Jagger tosses me a sinister look, then steps closer to her, sliding his arm around her waist, and stating, "Darlin', I think a kiss on the cheek is appropriate too, don't you?"
She bats her eyes and flirts, "Well, if you want one from me..."
Annoyed and on a mission to find Willow, I leave them and enter the first tent.
The band is playing country music, and a dozen couples line dance. Guests fill tables, laughing, drinking, and eating. I know all of them, and every step I take pulls me into another conversation.
I'm halfway into the tent when I spot Willow. Our eyes meet, lingering on each other until Howard Stetson slaps my shoulder.
"Wyatt Houston, it's about time you came to say hello," he roars.
I turn and put out my hand. "Mr. Stetson. It's nice to see you."
He shakes my hand and declares, "It's Howard now. Once you become a man, we're on a first-name basis."
"Thank you, sir," I reply, then glance back, but Willow's no longer in the same spot.
My stomach sinks, and I curl my fist at my side.
I need to find her.
I excuse myself from the conversation, get stopped by more people, then spot her.
The entire night is a game of cat and mouse.
There's a flash of her bare shoulders, a curl of her innocent smile, a sneak peek of her sun-glazed legs.
I find her, only for her to disappear, swallowed by the crowd that never seems to dwindle.
She's a dare that I'm not sure I'll win, but I spend the night chasing her shadow.
Every circle of guests, every song, every too-loud laugh that isn't hers keeps me ignoring Chelsea's numerous attempts to grab my attention.
Then, I spot Willow on the edge of the dance floor. Her hips sway like sin to the song. I push through bodies, but she's vanished by the time I get there.
As my irritation hits a high, it suddenly dawns on me. She's been leaving me breadcrumbs all night. Between her lingering scent, lip gloss on empty cups, and the bow on her yellow dress taunting me all night, she knows what she's doing.
If she thinks she can avoid me all night, she's wrong.
If she wants a chase, then I'll give her one.
When I catch her, this game is going to end.
The only thing I need to decide is if it's her up against the wall or writhing underneath me.
Either way, Willow Cartwright's going to plead for me, my body, and all the things she's only imagined. I'll make her beg for the stretch, cry for more, and when she breaks around me, she'll never forget who made her a woman.
7
Willow – Age 15
Ugh. Chelsea Waverly, head cheerleader, homecoming queen, and every high school boy's wet dream.
That includes Wyatt.
The guests have bombarded him all night. Every time he gets a moment to breathe, she's there, offering him a drink or a plate of food, or flirtatiously brushing her hand on his bicep before squeezing it.
It all makes me queasy. I try to ignore it, try to stay busy and have fun, but it isn't easy. At the end of the night, I'm sure she'll be wrapped around his thighs, and Wyatt will be another mark in her book of sins.
