AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Blake smiled and shook off his brother’s suggestion. “I’m not too worried about that. I remember watching her out on the field during gym in high school. Her aim was never that great.”
“It may not be,” Ivy said, recovering herself. “But at least if I stuck something in you, you’d notice.”
A roar of voices and laughter followed her insult. Blake sighed. Why did she always go for the small-dick jokes? He didn’t have one. He wanted to scream it at the top of his lungs, but it would only make him look like he protested too much. No one would believe him, and he wasn’t about to start wagging it at strangers on the street to prove his point. It was above average. And an excellent performer, too, if his reviews could be trusted. He’d never heard any complaints.
Ivy, of course, didn’t count.
She left him no choice but to strike back. Blake had been subjected to years of embarrassment because of Ivy and her song. He’d lost the Iron Bowl when the Alabama marching band played it, causing him to botch a crucial play. His season fell apart. His dream of a Heisman had vanished along with the Tigers’ bowl game chances and his first-round draft selection. Yes, he’d made out with another woman and probably would’ve slept with her if Ivy hadn’t burst in on them. It was a stupid mistake, and he’d regretted it every day since then. And not just because his entire life unraveled because of it.
“You’re probably right,” he said, swallowing hard. “Judging by your songs, you’re an expert on getting things stuck in you. How many men in LA have you slept with, Ivy? Or is it easier to count the ones you haven’t gotten to yet?”
Ivy’s lower lip trembled for only a moment. Then she marched up to him and slapped him hard across the face. He took the stinging blow, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing it hurt. Instead he smiled widely. That only made her face turn a deeper shade of crimson.
“Welcome home, Ivy Grace.” With that, he tossed some cash onto the table, gave a wave to his friends, and left.
Chapter 4
After a fairly unsuccessful night on the town, Ivy had called a cab and left Pepper at Woody’s talking to Emmett. She intended to go home, shower off the inch of makeup Pepper had painted on her face, and call it a night.
It didn’t take long to realize that she was far too wound up to sleep. Instead, she went out onto the screened porch with her notebook and a tall glass of lemonade mixed with sweet-tea-flavored vodka. She managed one song while she sat watching the last fireflies of the season disappear into the trees.
Kevin would not approve, but she’d had a miserably aggravating day. She wasn’t going to sit down and write about love and puppies. Instead, she’d written about what she’d seen in Blake’s eyes this afternoon at the pier and again at Woody’s. He’d wanted her, and he’d taken no pains to hide that fact. Ivy could still feel the tingle that danced across her skin as his gaze raked over her body. Without a touch, he’d stoked a fire deep in her belly that had ached miserably all afternoon.
And then, at the bar, he’d opened his mouth and ruined everything. Ivy didn’t care if he wanted her, or even if she wanted him. It wasn’t going to happen.
That’s where the song began. It was about being blatantly wanted by a man, seeing the need in his eyes as they devoured every inch of her body . . . and about knowing there was no way in hell she would ever let him hit that.
She titled it “Do You (Want Me?)” and she was pretty pleased with it. She’d funneled all of the day’s irritation and confusing emotions into the lyrics and it flowed pretty easily. It was still rough, but it had single potential as an anthem for any woman being harassed at a bar by a guy who is too clueless to know it isn’t going to happen.
There ain’t no way in hell I’m ever gonna—
Do you . . . want me baby?
’Cause I ain’t gonna—
Do you . . . think about me at night?
The next morning, she’d polished the song like a shiny gem. If she closed her eyes she could hear the music in the background and envision singing it onstage. Later that afternoon, she’d tried the chorus out with the acoustics of the small shower while she got ready for Sunday dinner at her parents’ house. It sounded great—the perfect Ivy Hudson song.
For now, she’d revel in the glory of that and not focus on the “new sound” she was supposed to be coming up with or the fact that her ex had seen her pretty much naked and called her a slut in front of the whole town.
So far this had been an enlightening weekend, to say the least, and she was happy to make it to the safety of Sunday and the upcoming workweek. Hopefully then, everyone in town would be focused on their jobs and forget about the rock star hiding out at Willow Lake.
Although she’d busied her mind with the new song, the past kept creeping into the forefront. Before yesterday, she hadn’t seen Blake since the night of the Auburn party almost six years ago.
After they’d survived their first year apart while he was at college and she was finishing high school, Ivy had thought things would get easier. Instead, they’d ended up at different colleges, their schedules got busier, and she could tell he was starting to feel neglected. When Auburn locked up the SEC Championship, the team threw a huge party and he’d asked her to come. Unfortunately, she had an evening choral performance that same night. It was her final for the class and there was no getting around it. With a three-hour drive between their two campuses, she hadn’t relished the idea of driving that late. But when she got done early, Ivy decided to go and surprise him. And surprise him she did. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he saw her. He was mid-fondle with the cheerleader, seconds away from a “touchdown,” and had nowhere to go or hide.
She was devastated. She’d run from the room and he’d chased after her, catching up just as she reached her car. To this day she wasn’t quite sure where she’d summoned the strength, but she’d kneed him in his very sensitive and recently handled junk, told him they were through, and jumped into her car.
The last thing she saw was his pained expression in her rearview mirror as she tore off back to Tuscaloosa. She didn’t know if it was the pain of losing her or the nuclear explosion in his crotch that she saw flash in his eyes. It didn’t matter. He deserved both.
Ivy had fantasized about the moment she’d see Blake again for years. How she’d look, what she’d say . . . but that all crumbled when he stepped off that boat and she dove into the bushes. She didn’t know how to handle seeing him. And she certainly didn’t know how to handle the way he looked at her.
Even with six years of bad blood between them, Blake still wanted her. She supposed she should be pleased that she still had the power to crank his tractor. She just didn’t know what to do about it now.
Blake was undeniably handsome, with classic features and short brown hair that begged a girl to run her fingers through it. Even his knowledge of that fact couldn’t ruin it. Ivy had expected him to look as good as she remembered, but the years had done wonders for him. He’d filled out substantially from his thin, athletic days. He had been muscular in high school and college, but still had the build of a boy on his way to becoming a man. The NFL’s rigorous training program had transformed him. Now he was all man, with broad shoulders; thick, muscular arms; and a square, hard jaw. His skin was tan from hours outside and the faint laugh lines around his eyes gave him character.
It was a huge change
