The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories (304 page)

She turned her head just enough to let me see her smile. That lazy smile—the one that’d started all this in the first place. We stood there, breathing in unison, swaying back and forth in a slow dance. I breathed when she breathed. I moved when she moved. In this moment, we were one.

Summer

"I mean, if the relationship can't survive the long term, why on earth would it be worth my time and energy for the short term?"

—Nicholas Sparks
,
The Last Song

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F
rom the open bay door of the barn, an engine cranked and turned over, sputtering and coughing, RPMs running way too high to be healthy. I poked my head in and spotted a pair of worn boots sticking out from underneath the machine.

“Hey, Case,” I said.

There was a banging that sounded like a hammer pounding on metal and then he slid out, grease staining his hands and running the length of his cheek.

“How’s she doing?” I asked.

“Fucking perfect. Runs like a top.”

I sucked in a laugh at his sarcastic tone. Casey’s temper had always been entertaining to me. Maybe because I knew my amusement only made him madder. The goal of every good sibling, adopted or otherwise. Still, I knew his limits when he got like this. I opted for a subject change. Quit while you’re ahead.

“You comin’ tonight?” I asked.

“Let’s see. Bonfire. Beer. Girls. Um, let me think about it. YES. I’ll be there.”

I didn’t doubt it. The bonfire was an annual thing. First Friday in August, rain or shine. My dad started it years ago to keep morale up just before harvest—a month-long process that marked the end of the season and extra-long hours for the entire crew. I usually looked forward to the bonfire. When I was a little younger, it was a chance to sneak beers after everyone else was too far gone to notice it wasn’t ginger ale in my Solo. Casey was better at it than me but I’d snuck my fair share.

This year, all it did was remind me the season’s end was coming. October would be here sooner than I wanted. With July fading away, it was all I could think about anymore.

“Good. So I’ll see you then. Frank says you and I are on setup this year.”

“Sweet. That means we’re not on cleanup.”

“Cleanup sucks,” I agreed. And not because of the mess. The bonfire had no official end time. Cleanup didn’t usually start until dawn when the last guy passed out. Last year, I’d passed out in front of the fire only to be woken again at sunrise to begin my task of bagging all the red plastic cups on the ground. Not a great way to start your Saturday.

“You might want to tell Ford that,” Casey said.

“Why’s that?”

“He’s the new guy, isn’t he?”

“C’mon, Case. You can’t make him do cleanup. It’s supposed to go to the youngest.”

“We had to pay our dues. So does he.”

“That’s because we were the youngest.”

Casey shrugged. “He’ll manage.” His eyes widened in mock innocence. “Oh, does that put a damper on your post-fire plans?”

“Don’t be jealous, it’s ugly.”

“Of course I’m jealous. You get to have sex any time you want without the complication of calling it a relationship. Every guy in Grayson County is jealous. Hell, the bulk of the planet—”

“It’s more than just sex,” I snapped.

I hated having to defend this thing. I’d been doing it for weeks now and I still had no idea how to answer in a way that would satisfy them. Or myself. I didn’t regret my decision for a single second. In the past couple months, Ford had taught me more about what I needed in life, and more importantly, what I wanted, than anyone else I’d ever met. When this ended, I told myself that would be enough to make it worth the uncertainty—and the goodbye.

“I know. Your boyfriend tells me the same thing.”

“He does?” My heart did a somersault. I hadn’t gotten the nerve to ask Ford about it again since that first night when I’d brought it up and he’d brushed it so cleverly aside. Since then I’d learned enough about him to know he wasn’t playing me. He just didn’t want to call it something official when he was leaving in three months. Frankly, considering his impending departure, neither did I. It was too scary.

“Yeah, not that he has to say much. All you gotta do is look at him to know. Boy’s got it bad.”

“You think so?” That made me smile, despite the unease that always settled in my gut when the subject of my relationship—or whatever you called it—was brought up.

“I know so,” Casey said as he slid back under the tractor. “Now I just need to get me a deal like yours and we can all live happily ever after.”

Happily Ever After. That was the only thing my story lacked.

***

A
fter dinner, Casey and I spent an hour hauling wood to the bonfire site. “So glad we have the trailer for this,” I said, jumping off the top of the pile as he braked to a stop on the four-wheeler. I hefted a handful of logs and carried them to the pyre, setting them in place against the teepee shape we’d built.

“No shit. Last year, I had to carry it by hand.”

I smirked. “I can’t feel sorry for you.”

Casey had done setup on his own last year after racing Frank on the small tractors—and losing. His punishment was not riding anything with a motor for a week. His stomping and complaining afterward had been funnier than watching two grown men race on glorified lawn mowers. The way Casey had leaned forward in an attempt to go faster reminded me of the way he’d always jump right along with the little man on the screen when he played video games.

We stacked the last of the wood and sat back to survey our work. “Looks good,” Casey said. “A little spark to the newspaper and she’ll light right up.”

“Good. Let’s get the kegs set up. We deserve the first beer of the night for this.”

We unloaded the kegs and the folding tables and chairs, setting them around the fire in a loose circle. I was careful to keep the booze far away from the stacked wood. Drunk and fire didn’t mix well. I’d seen it firsthand and Frank still had a burn scar on his arm to prove it.

Casey poured two beers from the keg and handed a cup to me. “Cheers, sis. To another season.”

“To another season,” I echoed, pretending I wasn’t thinking of fall and all the reasons I had to curse it instead of toast it.

Trying to drown out my thoughts, I gulped half the cup before taking a breath. “Damn,” Casey said. Whatever else he’d been about to say was cut short by a yell.

“Hey, you two, save some for us,” Frank called from the other side of the pyre. He and my dad rounded the circle of wood and grinned at us.

“We’re just taste testing,” Casey said.

My dad rolled his eyes. “And for that, we’re grateful. Now pour me a cup and light this baby. The village people are on their way.”

As proof, two more heads appeared over the horizon. Joe and Ford. “Are we late?” Joe called.

“Nope. Cleanup doesn’t start for at least another twelve hours,” Frank said.

“Wait,” Ford said. “Cleanup isn’t code for babysitting pukers is it? Because, Casey, I am not holding your hair.”

“You will if I need it,” Casey said. “Especially since I did it for you last weekend.”

“You held something, but it wasn’t my hair,” Ford shot back.

“Can someone please hand me a beer? I can’t listen to this conversation sober,” my dad said.

“Done and done,” Casey said with a grin. He patted my dad on the back before heading for the fire pit. “Summer, man the keg. I’m lightin’ the blaze.” He produced a lighter from his pocket and crouched down, balling paper and stuffing it underneath the stacked wood.

I poured my dad a beer and handed it to him. “Stay close,” he said. “I’m going to need a lot more of these if this is how tonight’s going to be.”

“Isn’t it always?” I asked.

“More or less. Which is why we always have lots of this,” he said, bringing his cup to his lips and taking a swig. I laughed.

“Casey’s not beer bitch?” someone else called.

I had to squint against the glare of the dying sun before I recognized who’d spoken. “Danny Hart?” Casey called, using his hand to block the glare as he stared at one of the three figures topping the hill.

“In the flesh,” Danny said, spreading his arms wide.

My stomach sank. The teasing was inevitable. Only a matter of time.

“Well, damn, haven’t seen you in forever,” Casey said, giving Danny a firm handshake. Around here, the firmer the grip—the more swing it had on it—the better you knew the person. Danny gave it right back with a big grin.

“Been away, working on a farm out west for a while.”

The guy beside him snickered. “He doesn’t like to say he’s been in West Virginia.”

“It’s a side he’s always tried to fight,” Casey agreed. “But his sister’s ugly as hell so that helps.”

Danny punched Casey in the arm but Casey only laughed. Danny glared after him. “Let me get you a beer. Make it up to you,” Casey said. “Summer, get this guy a beer.”

I scowled—at being volunteered and at the attention. Danny seemed to see me for the first time. “Summer Stafford,” he said, making it sound like a question. He took a step toward me. I ignored him and went to the keg. I poured slowly, glad to have something else to focus on.

Some girls might’ve gotten stuck on their first kiss or held some special place for them because of the experience. Not me. Any time spent with Danny usually ended with me wishing for a time machine so I could go back and kiss someone else instead. Anyone else. A frog. At least frogs didn’t act like a dumbass sober and a womanizer when drunk. Which was a lot.

“Good to see you, Danny,” I said, my tone a direct contradiction to the words as I handed him the drink.

Danny took it and looked me up and down, obviously appraising me before taking a swig. “Good to see you too,” he returned. “All of you. Big city treated you just right.”

“Thanks.” My voice was completely flat but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. His smile widened.

“No. Thank you.” He held his glass up in an unspoken toast and then tipped it back, downing half the contents in two swigs. “Boys? You want?”

“Sure.” His two companions stepped up to the keg. I filled and handed out cups as introductions were made. Jimmy and Mark. I’d gone to high school with both of them but never really spoken to either one. They were Danny’s friends. Cut from the same cloth. I tried not to run into guys like them. I didn’t even know what they were doing here now.

“Nice to see you boys,” my dad said, his tone full of polite.

“Glad you could make it,” Frank said. “Danny is doing some off-season repairs for us this winter. Going to get the greenhouses re-sealed. I thought I’d invite him out to hang with us and see how we do it in high season.”

Ah, Frank. You’re who I would kill later.

Over the next hour, the rest of the crew showed up. Leslie came with a few girls I’d gone to high school with, causing Casey to sit a little straighter. The fire blazed. The sun set. The drinks flowed. Tree stumps cut down to make chairs were rolled out and set around the fire. At one point, someone drove the four-wheeler back and got the boards and bags from the garage and set up cornhole. I watched Casey and Frank take on Danny and Mark.

“Not a fan of cornhole?”

I looked up as Ford sat down next to me and planted a kiss on my cheek. The firelight danced on his skin, illuminating one side and shadowing the other. His angular jaw and the hint of stubble in the low light had to be the sexiest thing I’d seen all day. I’d spent the last hour trying not to get caught staring at him as he stood and talked to Joe about brands of topsoil. Ford was hard not to stare at.

“Not a fan of Danny,” I admitted.

He leaned in and in a low voice asked, “Is this the infamous Danny-what’s-his-slobber?”

“Ugh.” I groaned, covering my face with my hand. “Will that story never die?”

Ford chuckled. “Your reaction to it is what keeps it alive.”

Across the grass, Danny laughed loudly—too loud for the circumstance. A sign of the drink taking over. Ford’s gaze cut sharply in Danny’s direction. “He’s a character, isn’t he?”

It was the closest to unkind I’d ever heard him speak of anyone. I would’ve found it endearing if it’d been about someone else. In this case, it was too much of an understatement. “He’s ...” I didn’t know how to finish and still be as nice as Ford.

“Hey, Summer, we need more beers over here,” Danny called.

I rolled my eyes. “You’re two feet from the keg,” I said.

Danny acted like he hadn’t heard me. He elbowed Mark and said, “Prettiest beer wench ever, right? What did I tell you?”

I stiffened. There were just enough drinks in me that the anger was like a liquid reaction in my veins. For once, I didn’t want to let it roll off like I knew the rest of them expected me to. I rose without a word, outwardly calm, and went to the keg. I poured a full cup while the guys laughed and horsed around behind me, completely wrapped up in the game again. When I’d finished pouring, I stepped up behind Danny and lifted the cup over his head.

“Here you are,” I said with fake cheer.

The moment Danny turned, I tipped the cup sideways and watched as beer hit the top of his head and flowed down his face and shoulders. All other sound abruptly ceased. Danny went still and for a moment, I thought he was going to explode in anger. His face reddened and then, slowly, his mouth opened and his tongue came out and licked at the beer on his mouth. And then he grinned. “Oh, it’s on, Stafford.”

I sprinted away just as Danny gave chase, a laugh escaping my lips despite my anger moments ago. The sight of a beer-drenched Danny, almost too drunk to walk yet still trying to run—it was enough to cancel out the insult.

I rounded the fire, running in a wide circle as Danny ran after me, dripping with booze and grinning madly like only a drunk redneck could. The rest of the group howled with laughter and cheered. Some for him, some for me. I caught Ford watching as I passed. The lack of amusement in his expression caught me off-guard. Without realizing it, I slowed. Danny’s hands came around me and scooped me up, sweeping me off my feet and into his arms. I fought against it, pushing and pulling at his bulky arms and husky torso.