When I finally pull away, I look down at the outline of my very hard cock in my jeans. “You do this to me.”
“Call me tomorrow and we can talk about all the other things I want to do to you.” And like she didn’t mean to say it, she bites her lower lip.
I grin. “You’re not helping my predicament.”
Idolike playful Belle. She wags her eyebrows. “And who said I’m trying?”
This time, because my sister is sitting on the side of the highway waiting for me, probably more worried with each passing second she’s going to be abducted or kidnapped, I kiss Belle’s forehead. “Make a list and I’ll call you later.”
As I walk out, she’s giggling and it’s a sound that makes driving through the night to find my sister bearable.
When I pull up, Maggie is calmer than I expected her to be. She’s a planner, and when a plan goes awry, she’s unsettled until she’s back on track. But right now, she’s cool. Calm, even.
She already has the trunk open, so I jack up the car and she holds the flashlight. For about two minutes this system works. She holds the light where I need it and the lug nuts are coming loose with just a little bit more than brute strength.
But then she moves the light, the lug wrench slips and I smack myself in the knee. But she’s not interested in the tire anymore. “Walker David Winslow! You have a hickey.”
“What?” I turn, adjust the light and try to finish loosening the tire, but she moves the flashlight again. “Maggie!”
“It’s a hickey, Walker.” She is all but squealing at this round of new information. “Youhave a hickey.”
And now she’s shouting it at the side of the road. The highway doesn’t have a lot of traffic at this time of night, thankfully. I certainly don’t need all the passersby hearing the random gossip that her shrieking is broadcasting into the night. Though I’m certain she’ll have half the town talking later, so I need to nip this right now.
“Maggie, this isn’t your business or Mom’s or anyone else’s. Do you understand?” I’m stern which reminds me of the last few hours with Belle, and all the sudden, I’m hard again. Standing is going to be painful. “Could you just hold the damned light, Maggie?” I don’t mean to sound short or snipey, but I crawled out of a warm bed with a woman who lights my fire like she’s made of propane.
And because I’m all over the place about it and it’s too new for me to have feelings so strong, I won’t be discussing Belle with Maggie.
Not that Maggie is about to take amind your own fucking businessfor an answer. “Who is she?” Her voice is shrill and every day, she sounds more like my mother. One of these days she’s going to find a guy and I’m going to be so happy for her, but more for me. So she can turn that tone on him.
But I laugh because I can’t tell her things about how I feel about Belle, and if I so much as speak about her, Maggie is going to pounce because she can read me. Has been able since she was a very little girl. “You sound more like a jealous girlfriend than a sister.” This might put her off for a few minutes.
“Just tell me about her.” She’s been wheeling information out of me since she was born. In fifth grade, I told her about the tooth fairy because she threatened to tell our mom about the magazine I had hidden under my bed. Although, I had no idea how she knew about it since I’d only put it under there that day. In high school, I told her about Katie Hanley. No doubt she wants more honesty. No doubt she isn’t getting any.
Well, I’ll have to give her something or we’ll end up standing out here all night because she’ll refuse to go and Mom would kill me if I leave her. Her fault or not. “Met her at a bar. Had a nice date.” As a tidbit she can hang onto that makes me look like I’m sharing, I add, “She loves cheese.”
“And?” Her tone involves a cocked eyebrow and another none of her business question mark at the end.
But I considered it. There are things I could tell her that won’t matter, that don’t make me sound like a tool. But of course, I go with the things that do. “She’s gorgeous. And smart.”Gorgeous makes me sound shallow, but calling her smart isn’t so bad.
“Gorgeous. Figures.” She says it likesmartdoesn’t figure into what I usually prize in women. And she’s right. Usually, I prize bra size, whether or not she has easy access panties, and most important, the desire to move on from a single night of getting laid. I don’t have that desire with Belle. Iwantto see her again. Iwantto hold her hand, touch her hair, hear what she has to say, be with her.
The thoughts make me nervous, make me want to run as far and as fast as I can.
“You deserve to be happy, Walker.” Her smile is genuine. And that’s the thing I love about Maggie. She doesn’t judge me as much as she supports me. Not that she never judges, she just leans further to the side of understanding, even protective. I love her for it. “Why don’t you bring her by the 4th of July barbecue? It’s casual. No pressure for either of you.”
Easy for her to say.
I never take a date to the barbecue Maggie and Mom put on every year for the 4th. It’s a family thing, and I don’t have relationships with women that bleed into my time with Mom and Mags, especially. And Mom makes sure the 4th of July barbecue is all about how much she loves herentirefamily. She invites cousins and aunts and uncles. It’sher day to shine and she enjoys it so much. I don’t want to do anything to take away from it.
But I have an urge to call Belle right now and invite her.
Following my urges has never led me anywhere good. But this one is powerful and strong. Even if I don’t know exactly what I want, chances are that no matter what happens, I’m asking Belle to the barbecue.
CHAPTERNINE
BELLE
WALKER: Made it home.
