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Men just don’t care.
“Sounds kinda dirty when you say it like that.” I step forward. He steps forward, too, so that our faces are mere inches apart. “I’ll make it as dirty as you want, Ava.”
“Ava, the pleasure’s all mine. Your shirt looks much better. Did my brother get the stain—” “Don’t look at her shirt.” I curl my free hand into a fist, Mom’s admonishment passing through my head. Don’t punch your brother. You know how he bites.
“I’m going to send your picture to my sisters. You chop me into little pieces, you bet they’re gonna come find your ass. Smile.” I slide a hand into the back pocket of her jeans. “How could I not after that little speech?”
My body lights up at the don’t-fuck-with-her vibe he gives off. A couple of guys check me out, and Sawyer glares at them, dropping my hand so he can grip the nape of my neck. He draws me even closer, practically curling his big body around mine.
“Let’s try the champagne, then.” I grab the bottle, then laugh when I see the price tag. “Just kidding. It’s a hundred and fifty bucks.” Sawyer grabs another bottle. “We’ll take two.” “What the hell are we celebrating?” “My final night on earth, of course.”
“You best not be playin’, pretty girl.” “I’ll play with you all I like, cowboy.”
So Ava likes the dirty talk and the gentle caresses. The vicious neck bites and the sweet, simple way our fingers are tangled. She’s hungry for it all, and that makes me feel at home—at peace—with my own hunger. Like I’m not some deviant for wanting her the way I do. For saying the things I’m saying. Goddamn, a man could get addicted to this feeling. I could get addicted to Ava.
“Thanks for the assist.” He looks at me steadily, intently, his forehead grooved. “Sometimes I think all these firsts are harder for us than they are for them. After dropping Ella off the day school started, I sat in my truck and cried until pickup. I looked so puffy that Ms. Sherman asked me if I’d had an allergic reaction to something.”
“And you like the backward baseball hat. Noted.” My heart hiccups. He’s not asking me out. But the idea that he’s noticing what I like and doing more of it— That has to mean something, right? “I’m relatively certain almost every woman with a pulse likes guys in backward baseball hats.”
“So pretty, aren’t you? Inside”—his eyes move to my lips—“and out. You wanna help me, pretty girl?”
He chuckles. “And here I thought I was the only one dying this whole time.” “I’ve been dead since the second you waved to me in the parking lot.” “Six feet under since you dumped your beer on me.” My lips twitch. “Hey, that was an accident.” His eyes search mine. “This isn’t.”
“It’s on our Wikipedia page: Hartsville has more vibrators per capita than anywhere else in Texas.”
“Hugs.” Duke leans against the doorframe. He looks at the pillow on my lap, then at the hat Ava knocked onto the floor. “Right. Who doesn’t love those?”
“Gotcha! Finally.” Junie pats my cheek as I settle her on my hip. “You’re slow.” “I’m old. There’s a difference.”
“Pretty girl, you best not be lyin’ about leaving your panties at home too.”
“You forget, I’m a naked person.” Laughing into his kiss, I grab his hand and put it on the fly of my jeans.
“We’re all crying a lot these days, aren’t we?” “That’s what happens when you feel your feelings. Ella’s taught us a lot about that, hasn’t she?” I can’t help but smile. “We’re parenting her, and she’s parenting us too.”
Who cares about what the two of you say to each other on a stupid altar at a stupid wedding? Words mean nothing. Deeds are everything.
“Listen. We all want a guarantee that things will work out and we’ll be okay. Truth is, nobody gets a guarantee. You take risks and hope they work out, and that’s all you can do.”
“You bet your ass I’m a dream,” Wyatt says. Sally hushes him. “There are children present.” “You bet your behind,” he corrects. “No, Uncle Wy, it’s bottom,” Junie says. Ella nods. “Or heinie.”
