All For You (Boys of the South) (2 page)

I’m not sure
what to make of this. Everything about him makes me wary. His looks,
his family’s money, the car he drives, and his attitude. So
charming and full of himself, despite the years of torture he’d
put me through.

“I’ve
already eaten,” I say, rearranging the ornaments on the
Christmas tree by the door. Candy canes hang from each branch.
There’s a star at the top, a little crooked and a whole lot
perfect. Empty boxes wrapped in festive paper sit beneath the entire
thing.

I concentrate on all
of that, because then I can’t concentrate on him. I can’t
concentrate on how he makes me feel. How when I look at him, I see
two people: the tormentor of my sophomore, junior, and senior years,
and
the guy who gave me my first kiss, my first…well, everything.

His expensive boots
appear in my line of vision. The heat of his body touching mine. “A
snack for later, then.”

“
You are
the prettiest girl at Forrestville High,” he whispers in my
ear, before kissing me senseless. His hand steals up my shirt,
fingers stopping just at the edge of my bra. I arch my back,
desperate for him to touch me there. “And you taste so sweet.”

“
Please,”
I beg, the buzz of the drinks I’d consumed making me reckless.
“Kiss me again.”

“
You don’t
have to take all of my kisses right now, greedy girl,” he
laughs against my cheek. “Save some for later.”

I blink, then tip up
my chin to look at him. He’s still smiling at me, white teeth
flashing against permanently tan skin. His black hair is messy and
there’s stubble on his cheeks and jaw. His chocolate-colored
eyes rake over me, like the night before, and I want to cover myself.

West makes me feel
raw. He makes me feel seventeen all over again, where I’m back
at that stupid party, playing a stupid game that had led to us ending
up in his bedroom, making out on his bed. Which had led to us…

“No, thank
you.” I turn away from him, and take measured steps to the
desk. My knees are wobbly, and I can’t afford to show any
weakness. He’ll forget all about whatever’s in that bag
and eat me up instead. “I have work to do.”

“I’m
sorry for tormenting you. I’m sorry for not doing a damn thing
about Charlie and her—”

“Don’t
you dare.” I round on him, poking a finger into his broad
chest. “Don’t you dare try to place the blame on everyone
but you.”

He captures my wrist
in his large hand and places my palm on his chest. His heart beats
hard beneath my palm. “Please hear me out.”

“Say whatever
you want, but I’m not forgiving you.” Tears clog my
throat and prick at the back of my eyes. I have to turn away before
they betray me.

“I’m not
here to make you forgive me.”

My head snaps back.
Angry tears cannibalize the helpless ones. “Excuse me?”

He takes a deep
breath, as if he’s trying to find the right words to say. “I
don’t want you to do, or say, or feel anything you don’t
want to, but I have to apologize. I’ve waited too damn long as
it is. And I can’t go another day…another hour, or
minute, or second longer.”

Stunned, my jaw
falls open.

“I’m
sorry, McKenzie Walsh, for being a bully and a coward. I hope by
saying this, that you can find peace.” He gives me this sad
smile, a dimple appearing in his left cheek.

Tears gather on my
lashes, a few falling as I blink. “I don’t understand why
you’re doing this. I was fine until you showed up.” I
swallow a sob. “Why couldn’t you leave me alone?” I
realize that I’m not just referring to him showing up all of a
sudden, but rather years of West being a constant thorn in my side.

He uses the pad of
his thumb to gently wipe away the tears on my face, leaving tracks of
heat. “Because I was a stupid high school jock.”

I make a noise,
swallowing yet another sob. My heart is pounding, and I’m
waiting for the other shoe to drop. This has to be a joke. “And
now you’re all mature?”

West’s
expression turns as serious as I’ve ever seen. “I’d
like to think so, but only you can be the judge of that.”

“I don’t
want to be the judge.” I sniff, tears falling faster. “I
want you—”

He kisses me,
softly. Lightly. A gentle pressure of his lips to mine, and yet it
feels as though he’s taken a sledgehammer to my body, breaking
me into tiny pieces. I jerk back, wiping the back of my hand over my
mouth.

But it doesn’t
faze him, not one bit.

“I swear to
make it up to you,” he says fiercely. “I promise that
I’ll never make you cry again.”

I shake my head.
“You shouldn’t say things you don’t mean.”

He dares to brush
his thumb over my lower lip and I fight the urge to bite him. “Oh,
I mean it, sweetheart. Unfortunately, this mature guy needs your
permission to follow through.”

“My what?”
I croak.

“Permission.”

He lets go of me
and steps back. My traitor of a body misses his touch, misses his
kisses and warmth. I’m sick for feeling this way. There has to
be something wrong with a girl that can manage to nurse a crush and a
hatred for the boy who gave her the first real kiss of her life.

“Without it,
I’m just a bunch of words,” he says softly.

“Words can
repair or tear down,” I remind him.

“True,”
he agrees, nodding a little. “But imagine what actions combined
with
words can do.”

Memories of
that
night hit me, like the bags of dirt and grass Charlie and her friends
had thrown at me, had smashed into my face, my hair, and clothes.

Filthy Slut!
Whore!
Stay
the hell away from my boyfriend.

Despite the first
instinct to run, my limbs are frozen. They’re locked and bound
by our shared past. “I don’t have to imagine. I already
know.”

His face pales a
little, but his gaze never wavers. “So do I.” Then he
turns and walks away.

The phone rings. The
sound making me simultaneously jump and scream. Thank God no one’s
around to see me like this. My hands tremble as I answer the phone,
jot down the information for my dad, and hang up.

On my desk sits the
bag and two cups of coffee. Wrinkling my nose, I grab the bag and
toss it in the trash, then take the cups to the back to pour out
their contents in the sink. I open the first one, black liquid
swirling down the drain. Popping the second top, I start to tip it
over and then pause. The distinct smell of hot chocolate laced with
cinnamon invades my senses. My favorite beverage to drink on cold
days.

West grabs my
thermos and unscrews the top, peering inside before raising his brows
at me. Why does he have to be so beautiful and mean?

“
Muddy
water for breakfast again? You’re really dedicated to the job,”
West taunts as he and his crew laughs. Charlie, the always-present
girlfriend, cackles along.

Why anyone thinks
it’s amusing to equate everything I do with my family’s
occupation is beyond me. Half the time, I don’t think West even
gets the jokes he makes. Instead of answering or even arguing, I
brush past him.

He grabs my arm
as everyone moves away but him. He holds out my thermos and I half
expect him to dump it on my head. My knees wobble as I take it. I
mutter my thanks and try to walk away, but he won’t let me.

“
Seriously.
What are you drinking?”

“
Taking a
survey?”I tip up my chin.

“
No.”
His dark gaze moves over my face, landing on my lips and staying.
“Just want to know what gets you going in the morning.”

He says all this
without the usual bite to his words, and it stuns me so much that I
blurt, “Hot chocolate with cinnamon.”

“
Have you
already had some?”

Unsure of where
this is going, I search the hallway for a friendly face, but all I
see is Charlie glaring at me. Great. P.E. is going to be sooo much
fun today.

“
Have
you?”West asks again, pulling my attention back to him.

“
Yes.”

He mutters
something in Spanish under his breath and pulls me closer. My chest
grazes his arm and we both suck in a breath.

“
West!”
Charlie screeches, and I don’t blame her. If I didn’t
know any better, I’d think West Diaz wanted to kiss me.

Even worse, I
want him to kiss me.

His gaze snaps to
mine, and that familiar smirk appears. He lets go of my arm, winking
and pointing at me, as he walks backwards. “Later, lawn girl.”
He turns, all that natural athleticism keeping him on his toes, even
as students rush past him.

My face flames
and tears prick at my eyes. Although I’ve never been ashamed of
what my daddy does, I want a hole to open up in the floor and swallow
me.

“
Don’t
forget you’re mowing my lawn tomorrow,” Charlie calls
out, giggling with her group of friends. Well, except for Julia—she’s
a straddler. Cheerleader and friend of anyone she deems acceptable,
which is anyone who isn’t Charlie. But they’re cousins,
so it’s hard for her to not hang out with her at school.

Suddenly, Julia
breaks rank and marches over to me, ponytail swinging so wildly that
her bow looks like it’s getting ready to take flight at any
moment.

“
Love your
skirt, cutie,” she exclaims, linking arms with me. “Tell
me where you found it and we’ll go there this afternoon.”
She lowers her voice. “Ignore them. Pretend we’re
friends.”

“
Pretend?”
I’d been at Forrestville High for three months and hadn’t
made a single friend. Everything was so different from my last
school, and I missed being on the coast, near the water.

“
I really
do like your skirt, and we really will go there this afternoon,”
she says with a big grin. “Smile and chin up, cutie.”

Well, cutie was
better than lawn girl. I did as she asked, she picked me up after
school, and from that point forward, Julia and I were friends.

Taking a deep
breath, I pour the hot chocolate down the drain and throw away the
cup. I have everyone I’ll ever need in my life.

Weston Diaz has a
snowball’s chance in hell of convincing me otherwise.

Chapter Three

West

“I didn’t
mean to kiss her,” I say to Parker, lining up my next shot.

We’re at The
Double Deuce, the club he and his brother run. It’s a couple of
hours before the evening crowd rushes in so we’ve taken
advantage of the empty pool tables.

Parker waits for his
turn, leaning against the wall as he strategizes. “How do you
not
mean to kiss a girl? Did you accidentally fall onto her lips? Over
and over again?”

“Ha, ha.”
I jab the stick at the cue ball, sinking the seven ball into the side
pocket. “You know what I mean, bro. She was crying, and then
she said I want you.”

Parker rolls his
eyes. “I doubt McKenzie said that.”

“She said it.
I heard her,” I insist. “It’s not like I going
around kissing females for the hell of it.”

“Maybe you
didn’t let her finish her sentence.” He raises his voice
to mimic McKenzie’s. “I want you to drop dead. I want
your dick to wither and rot off.”

“Ouch.”
Making a face, I cover my junk with my hand. “Below the belt is
so not cool.”

“So what
happened after you,” Parker makes air quotes, “accidentally
kissed her?”

“Nothing,”
I mumble.

“Yeah, right.”

“Nothing
happened, because I left, before she could call the cops on me.”
I say, throwing the stick on the table.

“What did you
expect—for her to forgive you and then y’all fall into
bed?” Parker hangs up my stick and turns his attention back to
me.

Heat creeps up my
neck, because in spite of my noble words to McKenzie, that’s
exactly what I would have liked to happen. In three years, I’ve
never forgotten how she tasted, the sexy little noises she made when
my fingers touched—I shake my head.

Parker taps the end
of his stick on the hardwood floor. “Yeah, maybe you need to
rethink this quest of yours, and face the facts.”

My jaw clenches.
“And those would be?”

“She’s
not going to forgive you, and the best thing you can take away from
this is that you didn’t do something completely stupid in high
school like sleep with her, and then never talk to her again.”

My gaze skitters
away.

“Oh shit,
West. Tell me you didn’t.” This time his stick goes
sailing.

“I can’t.”

“At least
tell me you weren’t her first.”

“That’s
not really any of your business.” My skin feels all tight, hot
and cold. Amazing what the body can do in the space of a couple of
seconds.

“If you
weren’t my best friend, I’d beat the crap out of you and
never speak to you again.”