make friends, and is forcing me to go to some going away party with her. It’s for another friend of Kent’s, some guy named Brody.
She’s been a bit shifty-eyed whenever I ask her anything about this party, which leads me to believe that she is definitely omitting an important bit of information, but I can’t put my finger on it. To top it off, she’s forcing me to dress up.
“What about this shirt?” I hold up a fancy white cotton number that shows off a bit of shoulder before it caps into a short sleeve.
Her eye roll says it all. “If you don’t wear a dress, I’m evicting you.” We’ve been arguing for at least twenty minutes over what I’m wearing. She is adamantly against me wearing jeans.
“I told you. I don’t own a dress, not even a skirt!”
Her smile widens as if she had planned on me saying this.
“I have a whole closet of stuff. Half of them still with tags on them!” It is true, she tries to convince herself she needs the clothing for work but I’m pretty sure she has a shopping addiction.
I blow out a breath of air knowing I won’t win this one.
“Fine!”
She clasps her hands as she runs toward her room. Defeated, I follow her exit. I feel like a Barbie doll.
And that is precisely how I look once she finishes. She curled a gentle wave throughout my long hair, parting it in the perfect place to show off my two, natural deep red streaks that run through my strawberry blonde hair.
She has me in a tight turquoise tube top dress that hugs my curves. A large white band separates the tube top area from the pencil skirt style bottom. She paired the dress with what she considers a sensible white heel. Nothing looks sensible about these shoes. But I do love how they transform my legs, accenting them amazingly.
We pull up to a long driveway that leads to a massive house. A valet parking attendant stands at the end of the driveway.
“Your friend Brody lives here?” I drawl in amazement while staring at the stunning house that looks like it could house royalty. My nose squishes into the glass window as I try to crane my neck farther to get a good look at the architecture. I hear Mandy chuckle in the seat in front of me.
Kent just laughs. “His parents do.” Kent hops out and comes around to the passenger side, helping both Mandy and me out of the car. I turn in a circle, taking in the magnificent manicured landscaping. This is definitely not Three Rivers. No horses, no wind wafting manure scents, yet it is big enough to have a whole ranch on its lawn.
“Ladies, welcome!” The second most handsome man I have ever seen is walking up to us, completely ignoring Kent. Is God trying to punish me here with all of these god-like creatures around?
I smile, observing the interaction between him and Mandy as they embrace. I’m taken aback at the lack of interest in his frie
nd Kent. Mandy laughs, giving him a tighter hug while Kent looks like everything is fine.
“Now, who do we have here?” His full attention is on me, his arms are out like he wants to engulf me into a bear hug.
“Jewels.” I smile, shooting my hand out for a handshake.
He chuckles at my extended hand, bringing me into his hard chiseled chest for a hug.
I guess he missed the fact that I’m not a hugger.
Releasing me, he introduces himself. “Brody Bennett.”
My heart stops.
“As in relation to Tyson Bennett?” I ask, glaring at Mandy, feeling my back teeth grind as I say the words. She knew they were related, and knew I would have refused to come had I known this.
“I see you must already know my brother.” Extending his hand, he shakes Kent’s hand as they bring it in for a man hug and slap each other on the back.
“Nice to see you, Kent.” Then he brings his attention back to all of us.
“Come on in. The party is already started.”
Mandy shrugs with that smug smile on her pretty face. Whatever. This house looks big enough that I may be able to avoid him. What if he sees me and does the same? Then my problem will be solved. I straighten my shoulders, ready to embrace whatever may happen inside.
When I look over at her again, her light brown eyes flash with something that has me wishing I had stayed home. I mentally vow to pay her back. If she’s not careful I might just cut a piece of her luscious brunette locks while she sleeps. The memory of us pretending to play hairdresser and her cutting my hair comes to mind.
Stepping into the main hall, the vaulted ceilings and dual staircases framing the sides make the room look huge. A wooden railing scales the upper level, which would allow for people to watch what’s going on down below if the stairs weren’t blocked off with red velvet ropes. The back of the room is lined with French doors that are frosted white, not allowing anyone to see what’s beyond the doors.
On the right side of the room there is a makeshift bar and waitresses are walking around with wine. It looks fancy and nothing like the parties I used to attend. Beer, fields, and bonfires, with an occasional barn being made available. There were no waiters, nothing fancy. Just good old country kids doing their thing.
Surveying the room, my eyes instantly fall upon Tyson. I hate how easily I found him. He stands in the middle of a circle with all eyes fully attentive to whatever he is saying.
I drag in a lungful of air with my hands fisted at my sides. If I am going to make it through this, I need a drink. Feeling bold, I walk up to the makeshift bar that looks way too perfect for what it is, stand tall and ask for a vodka.
“Vodka what?” The bartender looks at me like I am crazy.
Did I stutter? Not that I would ever say that out loud.
“A shot of vodka, please.”
His eyebrow arches up, as if staring me down, but I don’t flinch.
“Okay,” he says, once looking satisfied in his assessment of me.
I shoot back the cold liquid, welcoming its heat. I scan the room again and see Mandy and Kent with a few other people; she waves me over. I feel like I’m better in one-on-one situations. Having grown up in a small town, everyone you would ever become friends with you knew by the age of three. Meeting and getting to know someone outside of the people you grew up with was rare, to top it off they were the outsider. I hate this feeling like I am the outsider. It is totally foreign to me.
I smile and nod, buying myself some time. Looking over the room, I can feel his eyes are on me.
One shot of vodka is not going to do. If I am going to make friends and play nice with Captain Playboy I will need another drink.
As if on cue, a waiter walks past me with one last glass of wine. It must be a sign that I need to drink it. You can’t mess with signs or karma will always come knocking, so, naturally, I take the lone glass.
Taking a large sip, our eyes lock upon one another’s and I feel like I am frozen in place. Quickly, I search through my options: run to Mandy, stay put, or go say hi.
He tears his eyes from me, giving me a moment to breathe. Only I see him excuse himself from the group and begin walking toward me. My blood whooshes through me, hot and fast. Shit. Why am I nervous?
Downing the rest of my wine, I fidget with the stem of the glass, trying to keep my fake smile in place.
I quickly glance around me; to prove to myself he is actually coming toward me and not someone else.
“Hi, Country.”
Country? Excuse me? I narrow my eyes at him, preparing myself for a fight.
“Country?” My lips press together, and I can’t help but wish I had saved some of that wine.
A pleased, smug smile graces his lips, his eyes light with amusement.
He leans in and whispers, “You may want to take it easy on the wine.” His masculine, woodsy scent lingers between us before he pulls back. I’m pretty sure I’ve never smelled anything this intoxicating.
“I’m a big girl, I don’t do anything I can’t handle.” My heart is pounding as I fight to say my words. Needing to do something, I place my glass down behind me on the counter.
“Is that your motto? Think you can handle a dance with me?”
What I want to do is stomp away like a spoiled teenager. Instead, I reply, “Challenge accepted.”
He leans in and his voice drops to a sexy rumble. “At least pretend you want to.” Then he takes my hand and leads me to the small area where there is only one small group already dancing.
Goose bumps cover my skin, and I have no comeback. I’ve never had a reaction to anyone like this before, never mind a stranger.
Taking our spot just outside of the group, I begin my standard side shuffle. Honestly, I’m no good at dancing. We never had anything that really required it. Unless it was two-stepping. I’m pretty sure I knew how to two-step before I learned how to run. Two-stepping and line dancing, that is what I am good at.
A few of the other people bump us as they are jumping around and twirling. He takes my hand and twirls me, even though it doesn’t go with the song. The warmth of his hands has me relaxing.
Pulling me in he whispers into my ear, “See, I can be fun.” And gives me a sexy wink.
I have to remind myself that he is Captain Playboy, and this is what he does for a living. Luring unsuspecting girls and getting them to fall fast at his feet. I am not that girl.
A two-stepping Garth Brooks song comes on and the floor begins to vacate, I along with them all. I need to find Mandy anyway.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He holds me tight against him.
Looking up at him, he gives me that panty-dropping smile. I want to hate him, but I can’t.
“This is your jam, Country.” I give him an eye roll, showing him he does not impress me.
Forcing his hand into mine, he moves me into a two-stepping stance. I fight the smile that wants to break through.
“You know how to two-step?”
“Not well, but for you, I’ll do anything. Quick, quick, slow.” He says it like it’s for my benefit but it has to be for him. My poor white shoes will be scuffed by the end of the song.
A giggle escapes me as he steps on my foot again after forgetting one of the quick steps.
“You need to do that more often,” he playfully remarks, with a hint of mischief in his eyes.
“You keep me two-stepping and you will see a lot more of this.” I try to hide the flirtation in my voice, but it comes through loud enough that I even hear it.
By the end of the song we have a good rhythm, making me feel a little homesick.
Transitioning into a slower song, he takes both my hands and wraps them around his neck as we begin to slow dance, high school style.
I would be lying if I said it didn’t feel nice. I breathe in his scent again, resting against him, enjoying the moment.
“You know, your reputation precedes you,” I mumble, mostly to remind myself that I should not
be so comfortable in his arms.
“Now what reputation would that be?” There is no hint of anger in his voice, but mostly amusement. Cocky son of a gun. He knows he’s good. I can feel his eyes on me but I keep mine averted to avoid making contact.
“The one that says you and your brother are womanizers.” Mandy had said that Kent mentioned that the Bennett brothers all had their share of girls in high school. Unfortunately, a fact we did not know until after the disastrous double date. I now know why she said Bennett brothers and not Tyson and Brody. She knew I would have never come knowing this was Tyson’s brother’s party.
He stops dancing and brings his finger to my chin, tilting my head back and forcing me to look at him. There is something about his expression that makes my cheeks flush, wishing I had not opened my big mouth.
“First off, I take offence to that. Brody is a solid romantic, believing in love at first sight and all.” A playful smirk brightens his face.
“Just Brody?” I mock.
“I do believe that it only takes one.”
“To tame you?”
He pulls me in so close I can feel his lips near my ear. “You want to come home with me to find out?”
“Jewels.” Mandy literally places herself between us and places her hands on my shoulders, cutting off the connection running wildly through me. I have that throbbing sensation I have not felt in far too long. People talk about dry streaks. Well, this well is fully dried up.
“We have an emergency, and I need your help.” And just like that she pulls me away before my brain turns into mush, and I do something I may regret.
I feel horrible as I watch Tyson standing like stone, not moving, as he watches Mandy pull me away. “What are you doing?” I hiss at her. We are standing near the bottom of the stairs, one of the farthest possible points from the dance floor.
“I am saving you. I thought you had suffered long enough.” She is looking at me in confusion as she explains herself. “You have been talking nonstop how you can’t stand the guy, right?”
True, but she is the one who schemed up a plan to get me here. If it wasn’t to meet Tyson again, was she honestly just trying to help me make friends?