The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories (300 page)

“I’m not aiming for that.”

“Right. You’re aiming lower.” I picked up a handful of soil and chucked it at him. He laughed and dodged most of it. “Okay, okay. No more. It’s not like it’s that serious for her, either.”

This time, I did look up at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, she only went out with you to satisfy the list.”

“What list?”

“Uhhh.”

“Casey,” I said, my voice a warning. “What the hell are you talking about? What list?”

He seemed to consider for a moment and then his shoulders fell and he jammed his hands into his pockets. “Might as well tell you now. She won, anyway. We called it ‘things to do before I grow up.’ First one to complete all the items wins.”

“What sort of items?”

“The usual. Ride a four-wheeler, drive a tractor. What?” he said, when I gave him a disbelieving look. “We made it when we were ten.”

“Then how do I fit into this list?”

“We may have added a couple of things recently.”

“Like?”

“Like the creek race.”

“Right.” I remembered walking in on them talking about it that day. And I’d seen a piece of wrinkled paper that I could’ve sworn had been handwritten in crayon laying on Summer’s desk. I hadn’t paid much attention at the time. “And what else?”

He shrugged like it was no big deal. “Summer was pissed about the rope breaking on her, so I told her if she added one more thing to the list and crossed it off, she could have a do-over on the rope swing.”

I vaguely remembered him saying something similar that day on the bank of the creek. It’d pissed Summer off good. “And what was the thing she added?”

He pushed off the edge of the planter box and straightened to his full height. I got the feeling he was bracing himself for something and my back rippled with anticipation. “You.”

Very carefully, I set the tiny stem aside and rose to my feet. With one foot, I slid the bucket I’d used as a seat out of my way and stepped up to Casey. I was intrigued but since the prospect of me being pissed seemed to have him talking, I’d play along for now. “Me,” I echoed.

“That’s right.”

Interesting. Is that what Casey thought? That her and I were just using each other for a quick tumble? “And you think she’s crossed me off the list?”

“I heard you guys had a pretty dirty night on Saturday. I’d say she can officially cross it off.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep my face straight. Damn, Summer wasn’t wrong. This gossip thing was like a virus. “And did you actually hear any of that from Summer herself?”

“Didn’t have to. Old man Gresham gave me the story firsthand.”

“Firsthand,” I repeated.

“Yep. Guess I’ll have to let Summer have her do-over.”

I bit back a smile. If Casey thought I’d be pissed about being an item on a list, he was wrong. Summer was hard to read on a good day. Knowing she felt compelled to pursue me—even if it was to satisfy her competitive streak—helped clue me in on where I stood. More importantly, it told me this thing between us wasn’t finished. “Tell you what, ask Summer whether she thinks she’s earned it and see what she says.”

The amusement in Casey’s eyes faded and his brows knitted. “And what will she say?”

I smirked. “I have a feeling she’ll want a do-over on more than just the rope swing.”

Summer

“For a long time I was scared I'd find out I was like my mother.
”
-Marilyn Monroe

––––––––

M
y heels thunked against the hardwood of the The Barn’s wraparound porch. Friday nights were usually reserved for dances or football after-parties for the high school, but once a year, The Barn—a custom-designed banquet hall with a country twist—vetoed the high school’s agenda in favor of one woman: Cathy Stafford.

Over the years, my mother’s birthday parties had grown more and more extravagant, and this year, she’d outdone herself once again judging from the sheer number of cars being valet parked on the extensive front lawn. Behind the wood-paneled, A-frame building and currently blocked from view was a large lake. I knew from past visits it would be lined with paddleboats and canoes for partygoers to take out for a romantic ride. Last year, Frank had gotten drunk and tipped over trying to disembark his little skiff. He’d fallen face first and come up with a mouthful of seaweed. Casey and I had been helpless with laughter and Frank had tried dragging us in with him as payback.

Lots of good memories here.

Out beyond the edges of manicured lawn, pines and oaks bordered the property, pausing only for the narrow gravel drive—the only way in and out on four wheels. Beyond that, so far the edges were hazy in the dying sunlight, mountains rose up in the distance like a purple, pointed hedge. The Barn was a location unto itself: secluded, beautiful, resort-like.

My prison for the evening.

I smoothed my skirt, wondering for the millionth time since leaving my house how I’d ended up wearing something so tiny twice in one week.
Because it worked out so well for you the first time
, a voice in my head whispered. That and Leslie had threatened to beat me over the head with her three-year-old’s Wiffle ball bat if I didn’t. I’d relented. Again.

“I can’t believe I’m here,” I grumbled, sidestepping the front entrance in favor of a deserted spot near the corner railing.

“I think it’s great.”

I eyed my date for the evening. “I think it’s a disaster and we haven’t even walked inside.”

“You look slexy as hell. Nothing can be a disaster when you look this good.”

I bit back a smile. “Leslie, stop trying to make me have fun. It’s offensive.”

“If you didn’t want to hear it, you shouldn’t have brought me.”

“I needed a plus one.”

“You could’ve brought someone else and done a lot less talking.”

“If that’s what it takes ... Want to make out?” I deadpanned.

She laughed and I gave in to the curve of my lips and smiled at her. “It’s going to be fine,” she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the entrance. “But let’s go get a drink just in case.”

I allowed myself to be led inside and we cut a path straight for the bar. Across the room on a raised stage, a live band whose lead singer was a dead ringer for Brad Paisley but everyone called Boots belted out a popular country song. I waved at him and he gave me a chin-raise as a hello, never missing a note on his guitar.

I tried not to make eye contact with anyone else as I crossed the room. That only invited conversation. Between my lack of enthusiasm for the guest of honor and the mud fiasco last weekend still making the rounds, conversation was the last thing I wanted. Instead, I kept my eyes on a martini being poured as I wound my way through mingling guests. A hand closed over my arm just as I stepped up and caught the bartender’s eye. “Martini. Dry,” I snapped, tensing as I turned. I hadn’t had nearly enough to drink yet to face
her
.

“Oh. Hey, Dad,” I said, relief coloring my words.

He kissed my cheek. “You look beautiful tonight, sweetie.” He leaned over and whispered into my ear, “I’m so glad you came.”

“Thanks.”

He straightened and smiled at Leslie. “And I see you brought a date.”

Leslie rose on her tiptoes to kiss my dad’s cheek. “Mr. Stafford, handsome as always,” she said, patting his jacket lapel.

“Christmas and birthdays, I shine up good,” he said.

“And your date?” Leslie asked.

“I’m stag tonight.”

“You don’t have a date?” she asked, her eyes wide in mock innocence. “Well, then, you must dance with me. You’re way too dressed up to stand against the wall.”

My dad laughed and took Leslie’s hand, sweeping her gracefully onto the dance floor as they took up the two-step rhythm. I gulped my drink, eyeing them both. Apparently I
wasn’t
too dressed up to stand against the wall. Traitors.

Beside me, someone cleared their throat. My body’s reaction was enough to identify him even before I looked, right down to the small hairs on my arm standing on end. “Hello, Ford,” I said, trying not to sound like the sight of him automatically made me think of mud and roaming hands and heat in places no one in this room had ever seen.

“Kitten,” he said, by way of greeting.

My brow rose at the pet name, but I said nothing. I took another gulp of my drink, regretting it has soon as the liquid fire hit my throat. Drinking always made me warm. Ten seconds of standing next to Ford and I was already hot enough to light the lanterns on the porch with a single touch.

“Nice party,” he said after a moment.

I wondered how he was here. I hadn’t invited him. I’d barely spoken to him since last weekend. “Are you here with someone?” I asked, suddenly terrified at the thought of Ford on a date with someone else.

“Casey. He needed a plus one. Something about Mazie putting him down for a double on the invite.”

I stared out over the dance floor and did something I’d never done in my life—cursed Mazie Pagonis. Then again, why was I even surprised? Of course she’d arranged it. Once she’d heard I was bringing Leslie, she’d probably run right to Casey and bribed him to bring Ford. Although why she was taking such an interest in my love life was beyond me. She’d never done it before.

“Sounds familiar,” I muttered. Ford gave me a look but must’ve decided to let it go. He waved at the bartender and ordered a beer. When he’d taken a drink, he said, “Haven’t seen you around the past couple of days. Everything okay?”

“Everything’s good. Just been busy with work. Dad cut a lot of corners these past few months. Every time I think I’ve caught us up, I find another hole in the records.”

“Is it serious?”

“Not really. Just paperwork. The last thing is inventory. What Dad ordered and what we’ve sold for the season aren’t even close to matching. He ordered a ton of retail plants but we haven’t been able to properly man that area so it’s been closed most days. I need to figure out what we can save and what we need to sell off. That’ll probably take up my whole week.”

That last part was the truth. Inventory was going to be a bitch, but I couldn’t bring myself to admit the other part. I had absolutely no clue what came next with Ford. He hadn’t called since our date. Leslie would say something about it being the twenty-first century and women could call too, but it was all so open-ended. We hadn’t even slept together. Maybe he didn’t want to anymore. Maybe he’d changed his mind about being “friends” as he’d called it.

“Well, I’m happy to help if you want.”

I gave him a blank look as his words registered.

“With inventory. Next week,” he supplied.

“Oh. You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. I want to. Besides, until these latest seedlings sprout, I’m sort of waiting around anyway.”

“Oh, well ... sure.” My heart did a little flip inside my chest. Shut up, heart.

He gave me a small smile, and I couldn’t help but feel he knew a secret he wasn’t willing to share. “Good. I wasn’t sure what to think when you didn’t come around again after Saturday.”

I looked up at him sharply, trying to gauge whether he was serious. “Me not come around? You didn’t call.”

“Why would I call? You live next door. I work on your property.”

“Precisely,” I agreed.

“Ah,” he said finally understanding what I meant. “I see. You thought I didn’t want to see you again.”

I made a face. “You make me sound so ... worried about it.”

He arched a brow. “Weren’t you?” I opened my mouth to argue but stopped myself when a familiar figure stepped in front of me.

“Summer.” My mother beamed at me, her painted smile matching the red in her flower-print halter dress. Her hair was up, its usual style, but she’d woven baby’s breath into the twist. She looked so pretty. Classy and elegant. Strong and independent—and happy. “You came.”

“Hey, Mom.” It was all I could manage. I didn’t bother trying for a smile; it would’ve been a wasted effort. At least I hadn’t addressed her as “Cathy” again. Mazie would be proud.

“And who’s your friend?” she asked, her gaze shifting to take in Ford.

“This is Ford O’Neal. He’s working with Dad for the summer. Ford, this is Cathy Stafford, my mother.”

“The birthday girl,” Ford said, smiling down at her. “Your party is lovely, Mrs. Stafford, as are you. I can see where Summer gets her looks from.”

My mother, always the hostess, warmed to the attention. “Why, thank you,” she said, beaming at him. “I’ve heard about the work you’re doing on the farm. Dean says you’re on the edge of something over there with your homeopathic creations. I’d love to hear more about it sometime.”

“I’d be happy to fill you in,” he said.

My mother glanced at me as if about to say something and then seemed to think better of it. “Come to think of it, I could use some air right about now,” she said to Ford. “How about you and I take a walk?” She looked back and forth between the two of us, her smile faltering. “Unless the two of you wanted some time alone ...?”

“No,” I said, quickly. “You go ahead,” I added, waving them off.

Ford followed my mom and they disappeared into the crowd. I ordered another drink. Halfway through it, Casey showed up. “Did I just see your mom on the patio with Ford?” he asked.

“I don’t know, did you?”

“Ouch. Someone’s a little sensitive around the edges tonight.”

“I’m not sensitive.”

“Really? Then why did your chest and neck get all red when I asked you the question?”

“I’ve had a couple drinks.”

“Nuh-uh. It just turned three shades of forest fire when I said it. Are you actually jealous of him talking to your momma?”

“I’m not jealous,” I hissed. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“Uh-huh. And I’m the Biebs.”

I didn’t respond. Casey must’ve taken the hint because he shut up although he stayed where he was, pretending to watch the dancers while we sipped our drinks.

“Pretty nice party this year,” he commented after a few minutes.

“Yup.”

Silence.

“You planning on leaving the bar tonight?” he asked halfway into the next round.

“To go home.”

Casey grunted. We went back to our drinks.