Heart of Dixie (Moreover #1) Page 12

  We had been working our way to this moment for days. To the lushness of Dixie’s lips beneath mine as I stretched her out on the blanket, to the butterfly smoothness of her cheek beneath my knuckles, to the strength of her calves as she wrapped them around my thighs and held on. I stretched her arms over her head and trailed my fingertips down the satiny inner skin until I reached her chest and then cupped her breasts over the pretty red lace.

  “This is nice, Dixie. You could be a model in one of those flyers that clogs my mailbox.” She arched her back and I reached behind her to unclasp her bra. I flung it away and lowered my mouth to her breast.

  “Oh, dear God, Deke, that feels good. Suck harder . . . I think it landed in the water.”

  My brain was exploding with sensation. Dixie’s firm breast filling my hand and my mouth. Her tight nipple coarse against my tongue. “Water?” Oh, her bra. I peered over my shoulder toward the edge of the creek. “Fuck, princess, I’ll buy you one in every color.”

  She chuckled and the vibration shot straight to my cock. “Shut up, Deke. I want to see you do the same thing with my panties.”

  “A dare? My girl wants to challenge my strength in the panty toss?” She giggled and my dick throbbed against the smoothness of her belly. I lowered myself down her body and rocked my hips into the heat of her. She bucked upwards against me. The panties had to go. I peeled them off and pitched them over my shoulder.

  She followed their arc until they landed in the grass. “Oh, Deke, not even close.”

  I held my dick and gave it a quick jack. It wept with precum. “Beg to differ, princess. I’m fucking close to exploding.

  Dixie’s lips parted and her chest heaved with her rough breath. “Grab a condom. Now, Deke.” I didn’t have to be told twice. I lunged for the nearest box and ripped into it, then tore open a wrapper and sheathed myself. Her feet hit the ground on either side of my hips, and her hand wrapped around me and squeezed. Fuck me!

  I reared back on my knees as she glided me back and forth through her heat, teasing us both. Her entry was open to me, swollen and slick. “You ready for this, princess?”

  She gasped for breath. “Dammit, Deke, I need you in me.”

  I bumped my hips forward and gave her a taste of the tip. “You mean like this?”

  She growled—deep in her throat and low. “Give it all to me, Deke!”

  One thrust. In one lunge, I fell to my forearms, covering her, my cock seated to the hilt. Her scream scared a crow out of a nearby tree. Fucking God, I could die a happy man.

  She met my rocking hips with pumps of her own, our tempo increasing until I was driving into her at a steady pace. “You feel so good, Dixie. So warm and tight around my dick. So soft in my arms.” And then I couldn’t talk because my mouth was full of her breast, feasting on one plump mound of flesh, and then the other, lapping and sucking to the symphony of her keening moans.

  She pulled at my hair and dragged my mouth up to kiss her. “I missed this, Deke. This was always so good.”

  Without breaking contact, I pulled myself up to my elbows and knees and folded her knees up against her chest. I powered into her, and she cried out at the increased contact. Tingles gathered at the base of my spine. My balls filled and tightened. Even angry, even hurt, I’d dreamt of Dixie and her body that was once mine.

  She arched her back to offer me her breasts. A sheen of moisture slickened her body, and the flesh of her thighs quivered. “Deke, I’m so close.”

  “I’ve got you, sweetheart. Let it go.” My finger found her clit and rubbed in smooth circles. She wailed, her fingers digging into my biceps, her hips frantic and pounding into mine. I gave her nipple a pinch and she flew apart in my arms.

  Her orgasm came in waves, gripping my cock as I plunged into her pulsing channel. She reached between us to fondle my balls. “Dixie, baby, I can’t—” I entwined our fingers of both hands and held them over her head. Thrust into her two more times, and I was done.

  My skin on fire was the dream that woke me. With my eyes open, I realized my arms and legs wrapped around a sleeping Dixie was the reality of the situation. I lowered my lips to her neck and nibbled until her eyes opened. She smiled and found my lips with hers, then winced as she stretched out. “Ouch. We fell asleep in the sun.”

  “Umm hmm. I feel it, too.” I sat up on the blanket and brought her to my lap. I lifted her chin with a finger, then framed her face with my hands. These cheeks were pink, but wouldn’t be painful. The cheeks of her ass, however . . . I laid my hands on them. “You might want some cream for this skin; you slept on your stomach. Let’s have a shower, then we’ll take care of that. We can grab some dinner in town.” She scooted away so she wasn’t seated on my lap, then found her panties and tossed me a towel.

  “Remember, though, I told you I wanted to spend time with Beth, too. We have plans tonight, Deke. Dinner. I can’t keep blowing her off.” She rose from the blanket, then reached for my hand, pulled me up beside her. “A shower sounds good, I admit.” She grinned when I laid my lips on hers and snuck a kiss. “A shower with you sounds even better.” She stepped into her dress, looped enough of the buttons that it didn’t slip off while her untethered breasts flashed me from beneath. She gathered her sodden bra and shoved it into her purse. Barefoot, she trekked toward the house, made a detour to collect the grocery sack containing two cans of tuna fish, and continued on her way. With interest, I watched her walk up the slight incline and away toward my back deck. The full skirt of her dress hid all the good stuff, but I knew what was there. I took off after her. It seemed I was destined to follow Dixie around my house wearing nothing but a towel.

  “Come on . . . tell me again!” Beth cackled as she did the Snoopy dance from the walk-in closet, then stopped and bent forward with her hand to her ear. “You did what?”

  I snickered from the corner chair where I’d flopped and then sprawled as if I was simply exhausted—because I was. Achy and bruised, as well, from my earlier romp with Deke, and now breathless with giddy laughter in the retelling. “Oh, Jesus. Somebody shut the girl up!”

  Her only reaction was a wide-eyed two-finger gimme signal. I tucked my legs beneath me—the cushions of Beth’s overstuffed chair begged to be cuddled into—and had to take a deep breath to tamp down my giggles. A long, slow sip from my glass of wine—my third so far—helped to draw out the moment. “I had sex with Deke.” Not that she needed me to repeat myself. She heard me just fine the first time. And the time after that. Mostly she wanted to dance. And gloat.

  Which was fine, because it seemed I wanted to gloat a little myself.

  “I knew it!” She yanked me out of my comfy chair, then steadied me when I nearly doused her with Chablis. “Get dressed. I want to go out!” She flew around the room, crowing like a rooster at dawn as she gathered clothes.

  I glanced down at the outfit I’d just changed into. “But I’m happy in my sweats. And what happened to staying in? The pizza’s in the oven; it’s almost hot.”

  “You and Deke, girl; y’all are what’s hot! Sparks flying, talk you out of your panties in broad daylight, sunburn on your ass, down and dirty—”

  I held up my glass and toasted the air. “Rolling-in-the-dirt-like-animals kind of dirty.” Beth stopped dead in her tracks, mouth agape, eyes saucer-wide.

  Why am I helping her? But my grin had a mind of its own and would not be subdued. Probably because the sex with Deke had been smokin’ hot and . . . all that other stuff.

  And because, for the first time I could remember, Beth was speechless.

  “Oh. My. God.” She threw her arms up and fell to her back on the bed. The dress she’d brought from the closet fluttered beside her, then slithered to the floor. But continued silence was too much to hope for.

  “I knew y’all’d get back with Deke!” Her voice went dreamy, and murdered my perfectly respectable buzz.

  I rescued the dress and dropped to the edge of the bed. “Beth, honey, Deke and I are having a little fun, but this is not a . .
. relationship.” A sudden surprising weight landed on my heart. I hadn’t come to Moreover looking for Deke. Hadn’t come looking to make new friends, either. I’d intended to avoid entanglements as much as possible. But memories were sharpening, and not everything I left behind was bad. Most things—and most people—were far too good.

  Damn! Maybe today was one craptastic mistake after all.

  Beth took the mass of fabric from me, then pulled her legs up until she was sitting with the dress wadded in her lap. “Don’t you want to be with him?”

  I still didn’t belong here—in this town I ditched without a backward glance—and I was planning to leave again as soon as possible. But Deke? My memories of him were starting to take over my thoughts.

  I gulped back the rest of my wine. “Yeah, damn it. I’m beginning to want that more than ever.”

  Her brow furrowed in rows that would have my mother calling her plastic surgeon, then smoothed as she brightened. “It’s small town Saturday night, girl. Everybody you remember will be scootin’ boots and knocking back cold ones. They’ll want a chance to say hey before Cooter’s funeral and you leave town again. Besides, it’s not often I get the night off; let’s join them!”

  It was dangerous to find something other than Beth to miss in this town. Ah, hell. This girls’ weekend was Beth’s idea, and no matter how much I’d come to anticipate staying in and hanging out, it wasn’t a good idea for dreams to take root in either of our heads. My life revolved around the big city, big celebrities, and keeping their big egos on the straight and narrow.

  The bed bounced as I popped up, bowing—or caving, rather—to Beth’s wishes. “Come on! You want to dance, we’ll dance!”

  I was beginning to talk myself into the idea. It may even be fun. It was definitely far less frightening than any other thoughts wiggling their way into my mind.

  The glare of the summer evening sun sliced through the windshield as we headed down Main Street toward the outskirts of town. “So, where are we headed?” The only bar I knew in town was Bottoms Up, and it was behind us.

  “A place called The Barn. It’s fairly new.” The town park was coming up on the left, dotted with families taking advantage of the evening light for barbeques, and children screaming and running wild through the playground area. Someone had climbed the water tower recently to announce that Pete loved Betsy.

  Beth noticed it the same time I did and shook her head with a grimace. “Oh, man. That won’t go over well.”

  “I don’t see the problem. Unless Betsy doesn’t love him back.” Beth shot me a glance with her eyebrows raised. Yes, I understood her surprise; it matched my own. Two days ago, I would have sneered. I shrugged.

  Beth let it go and shook her head. “Nope, the problem’s not Betsy Mitchell. The problem’s her twin sister, Bailey. She’s Pete’s ex and you never met a vindictive B-word like that girl.

  In my business, I’d met more than a few B-words. Even wound a couple of them up just to watch their heads spin. I shrugged again. “Too bad I’ll miss the fun.”

  Any interrupted questions about our destination were answered the moment we pulled into the gravel parking lot. The honky-tonk didn’t just take its name because the owner thought it was catchy. Nope. Big and boxy with a roof that soared—even painted the traditional deep red—this place had previously been . . . a barn. How resourceful.

  I followed Beth inside and paused, let my eyes adjust to the dim light. There was a stage set up along the far wall of the cavernous building, empty and dark. Either it was too early for the band or we chose the wrong night for live music. Either way, a gritty tenor belted along with a slide guitar and banjo and blasted from overhead speakers. The place wasn’t packed, but the early crowd was doing its damnedest to rock the joint.

  Beth led the way to the bar and I followed, quickstepping to dodge the bits of hay her boots crunched and then kicked behind her. She caught my movement and laughed. “I wish you would dress appropriately! I can’t believe you’re not wearing boots.”

  I’d brought one pair of blue jeans along on this trip and I had them on, low-cut and thigh hugging with jewel encrusted back pockets. They may be called boot-cut, but I had them paired with the hottest pair of pumps I owned. I scowled, then turned away to check out the wine selection. “I don’t have boots.” It was almost the truth.

  “Humph.” There was a lecture brewing but I was saved by the bartender, who thankfully appeared and gained her attention.

  “Deputy! How y’all doin’ tonight?

  Beth spun toward the burly guy behind the bar. “Earl! You’re back from vacation!” She clambered onto a stool to stretch across and plant a kiss on his ruddy cheek. She climbed back down. “How’s the missus? And the little one?” She held out her hand, palm up, because he was already grinning and pulling photos out from under the counter. “They’re both great. We enjoyed Florida.” He picked up a bar towel to wipe down the counter once he’d passed off the pictures. “Charlie’s growing like a weed.”

  “Kids will do that when you feed them.” Beth took the photos—the whole damn stack—and shoved all but one in my hand before she drew me near. “Earl, I don’t believe you’ve met my friend, Dixie Barnes. She’s in town for a few days to bury her dad.”

  And Beth, bless her heart, didn’t add a speck of sorrow in the telling. “Nice to meet you, Earl.” I waited for him to drop the towel again, then shook his hand.

  “Heard about old George; first drink’s on me. What will you ladies have?”

  Beth collected the pictures of Earl’s kid and set them on the bar, upside down. “Make mine something girly, would you? And virgin.” She rolled her eyes. “I came to dance, but Peterson’s got a man cold. I’m covering for him.”

  Earl shook rum and something colorful together with ice for me, left out the liquor in Beth’s, poured the concoctions into footed glasses and topped them with paper umbrellas and skewers of chunked fruit. A burst of laughter came from the far side of the dance floor, and my gaze darted that way, where a rowdy group hovered around one of the pool tables.

  “Molly came in a while ago. Grabbed a longneck and headed that way.” Earl pointed his chin toward the commotion as he set our drinks on red bar napkins. “She said something about research. Maybe you want to join her. I can have these taken over there for you.” He waggled a finger to call a nearby server over, but I waved her back, picked up my glass and forced a sip of what tasted like spiked Kool-Aid.

  Beth picked up her drink. “No, thanks, Earl. We came to dance, but the floor’s still pretty empty. I think we’ll wander over and see what’s going on.”

  The doors to the studio were open to draw in fresh air; ceiling fans buzzed as they circled slow and steady overhead. I pushed away from the broad table I used as a work desk and kneaded my fatigued eyes from under my glasses. I’d been at this project for hours today, weeks altogether, but the tweaks I needed for this new system weren’t coming together the way I hoped. The deadline for the project loomed, yet something in my calculations was off.

  I leaned my head back—this crazy expensive ergonomic chair Shane insisted I buy was surprisingly comfortable—closed my eyes and let the design flow through my mind. The charts, the diagrams, all appeared then disappeared and rearranged as I searched for the missing link. The answer was there, somewhere close. I could feel it. What if—?

  What if! The lightbulb flashed in my brain; I popped my eyes open and sprang forward in my seat. My fingers flew on the keyboard, pulled up a spreadsheet I hadn’t looked at in days. Hell, yes! There was my problem, and my answer, all rolled into one rookie error.

  With a finger swipe, I slid that screen to the left side of the dual monitors and made the adjusting calcs, then opened CAD and made the modifications needed in the drawings there on the right-hand screen. Back and forth I went between the two, revising, assessing, testing, until at last, I uploaded the narrative document I’d been preparing since the project began and continued to write.

  Some t
ime later I saved my work and reached across the desk to flick on the lamp. Dusk had fallen while I was preoccupied, and the room had grown dim. I read back over my last few paragraphs, made a few minor edits and closed the file just as my cell phone rang beside me. Perfect timing! I picked it up and answered.

  “Surprised to hear from you, Blake! I thought you and Donna had some important thing you were doing tonight.” He’d mentioned what it was, but that was yesterday, when my brain was so full of Dixie that my head was fuzzy and even my well thought-out lesson plans needed to be replaced with lame videos.

  “Dude, you have to rescue me! I just found out this thing she wants to drag me to is a chick thing.” The panic in his voice would normally amuse me. Except tonight when that chick thing was over, all would be well over at Blake’s place with Donna cuddled up in his bed.

  Dixie’s memory didn’t throw off much body heat.

  “Come on, be a pal! Don’t you have a fence that needs mending? Maybe a wild boar we can flush out of the woods and hunt down? Something manly!”

  Manly? The guy taught poetry for chrissake, and tonight he was worried about his balls? I mulled it over for a minute. “The best I can offer is a game of pool down at The Barn. Is that macho enough for you?”

  “Perfect! I’m ready to go.”

  I laughed. “Slow down, turbo.” I checked the clock on the computer monitor. Damn, later than I realized. “I have a few things to take care of first. Give me an hour and I’ll meet you there.” I clicked the mouse to start shutting down programs. “Sorry, that’s the best I can do.”

  He sighed—like the girl he was.