My chest tightens a bit, and I rub at my sternum.
“Yeah. It’ll be good to see them.”
“I think so too. They’ve been traveling so much lately! Just be here at your normal time and y’all will be done by noon so that when he comes back the barn is all ready to go.” She gets up and starts picking up plates and empty dishes. Eli hops up after her, helping with the dishes, while Dawson puts his plate in the kitchen and bolts out the door, mumbling about his new colt.
I follow suit, picking up my plate and thanking them for dinner.
Once I make it out into the night air, I move to the side of the porch where nobody can see and fish out the squished pack of cigarettes from my back pocket, pulling one out, along with a lighter, and lighting it up.
Taking a long drag, I let the smoke settle deep in my lungs before slowly exhaling. I lean back against the porch railing, eyes drifting out over the stretch of farm in front of me.
Anxiety claws its way up my throat, so I take another drag, forcing the anxiety back down where it can’t reach me.
My parents are great…parents. But sometimes they forget that I’m a grown man who can handle most of life’s problems. They’d rather I was their little boy forever.
I know that’s why they didn’t tell me they were coming. Because if I’d known, I would’ve found some excuse—any excuse—to avoid being here all day.
Instead, I’m stuck with the weight pressing down on me—every expectation, every watchful glance. It makes me feel like I have to stay in control, constantly thinking before I act. And when I’m around Rhett Thornwood…I can’t.
I’d burn it all to the ground just for a taste of him again.
Speak of the devil.
I don’t even have to look—I can feel him hovering, all nervous energy.
“You gonna keep avoiding me, Golden Boy? Or are you gonna come around the corner and join me in my misery?”
He appears a second later, slipping around the corner, hand dragging through his hair. He looks stressed—wound tight—but still unfairly, and undeniably, fine as hell.
Damn…
“Yeah…Uhm…Can I get one of those?” He gestures to the cigarette in my mouth, and I can’t help but grin.
“Damn. That’s a bold way to ask for another kiss.” I give him a teasing wink, holding the cigarette between my teeth.
Disgust flashes across his face with a mix of heat that I don’t miss.
“I meant a fucking cigarette, Colt. I told you, that meant nothing.” His tone is defensive, but the shake in his hand tells me that tonight shook him too.
Too bad I don’t care enough to deal with any of that right now. I just want him.
“Why? Are you scared because you liked it?” Pushing off the railing, I close the distance between us, stopping just shy of us being chest to chest. “Looks like we’re about four inches apart again. Gonna take it? Or maybe you’ll shut me up again. Please shut me up again, baby.”
I don’t move an inch, testing to see just how far I can push him until he breaks again.
He clenches his jaw, trying to act unaffected. “I. Told. You. That was a one-time thing. Don’t read too much into it.” He grinds his teeth, eyeing my mouth like he’s still starving.
“Didn’t I also tell you that you weren’t my type? Since you want to lie to me, I can do the same. Instead, how ‘bout this. You beg? I might give you what you want.”
“I don’t fucking want you, Colt.” He pushes against my chest, hands staying firm against me. I take another drag.
“I meant a cigarette, Rhett. What did you think I meant?” I smirk, blowing smoke in his face, eyeing his hands on my chest. Looking him dead in his eyes, I challenge him, lowering my voice to just above a whisper as I say, “Beg.”
Dropping his hands to his sides, I watch the war in his head rage—not wanting to give in to me to get what he wants—the cherry of my cigarette illuminating his face.
He mumbles something, and I think it’s supposed to be aplease.
Hell no, motherfucker. That’s not enough, and we both know it.
