Breaking A Bad Boy Page 12

  Red and white checkerboard tablecloths covered the tables and citronella candles were already lit, the flames flickering in the wind. She sat down and immediately unfolded her napkin with her fingers that trembled from hunger and the beer buzz.

  The first bite of brisket melted in her mouth. She ate bite after bite without stopping for several minutes. “Oh God! This is so amazing,” she finally moaned, coming up for air.

  “It is, but why do I get the impression you didn’t eat anything since last night,” Rory said between bites.

  With her mouth full, she chewed then washed down her food with the last of her beer. “We both have been super busy. Besides, you know Momma isn’t the type to worry about food.”

  “No. I don’t suspect,” he answered, then passed her his beer. “You want another?”

  She cut the last of her brisket and shook her head. “Not right this second. I better pace myself.”

  “You got plans tonight?” he laughed, pulling her close.

  “Uh huh. There’s strawberry cake,” she whispered, and grinned up at him, wiping her fingers before running them along his jaw. Now with one hunger sated, she enjoyed the feel of the sandpaper stubble on his face, prickly against her fingers. Returning her stare, he kissed her fingers, biting lightly on the tip of her thumb.

  The light in his blue eyes reminded of the sky just beyond his head. Boundless and intoxicating, but if one went far enough up, the sky turned dark. What about Rory? She couldn’t shake the sentiment behind her mom’s words that made marriage seem like an archaic form of ownership. Maybe that’s why it was easier to focus on the physicality of the moment instead of being scared witless by a hundred what-ifs. His eyes. The scrap of his rough beard stubble. Her fascination with having sex with Rory, instead diving into marriage. Right here and now: dinner. Later, another round of physical firsts.

  “Babe,” she moaned.

  “Should have known I’d get outgunned by sweets.” He grinned and wound his arm around her in an embrace she didn’t want to fight. His fingers were warm points on her skin at the nape of her neck and in seconds had the power to melt all her worries from the inside out.

  “Oh cowboy, you’re not outgunned. Never,” she said, licking her lips and looking up at him. He stole her breath, and if she weren’t careful, her mother’s muddled perception of their future would taint her vision.

  Rory’s beautifully handsome face tensed, and his brows drew together. She glanced over to her side and beyond, wondering what he was contemplating. There were people on the stages, setting up, and then she noticed Drew. She turned in Rory’s arms, pushing back her plate.

  She picked up her fork and napkin and deposited them atop the remaining rice and beans. “I’m stuffed. How about a walk?”

  “That sounds mighty inviting.” He released her, but heat from his body continued to swath her like a seductive shadow on her skin. Shifting on one of his elbows, Rory lifted his hand, tilting the can of beer to his lips and the hollows of his lean face deepened. Someone struck a power chord on a guitar and her gaze lingered on his profile, even after he lowered the beer can, and crushed it between his hands.

  “Rory, hey dude,” Mike called out and stopped by another table across the way. “You coming? We’re tossing around some pigskin ‘fore the music gets going.”

  Rory pressed his lips into a line and before he said anything, she squeezed his bicep and said, “Go on. You know you want to.”

  “What are you going to do?” he asked, his voice even, but his eyes searched hers.

  “Coming over to the field. Might take a couple of photographs…a few of you if you take off your shirt. I wasn’t joking about promotions for my craft. I need business, same as Evermore.”

  “Me shirtless, isn’t going to do it. Your tattoos are works of art and should be shot close up.” Rory waved to Mike. “Meet you over there.”

  He stood and cupped her elbow, pulling her up beside him, and waiting for her to step over the redwood bench.

  “Feel a whole lot better now. But I’m still longing for something sweet,” she reminded him.

  “Me too.” He bent his head, pressing a fleeting kiss to her mouth. He scooped up their plates while she gathered whatever else remained. Hand in hand they walked over to the open field and the sounds of male whopping and grunts grew louder as they approached. Guys were showing off who could outdistance each other by laying out long, spiraling passes. As the footballs zoomed through the air, they looked more like torpedoes than friendly throws.

  “Be careful,” she muttered when one guy missed his catch and the ball smacked into another guy walking across the grass. He faked the fall, laughing when he hit the ground; but regardless, Sommer’s heart raced. In high school, Rory had played football, but wasn’t all hyped up and into the sport. He’d also been involved in rodeo competitions, which is why she could damn well imagine that when he teased about tying her down, he wasn’t all talk.

  He grabbed the back of his T-shirt and pulled the collar over his head, unsheathing his gaunt abs with the crisscrossing muscles that ran from one side of his torso to the other. “Hold this for me.”

  She whistled a slow catcall. “Looking good. Who needs strawberry cake?” Taking his shirt, she slipped it over her arm, inhaling the masculine scent of him that permeated the air in front of her nose.

  “Just thinking the same thing,” he growled, keeping his eyes on her. “Give me some sugar.”

  Gracious. She had to remember that they were standing in public and keep her hands from tracing his happy trail that went from below his navel, over rock-hard abs, and disappeared into his low slung jeans. Beckoning. Beckoning. Beckoning her, like his sexy trail was her own personal invitation to where the wild things were found.

  “Here’s a taste of what’s waiting for you.” She curled her fingers over his forearm and stood poised for him to lower his head. When their lips met, she wanted to open her mouth and feel his tongue thrust and tangle with her own. The short peck he delivered left her wanting much, much more. “I’ll take your hat too,” she said, fighting to keep from sounding breathless.

  “Wear it. It’ll keep the sun out of your beautiful golden eyes.” He removed his hat and placed it on her head, then bowed and whispered in her ear. “I’d love to see you wear my hat again…and nothing else.”

  “With pleasure, when I ride you.” She winked at him, then turned and walked down to where the first empty space along the sidelines opened up.

  Lowering onto the grass, she smiled at the two women she recognized next to her. Sisters. Older than her and one of them married, expecting a baby, while the other was divorced with a small child seated her lap.

  “Hey,” Sommer murmured, taking out her cell phone. She glanced at the field, but didn’t see Rory. Leaning forward, she spotted him conversing with Mike. They were standing within a small group of men and she noticed the flash of green. Cash. One of the women next to her swore, scoffing that her husband—no, her ex-husband—had better not be laying down cash when he still owed her child support.

  Sommer ran her fingers over her brow, taking off Rory’s hat and fanning herself with it as she tried to ignore the women’s heated exchange by scrolling down the text messages she’d received recently.

  “Don’t do something you’ll be sorry for,” the pregnant woman said all of a sudden, and Sommer peered upward.

  “Too late,” the other woman replied, jumping up and out of her folding chair. The woman hoisted her toddler onto her hip. “Now, I’m just taking care of business.” The little girl looked confused in her momma’s arms.

  Why not? Hadn’t she been in that position—a pawn, to be used as a way to carve out guilt from a misbehaving spouse? She inhaled and exchanged a glance with the woman who remained seated. Heaven help that little girl, Sommer thought. This wasn’t going to end without someone screaming.

  “She’s just upset,” the other woman offered. “Her ex is unruly.”

  “Must be hard on everyone,
especially a small child.” Sommer nodded and looked away when her cell phone chimed next her leg.

  Where are you? Ivy texted her.

  On the field. R U here? At the Diamond.

  Yep. I C you!!!

  She waved Rory’s hat at Ivy who was walking down the side of the field, wearing a skirt, boots and a tank top. “Hey-hey,” Sommer said. “Looks like you got some rest.”

  “A little.” Ivy laughed, but didn’t comment further. Her friend plunked down next to her on the grass, and unfurled her long legs, crossing them at the ankles and leaned back on her arms.

  Ivy was drop-dead gorgeous with her Greek ancestry, giving the term dark-eyed beauty a whole new makeover. She was tall with a long slender waist, long legs, long everything. Only recently had she just gotten her hair cut, and that would have been a crime, except that now she looked killer-hot with shoulder length, layered hair framing her square jaw. The style managed to draw attention to the slight cleft teasing her chin, in the best possible way.

  “So, has Vince proposed yet?” Sommer asked in jest, expecting to hear a funny, flippant retort.

  Instead, Ivy just stared back at her. Her lips parted and her mouth hung wide open. “How’d you know?”

  Sommer snapped all of her attention to her friend’s blushing face. “Are you shitting me?”

  “He asked me. Before we got here. Just asked if I’d marry him. I hardly know him…haven’t for more than a whole day, but I said yes! How around the bend crazy is that? Don’t say it. Completely. I don’t care. I love him.”

  “Helloooo. Stop and take a breath.” Sommer grabbed Ivy by the elbow and shook her.

  “I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m rambling. Tell me to shut up.”

  “It’s not that I can’t believe it…’cause I totally can. There’s something about you two. I totally got it this morning.”

  “Well, you did say it before I could get it out,” Ivy said, gazing at her with tears in her eyes.

  “Come here. Hug time!” Sommer circled her arms around her friend and fiercely hugged her. “Best, best, best wishes!”

  “Thanks. My mom thinks I’m on drugs, or a lunatic, or both.”

  “Well damn, aren’t we all?” Sommer shook her head, refusing to bring up what happened with her mom for fear of dampening Ivy’s spirits. Her friend knew the score about her mom. “So what happens now?”

  “Vin wants me to come out with him to L.A. and tour with the band. Like I’m talking all over the U.S., and then we’re going to Germany and Brussels.”

  It suddenly dawned on Sommer that Ivy’s plan meant she would be gone the next day. “What! You’re leaving tomorrow?” Here she had a to-do list that consisted of washing dirty laundry and hitting the ink supply house, and her friend was off to California, on her way to the rest of the world. “My head isn’t big enough to hold that thought.”

  “I can’t begin to put the pieces together. Vin said, ‘Pack a bag and the rest is just details.’”

  Details. Isn’t that what Rory kept saying? “Must be a guy thing. They’d don’t think in terms of hot irons and nail polish or jobs.”

  “Just details. I can change my polish or go without. And my job… being a realtor, well I can do that in Hollywood just as easy as here.” Ivy smiled broadly. “I’m not about to say goodbye to a man who makes me feel so freaking alive, like I almost can’t breathe.”

  “I’m happy for you, girl. Yeah. Everything else is just teeny-weeny minutiae.”

  “Grabbing the ring of joy with both hands and I’m not letting go.” Ivy held up her hand for Sommer to high-five her back.

  The football landed, skidding across the grass between her and Ivy. Rory let go an angry sounding cuss at the dude who missed the pass, as well as to Mike who threw it. “What the hell are you doing?” he questioned Mike.

  “Nothing. Tossing the ball.” Mike laughed. “No one got hurt. That’s the risk of sitting on the sidelines.”

  “That’s what you always say,” Rory replied with a warning note in his voice and waved him off. “I’m done.”

  “Looks like your boyfriend is about to detonate,” Ivy whispered. “Man, I don’t want to see him go off. You’d better never get hurt when he’s around.”

  Sommer nodded, then looked over. “Did you hear anything?”

  “Lonny. The parking lot? Or Jen, earlier today?”

  “Son of beach ball!” Sommer rolled her eyes.

  “I won’t miss living in a small town…least not right away. You okay?”

  “Yep. Can you post that somewhere? Not really,” she added, not wanting Ivy to take her seriously.

  RORY had his arms around Sommer, and they were dancing amidst the crowd, right in front of the stage as he bent and kissed her cheek. She leaned closer to him, pressing her ear to his chest, preferring to listen to his heartbeat rather than the music.

  The second band was up, and it was no wonder that the Diamond had an overzealous crowd today. Word had gotten out that Diehard, Haden’s band, was scheduled to perform tonight, marking this as no ordinary Labor Day shindig.

  Someone thumped Rory on the back and he turned, tightening his grip on her until he spotted his brother. Rory flashed Stephen a grin and then she felt his arms relax…somewhat. “Well, seeing you both here is the long shot of the night. Can’t believe you both cut out on the family.” Rory’s chest began to rumple with a deep laugh.

  “Sommer.” Stephen nodded over to her, coming up next to them as he danced with Gillian. He cocked his head toward the stage. “Had to come over and hear Haden’s band.”

  “Well hey, Stephen. Gill, give me a hug.” She let go of Rory and reached for Gillian. They embraced and she released her grip on Stephen’s wife and retreated.

  “How are the bands?” Gill asked as Stephen curled his hands on her waist and squeezed. She cast a raised eyebrow toward her husband. “Don’t start with the tickling. Not this early.”

  “Never too early.” Stephen snorted, lowering his head and whispered something in Gill’s ear. “And that’s a promise,” he finished and swung her around.

  Gillian had been a huge help to Sommer when she’d gone through one of her many breakups with Rory. No matter the subject, whenever Sommer had a question, Gillian had offered advice on her perception of and experience with the McLemore bloodline. Gorgeous. Rowdy. Able to piss off a girlfriend, and with good reason. But underneath all of that toughness… there was a prayer inspiring place. A place each of those badasses only shared with one person: the woman he loved. The wives were like a sisterhood. From Sarah McLemore on down. Over the years, Sommer had met his cousins, aunts, and even Cory was a regular card—so strong-willed when she set her mind on something. But it had been Gillian who just seemed to know what to say…how to frame Sommer’s desire to jump high and low when Rory made her see red.

  The song ended, and they all walked to the edge of the dance floor. “You need to drink something, baby,” Stephen informed Gill, and then turned to her. “Sommer, are you thirsty?”

  “I am,” she admitted, then smiled over at Rory. “You?”

  “We’ll go fetch,” Rory spoke against the back of her head, his rough voice intensifying her desire to get lost with him in the darkness. He released his hold on her. “Be back in a few.”

  “How’s Chelsea?” she asked Gillian while pointing toward a table that was vacant.

  “I’m still nursing and my sweet baby is growing like a weed…but how are you?” Gillian raised an eyebrow. “I was on laundry duty. At Brandon’s place.”

  “Wait a sec. Rory told you?”

  “Don’t go off just yet. Stephen offered to help when Rory had to be in two places at once. And you know how men are…my husband called me on some pretext of needing to get something.”

  “Well, don’t get too upset.” Sommer rolled her eyes.

  “On the contrary, I’m glad to see you two are—”

  Sommer cut Gillian off. “We’re not as close as you think.”

  Gilli
an’s brows scrunched together. “Still?”

  “Yep. Still.” She nodded. “Promise me you’ll keep this between us.”

  “Girls’ promise,” Gillian replied.

  Sommer glanced down at her hands, locking and unlocking her fingers. “I want to. He wants to. But there’s the issue of getting married. I don’t want to say something that will possibly question or insult your status.”

  “You can’t. We’re not the same, and I think I already get what you’re going to say.”

  “Why won’t he listen? I’m confused about whether or not this is what I want.” She lifted her hand and made a small circle in the air, indicating Annona. “Rory is so sure of what he wants, but we’re young. He might change, and then what?”

  “Doubt he’ll wake up one morning and be a different person.”

  “Isn’t that what happened with Stephen, though?” She glanced over her shoulder, searching the crowds for two tall men and immediately, her eyes alighted on Rory and Stephen. Laughing. They stood in a group—then she gasped when her view abruptly became obstructed. “Hey,” she said, meeting Jen’s eyes.

  “Just wanted to stop by and…about earlier,” Jen sucked in a breath, her eyes bloodshot, and she wavered. “I can’t believe you stabbed me in the back. Of all people.”

  She went to rise from the bench but Gillian placed her hand on Sommer’s arm. “Need help?”

  “No. This is a misunderstanding,” Sommer said.

  Jen leaned over, angrily squinting her eyes. “No. It. Isn’t. You’re a bitch. I’m a bitch. Payback is a bitch.”

  This time Sommer rose, swinging her legs over the side of the bench and stood. She and Jen were nearly the same height, and she moved closer, lifting her chin higher. “Don’t threaten me with payback. You’re high or drunk, so I’ll let this go. Come around again with talk of retribution and I won’t back down.”

  “Stay the hell away from anyone I’m seeing, or I’ll do more than talk.” Jen placed her hands on Sommer’s chest, clawing at her shirt and trying to yank her forward. But before she could do more than touch her, Sommer knocked her arms away. Gillian stood up between her and Jen. “Better move away, or you’re going to get thrown out of here.” Gill pointed. “I mean now.”