Poison Tongue (25 page)

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she said. “When my mama told me about the fire and your name was mentioned, my heart just about leapt out of my chest.”

“Saddie.” Monroe rested his hand on her arm. “I’m sorry about how things worked out. If I could go back and change the way I handled it, I would.”

She grinned, her eyes twinkling. “Is there bad blood between us? Hell, I practically forgot the moment I walked out of that diner. The girls and I went to Jacksonville the other weekend and I met someone. His name’s Henry and he’s an even bigger bastard than you. I think I’m in love.”

From around one of the parked police cruisers, Silvi dashed toward us, Mama following behind. The moment I laid eyes on them, my chest tightened.

“Levi!” Silvi wrapped her arms around my knees. “We saw the flames from home. Mama said you and Ward were over here. She was worried about me coming with her, but you know her eyesight ain’t so good in the dark, so she let me come.”

I scooped her up into my arms and pressed my nose into her hair. She smelled like smoke and roses.

“She’s gone now?” Silvi’s voice had been a tiny whisper in my ear.

I squeezed her tightly. “Yes. She’s gone.”

Mama came up to Monroe and me both, Ward standing at her side. She hugged us, unshed tears in her eyes.

“I was so afraid,” she whispered.

“We all were,” Monroe replied.

She pulled back and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. Then she stared past Monroe’s head, eyes unfocused, and said, “You feel different.”

As Silvi ran around with Coin, laughing and playing, and Mama talked with some of our neighbors on what the town could do to help Monroe, Monroe and I watched as the last embers of the fire burned where his house had once been.

With no one else around us, no one else to hear, Monroe took both of my hands in his. He directed his cool blue gaze toward me. My heart fluttered.

“Levi,” he said softly.

I stared up into his eyes.

His smile was beautiful. “Tell me what it looks like. Tell me you can see my soul.”

Chapter 18

“NIGHT, SADDIE.
Night, Hud.” I pulled my apron off over my head.

Saddie waved at me from where she stood in the front of the diner. Hud replied by grunting and refusing to look up at me from where he stood near the grill.

I hung my apron up on the hook on the wall and grabbed my bag from the ground. Slinging it over my shoulder, I waved at the back of Hud’s head and pushed my way out through the door.

The sun was setting. The warmest sky I’d seen in ages spread out in front of me, the color of bright mangos and apples. Hot summer air hung heavily all around, weighed down by the heavy sun.

I walked around to the front of the diner, hands shoved into my pockets. In the wide dirt parking lot sat one car: a glistening black ’65 Impala. The chrome of its rims was spotless, like it had never seen a day on the road in its life. The low front bumper sparkled in the sunlight. Its wide glass windows shone clearer than that day’s air.

But the best part was the man leaning against the driver’s side door.

Monroe lifted a hand when he saw me. His smile was so white against the shining gloss of the newly painted car, I had to blink when I looked at him.

“It’s done?” I rushed over to him.

“It’s done.” He wrapped me into his arms and kissed me. I pressed in close to him and kissed him back, not giving a damn who inside the diner saw or what they’d be saying around town. We were almost used to it by now.

“Wanted you to be the first one to ride with me,” Monroe said when we pulled apart. He smacked the top of the car with his open palm.

“The first?”

“Well, Coin and Silvi will want to take a ride, of course. And Ward’s practically been begging me. You know how he is.”

I laughed. “Yeah, sure.”

Monroe watched me for a moment before grabbing my wrist and pulling me into another deep kiss.

When I reached around and slid my hands into his jeans pockets, he groaned. “Levi, you’re killing me.”

I pulled away again and walked over to the passenger side. When I opened the door, I said, “Well, come on, Poirier. Show me what you’ve been working on for months.”

THE IMPALA
was fast—the fastest car I’d ever been in. It smelled like mint and leather polish and the faint scent of his cologne. The interior was impeccable, appearing perfect and like new.

Monroe drove like a man half-crazed. But I already knew that behind the wheel of a car, he probably was. He whipped out of the parking lot of Mercy’s Diner, digging the wheels into the dirt and sand, kicking up rocks as he spun the Impala in a half circle and darted for the back road.

He laughed when he saw the expression on my face. I must’ve looked terrified because he reached out and grabbed my hand.

The engine roared. Monroe whooped and hollered. He rolled the windows down and wind whipped through the cabin, through our hair, tugging on it, drowning out the sound of my laughter.

We raced down an old dirt road behind the diner, tearing into the weeds along the side of the road. At the end stood a tall Do Not Enter sign. The moment he saw it, Monroe grinned at me, pulled hard on the wheel, and sent us out into a field. Stalks of wheat erupted around us. They were only tall enough to touch midway up the car.

We drove and drove until there wasn’t anything in front of us but the setting sun in the distance and an empty green field.

Monroe slowed the car, stopping only when nothing could be seen on the horizon on any side of us. He glanced over at me and smiled. The weight of it almost bowled me over.

It had been four months since Monroe had started smiling like that on a daily basis. Four months and I still wasn’t used to the magnitude of it. It was the smile of a man who’d been to hell and back, and damn well knew it.

I loved that smile. Monroe had once told me I was the reason it was there. And for that I was thankful, because Monroe never smiled at anyone like that but me.

Monroe reached for me the same moment I crawled across the seats over to him. He leaned back in his seat, putting his hands on my waist as I straddled him. Sighing contently, he wrapped his arms tightly around me and rested his chin on my shoulder.

Out of the back window, the sun glinted around its big, orange edges. The gradient of the sky faded from dark to light as it touched the ground. The sun seemed so much bigger now than it ever had. Most nights the moon looked so small, like a dot in the sky. Nights themselves didn’t seem as long as they once had. The nightmares that used to come at twilight had faded away into sweet memories of the special times Monroe and I had spent together. Sweet words, gentle touches. Not-so-gentle touches. Promises we would always keep.

“Levi,” Monroe murmured into my hair. “You saved me.”

I sat back and looked at him. His crystal-blue eyes met my own. And that smile.

Behind his head, through the back window, I could see the lucent sun beaming. Warm, tawny colors painted the sky behind us. A backdrop of blond and copper and maroon.

Right then, like I couldn’t contain it even a moment longer, I beamed at him.

Because his soul was more golden than the sun.

More from Nash Summers

Scott Halleck and Julian Reeves are polar opposites in almost every way. Scott, a modern arts curator at a museum in Chicago, relishes the finer things in life. Julian is a strange photographer whose hair color changes as frequently as his mood. As far as Scott can see, Julian is an erratic know-it-all who lives his life one day to the next. To Julian, Scott is an uptight, too-coiffed perfectionist.

As the two men continue to run into each other, their dislike grows, but beneath that animosity, a fire is beginning to spark. Scott is baffled when he realizes he is falling for Julian, a man who burns hotter than a wildfire. Scott will have to decide, for the first time in his life, if he’ll let the flames take over.

Readers love Lovers & Fighters by Nash Summers

“Chapter after chapter this author reveals what it is to truly love—to throw caution to the wind and hand your heart over, hoping that the other person will not destroy it.”

—Joyfully Jay

“Her new release,
Lovers & Fighters
, is equally mesmerizing and gorgeously written, though extremely heavy and dark. It is definitely not your typical M/M romance…which is one of the things I loved about it.”

—The Novel Approach

“It’s a unique spin on a damaged soul and the good guy who’ll do anything to protect him.”

—Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words

“I have a major crush on Nash Summers’ writing—her words and the way she composes her story is a form of artistry. I fall in love with every single thing that she writes…”

—The Blogger Girls

“This is one of the best mm books I have ever read and it’s going to my
not-enough-stars-to-rate-this
shelf, where only a few other books live.”

—Gay Book Reviews

Nash Summers rarely has any idea what she’s doing. But, when she likes to pretend, she pretends by writing stories at the pace of drying paint. When not writing, Nash enjoys watching reruns of
Seinfeld
, almost anything that’s free, and reading romance novels from the comfort of her apartment all the way up in polar bear country.

Nash is a firm believer that the heart wants what it wants.

Website: www.nashsummers.com

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By Nash Summers

Lovers & Fighters

Poison Tongue

Published by
DREAMSPINNER PRESS

www.dreamspinnerpress.com

Published by

DREAMSPINNER PRESS

5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA

www.dreamspinnerpress.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Poison Tongue

© 2016 Nash Summers.

Cover Art

© 2016 Natasha Snow.

http://natashasnowdesigns.com

Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or www.dreamspinnerpress.com.