Sweet

“Hey,” she said, her hand rubbing slow circles over my heart. “Where’d you go?”

Her hair was a wild waterfall, tumbling over my arm to pool on the white comforter. She’d given in to the muggy coastal heat and, I suspected, the way I wound those silky coils around my fingers anytime I got the chance. Her eyes gleamed, fastened on mine, dark as night. I stared, and she stared back, her small hand still massaging my stinging heart, like she was bringing me to life. Maybe she was.

“Nowhere, sweetheart.” I inched the shirt’s hem up and let the fabric catch a taut nipple. “I’m right here.” I made slow loops around that stiff little bud with a fingertip. “I think I could be persuaded to pardon the loss of my shirt on one condition.”

“Wh-what’s that?” She panted.

I laid her flat and kissed her, wrists caught above her head and that shirt of mine bunched up and out of the way. As I took one rosy nipple in my mouth and inched my hand south at leisurely pace, she began murmuring soft, tempting pleas. I kissed down the center of her chest and dipped my tongue into the tiny hollow of her navel on my way down, parting her thighs and kneeling between them. Her breath quickened when I drifted lower to kiss her stomach. “Now where were we…?”

“Your c-condition?”

I shucked my T-shirt and shorts, ripped the condom package open and rolled it on, slowing at the raw fascination in her eyes as she watched me. “Spoke too soon,” I mumbled. I lay over her, kissing her. “No conditions.”

Her hands skimmed over my hipbones, fingers digging into the flexing muscles, thumbs caressing the sensitive spots she’d located on either side of my happy trail that I hadn’t known existed until she found them.

“I want you,” she whispered between kisses.

“Take what you want from me then. It’s been yours all along.”

She took me at my word, sliding her hands to my hips and pulling me in, hard. When I rocked into her, I was convinced we could’ve powered the whole city of Houston on the surge we generated.

• • • • • • • • • •

Monday afternoon, Mom and Riley came home from the title company and packed their shit into the bed of his truck. They hadn’t brought much. They’d sold her coupe to a wholesale dealer for a few hundred bucks because they’d just received a cashier’s check for six figures. Thinking themselves loaded, they were headed back to Amarillo to show off.

Odds they’d blow through that money inside a year? Pretty damned high.

Riley leaned on the truck, smoking, while Mom came to talk to me in the garage. Sam had gone for the day before they’d returned, so it was just the two of us.

“You’re welcome to stay, Mom. He’s not,” I said, qualifying the statement, “but you are.” I forced myself to uncross my arms and hook my thumbs in my jean pockets. My offer was genuine, and I didn’t want my aversion to her taste in men to make it look insincere.

“I appreciate that, Boyce. But a woman needs a man in this world—or at least I do. It’s too bad you had to meet Riley under these circumstances. I think y’all woulda got along otherwise. He can be nice. He’s just a little overly distrustful and protective is all.”

Uh-huh. I didn’t reply. Absolutely nothing would ever make me like that arrogant, snake-in-the-grass fucker. If he was protective of anything, it was first and foremost his own welfare.

“It’s real lucky I got a buyer who’s interested in the garage, you know,” she said then. “So you can keep your job.” As if she’d hunted down an investor herself, making sure he’d look after my interests. Somewhere in her head, she maybe even believed her own bullshit.

I had no mind to divulge anything about the secondary purchase that would occur in two or three weeks. Dr. Frank’s offer to me was literally none of her business.

Riley had apparently finished his smoke, because he honked the truck horn. “C’mon, Ruthanne!” he hollered out the window. “We’re burnin’ daylight.”

She reached to hug me and it was just plain weird. Like hugging a stranger, but sadder. I reckoned I should tell her I loved her, but it wouldn’t come and I couldn’t say those words where they weren’t meant. I wasn’t sure what I felt about her one way or the other.

“Have a safe trip home—or wherever.”

“We thought we’d run up to Eagle’s Pass for a few days before we head north.”

I frowned. “The casino?”

“Don’t look like that—Jesus H. Christ, you’re as judgmental as your brother was. Riley likes to do a little gambling now and then. So what? We deserve some fun.”

Because of how hard you both work? I bit back.

She reached up to lay her hand on my face. “Take care now. I’ll let you know where we land—maybe you can come visit.”

“Okay, Mom,” I said. I studied her face, tried to commit it to memory, but five minutes after she left all I could remember was how she looked when I was a kid—laughing, screaming, cowering from my father’s hand. Promising my fifteen-year-old brother she’d let him know where she was, right before she walked out the door.

I wouldn’t be holding my breath for that call. Not this time.

Pearl

I’d always scheduled social engagements around academics. While high school friends thought this indicated a harebrained dedication to my education, in college my peculiar lifestyle choice was less peculiar. Most of my friends were either equally studious or they comprehended the reason I was when the term ended and I’d netted another 4.0 semester.