but my dad said it was a bad idea,” I confess.
“ You know, someday you're going to have to be a big girl and make your own decisions,” he jokes. If he only knew how true those words are. I should tell him my first decision as a big girl—to knock off this friend charade and see what happens when I tell him I can’t stop thinking about how it would feel to have his hands on me. If only I had the nerve to do it .
“ I meant, what are you doing here in this town working at the lumber yard and drinking beer with me?”
“ Short version,” he answers. “I was run out of the last place I lived.”
I laugh, but judging by his serious look, he wasn't joking. “Oh.”
“I told you I was no good.” The heaviness of this moment should make me take a step back. I should be getting up off this barstool and take him at his word. Cole Pritchett warned me before, but something about the way he is looking at me makes me believe that, despite how bad he thinks he is, there is something deep down in him that is worth the risk. He knows as well as I do that we are not meant to be friends—or anything else for that matter. Even though I believe he is telling me the truth, I don’t care. I am just about to tell him so when a rush of blond hair storms behind us and a set of hands pulls Zeke from his barstool and pushes him to the ground.
“ What the fuck are you doing with your hands on my girlfriend?” Ricky hovers above Zeke, pulling him up by two fistfuls of the t-shirt he is wearing.
“ We hadn't got that far yet, junior,” Zeke fires back as he gets his feet underneath him and starts to stand up.
“ You're not going to either,” Ricky hisses, drawing his fist back and slamming it into Zeke's chin.
“ I suggest you chill the fuck out.” Cole quickly stands up. In one fluid motion, he manages to grab the collar of Ricky's shirt and pull him up until he is nose to nose with him. I feel myself literally on the edge of my seat as I watch the way each delicious muscle in Cole's arms tenses and tightens as he holds Ricky up. The poor kid's feet are barely scraping the floor. “Why don't you take a step back before you get your ass kicked.”
How am I turned on by this? I can’t catch my breath. I can’t look away. I can’t even bother to say that I don’t think fighting in the middle of bar is a good idea. In fact, a little part of me is hoping Cole will let go of his restraint and knock the kid out. I imagine the wild look in his eyes and the way his body would move in the heat of an attack. Somehow, in my mind, all I can think about is how badly I want Cole to channel his obvious agitation into something a little more sexual, preferably with me on the receiving end.
“ Son of a bitch, Ricky,” Mallory snarls as she grabs Ricky and tugs him out the back door of the bar. “You could fuck up a one-car parade, you know that?”
Cole takes in a deep breath, not moving from his position, as if he is fighting the urge to follow Ricky out the back door.
“Are you okay?” I ask as I place my hand on his shoulder. Much like his reaction to me touching his tattoo, Cole shrugs away from me and moves back to his barstool.
“ I'm fine.” The coldness in his voice may be directed at me, but he never looks in my direction.
“ That was your free pass, kid!” Zeke calls out as he climbs back into his seat. “That little fucker's got a good swing on him,” he says as he rubs his jaw and takes a drink.
“ He got ya good.” Cole laughs, still avoiding eye contact with me, but I can feel him sneaking glances at me through the mirror behind the bar.
I'd never seen a fight before. The circle I ran in wasn't the throw-punches kind of crowd. The way Ricky stormed through the door all hell-bent on keeping Zeke away from my sister was kind of exciting. Even if Ricky is too stupid to see my sister was just toying with him.
I start to wonder if Wesley would
“ You know, someday you're going to have to be a big girl and make your own decisions,” he jokes. If he only knew how true those words are. I should tell him my first decision as a big girl—to knock off this friend charade and see what happens when I tell him I can’t stop thinking about how it would feel to have his hands on me. If only I had the nerve to do it .
“ I meant, what are you doing here in this town working at the lumber yard and drinking beer with me?”
“ Short version,” he answers. “I was run out of the last place I lived.”
I laugh, but judging by his serious look, he wasn't joking. “Oh.”
“I told you I was no good.” The heaviness of this moment should make me take a step back. I should be getting up off this barstool and take him at his word. Cole Pritchett warned me before, but something about the way he is looking at me makes me believe that, despite how bad he thinks he is, there is something deep down in him that is worth the risk. He knows as well as I do that we are not meant to be friends—or anything else for that matter. Even though I believe he is telling me the truth, I don’t care. I am just about to tell him so when a rush of blond hair storms behind us and a set of hands pulls Zeke from his barstool and pushes him to the ground.
“ What the fuck are you doing with your hands on my girlfriend?” Ricky hovers above Zeke, pulling him up by two fistfuls of the t-shirt he is wearing.
“ We hadn't got that far yet, junior,” Zeke fires back as he gets his feet underneath him and starts to stand up.
“ You're not going to either,” Ricky hisses, drawing his fist back and slamming it into Zeke's chin.
“ I suggest you chill the fuck out.” Cole quickly stands up. In one fluid motion, he manages to grab the collar of Ricky's shirt and pull him up until he is nose to nose with him. I feel myself literally on the edge of my seat as I watch the way each delicious muscle in Cole's arms tenses and tightens as he holds Ricky up. The poor kid's feet are barely scraping the floor. “Why don't you take a step back before you get your ass kicked.”
How am I turned on by this? I can’t catch my breath. I can’t look away. I can’t even bother to say that I don’t think fighting in the middle of bar is a good idea. In fact, a little part of me is hoping Cole will let go of his restraint and knock the kid out. I imagine the wild look in his eyes and the way his body would move in the heat of an attack. Somehow, in my mind, all I can think about is how badly I want Cole to channel his obvious agitation into something a little more sexual, preferably with me on the receiving end.
“ Son of a bitch, Ricky,” Mallory snarls as she grabs Ricky and tugs him out the back door of the bar. “You could fuck up a one-car parade, you know that?”
Cole takes in a deep breath, not moving from his position, as if he is fighting the urge to follow Ricky out the back door.
“Are you okay?” I ask as I place my hand on his shoulder. Much like his reaction to me touching his tattoo, Cole shrugs away from me and moves back to his barstool.
“ I'm fine.” The coldness in his voice may be directed at me, but he never looks in my direction.
“ That was your free pass, kid!” Zeke calls out as he climbs back into his seat. “That little fucker's got a good swing on him,” he says as he rubs his jaw and takes a drink.
“ He got ya good.” Cole laughs, still avoiding eye contact with me, but I can feel him sneaking glances at me through the mirror behind the bar.
I'd never seen a fight before. The circle I ran in wasn't the throw-punches kind of crowd. The way Ricky stormed through the door all hell-bent on keeping Zeke away from my sister was kind of exciting. Even if Ricky is too stupid to see my sister was just toying with him.
I start to wonder if Wesley would
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