The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories (297 page)

The clock on the nightstand read a quarter ’til. If I hurried, I could still throw on jeans and boots and pretend I didn’t own this slip of a dress—or the pale green bra and panties I advertised from underneath when the light hit just right.

As if my thoughts had sent a homing beacon out into the universe, the doorbell rang. Ford was early. Leslie was trying to kill me.

Voices sounded in the front entryway. Baritones. My dad, Ford, and if I wasn’t mistaken, Frank. Why was he still here? Oh yeah, to witness the debacle firsthand and feed it to the gossiping masses, no doubt. I was glad I’d opted for wedged sandals instead of rickety heels. I lifted my almost-straightened hair off my neck and frowned. My skin felt clammy. Why was I so nervous? It’s not like Ford was a complete stranger or anything. And I’d had dates before. Lots of them.

Just never with a guy that makes your knees sweat.

Yeah, there was that.

I grabbed my purse, closed my eyes for a moment to balance myself, and headed downstairs. Halfway down, a stair creaked under my feet and the group looked up. I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. I knew if I met Ford’s stare, I’d lose it. Already, I could feel the heat building as I got closer to where he waited.

The moment my feet touched the first floor, Frank whistled long and low. “You letting her out like that, Dean?”

“Where’d you get that dress?” My dad’s frown left deep creases across his forehead and chin.

“Leslie picked it out,” I said matter-of-factly, determined to ignore his disapproval. I was twenty-two. If I wanted to go out dressed slexy, that was my choice. “Do you like it?”

My dad’s frown deepened. Frank snorted, and I shot him a look. “Very pretty,” Frank added.

“You look ... nice,” my dad said finally. Relief settled between my shoulders.

There was nothing left to do but look at Ford. When I did, my breath caught. He was already staring; I’d given him plenty of time for a full-length sweep and if he’d had a reaction similar to my dad’s or Frank’s, he didn’t show it now. His eyes were wide, the color a lighter shade of blue than usual; it matched his button-down shirt perfectly. He stood with hands at his sides, wiggling his fingers before wiping them against his pants.

“You look ...” He swallowed and seemed to forget he’d spoken at all.

Leslie, you are a goddess.
I would let that girl pick out my clothes until my funeral came and went if it got this sort of reaction.

Frank’s shoulders shook in silent but soon-to-be-way-too-loud laughter. Without taking my eyes off Ford, I planted my fist in Frank’s ribcage and he shut up. “You ready?” I asked with mock sweetness, wondering when exactly I’d become the confident one. The one able to string whole thoughts together.

“Let’s get going,” Ford agreed. He took my hand as he led me to the door, and the warmth from his touch spread like a blanket up my fingertips and arm. I knew the moment it hit my neck, my skin would be visibly red. I might as well have a blinking neon sign that read “this guy makes me hot and bothered.” I really didn’t want to be scrutinized by the welcoming committee for that one. I quickened my pace and scurried out.

“Have fun,” Frank called as I pulled the door closed behind us.

I shook my head and stopped short when I saw the vehicles parked in the drive. I looked from the two dirt bikes down to my tiny dress and sandals.

“Hmm,” Ford said, also looking back and forth between the two.

“Dirt bikes?” On a date? A first date? It actually sounded like a lot of fun. And a far cry from any other date I’d been on. “I can go change,” I began, turning back to the house.

“No, don’t do that,” he said quickly. Our eyes caught and his sparkled with the small smile on his lips. “Definitely don’t do that.”

“I can’t ride like this,” I said.

“Very true,” he agreed. “It just means we’ll have to change our mode of transportation, because you are most definitely not taking that dress off. Well, not yet,” he added with a wink.

I shivered.

“Come on. Let’s go get my wheels.” He tugged me in the other direction and we left the dirt bikes behind as we headed up the drive toward Ford’s house.

“You own a car?” I tried to remember if I’d ever seen him with a vehicle. Come to think of it, I hadn’t. It reminded me how little I knew about him. “What kind is it?”

“A ’71 Chevy C10.” I stared blankly back at him. He shook his head. “A truck,” he amended.

“Wait a second. You own a Chevy?” I giggled.

“Yeah. So?”

“Your name is Ford and you own a Chevy?”

“Har-har. That’s hilarious.”

I tilted my head at him. “Are you named after the car company or something?”

“No, I am not named after a car company.” He poked me in the ribs and I pulled free to dance out of reach.

“What’re you named after, then? Melting glaciers?”

“I told you, it was my grandma’s maiden name—You know what, I’m getting you for that one.” He bolted forward, fingers outstretched. I shrieked and took off as he gave chase.

By the time I reached the turnoff for his driveway, my lungs and legs burned. Mostly my legs. These sandals were a bitch to run in. But every time I tried to slow down, Ford would accelerate, so I kept moving until I couldn’t go a second longer. At his mailbox, I bent over, hands on my knees, and sucked in oxygen. Beside me, Ford did the same, bending until we were eye to eye.

“You’re fast,” he said, his eyes twinkling as he added, “for a girl.”

I straightened and lunged. Ford took off for the house, both of us laughing. I caught up to him as he reached the porch, jabbing my fingers into his ribs. He jumped and grabbed my wrists, trapping them between his hands.

“Okay, okay. You’re fast for anyone,” he corrected. “But I have to admit, a part of me didn’t really want to catch up. The view from the back while you ran was something I don’t think I’ll ever forget.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I stilled, instantly forgetting what had led him to take my wrists in the first place. All I could think was how much I wanted his hands in different places than where they currently rested. My thoughts must’ve been written on my face, because his smile faded and his hold on my wrists became a caress. In slow motion, he bent forward.

Hurry up!
Had I ever wanted anything more than Ford’s mouth against mine right now?

I sighed into the kiss, my body going limp in a relief that could only be given through physical contact. His hands released my wrists and found their way to my hips. Instantly, my muscles tightened and I pressed in, opening my mouth and letting my tongue run over his bottom lip.

Ford groaned. “You gotta be careful with that move.”

“Why is that?”

“Much more of it and this’ll be the most backwards date ever.” At my raised brows, he explained, “Dessert and then dinner.” He gently set me aside and fumbled with the door handle. “I’ll grab keys and be right back.”

“I can’t come in?”

“Not if you ever want to leave,” he said as he disappeared inside.

I sat on the top step to wait, smiling to myself. No one had ever admitted to being this distracted by me. And it was nice to know my reaction to Ford wasn’t one-sided. Oh, this could be fun.

A moment later, Ford appeared with a set of keys in hand. I stood up and smoothed my dress to make sure it fell low enough to cover everything it should. Ford’s eyes tracked my movements, lingering on the short hemline before he abruptly descended the steps on his way to the detached garage. I waited while he pulled the bay door open. My eyes widened when I saw the truck parked inside.

“This is Darla,” he said, with a sweeping gesture. “What do you think?”

“I love it,” I told him, walking slowly forward so I could admire her. I didn’t know much about cars, but I could appreciate its perfect condition and grungy, retro blue paint job. “She’s gorgeous.”

He stared back at me, his gaze never once including the truck as he said, “Yes, she is.”

Ford

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” ―W.B. Yeats

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A
ll the way through the restaurant parking lot, I walked a little slower than Summer. As she passed through the front door, a burst of air from the AC ruffled the bottom of her dress and my breath caught in my chest until I almost choked. I owed endless favors to whichever of her friends had picked that dress—judging by the way she kept tugging at the hemline I figured it wasn’t something she’d chosen on her own.

Where her thick waves of hair ended, her legs began, almost like she wasn’t wearing anything at all. My jeans grew tighter at the thought of her naked. Shit. I had a crowded dining room to get through.
Dying kittens. Dying kittens.

I held her chair and then sat quickly, hoping no one noticed I was harder than aseventh grader copping his first feel.

“Hey, y’all.” Our waitress appeared, smacking her gum between her lips in a way that allowed you to see the entire process. Classy place. Last time I’d listen to Casey on a good dinner spot. “What can I get y’all to drink?”

“I’ll have a water, please,” Summer said.

“I’ll have the same.”

“Sure thing.” The waitress smiled brightly, popped her gum, and left.

I still couldn’t look at Summer. Not enough kittens for that. So I looked everywhere else, pretending to be interested in the décor. It was a mish-mash of antiques and junk hanging from nails or propped on worn shelves. There was a rooster theme along one wall that was interrupted in the middle by a boar’s head before the theme changed to stuffed squirrels along the other half of peeling wallpaper.

“This place is ...” I didn’t bother finishing as our waitress reappeared and set two already-sweating water glasses in front of us. She walked off again without a word.

Summer caught my eye. “The food’s good,” she said.

“Good. If not, I’d have to take you home early so I could kick Casey’s ass for suggesting this place.”

She laughed. “Well, don’t let me hold you back. Casey’s ass never stops needing to be kicked.”

God, I loved her laugh. It was real—deep enough that you knew she meant it. Not fake and tinny like some girls. It made me wish I could repeat whatever it was I’d done just to hear it again. “Maybe after dinner, we’ll go together,” I said, earning a chuckle.

“I’m in,” she said.

The waitress returned, and Summer ordered the “country plate,” whatever that was. “I’ll have the same,” I said as I handed my menu back.

“You like country food?” Summer asked.

“I like food. I don’t discriminate on which kind.”

Another laugh. Score.

“So, what’s the story with you two?” I asked.

“Who?”

“You and Casey. You guys have been friends your whole life?” I’d heard the story from him but I wanted her version. Partly to hear her talk and partly because I felt compelled to know this girl.

She nodded and sipped her water. I stared at her mouth. “Casey’s parents were killed in a car accident when he was five. Frank was named in the will for custody so he brought Casey home to Grayson. The two have been here ever since.”

“Frank’s his uncle?”

“Yeah, his dad’s brother, but Frank officially adopted Casey a year after the accident, so he’s been like a parent.”

“Wow, that’s pretty great on Frank’s part. A single guy taking a kid on like that with no experience.”

“Frank’s rough around the edges but he’s a sweetheart,” she said. “And he loves Casey like a son.”

“And you guys aren’t related? I heard you call him ‘Uncle Frank’ the other day.”

“Frank and my dad have been best friends their whole life. Grew up here together. He’s like family.”

“And Casey’s always been like your brother?” I pressed. I was fairly certain there weren’t any feelings between them, but I had to be sure I wasn’t walking into the middle of something I had no business getting between. So far, every comment and expression I’d seen from Casey had been nothing more than sibling-like affection, but I needed to be one hundred percent sure Summer felt the same.

She scowled at that. “Being an only child, I can’t say for sure. If you mean he drives me crazy and plotting ways to torture him is one of my favorite hobbies, then yes, he’s like my brother.”

I laughed, relieved that my assessment of them had been correct, and sat back, allowing the waitress to set a steaming plate of food in front of me. The aroma hit my senses and I inhaled appreciatively. “If this tastes as good as it smells, I’ll take back my original assessment of the place,” I said.

“Mmm.” Summer took a bite and closed her eyes and I had to think about seven different ways to kill a cat. I desperately wanted to be that food. Or capable of some skill that would make her look that way about me. I scooped up a forkful of sweet potatoes and shoveled it in before I could say something to that effect.

The rest of the meal passed with small talk and me eating my words—literally—about the quality of food being served in a place that had hub caps hanging above their restroom doors. “I stand corrected. Sadie’s is pretty good,” I told Summer as we left. She beamed at me, waved to the waitress, and led the way to the truck.

“There’s something refreshing about a guy who can admit he’s wrong,” she said as we got on the road.

I glanced over, mouth open, ready to throw a smart-ass retort back, but the words died. She’d rolled her window down and leaned over so that her right arm hung in the open air, palm open and flat as her hand surfed the wind. Tendrils of chestnut hair flew as they danced around her face. The breeze caught the edges of her dress, teasing it a few more centimeters up her tanned thighs. How was it possible her legs extended so far up her body?

And her smell—even with the window down it got to me. Something musky and flowery, though I couldn’t place it. Sad for a guy with a degree in plant life. Every time it hit me, I stopped and tried to place it, but before I could, it was always followed by something foreign and exotic. I’d never smelled anything—or anyone—like it.

“Are you trying to figure a way to backtrack?” she prompted.