Page 4 of One Spicy Summer

My fist lands before he finishes the word.

He goes down hard.

“Don’t you ever speak to her like that, you fucking piece of shit.” I’m on him, straddling his chest, fists raining down like hellfire. “You think you can talk to a lady like that?” I roar, every punch fueled by months of pent-up rage.

Then, two small hands land on my shoulders. Warm. Calming.

Presley.

“Ry, stop… He’s not worth it.” Her whisper is soft, gentle, like wind brushing fire into ash.

I let him go. Watch him slump, unconscious. She helps me up.

“Princess?” I ask, dazed. She’s glowing, calm, hands on either side of my face like she always does when I’ve gone too far.

She smiles, God, that smile, and murmurs, “There’s my Ry Ry.”

“I’m here,” I whisper back.

“Take me home?” she asks sweetly. Then adds, “With a stop for ice cream?”

There’s no way I could say no to this girl. I’d give her the shirt off my back. The last breath in my lungs.

I close my eyes, breathe her in, lilac and cherry blossom. “How do you always get your way with me?” I murmur.

“Because… you’re simply the best?” she squeaks.

“No. It’s because Ican’tsay no to you. And you damn well know it.”

“Well,” she says, placing a kiss on each cheek.

“Well, what?”

“Youcouldsay no. You just don’t.” Brat.

I raise an eyebrow. “Maybe I’ll start now.”

She freezes. Then, hands on hips, eyes locked on me like a sniper: “No, you won’t. And if you try, we can startthatgame tomorrow. But right now? You’re getting me ice cream.”

She grabs my hand and drags me along, giggling like she’s in charge.

And I let her think she is.

Little does she know, she’s had me by the balls since the day I realized she wasn’t Rafe’s snaggletooth kid sister anymore.

She turned fourteen, and suddenly, the baggy boy clothes and glasses were gone, replaced by skin-tight crop tops that showed off her flawless brown skin, those damn leggings that hugged every inch of her curves, and heels that should’ve been criminal. Her eyes, deep and rich, held a new kind of fire, one that made my heart skip in ways it shouldn't.

I was done for.

Especially that night she came down the stairs in that white dress for homecoming. When she said she had a date, I shut it down. She didn’t talk to me for a month. Didn’t matter.

No one else was touchingmygirl.

Now, she’s pulling me through the crowd, all smiles and sass.

By the time we get to my ‘67 Impala, she pushes me against the door, fishes my keys from my pocket like she owns me.

“I’m driving,” she announces.

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