Trick (6 page)

“Mmm,” she moaned.

I licked again and shook my head. “Not good enough, sweetheart. Tell me what you want.”

She shook her head, and I pulled back, keeping one finger moving in a light circle over her clit. “Say what you want,” I ordered.

When she shook her head again, I pressed her legs open with a sharp jerk and stopped a half an inch away, my breath hot on her. “Say it, Harlow. Say it or you don’t get any dick.”

“Lick it,” she begged, finally. “Lick my pussy, Gunner. And after you make me come? Fuck it and make me come again.”

Voice of an angel, demands of a devil, and I couldn’t have been happier. I spread her legs again and said the only thing my mama would expect me to say to a lady who made a request.

“Yes, ma’am.”

I’m not remotely surprised when Rochelle stomps in, interrupting my mental playback of Harlow’s throaty little whimpers and perfectly tight pussy.

“What’s this I hear about you taking some rich Daddy’s girl home with you last night?” she demands. She throws some new purse that probably cost more than Daniels’ farmhouse on the bar. I wonder how she hustled that one. It very well might be bought and paid for with my credit card. She knows the best time to ask for a little shopping spree is after an amazing blowjob. Rochelle won’t hesitate to get on her knees for a new purse or a run to the hair salon.

“Since when is what I do your business?” Rochelle is hot as hell, but she irritates the shit out of me.

“Since you promised that you’d put a ring on my finger after a year. You remember that?” Her face is close to mine, and I really look at it for the first time in a long time.

I guess there’s some people would think Rochelle is more beautiful than Harlow. She’s got those cheekbones like a Russian model, and big blue eyes, almond-shaped. Funny how they’re blue, same as Harlow’s, but Rochelle’s are icy and hard, like diamonds. Harlow’s are soft and dreamy as a summer sky.

“Desperate doesn’t wear well on you,” I say. I flick my eyes over the receipts on the bar again.

“Desperate?” She spits the word. “You agreed.”

“Under fucking duress, Rochelle. Is that how you think engagement works? You find a man you like the look of and nag him until he dies of it or gives you a ring to save his skin?” Funny how a face I couldn’t take my eyes off of eleven months ago bores me now.

Also funny how a face I haven’t seen in three years can be a thousand times more gorgeous than I remembered.

She crosses her arms and her mouth sets like she’s determined. “You and I make sense, Gunner. We do. And you’re gonna settle down with someone someday soon. I want it to be me.”

“I thought girls were supposed to be romantic or some shit,” I say. “Most days we can’t stand each other unless we’re fucking. How’s that gonna work in a marriage, Rochelle?”

She presses her small tits against my arm. “I guess we’ll just have to fuck a whole lot.”

I don’t reply, and she drops the coy act.

“I’m gonna figure out who that little tramp is,” she threatens.

I grab her by the arm, letting her feel the bite of my fingers. She glares at me. “You stay the hell away from her, you hear me?”

“Let go of my arm, you bastard!” She yanks her arm away and rubs it like it hurts.

“Take your drama out of my bar. I don’t have the time or patience to deal with you.” I don’t look up again, don’t say good-bye, don’t kiss her, and she turns on her heel and marches out without looking back.

Harlow used to wrap her arms around my neck and kiss me every time we had to say good-bye, even if it was just for a few hours. Used to make me crazy, especially since I was working as a farmhand that summer. Nothing like having your girl kissing you all over your face while a bunch of guys you’re about to work with all day watch.

I got a fuckton of heat from them that summer, but it was worth all the ragging and the shitty work they threw my way because they were jealous bastards. It was worth it to feel like the sun shined just on me according to Harlow.

Rochelle’s Mustang roars out of the parking lot and I wonder if she’s gonna drop it like I asked. Without realizing it, I ball a receipt up in my fist.

Harlow was an idiot to come back into my life, and this is why. I’m surrounded by shitty people, people Harlow doesn’t deserve to spend a minute with.

“Fuck it all,” I mutter, tossing the receipts aside. “Jared! I’ll be out for awhile. Brittany will be here by four.”

I don’t wait for him to answer before I climb on my bike to go and check on Harlow.

This is the problem with bad ideas. They never stop at just one.

CHAPTER 5

HARLOW

“So, what’s this I hear about you changing majors, sugar?” My daddy asks the question with one white eyebrow raised high up on his forehead. Because he doesn’t approve.

Even though I am a grown woman in college, when my daddy looks at me like that, I feel all of five years old with crooked pigtails and skinned knees.

“Daddy, I told you at winter break that I’d planned to switch. Don’t you remember? I’ll make business my minor. I love dance. I know I can make a career out of it—”

“Career?” Daddy’s laugh cuts my words short.

“Yes, Daddy. Many people have careers in dance.” I notice I’m twisting my hands and drop them. Damn it! Why do I get all riled up around him?

“In Piedmont, Texas, darling? What careers are there for dance? Now, if you got your business degree, I could groom you to be my VP, and I’d have a settled mind, knowing you’d be ready to take over someday. Until you wanted to stay home and care for your children, of course. Did I mention I went golfing with a very sharp young man the other day? Auburn graduate, good looking fella.” He trains his gray eyes on me. They seem to bore right through me, and I squirm like he can see every rotten thing I’ve done.

“Daddy,” I plead.

“A girl as pretty as you are should be out every weekend.” He frowns. “And I don’t mean going to honky tonks with Daisy. I mean sitting down with intelligent young men and having nice dinners, going to shows, taking in the sites. This is the time in your life for you to meet the kind of man who’ll be a good husband. And you won’t meet him if you don’t go on more dates.”

I’m desperate to get out of this conversation. “About dance, Daddy—”

“That was my point,” he cuts in. “The life you lead now is fun, and you deserve that. You’re young, you’ve worked hard, and you’re a good girl, so you should enjoy. But, at some point, you need to give up those childish ways. Someday soon your life of fun with Daisy and dance will be done with, and you’ll start a more mature time. Here in Piedmont.”

My next words are harder to get out.

“I know I can’t dance in Piedmont, Daddy.”

For a second there aren’t any sounds but the chirp of the cicadas in the lush trees around our house. Daddy shakes the ice in his glass and takes long sip of his two fingers of single malt.

“Where, exactly, are you thinking of going, Harlow?” He leans back in this rocking chair and squints into the distance.

I swallow hard and say the words, the words that might as well be a string of four-letter curses in this house.

“Well, I was hoping...um, see, I was thinking that...New York City,” I blurt.

The rocking chair stops and Daddy gulps down the rest of his drink.

“Say that for me again, sweet pea?”

My father has perfect hearing. He just wants to bully me into retracting what I said.

I sit up a little straighter and repeat the words, this time in a strong voice. “I’m going to New York City.”

“Harlow Grace, listen to what you’re saying. You want to throw away a perfectly lovely life in Piedmont, surrounded by friends and family who love you so you can travel to a vicious city that prides itself on chewing people up and spitting them out? I know you have a soft spot for Mama—”

“Daddy this is not about Mama,” I say. My throat gets thick just thinking of her.

Mama passed when I was just thirteen, and some of the best times we had were in my old ballet studio. I’d dance my heart out, and Mama would just sit and watch, even when she got so sick, getting out of bed was a chore. She said my dancing was the only thing that could ease her pain, and I never danced better than I did when I was dancing in front of her.

“She loved your dancing. And I think she’d be thrilled to know dancing was still a part of your life, honey. You know, if you worked for me, I’d be sure to let you off to rehearse for the performance of
The Nutcracker
the Piedmont Ballet puts on every year.”

“That’s not enough, Daddy. It’s my passion. I can’t just do it every now and again. I need to dance every day until I can’t anymore.” I clamp my mouth shut, because I have never, ever talked to my father this way before. I’ve never let him know how much I love dancing, what it means to me.

“Harlow.” He tips his rocking chair back and closes his eyes. “So like your mama.”

“Is that a bad thing?” I ask. Mama was the sweetest, warmest person I ever met, and I hate that Daddy says I’m like her as if it’s not a good thing.

“Of course not. I loved her dearly. But she was too soft for this world. She and I both wanted you to be stronger. On her deathbed, she made me promise I’d look out for your well-being, and I don’t take that lightly.” My daddy, who is the strongest man I know, gets choked up.

I reach a hand over and grab his. “Daddy. Please, don’t be upset. We can talk this over more.”

He smiles at me, his eyes shiny, and it turns the waterworks on for me. “I got you all upset now. That wasn’t my intention. I love having you home, sugar. No tears. We’ll come to a sensible agreement. I know that. Now, go put on something pretty. I know you won’t be thrilled with me for meddling, but I asked Clay and some friends over for dinner tonight.”

“Clay?” I wipe my tears with the back of my hands, and try to still my temper. So like Daddy to get all emotional and use it to get me to go along with some crazy scheme.

“The young man from Auburn. Bright, very bright. A true gentleman. I’m not saying you have to marry the man, Harlow. Just have some dinner and conversation. They’ll be here in three hours.” He stands from his rocking chair and carries his glass in, humming his favorite Mozart tune.

I’m a little shell shocked. I planned on letting my father know exactly what an independent, confident woman I was. How the hell did it wind up that he didn’t listen to me at all
and
suckered me into some kind of dinner party with a guy I had no interest in meeting?

I pace along the porch, chewing a thumbnail and checking the window to see if he can catch a glimpse of me from inside. Daddy hates my nail chewing habit. Which just makes me chew harder. I am a grown woman, dammit! If I want to chew my nails to nubs I will.

I’m about to march in and tell Daddy...what? I’m not ready to face him. I have to prepare to do battle with my father. Even when I approach him fully armed, like I had this afternoon, things tend to blow up in my face.

I slide out my phone and run my thumb over the number Daisy sweet-talked off Jared, the bartender who works with Gunner, for me.

I could call Gunner. Ask him to come over on his bike and take me away from this hellish, polite dinner that will bore me to tears.

But I’m not sure he’d come. He and I had sex so amazing, I curl my toes and hug myself tight just remembering. My body shook and burned for his touch all night and into the morning. It was, hands down, the most mind-blowing sex I’d ever had.

But it was that. Sex.

It wasn’t making love.

Every now and then, Gunner would let his guard down and say something or almost say something to let me know he cared. That it made me think that if I could just hold him tighter, show him how good we really are together, he’d open back up. Love me again.

Then he would it all snap shut, often in my face.

I know he was pushing away to protect himself. To protect both of us. But I’m not about to back down. I’m ready to leave Piedmont to start a new life. I’m ready to say goodbye to friends, family, and all things familiar and walk away.

There’s one exception: Gunner.

I can’t trick my heart into believing I don’t care, don’t love him. And I’m ready to fight for his love, one last time. If I fail, I’ll leave forever and close my heart. If I succeeded, I’ll leave with a heart full of love and Gunner by my side.

But that’s a dangerous plan to pin my hopes to. Three years ago, I’d have bet my life on the fact that Gunner and I would never spend a day outside each other’s arms. I couldn’t have been more wrong. But maybe I’d seen trouble brewing and turned a blind eye.

“Come in with me!” I yelled as the water lapped around my thighs. “It’s like a bath!”

“That’s the problem.” Gunner was lying back on the beach, his muscled arms behind his head. He wasn’t wearing anything but low-hanging board shorts that just caught his hips and a tattered baseball cap over his dark hair. His every muscle was defined from the hours of work he did during the day on Mr. Daniels’ farm.

He rarely had a full day off, but work had been cut short by the Daniels’ anniversary trip to Houston. Unexpectedly, Gunner was mine, all mine, and I’d gotten the keys to our beach house and told Daddy I was taking Daisy. Who was pretty pissed to miss a trip to the little gulf town filled with bars that didn’t card hot girls.