Trick (11 page)

I wonder if Clay and Daisy hit
it off. And that thought fast-forwards my brain through the PG dinner party and straight to my very X-rated experience with Gunner between my legs all night. I try to focus my mind and Daisy gives a little huff across the table. “Uh huh,” I say.

“Are you even listening?” she asks.

“Sorry, Daisy. I’m so damn tired. But, yes, I’m all ears. You and Clay.”

“Right. So after your dad stepped aside, and Clay and I really got to talking...well, let’s just say you aren’t the only one who didn’t sleep in their own bed last night.”

“What?” My mouth drops open. “You went home with him?”

Daisy nods, a huge, dreamy smile on her face. “I didn’t fuck him, I swear. But good god, did I want to. He’s amazing, Harlow. He’s polite and funny, and the things that boy could do with his mouth—” Daisy starts to dramatically fan herself with her menu.

“So, really you should be thanking me for bailing last night.”

“I guess so,” Daisy laughs. “Fine, you’re forgiven.”

“I’m glad you had a good time. And I am really sorry. He just showed up and I didn’t think before running out to see him. We left together and it just happened really fast. I’m sorry for leaving you to deal with my dad.”

“It’s fine.” Daisy falls back in her chair and gives a little contented sigh. “Clay’s tongue more than made up for your irresponsibility.”

“Two water’s and a coffee.” The waitress reappears and sets our drinks down.

“Thanks. So, where did you and Gunner run off to this time?” Daisy asks.

“Are you girls ready to order, or—I’m sorry, did you say Gunner?” The waitress asks. My eyes snap up and settle on her nametag.

Rochelle. I run the name through my memory, but come up empty. I can’t think of how she’d know Gunner and me.

I nod slowly, cautiously.

“Do you know him?” Daisy asks, and I’m so glad to have my best friend here with me. Daisy will jump in and get right to the point in situations that make me want to run and hide until everything blows over.

The waitress pops a hip and narrows her eyes at me. “Gunner Hunt? Owns the bar over on twelfth?”

“Owns?” Daisy asks, looking to me for confirmation. My brain is spinning fast, and all I can do is shake my head. I realize I have no clue what the truth is. “Well, well,” Daisy says, and her tone implies a whole hell of a lot more.

“Gunner Hunt, yes,” I confirm, my hands shaking hard.

“How do you know him?” Waitress Rochelle asks.

“ I—”
I stripped for him, sucked his dick, got cuffed to his bed, and then made love to him last night, that’s how.

“We’re old friends of his,” Daisy interrupts.

Rochelle taps her pen on her notepad, her gorgeous mouth twisted into a scowl. “Gunner doesn’t really have many friends. We sort of keep to ourselves.”

“We?” I think I stop breathing.

“Yeah, I’m his girlfriend. Actually, I’ll be his fiancée, soon as I can get him down to the jewelry store. He keeps those crazy hours, you know. Running the bar and upkeep on that big ass house he bought.”

I’ve definitely stopped breathing. Darkness cuts in in my peripheral vision.
Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out.
I concentrate on a smudge on my knife, transforming the mark on it into a
Rorschach Test, every image a broken heart. A sign of pain. Blink. Handcuffs, chaining me to the sadness.

“Right,” I hear Daisy say, but her voice sounds like it’s coming down a long tunnel. “Well that’s great, isn’t it?”

Blink. Rain clouds. Drowning me. I refocus. Gunner staring inside my soul before he rips it out. Laughing. All I can think about is him whispering in my ear last night that he’d never love anyone but me. How he’d do anything to protect me.

“Harlow?” Daisy’s voice is loud and falsely cheerful. “That’s great news, right?”

“Oh, yeah, congratulations.” My voice quivers like a nitwit’s.

“Harlow?” Rochelle says, spitting venom over the two syllables.

“Fuck,” Daisy mutters under her breath, realizing her mistake. If Rochelle is basically engaged to Gunner, she knows.

“So, you’re the slut that has her name inked on my man? I figured if I ever met you, I’d understand.” She looks me up and down, her expression cool and disgusted. “I don’t.”

“Okay, well, we’re going to go,” Daisy says, pulling her purse off of the back of her chair and tossing down a twenty. “Keep the change.”

“Hang on.” Rochelle leans against the table and dares me to break eye contact with her. I’ve never been in a physical fight, and I don’t want to be, but something tells me Rochelle is no stranger to a little violence when she doesn’t get her way. “Gunner left early the other night from work. Then last night, I couldn’t get ahold of him, even went by the house and he wouldn’t answer the door. His bike was out front, though.”

I swallow hard. Could she really have been there, banging on the door and neither Gunner nor I heard? If so, did she hear my pleasure-filled screams as he nipped at my breasts? Did she hear Gunner beg me not to move and to let him fall asleep with his dick buried deep inside me?

More than that, did he say and do those same things to her?

No.

I don’t believe it. I don’t believe this girl is anything to Gunner.

“I don’t—”

“Come on, Harlow, you don’t owe this skank any explanation,” Daisy says.

I reach under the table and grab my purse.

“Your friend is right, Harlow Mills. You don’t owe me anything. But I bet your daddy would love to know how you’re spending your time. I bet he’d love to hear that while he’s wasting money buying you things like that, you’re off fucking the town loser.”

My temper flares. “Gunner’s not a loser. You should know that if you want him so bad.”

Rochelle grins and the way her eyes gleam lets me know she’s well aware she’s sticking a knife in my heart and twisting for good measure.

“Gunner and I have an understanding. We’re alike. We make sense. We fit. In every way that you’ll never be able to with him. That’s why he ditched your ass years ago, and that’s why he’ll do it again.”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Daisy tugs on my arm.

“And just to make sure he tires of you sooner rather than later, maybe I need to go pay a visit to Mr. Mills. Fill him in on what his little angel considers extracurricular.”

“Stay away from my dad,” I say. I’m shaking. I want to punch her in the mouth. I want to pull out my earrings and fight dirty like those girls on those stupid MTV reality shows. Gunner is worth it.

“Seriously, Harlow. She’s a rabid beast. Let’s go,” Daisy says.

“Hope to not see you around, Harlow,” Rochelle calls after us. “And thanks for the tip!”

We hurry out to the car and I listen to Daisy mutter about ‘cunt punting’ Rochelle as we slide into our seats. Daisy is preoccupied with her anger, and I can’t help but wonder if the Gunner of last night is the man I can trust, or if I’m letting my three-year-old memory of him take over. Because the memories are still so strong, they rip at me.

“Gunner!” I ran to the window and helped pull him in. “What are you doing here?” It was after our fourth date. The first night, he’d driven back after I handed him that napkin with my number on it and we spent the evening lying on a spread out blanket, passing a bottle of cheap white wine back and forth, as he pointed out the constellations and we searched for a shooting star.

Our second date he took me to get ribs at some tiny hole in the wall I’d zoomed by a million times, but never stopped twice to go in. The food was delicious, and we talked about everything and anything that popped into our minds.

Our third date was an accident. He called on the anniversary of my mama’s death. I was holed up in my room, shades drawn, lying on my side with my knees tucked to my chest the way I had every single year since she’d gone. I knew my daddy was drunk off a whole bottle of scotch in his office, staring at their wedding picture. When Gunner called, I almost didn’t answer, but something made me pick up. He heard my voice and demanded to know what was wrong. When I told him, he asked me mama’s favorite flowers and hung up. I went back to staring at the wall until he tapped the window, a bouquet of yellow roses and one of daisies clutched in his hands. He took me to the cemetery and we laid flowers on our mamas’ graves. I thought it would be the saddest day ever, but it made me feel better. Gunner pointed out that our mamas would never want to look down from Heaven and see us wallowing in our sorrow.

Our fourth date we made out in the back of his pickup on a blanket he spread out. I thought for sure we were going to have sex, but when he found out I was a virgin, he stopped cold and took me right home. I was nervous he’d never come by again and cursed my damn virginity for the first time.

But then he came to the window with an excited grin that was hard to pull out of him, but so gorgeous to see. “I’ve got a surprise for you, baby. Come on and see.”

“Okay.” I could never say no, so I crept down the steps and out the door, loving the cool night air on my skin and Gunners arm around my shoulders.

We stopped at a small horse farm, and Gunner jumped the gate. “I know you always wanted that pony. I promise to get one just for you to keep one day, but right now I can get you a night of riding. Ever ride at night?”

I shook my head, my breath held, as he led me to a gorgeous white mare. “Hop up there.” He kept a tight hold on me as he settled me on the saddle and showed me the basics.

He got on a brown mustang and we took off, slowly, on the paths dappled with moonlight, the breeze soft on our faces. When I was more comfortable, Gunner helped me pick up the pace and race through a pasture, letting me win. I had never felt so alive except when I danced. I loved every part of it.

But the best part was after we took the horses back and he took me to the place where he’d found a little hunting cabin in the woods. It was neat and clean, and he laid a blanket from his truck over the bed so we could sleep.

“Tonight felt like magic,” I whispered as he held me tight in his arms.

“Sure did,” he murmured, kissing my neck and holding me tighter.

I turned in his arms. “Gunner?”

“Hmm?” He opened his sleepy green eyes.

“I want you to be my first.” I said the words quietly, but they had him sitting up fast.

“That wasn’t what I had in mind tonight, Harlow. Not at all. I did this to see the smile on your face, not for any other reason.” He ran a thumb over my cheek.

“I know that. I do.” I bit my lip, nervous. “But I want you. I want this.” I pulled my shirt over my head and started to unbuckle my jeans.

“Harlow,” he said, his eyes raking over my body as I let my bra fall away and put my hands on the waistband of my panties. “Are you sure?” He put one shaking hand out, but didn’t touch me.

“I’m positive. I want you. I’ve never wanted to be with anyone before. I want you. Please?” The minute that word fell from my lips, he gave a moan and rolled me under him.

It was all slow and sweet. I pulled his shirt off and pushed his jeans down. He took his time dragging my panties down my legs, and I gasped when his mouth hovered between my thighs.

“Anyone ever licked you here?” he asked, his voice rough. I shook my head. “Good. I’m gonna do it right now.”

His tongue slid against my skin with slow, perfect strokes. I gasped and pressed into him. Gunner only stopped to let me know how good I tasted, how beautiful I was, how crazy I drove him. And then there was this crazy shaking low in me that spread out and radiated warmth through my entire body. I shook against the thin mattress and Gunner’s mouth left my clit and kissed up to my breasts, where he stopped and sucked until I was panting hard. He kissed my mouth, licking deep and sweet.

“Are you ready for me, sweetheart? This might hurt for a second.”

I tensed and nodded. I heard Gunner get a condom from his jeans pocket, roll it on, and fit himself against my opening, then push, slowly. It took a second to adjust to his size. It wasn’t so much pain as a tight discomfort.

“You okay, baby?” he asked. I nodded again. “Goddamn, you’re so tight.” He grimaced, his jaw tight as he pushed harder, driving deep into me.

It was an explosion of pain and pleasure, and I went stiff waiting for it to ease. “Damn, so wet,” he whispered, pulling back and pressing again. And again. Soon the pain and tightness was replaced by this amazing feeling of fullness that I never wanted to lose.

I put my fingers on his hips. “More?” I gasped.

“Holy hell, baby. Let me take it slow for your first time,” he begged.

“Just a little more?” I whimpered.

He took my hand, lacing his fingers through mine, and kissed it. “Fine. But we keep it slow.” He got up on his knees, used his hands to spread my thighs, and pressed deeper. I cried out and his hands went to my breasts. “You’re killing me, Harlow.”

I reached back, pulling at his tight ass, trying to get him in as deep as possible. “Please, more. More, Gunner!”

He told me we’d take it slow, but it got faster. I got wetter. And then I bucked up, back arched, mouth open, and screamed my orgasm. He let out a long groan and came into me a few seconds later.