Reaching out, I drag the tips of my fingers down hers and across her palm before engulfing her hand inside of mine. I know the exact moment she figures it out. Her plump lips part on a gasp and her hand spasms in mine.
"Pleasure," I rumble, my voice just as thick as my cock.
"Davis," she breathes.
"Yeah," Quinn chuckles, drawing the word out and looking at her like she's lost her mind. "My oldest brother, Clayton Davis, the family name and all."
My eyes stay on hers as the silence turns awkward for those watching. Putting her out of her misery, I regretfully release her hand and take a step back, tipping my chin down in a quick nod. "I'll leave you ladies to catch up."
Still looking at Carrie--no, Caroline--I raise a brow and hope to God she sees the promise in my gaze. This isn't over. Just touching her again was enough to make that thought clear as day to myself. No more denying this connection.
I might've been prepared to never give in to that again, but there isn't a force strong enough to keep us from colliding. And that's just what we're doing. I've felt that tug twice now in her presence as the connection between us pulled and pulled. We aren't going to ignore fate if she wants us to cross paths. I would have probably gone on my way without looking for this woman who's haunted my memories for two months, but I'm not a stupid man and I damn sure won't look a gift horse in the mouth now that this is proving to be inevitable.
We'll finish this later.
Caroline and me.
In private.
8
CAROLINE
"Flatliner" by Cole Swindell & Dierks Bentley
"What the hell was that?" Lucy hisses after Clayton Davis disappears through the open door that we had just entered a few minutes before.
I shake my head, not even sure where to begin explaining how I know the eldest Davis, and in front of his family no less.
There's no way.
Just my mind playing tricks.
I've been under so much stress lately it wouldn't be a stretch to think my mind conjured up the one person I haven't been able to stop thinking about. Between the sleep I've been losing since the fire, seeing that the motel I call home now has the thinnest walls, and the residual sadness I feel every time I handle more red tape from the insurance company dealing with The Sequel, I'm about as close to going insane as it gets. My life is up in the air--where my future had been is one big question mark, and now, on top of that, I'm hallucinating.
"You and Clay know each other?"
I blink at the question, not really sure which of the pregnant ladies in from of me asked, but hoping neither really expected me to answer. If what I felt when my hand touched his looked half as time-stopping as it felt, I wouldn't want to know the details if it was my brother or brother-in-law.
"That was intense," Lucy chimes in, not helping this situation in the least.
Even if that wasn't the same man, even in my naivete I can recognize the connection that we felt. My palm tingles at the thought and I look toward the last place I saw him, oddly having to fight back the desire to run after him and demand answers.
Quinn steps into the path of my gaze and looks at me with fascinated shock, her green eyes as bright as gems, twinkling with mischief. "Jesus Jones. You and Clay?! I mean, you're beautiful, honey, so I don't doubt you turn heads, but he's just so . . . Clay!"
I sputter, shaking my head in denial so fast that I surely look like I'm impersonating a bobblehead doll. "No!" I exclaim, fidgeting with my purse strap as anxious, nervous energy starts to get the best of me. I can feel my hands grow clammy at the thought of being on display, and I have to fight to keep my back straight instead of hunching like I normally would when the spotlight is turned toward me.
"Oh my," Lucy gasps in a breathy tone. "She's lying."
I turn to my ex-best friend and continue shaking my head. God, shut up, Luce.
"She's lying so bad, I'm shocked her nose isn't a mile long," she keeps going with a laugh, sticking her bubble-gum-pink-tipped finger in front of my face, and I swear right then and there that her death will be slow and painful.
"This is better than pie." Leighton giggles happily.
"No, this is better than a '51 Ford ready for a complete rebuild," Quinn adds with a dreamy sigh.
"Or a sale at Target!" Lucy exclaims, clapping her hands and bouncing on the balls of her feet.
I drop my gaze, looking at my sandals as my face heats. It'd be pointless to continue denying what they just witnessed seeing, as I'm the worst liar in the whole state of Texas.
"You have to tell us everything," Quinn whispers, leaning into my side to push her shoulder into mine.
"Well, maybe not everything," Leigh snorts.
"Screw that, I want all the juicy details. He might be my brother, but he's been livin' like a monk since that stupid bitch he dated last and girlfriend, you'd think he was asexual the way those two didn't carry on in public. No sparks close to what we just saw between y'all." She waggles her perfectly sculpted brows.
"You might as well just tell her, Caroline." Leigh snickers. "You can't shock her easily. Trust me, I've tried."
Quinn continues nodding, her brows still going up and down suggestively. "Just wait until this one"--she points to Leigh--"starts tellin' you about the monster cock."
"Q!" Leighton gasps, but she smiles a second later, so she must not be offended. "Anyway, you gotta give us somethin', honey. The way he's always ridin' those horses, I bet he can work those hips like no one's business."
Oh my God. This isn't happening.
"Would you three shut up," I hiss, already seeing a few people listening in on our huddle. Thankfully, someone up there is on my side, because the girls stop the instant I ask them to.
"This isn't over," Leighton promises. "And, Caroline, you're goin' to need to get over that shyness of yours now that you're one of us."
One of them? What does that mean? Just because . . . no. A one-night stand doesn't mean I'm going to start coming to Sunday dinner. I haven't seen him in months. If he'd wanted more after that night, he wouldn't have disappeared before I woke up. I open my mouth to tell all three of the giddy women in front of me just that, but stop when a voice starts talking in a cheerful bellow.
"Who's ready for some presents!" Jana screams. I vaguely remember her from Leighton's bakery. Her question causes me to look up from the deep study I had been doing of the sandals Lucy made me wear today just in time to see her jump down from the chair she must have climbed up on to make her announcement. She pushes through the people between her and us in a rush before grabbing both pregnant women. I could kiss her for being the proverbial bell that is saving me.
"Those two aren't going to be satisfied with your terrible lyin', you know. Even if you really don't know him--which I know you do, no matter what you say--a blind old bat could've seen the sparks flyin' off the two of y'all," Lucy stage-whispers, drawing a few more eyes our way.
"That's what I'm afraid of."
A group of older women push between us on their way to get a better view of the presents being opened. I excuse myself and get out of their way. Only in a town as small and nosy as Pine Oak would a baby shower be an event that could rank right up there with Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. Well, the fact that two of the town darlings are the guests of honor doesn't hurt either. Oddly enough, I forgot how much I love the closeness the residents in Pine Oak appear to enjoy.
"Who was that anyway, Caro?" Luce says after we move to the back of the room.
I sigh, ignoring the fact that neither Hazel twin listens when I tell them how much I hate nicknames, and look around to make sure no one is listening. "That was the dark cowboy."
Her blue eyes all but bug out of her head and she whips around to look in the opposite direction, blond curls fanning around her as she turns her gaze toward the doorway leading out of the barn. Well, at least I think this is a barn. On the outside that's exactly what it looks like, but once you step foot in here, it looks like some kind
of western-style grand ballroom--complete with chandeliers made out of antlers.
What are the odds that I would run into him here? The dark cowboy I shared a faceless night of passion with couldn't have been a stranger passing through town? No. My dark cowboy--the very man that I've been using the memory of for two months now to keep me going whenever I start to get depressed about everything going wrong in my life; the man who showed me how powerful being with someone who cared about your pleasure was like; the one who ruined me for life--he was the same man I'd had a crush on for a whole year before I started dating John in high school and moved past the silly lust I thought I'd felt for the eldest Davis.
Davis.
Of course.
It makes sense, now that I'm not letting my hormones drive the show.
He never did correct me, nor did he confirm that actually was his name. I'd just taken what Luke said and assumed. Maybe I had subconsciously known it was him all along, using the illusion of anonymity to escape the unhappiness in my past that I had been overcoming since moving to Wire Creek. Nevertheless, I can't deny that my dark cowboy is, in fact, Clayton Davis and not some stranger anymore.
"Well." Lucy hisses, looking back at me and pulling me from my thoughts, "you should sneak out of here while they're distracted with the presents and find him."
I snort. "That is never going to happen."
"Why not?" she whispers harshly, drawing the attention of a few people standing near the back of the barn. I look up, meeting the steady emerald gaze of Maverick Davis and quickly look away from the intense curiosity I see in his eyes.
I take a step back, farther away from the crowd, and grab Lucy before leaning closer toward her to whisper softly, "Even if I was the brave kind of woman who'd run after a man, you know I'd clam up the second I catch up with him."
"What happened to the woman who went back to the motel with a man she didn't even know a thing about? Hmm? She was brave. She didn't clam up. She took the bull by the horns and enjoyed the hell outta that ride. That woman is you, Caroline. Don't pass up a chance like the very one in front of your face."
"What chance?" I sharply question. "I just happened to run into him here because this is his family, Luce, not because fate, the good Lord above, or Clayton Davis wanted me to find him again."
"Yeah? You think so? And how, pray tell, do you argue that this isn't one of your romance books comin' to life?" she continues like a dog with a bone. "I see all those dog-eared pages of yours, honey, and I know you believe in serendipitous moments just like this one. This is your fantasy in black-and-white comin' into full-color focus. Go get your hero."
"I'm not havin' this argument with you, and there isn't anything in the world that would get me to chase after that man."
I mean it, too. There isn't a damn thing the universe could throw at me that'd make me brave enough to go after a man like Clayton Davis. He's the epitome of perfection. Pair his good looks with just how well I know he can use everything he was blessed with, and you have the whole package--the whole package that a woman like me just doesn't know how to handle without looking like a fool.
He's been inside of me, for Pete's sake! I don't even think I could look him in the eye now. I can just see it, me staring up into those dark green eyes with drool dripping down my chin. There's no way I could hold a conversation with him in the light of day after I've had the part of him that makes my heart skip a beat just thinking about it touching the deepest parts of me.
I shift, my thoughts conjuring a throbbing between my legs. Lucy tries to get my attention again, but I ignore her, fighting the urge to grab my phone and google "how to move to the moon."
She pokes me in the ribs for the second time, and I finally pull my attention off the floor to look at her, ready to tell her to shut up if she starts on me again, but the words die on my lips when I see the expression on her face as she looks at something just over my right shoulder.
I pray my gut is wrong. That she just saw a spider or something. But I know there isn't anything my cheerful friend would look at like that except for the very person I feared would jump at the chance to confront me if she recognized me here today.
"Caroline?"
Well, damn. I close my eyes and try to prepare myself for seeing my mama for the first time since I was eighteen years old and ran away. I haven't heard that voice in almost five years either. Not since the last time I called the same telephone number that I learned in kindergarten and begged for the woman who should've loved me enough to save me, to help. She hadn't called me Caroline then, though; no, she had a new name for me by the time I had been broken enough to make that call. A whore. That's what I became to her.
My chin wobbles and my watery eyes shift away from Lucy's shocked face toward the open barn door, which taunts me with the promise of a quick exit. There's no question of staying or running now. Staying in here, away from the chance of running into Clay, means facing the woman who played a huge part in the nightmare I lived for years. Seeing her would bring back all the pain I had been healing from. Staying would be painful and I'm just not strong enough to deal with it. But going . . . going would bring me to the person that I've been dreaming of for weeks.
I would take Clayton Davis and door number one any day--even though that option scares me in a whole different way than the confrontation I'm escaping does. I never want to go back down the road the woman behind me represents again.
"Go," Lucy mouths, reading my mind. I nod and see her face soften with love before I run out of the barn. My legs pump furiously as I sprint toward the huge house in the distance and the safety I feel with each measured step away from the party calms me.
I keep churning my legs, my heart thundering as I cry silently for the girl who needed that woman so badly, blinking as the tears threaten to spill over.
When I come to the end of the rows of trucks and cars parked between the barn and the house, I suck in a painful burst of air when I realize I somehow completely missed a huge animal, which seems to have come out of nowhere. I slam into the horse with a painful jolt, my butt hitting the ground a moment later and my elbows digging painfully into the gravel a beat after that. The tears finally come and I make an embarrassing sound between a gasp and a wheeze as a sob bubbles free.
Some gravel hits my bare legs when the man atop the horse that almost killed me jumps down. The water blurring my vision makes the sun look even brighter as he reaches my side. I look to my lap and push up to my elbows with a grunt of pain, avoiding looking at the man who witnessed my humiliation, but I don't need a visual to confirm just who is cursing low under his breath. I know from the awareness zipping across my skin alone who it is. How is it possible that, after only one night, my body is desperate for more of his touch?
Could this day be any more humiliating?
Probably not.
"You okay, sweetness?"
I squeeze my eyes closed at the endearment, curl my legs up, and press my forehead against my knees. I can't handle that word coming from him right now. Not when I'm vulnerably raw. Not when I've been hearing it in my head for weeks and weeks accompanied by the memory of his harsh breaths against my skin as he emptied himself inside of me.
"Please, just go," I beg, my tears coming even faster now.
"Caroline!"
At the sound of my mama's shrill voice in the distance, I whimper and try to make myself disappear by tightening my arms around my legs.
"What the hell?" he mutters.
The fear of ghosts past clawing closer, I look up and hiccup a sob before opening my mouth. "Get me out of here." I hold his worried eyes and beg him with everything in me to take me far away from here. Everything else that happened from the moment I slept with him up until the embarrassment I felt at coming face-to-face with him again vanishes.
It makes no sense logically, but once those frantic words leave my lips, I know he is the one person who can banish this feeling of uncontrollable desperation. I could rush back to Lucy and have her take
me away from my mother instantly, but just looking into his worried eyes, I can feel the balm of calm that his nearness brings within me. I felt it during that night in the dark, and I feel it now--something inside me begging for him. He should be the last person I plead with to save me right now, but the second the words left my mouth, I felt with no doubt that he was the only one.
And, as if to prove that this really could get more humiliating, his hands go under my armpits, dislodging my hold, and pull me up off the ground as if I weigh nothing. Once he has me back on my feet, he bends and I see the top of his cowboy hat moments before he throws me up onto the back of the beast that took me down.
If I weren't seconds away from pure panic, I would catalog every moment that happened next to replay mentally for the rest of my life. It was a move straight out of the pages of a romance novel. Clayton Davis, cowboy in shining armor, heaves himself right up behind me and adjusts both of our bodies so that we fit on top of the horse together. I'm more in his lap than actually sharing the saddle with him, but with my butt pressed tight against his crotch and my thighs spread wide on top of his own, a whole new rush of feelings start inside me. One strong arm curls around my belly before I can even blink and he clicks his tongue. Suddenly we're blazing toward the fields behind the barn at lightning speed. I curl my hands around the arm holding me and pray I don't fall to my death as he guides the powerful horse away.
We burst through the field, not slowing in the least, and I have to force my nails out of the thick muscles of his forearm when it becomes clear I'm not in any danger of falling.
"Where," I choke on my words, clearing my throat. "Where are we going?" I call over my shoulder.
"Away." His one-word answer rumbles against my back, his arm tightens around my belly, and he continues to lead the horse with one hand holding the reins.
I look over the horse's head and almost throw up. "Please, Clayton! Stop!" I cry out as we get closer and closer to the fence line.
He immediately calls out a command and we slow before stopping completely just a few yards from the fence I was sure was about to kill us. I slump in his grasp, my position uncomfortable and borderline painful now that nothing is distracting me. He drops the leather reins and his hands move on my body, igniting fire in their path as they glide, now distracting me for a whole new reason. Before I realize his intention, he's lifting my body and turning me in his strong arms as if I was a child.