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“And why would I do that?”
I visualized the mental eye roll taking place inside her head as she picked at an invisible piece of lint on her jeans. “Because the guesthouse is out back.”
“My plan for the weekend doesn’t include the guesthouse.” My response caught her by surprise, and her head whipped up.
“Well, that’s my plan.”
I disengaged myself from Georgia and took the steps up to the porch. I had to give it to Echo, she didn’t give an inch, and I was okay with that. The girl smelled like honeysuckle, and the fever in her eyes told me she was worked up something good. I smiled down at her.
“Are we talking the guesthouse located at the very back of the property?”
“Is there another one I don’t know about?”
My smile widened. “Seems kind of far. Would be a pain in the ass for you to serve me all the way out there.”
“Serve you?” She practically snorted.
“Isn’t that what I paid for? A weekend at Live Oaks, all my needs catered to by you?”
“And here I thought you were helping out animals in distress.”
“Oh, I am, Echo.” I was dying to taste her mouth. “But there’s more than one kind of animal, don’t you think?”
She exhaled. A soft sort of thing that tightened up every single muscle in my body. I was wired. Electrified. Drunk on the thought of her. And I could tell she felt the same, even if she wouldn’t admit it to herself. Suddenly exhilarated, I smiled, and she took a step back, a wary look in her eyes. This weekend was going to be epic. I just had to play it cool. Didn’t want to show all my cards right away. I had to make Echo believe she was the one leading the charge. She had to make the first move.
“My bags are in the truck.”
“And?” Echo’s reply was sharp.
I grabbed the charity program from the front pocket of my jeans. It was creased now and had been folded several times. Carefully, I opened it up and found the winner.
“Says here, a weekend in the Bayou with Echo Mansfield at your beck and call.” I grinned at her. “Congratulations. You’re officially my beck-and-call girl.”
“That is not literal,” she spat.
I took that last step that brought me inches from her face and bent down so that my lips were a whisper from her earlobe. “Pretty sure one million cold ones says that it is. Unless you can’t handle it? Do you find me irresistible? Is that it?”
She pushed at me, and I took a step back, loving how her eyes spit fire. “I can handle a hell of a lot more than you.”
“Good to know.” My heart banged like a bass drum inside my chest as a shot of adrenaline rushed through me. “Grab my bags, will ya? And take them to my room.” I paused, eyes on her mouth. “Pretty sure you remember which one it is.” I turned around and motioned to Georgia. “Your mom in the kitchen?”
Georgia looked from me to Echo and then joined me on the porch. “She’s making your favorite. Fried chicken and grits.”
We moved past Echo, though I paused at the screen door. “Be careful with the guitars. They’re worth a small fortune.”
I didn’t see her flip me off as I headed inside. Didn’t see the way she stood there frozen, hands clenched into tight fists and eyes flashing fire. I didn’t see how she slowly rolled her shoulders and then jumped off the porch. Or how a slow, calculating smile touched her face as she approached my truck. A smile that deepened when she grabbed my bag and slung it over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. A smile that lingered when she reached for my guitar cases.
If I had? I would have been prepared, because it was definitely game on.
The only question was, who the hell would win?
17
Echo
Boyd Appleton was going to drive me over the edge. It wasn’t a question of if, but when. He’d been here for all of ten minutes, and already I was about as cool and collected as a worm dangling on the end of a hook, staring down into the eyes of a very large, very hungry, fish. I told myself I could handle him, told myself he didn’t mean anything, but then his body unfolded from his truck like he’d practiced it at least one hundred times, and put a dent in my plan to ignore him. To treat him like he was nothing. As if the cabin had never happened.
But then I watched him pull up. Watched him slide from his truck and stretch his arms and lock them behind his head, making his T-shirt ride up enough to get a glimpse of all that manly, yummy skin. Instantly, my body reacted. I got all hot and flushed and anxious. Seriously. My heart took off and for like, a minute, I thought I was having a heart attack. I was no better than a dog in heat.
