Page 57 of Darlin'

"What?!" Jesse exclaims theatrically. "You've never had a s'more? Are you serious?" He yanks on the ripping s'mores box and pulls out two graham crackers and a piece of chocolate. "We've got to remedy thisnow." He places the crackers on his lap and constructs the s'more, biting his tongue as he diligently stacks the ingredients. "Alright, here you go. Baby's first s'more."

"That's literally pure processed sugar, Jesse." I eye the treat warily. "It's not good for you."

"Your point being?" Jesse asks, holding the s'more up to my lips. "Sometimes, princess"—his suggestive gaze flits across my face, the heat from the fire warming my cheeks, and it's suddenly very hot over here—"the best things in life are not good for you."

"I know that..." I swallow, the tempting scent of a delicious treat mere inches away. Momma's been teaching me self-control for twenty-one years. It's ingrained in my brain. A moment of pleasure isn't worth a lifetime of regret. She was talking about waistlines.

I'm not.

"Come one, Sav." Jesse leans forward, placing his warm palm on my thigh. He cocks his head, a shockingly gentle smile spread across his face. "Just one bite." I want it. I want to sink my teeth into something bad. Something dangerous. Something that I know will whisk me into another world. I know it would be sweetand decadent and sinful. One bite. One bite won't kill me. One bite won't... "There we go." He nods as I part my lips tentatively, ready for damnation. "That's a good girl?—"

"We're out of fucking ice!" Ryder's unmistakable annoying voice thunders from the booze pit. "We didn't pack extra?"

"Sav..."

No. My head snaps in Ryder's direction, my conflicted heart thumping in my chest. No, I can't. I can't do it. It's a sign. It's a sign from the universe. Stop while you're ahead. Do not enter. Turn around andleave.

Like a coward, I jump up and create space between Jesse and me. "I'll get more," I shout to Ryder, nodding with a fake-ass grin on my face. "How many bags?"

"Ayy, Alabama to the fucking rescue!" Ryder hollers. "Two bags would be dope." He snickers. "If you can carry that much."

"Savannah..." Jesse's soft voice draws my attention, and I look down, meeting his pleading gaze. "Just sit down. He can get it himself." He holds up the s'more. "We're busy here."

"He's drunk and might get lost, though," I say, nervously tugging at my sleeve as I nod down the road. "Lots of roots and rocks and stuff, y'know? I've only had two drinks. I'll be faster too. The bar's only half a mile away."

"No," Jesse says, tossing the s'more into the fire pit. He stands up, jaw tensed. "It's fucking late.You're not going." He crosses his arms. "At least notalone."

"Really?" I roll my eyes, pulling my phone out of mypocket and turning on the flashlight. "I'll be fine, Jesse. I don't need a damn escort to walk seven minutes."

"I'm coming with you," he states, motioning down the dirt path. "Lead the way."

"No," I say through gritted teeth. "You sit back down." Jesse frowns, taken aback by my clipped tone. "I donotappreciate being treated like some idiotic child that can't take of itself. If I get into any trouble, I will call you, okay?"

"Fine," Jesse hisses in a strained tone. He reaches around his waist and pulls out his firearm, holding it in front of me. "But you're taking this."

"Fine!" I yank the pistol from his hand and release the magazine, checking to make sure it's loaded before I cock it and shove it into the back of my jeans. "Happy?"

"That was..." Jesse blinks, licking his lips as his eyes glow with sparks of ember. "Hot."

"Yeah, well..." I smirk, shrugging innocently. "I've told you before that I knew my way around a gun."

"I know you did, but—" Jesse runs a flustered hand through his hair. "I thought?—"

"I was lying?" I pat his chest, grinning. "You thought wrong, darlin'. I'll be back in a jiff." I look up at him and give the corner of his mouth a little wipe. "Sorry, you were drooling."

Before Jesse can reply, I swiftly turn around and head down the path back toward the bar.

Vast emptiness surrounds me as I speed walk down the hidden road The Sons paved last summer. According to Marlow, in five years' time, this barren wasteland will be home to dozens of houses. Investing in communityexpansion and real estate was Jesse's idea. It's a smart business move, but to expand, you need money in the bank. Do they even use a bank? Where do criminals keep their profits? Maybe all their toilet tanks are stuffed with Benjamins. I chuckle to myself as I make the final turn and head toward the back door of the bar.

Fishing the bar keys out of my pocket, I unlock the door and strut inside, keeping the lights off. People are probably pissed that Jesse's closed The Hog for the night; I'm sure I'll be hearing about it next week.

The ice machine hums in the back of the kitchen, and I grab a large garbage bag and start scooping ice inside. By the time the bag is half filled, my fingers damn near have frostbite. I lift the bag a couple of inches from the floor. Dang, that's heavy. Maybe I should pour some out; how many drinks do these boys plan on drinking? I scoff to myself. Who am I kidding? These guys are freaking parched camels on a good day. Sighing, I tie a knot, dreading the walk back as I swing the bag over my shoulder like a cocktail Santa Claus.

"It's not working, dude!"

"Fuck! Let me try!"

I gasp, freezing in the hallway as voices echo from the front of the bar. There shouldn't be anyone here. Not today. Everyone is at the bonfire. Oh my God...are we getting robbed?

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