Toying With Her Page 6

  There’s a woman for every man. And Sterling is that woman for me, always has been. She’s the gold standard for women—smart, beautiful, sexy as fuck, funny, kind. But it’s taking her entirely too long to figure out the man for her is me. Stretching out on the blanket, she gazes up at the stars. “The sky doesn’t look anything like this in New York.”

  Stretching out beside her, I say, “I’ll have to trust you on that. I’ve never been.”

  “You’ll have to come visit me sometime.”

  “So you’re not here to stay?” I ask, looking at her from the corner of my eye.

  “No, just for the summer.” Her head turns to me, flashing me a smile. “And no, I don’t want to have a summer fling.”

  Grinning, I say, “That wouldn’t be long enough.”

  “You’ve turned into a flirt,” she teases.

  “I don’t flirt,” I say, acting offended.

  “Oh, really?” she says, leaning up on her elbow and trying to imitate me, her voice low and deep. “That wouldn’t be long enough.”

  I fall back laughing. “That’s not flirting. That’s speaking the truth.”

  She rolls over, her hair falling around my face a little. Christ, she looks beautiful framed by the moonlight. I reach up and push a strand of hair behind her ear, and she gently touches my hair. “How are you single?” I ask.

  “Maybe because I want to be,” she says, pulling back.

  “I’ll have to change your mind, then.”

  “I should go.”

  “Not yet,” I say. “Is that the real reason you’re single?”

  She releases a deep breath. “No decent man wants to date a woman who invented a vibrator.”

  “Don’t give me that,” I say. “What’s the real reason?”

  “That is the real reason.”

  “Bullshit. What made you invent the vibrator in the first place?”

  “I was working for a urologist and . . .”

  “More bullshit.”

  “It is not.”

  “Then it’s only half the story.”

  “What do you want to hear? That I never could orgasm with any other man but you?” She gets to her feet, shaking dust off her clothes.

  I hop up, stunned. “Is that true?”

  “Leave me alone, Rorke.” She starts walking away, but the darkness can’t hide the blush of her skin. “This was a mistake.”

  I capture her by the waist. “But we were both virgins. I mean, you were so easy . . .”

  “Oh, my God!”

  “No, wait. That’s not what I meant.” She glares at me, her hand on her hip. “I just meant that we . . . that I was inexperienced, and you still finished.”

  “Stop talking!” she cries.

  “You really invented your toy because no man could satisfy you, but me?” She grabs her hair, storming away. “Sterling, you can’t really walk home. It’s ten miles, and dark out.”

  “Then give me your keys,” she says, holding her hand out. Without wasting a second, I drop them in the palm of her hand, then watch as she storms towards the Jeep and speeds off, kicking up a trail of dirt in her wake.

  You know the saying, “You win some, you lose some?” Well, she’s one I’ve got to win. I won’t lose her again. Grinning, I walk into my house and pull out my phone, sending her a text.

  Me: See you in the morning. Got to be at school for 7:15. It’s the last day, so don’t be late picking me up.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  STERLING

  That man is completely infuriating. If he thinks I’m getting up at the crack of dawn to drive his stubborn ass to work, then he’s got another thing coming. I slam the door to his Jeep, a faint spark of guilt settling in. I don’t want him to be late or get into trouble because I took his mode of transportation. It’s not like he can just jump on the subway. Ugh! I should’ve thought this through. But at the time, I just wanted to get out of there. He looked too damn good, and I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his body felt on top of mine. I can’t believe he lives in the barn.

  Our barn.

  Pushing the screen door open to my parents’ house, I’m fifteen again. Momma and Daddy are both sitting on the sofa, their eyes glued to me. “Do you have any idea what time it is?” she asks me, but before I can answer, she stands up. “It’s three in the morning.”

  The only thing I can think is that I’ve got to be at Rorke’s house in a little over four hours. Please make the scolding quick.

  “I’m almost thirty years old,” I say, seeing a blaze in my momma’s eyes. “I’m sorry if you worried. But it’s late, and I’m tired.” I turn towards my bedroom.

  “Hold your horses,” Momma says. “We need to talk about what happened this afternoon.”

  “You mean when I acted like trash?” I ask sarcastically.

  “Sterling?” Momma snaps.

  Daddy gets to his feet, and I expect him to walk out, but instead he walks to me, his eyes holding mine, then wraps his arms around me, whispering he loves me. That’s Daddy for you. He always tries to meet the ugly in this world with love and compassion. He reminds me of another man I know.

  *

  Rorke busts out into a huge, belly-aching laugh when he opens the door to his Jeep. It’s just before seven in the morning, and I’m functioning on less than three hours of sleep. My hair is on top of my head in a knot, I’m still donning my favorite pair of pajamas, and I’m sporting some flip-flops. “Your ride is here,” I say, trying to smile, but yawning instead.

  He hops inside, saying, “And without a minute to spare. I was hoping you’d be early so I could drop you at home on my way, but looks like you’ll have to come pick me up now, too.”

  I’m sure there’s another way, but it’s too early to try to figure out a plan, so I just shrug. “I was supposed to come over today, anyway. Talk to your mom about the party.” I yawn again.

  Chuckling, he reaches out his hand. “Come on. I’ll drive.”

  “No way,” I say, winking at him. “I’m full service.”

  “Now who’s flirting?”

  Damn him, he’s right. I’m totally flirting with him. And it feels really good, even on very little sleep. You’d think since I only got a few hours rest that maybe the song in my head would be on pause, but nope, it’s playing loud and clear. And this time it’s Jimmy Buffett’s “Why Don’t We Get Drunk.” I think that’s the real title, but almost everyone remembers the “and screw” part. I better make sure I don’t start singing or humming in front of Rorke. He might get the wrong idea. Well, my subconscious seems to think it’s the right idea.

  “Everything okay at home?” he asks. “You never told me what happened yesterday that got you so upset.”

  “It’s fine, just some woman making trouble and talking shit. Really upset my momma.”

  “This woman still has her teeth?” he asks. “Or did you knock them all out?”

  I giggle. “Her teeth are fine. I believe I discussed her shoving something up her ass.”

  He busts out laughing. “What happened to my little sweet Sterling?”

  “She’s been through some bad shit. Toughened her up.”

  “What bad shit?” he asks quietly.

  “Nothing—I’m fine. Don’t you know I’m the most successful thing to come out of Alabama since SEC football?” I say, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Your business, having money—none of that makes you fine,” he says.

  He’s not telling me anything I don’t know. Still, sometimes I hate it when he’s right.

  *

  RORKE

  Teachers are just as excited for breaks as the students are. Today, I might be even more excited. And my students are benefitting from my good mood. Grading my exam papers with a little grin, I’m sure I’m grading easier than I normally would, but I wanted to be done and knew Sterling would be waiting for me when I was.

  Her driving me to school this morning, her picking me up—it’s almost like we’re married or living togethe
r. I remember when one of my parents’ cars would break down, and they’d have to drive one another. It’s almost like that. And it feels really good to live in that delusion. Because I get the feeling that Sterling is light years away from being ready for anything permanent. Maybe I shouldn’t be thinking that way, either. She’s still got me friend-zoned and made it very clear she’s heading back to New York at the end of the summer, but that gives me three long months to change her mind.

  Even if the parking lot weren’t mostly empty, no red-blooded American male could miss her. She’s leaned against the side of my Jeep, her long legs crossed at the ankle, wearing jean shorts and a tank top, her hair pulled up in a ponytail. Does she not realize how sexy she is?

  “Breaking the dress code,” I call out as I cross the parking lot.

  She looks down, scanning her outfit. Yep, she’s got no idea what she does to the opposite sex. “I figured we’d be walking around the ranch.” She flexes her heel, showing me her cowboy boots.

  “You look great,” I say, picking up my pace, wanting to get to her faster. “Just glad the kids are gone, otherwise you’d be getting some comments from the boys.”

  “Then you should be teaching them better manners,” she says.

  “Mr. Weston?”

  Crap, I’d know that voice anywhere. Turning around, I say, “What can I do for you, Mrs. Quaid?”

  “I understand my boys are still cleaning the school. I spoke with the principal. He was supposed to discuss this with you.”

  “He did. And I told him they were repeatedly late for class.”

  “You know I sit on the school board. I volunteer a lot of time and money at the school. Surely, you can make an exception.” She continues to blab, but her eyes are looking over my shoulder.

  “No, I can’t. Besides, this is the last day.”

  “But I understand this is on their record. I wouldn’t want a silly little thing like tardiness to effect their future.”

  I want to say it won’t be the tardiness, but the fact that they are bullies and idiots that will effect their future. And they failed my English class. Guess she doesn’t know they’ll need summer school yet. “Nothing I can do. Enjoy your summer.”

  I turn back towards Sterling, her eyes locked on me like a missile. Glancing back over my shoulder, I see Mrs. Quaid watching us with an unhealthy curiosity. “Ready to go?” I ask Sterling, but she just continues to stare. “Sterling, you know Mrs. Quaid?”

  “I know her type very well,” Sterling says. “She’s the reason I was at the police station yesterday.”

  I turn around, ready to go to war against Mrs. Quaid, but she’s gone. “Tell me what she did.” She passes me the keys, and as we drive back to my place, she fills me in.

  “Her boys are trouble. She doesn’t like me much because I don’t put up with their bullshit.”

  “Well, she definitely hates me.”

  “Why? She doesn’t even know you.”

  Have you ever heard a sad laugh? It’s a weird combination. The person is trying to act like something doesn’t bother them, but the sadness vibrates through the laughter. Sterling isn’t fooling me with hers.

  “She doesn’t have to know me. All she knows is what I invented. That’s enough for most people. The sad truth is, she probably needs my vibrator worse than anybody. Pent up princess.”

  I can’t help but laugh; she’s right. “You should send her one.”

  “I should make a sample vibrator, so it only works once!” Sterling says, giggling. “That would be a good torture method.”

  My cell phone rings, and I look down, seeing my mom’s name. I don’t pick up because I can see their house. “Do you mind if we stop at my parents’ first?”

  She shakes her head, so I pull in front of their house, and before I can turn off the ignition, my mom is rushing out the door. “I was just calling you. I’ve got lunch made. I thought you two might be hungry.”

  She’s got Sterling out of the Jeep, her arm around her. I think I’ve been replaced. Sterling flashes me a smile over her shoulder, and I roll my eyes. My mom is not helping my situation by acting like Sterling is her daughter already.

  “I made cornbread and fried chicken. There’s sweet tea or lemonade, and a pecan pie for dessert, and ice cream, too.”

  “Thanks, Mom, you didn’t need to do all that.”

  “Hush,” she says, shooing her hands at me. “I bet Sterling never gets to eat like this up in New York City.”

  “Yeah, they’ve got no good food up in New York,” I say. “Only salads and crackers.”

  My mom ignores me. She pretty much ignores me the whole meal, which is fine. She and Sterling are chatting non-stop. After years of living with only Levi, my dad, and me, my poor mother is starved for female company. Sure, they have people over, and she’s got loads of friends, but I’m sure this seems different to her in some way. I don’t bring girls home to meet my parents. Technically, I’m not bringing Sterling home to meet them, either, but it’s like my mom senses something between us.

  Of course, she doesn’t know about that night in the barn. All she knows is that Sterling and I have always been friends. But she’s got her on some sort of future daughter-in-law interview, and Sterling has no idea.

  “So I’ve got the guest list all done,” my mom says, placing a sheet of paper in front of her. “I hope I didn’t get too carried away.”

  “No, this looks great,” Sterling says, running her eyes over it. “But what about Father Tom? I don’t see his name. Or the Browns, or that other couple? The ones that breed dogs.” She names a few more people, mostly from church.

  My mom looks up at me with worried eyes. “Well, honey . . . um . . .”

  Sterling’s head hangs with a little nod. “They aren’t friends with my parents anymore because of me, right?”

  Mom reaches out, touching her hand. “I’m sorry. There’s a group, mostly church folks, that don’t approve of your occupation.”

  What the fuck, Mom? She’s making it sound like Sterling sells drugs for a living. “Those people weren’t really your parents’ friends if they’re acting this way,” I say, hoping to smooth it over.

  “It’s alright,” Sterling says, although I know it’s not, and it’s clear her parents have said nothing to her about this. “This is a wonderful list you’ve got.”

  They spend a few more minutes discussing details. The party is next weekend, so my mom offers to address the invitations and distract the Jamisons the day of the party while Sterling and I can get things organized and setup. My mom gives me a little smile. I know she’s thinking about wedding invitations and another kind of party.

  Mothers? As soon as their sons hit twenty-five, it’s like all they can think about are weddings and grandkids.

  Luckily, Sterling doesn’t seem to notice what my mom is up to. And by the time they finish, there doesn’t seem to be any residual sadness from Sterling.

  “It’s hot out there today,” my mom says. “Why don’t I pour you some lemonade to take while you show Sterling around the farm? It’s changed some since she’s seen it last.”

  We get to our feet, and I realize I’m still dressed for school. No way am I walking around in dress pants. “Need to go change first,” I say.

  “I’ll wait here,” Sterling says. “Help clean up.”

  “You’re such a doll,” my mom says.

  “Okay, be right back,” I say and without thinking, I plant a quick peck on Sterling’s cheek. As soon as I feel her warm skin under my lips, I realize what I’ve done.

  As I slowly pull back, her big green eyes just stare at me. She’s in complete shock, but it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Mom clears her throat, and I head out the door.

  There are so many problems with what just happened in there. My mom is never going to let this go now. I don’t know if she’s ever seen me kiss a woman before. On the complete opposite side of things, Sterling looked like she’s never going to want to discuss it. And most im
portantly, when I finally kissed her again, I didn’t want it to be like that—so sweet, so platonic, so friend like.

  I just screwed myself over a thousand times. As quickly as I can, I go back to my place, change, and arrive back to my parents’ house just in time to see Sterling step out onto the front porch, her fingers pressed gently to her cheek. Clearly, she’s still thinking about what I did.

  Her eyes lift to me as I head towards her. “Why’d you kiss me like that?”

  “Like what?”

  She motions behind her. “Like that. Like you’d kiss a friend or something. Why’d you do that?”

  I’m not sure how to answer that, especially with her standing there with her hand on her hip, waiting. “Just sort of happened,” I say.

  “I didn’t like it.”

  “Me, either,” I say, taking a step towards her, pinning her to the door with my body. I should probably give a fuck that my mom’s right inside, but I don’t. Her mouth drops open slightly. But it looks like I’ve shut down her excuses, at least temporarily. “How’d you want me to kiss you?” Her tongue slips across her bottom lip, but she doesn’t say anything. Leaning into her neck, I whisper, “Tell me.”

  “Not on the cheek,” she breathes out.

  Running a finger along her collarbone, I ask, “Where?”

  She steps to the side. “Not here. And not with your mother inside!”

  Playfully, I lightly bang my head against the wood door. This woman gives new meaning to blue balls. Her hands slip to my hips, turning me towards her. “Next time you kiss me, I expect you to do it right,” she says, her green eyes sparkling.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I say, grinning. She looks down, her skin a rosy pink, and I know it’s not from the Alabama heat. I hold out my hand to her. “Let me show you around.”

  She slips her hand into mine, and our fingers intertwine. This is a first for us. We were never a couple. We never strolled around holding hands. I guess we still aren’t a couple, but this is definitely a step closer. And I get the feeling it’s a big step for Sterling.