All For You (Boys of the South) (4 page)

“Even gods can
go all wackadoodle over mortals.”

I cut my eyes at
her. “Wackadoodle?”

She grins. “Thinking
of copyrighting it.”

“Good luck
with that.” I sit up, curling my legs in front of me.

Tonight I’m
restless, uneasy at the thought of West in town. It hurts my heart
when I see him, when I hear him say my name, but not like before, not
like when I was faced with seeing him the last two months of school,
on the arm of Charlie Foster.

He’d stopped
tormenting me, but she made what he had done look like child’s
play. Once she’d cornered me in the bathroom, had one of her
minions hold me, and had cut off a huge hunk of hair before a teacher
had walked in. I’m convinced Charlie would have made me bald if
she’d had enough alone time.

“
He said he
loved the way your hair smells, you bitch,” she sneered at me,
pulling my hair so tight my scalp stung. “Didn’t know
shit could ever smell good.”

One of the worst
parts of being bullied is feeling ashamed, like it was your fault,
like you’d done something to make another person do this to
you. Only I didn’t know what I’d done to her.

She and West were
broken up, and I’d been tipsy, buzzed on a few drinks, his
seemingly sincere apology, and his kisses when we’d hooked up.

“Charlie
mentioned something about her and West going to The Oaks Christmas
Party together,” Julia says, grabbing her phone. She plays a
round of Candy Crush before rolling to the side and propping up her
head with the palm of her hand. “I swear that girl thinks he’s
going to propose to her.”

“The two of
them deserve each other,” I say, concentrating on the sparkly
toenail polish I’d applied only thirty minutes earlier. I
wiggle my toes, sigh, and then look at my best friend. “You
don’t have to give me every detail about them, Julia. I don’t
care, not anymore.”

Julia gives me a
sympathetic smile. “I know, I just thought it would be a relief
to know—”

“A
relief?” I cry. “How is it a relief to know she gets to
have her version of a happily ever after with the guy who”—
I swallow,“while I can’t even date a guy all because…
he—”

I look up at the
ceiling, my eyes closing when Julia wraps her arms around me.

“I’m
sorry, Mac,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean to upset
you.”

“It’s
not your fault,” I assure her. “I should be over this by
now, don’t you think? I’m not seventeen with a broken
heart anymore.”

“Maybe your
heart doesn’t know that,” she says gently. “You
need closure, honey. Let him give it to you for Christmas.”

***

The next morning,
West stops by, bringing his peace offering of donuts and hot
chocolate, and continues to do so for the rest of the week.

Each time, after
stilted conversation about the weather, classes, and friends we don’t
have in common, I throw away the bag and pour out the chocolate, but
not before he drives away. Considering all that he’s done to me
over the years, it’s more than he deserves.

You would think he
would have gotten the message, with my lack of response but
no
.

Instead he’s
here again, parking his black Porsche right up front, like he
deserves that spot. I have half a mind to take some paint and make
every spot reserved for anyone who isn’t Weston Diaz.

But I won’t.
Instead, I made sure to wear my tallest boots and sternest expression
when he walks in, but he still has six inches on me.

Gah!

“Morning,”
he says, hands going in his pockets, like if he doesn’t put
them there he might touch me again. Fat chance of that happening,
mostly because I won’t let him.

Or maybe he doesn’t
want to touch me, because I’m not Charlie.

I frown. “Where’s
the peace offering?”

His mouth kicks up
at one corner, that enticing dimple of his appearing. “Tired of
wasting my money on food you’re not eating.”

A dull heat washes
over me. “How do you-”

He nods at the
trashcan. The bags all sit there, partially open.

“I don’t
like donuts.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Not that
kind.”

Oh my God
,
I’m such a liar. I love donuts, and donuts love my hips and
thighs. During the winter, I have to make myself not eat them,
because I don’t get to go out on jobs as much to work off all
the extra calories. Sure, I could use the gym on campus, but I don’t
have time, and I’m more of an outdoors person anyways. Running
on a treadmill like a hamster in a cage doesn’t appeal to me.

I want an end
product when I work out, more than just being able to wear my skinny
jeans or fill out my bikini in the summer, without looking like a
busted can of biscuits.

A perfectly
push-mowed lawn, flowers planted just so, tilling up the earth and
pulling weeds—that’s what I want to see. That’s
what makes my aching muscles worth it. Besides, I plan to become
partners with my dad, and when the time comes, take Walsh Lawn
Services over so he can retire.

West takes a breath
and sits in the chair directly in front of my desk, giving me the
power position in the room. Is he doing this to make me comfortable
or is this a part of his strategy to—what exactly, I don’t
know, and that’s what frustrates me the most.

He takes off his
beanie and runs a hand through his dark hair, making it stick up
haphazardly. The diamonds in his ears catch the morning sun and I
blink, then take a sip of water.

“I’d
like to take you out tonight.”

I almost choke.
“Excuse me?”

“A date. You,
me, and dinner. Maybe a movie or go to your favorite bar. All up to
you.”

“What about
Charlie?”

His lips thin, jaw
working. “Whatever you heard from Julia... it’s not true.
Don’t believe anything that doesn’t come directly from
me.”

“So you’re
not together?”

“Not since
Fall Break.”

Great. I’m the
rebound girl. “You have huge ones, you know that?” I want
to take the words back. He can skewer me, with anything that remotely
resembles a sexual remark.

He grins, and my
stomach roils. God, can’t I have peace in a building my dad
owns? “You’re pretty damn intimidating.”

Pressing my hand
against my chest, I gape at him. “I’m intimidating? I’m
not the one who ran Forrestville High with his crew.”

“Smart girls
are intimidating to dumb jocks.”

“You were
co-valedictorian, West.” If he thinks he’ll flatter his
way into getting me to agree, he has another thing coming.

“Wasn’t
just talking about book smarts.” His grin falls and he leans
forward a little. “You could see through me… you saw
through all of us with those pretty grey eyes, and I’m asking
you to look at me, really look at me, and tell me I’m the same
person.”

I look at him, into
his chocolate eyes, and almost step away. If I didn’t know
better, I’d say that he does look sincere, that the smug jock
is gone, but a week of apologies, both spoken and in the form of
breakfast deliveries, doesn’t erase years of knowledge.

Fear guides my
words. Fear and anger over how he thinks I’m so easily swayed
by carefully chosen phrases. “I don’t see anything worth
my time.”

He stands, crossing
the small distance between us. His mouth is inches away and I can’t
stop staring at his lips. I know how he tastes, how he uses those
full lips of his to make a girl cry out his name. How he devastated
me with his kisses, with his touch.

With his lies.

My hands come
between us, intent on shoving him away, but I can’t bring
myself to touch him. His fingers curl around my wrists, like brands,
marking me and reminding me that with one touch he can weaken my
resolve.

I
hate
that I’m still attracted to him. There should be a biological
law written in the textbooks that read:
Once
a guy is a jerk to you, then you shall no longer want to mate with
him.

Or something like
that.

“That’s
too bad.”

“Why?” I
lick my lips, not to entice him, but because they’ve become as
dry as my throat.

“Because
you’re worth all of mine, and then some.”

Chapter Five

West

I want to kiss
McKenzie so bad that I’m about to combust.

She’s still as
tempting as the first day I saw her, hair the color leaves in fall
flowing down her back, wearing a short skirt and red cowgirl boots.

Red
.
I’d had fantasies for months about her in those boots.

But she hadn’t
noticed me, not one damn time, until I
made
her notice me.

Until I found out
her dad cut our grass, and sometimes she helped him. I remember
seeing her from my window, her strong arms push mowing the front
lawn, her toned calves flexing as she walked.

A decent human being
would have taken the opportunity to have brought her some water and
made small talk. Instead, I made sure everyone called her lawn girl
and cut her down at every opportunity.

Only the more I
pushed, the more I taunted, the more determined she became to ignore
me. Me, Weston Diaz, captain of the soccer team while merely a
sophomore, star student, and liked by teachers, administrators, and
students.

Who wouldn’t
want to be my friend? Who wouldn’t want to date me? Be seen
with me? Be acknowledge by me?

McKenzie Walsh, the
girl I fell in love and lust with at first sight.

And here we are
again. She’s determined to ignore my efforts. But unlike last
time, I’m determined to do the right thing.

“I can’t
take back what I did to you, what I said to you or anyone else about
you, but what I can do is hope.” My fingers are still wrapped
around her slender wrists, and she has no idea what it does to me.
She has no idea that by her
allowing
me to touch her, even like this, makes me want to drop to my knees in
thanks.

Her gray eyes search
my face, shiny and bright. “Hope?”

I nod. “Hope
you’ll give me a chance to prove I’m worth your time.
Worth getting to know now, three years later
and
on your terms,” I say. Since she won’t let me do anything
for her, words are all I have. But once I have her permission, my
actions will do all the talking.

“What will you
do if I don’t agree to go out with you tonight?”

I’m not proud
for what I’m about to say, but I’m desperate. “I’ll
keep coming here every day. Hell, I might start coming by your house
in the afternoon to drink beer with your dad.”

“You’re
not old enough to drink,” she reminds me.

In two months I will
be, but I’m not about to argue with her. “Fine. We’ll
drink milk and bake cookies together. That better?”

A giggle escapes her
mouth, but then her eyes widen. In fear. Fear I’ll make fun of
her again, for something that’s one of the sweetest sounds I’ve
ever heard. My heart aches, like it should.

“One date,
sweetheart, and then, if at the end of it, you still think I’m
not worth your time, I’ll stop bothering you.”

Triumph replaces
fear, and while I’m glad the fear’s gone, a moment of
dread enters my body. I should have asked for two dates or a week of
dates. A couple hours of dinner and whatever else she wants to do
isn’t enough time.

Then again, I never
specified an ending time. “Do you have a curfew?”

“Not since my
senior year.” She snorts. “I’d have to actually go
out with a guy to… have…” Her words fade away as
she realizes what she just admitted.

I’m worse than
a jerk or asshole. The word for what I am doesn’t exist in any
language. “So, is that a yes?”

A tiny nod sends her
hair sliding over her shoulders. I want to bury my face in her hair,
to see if she still smells like hothouse flowers.

I still remember
our school’s greenhouse and the flowers she’d grow inside
of it. She loved to hang out in there, and would always come out with
a smudge of dirt on her nose and black soil under her nails. I never
bothered her there, because the greenhouse seemed like her sacred
pace, much like the soccer field was for me.

“But only
because I won’t have to see you ever again after tonight.”

Heart sinking, I let
her go and turn away. “See you at six.”

“Where will we
meet?”

Pausing at the door,
I glance over my shoulder and give her my most confident grin. “At
your house. I’m picking you up.”

“But then I
can’t go home when I want.” Her lower lip sticks out a
little and I want to nibble on it.

God, it’s
going to be hard keeping my hands off her tonight. “Baby, you
won’t want to go home.”

Her pretty eyes
widen, and I push open the door, my ego buoyed by her physical
response.

“Don’t
count on it,” she mutters, loud enough for me to hear.

Once again, my smile
falls, but I don’t falter. I stride to my car like I didn’t
hear a thing.