Page 19 of Almost Had You

I giggle. “It’s not! I changed my mind.”

“Eat her first,” he adds, sexy gaze flicking to dance with mine. “Or not. I’d like to do that before the alligator does.” He tilts his head, like he’s considering eating me, going through the motions in his mind.

I swallow hard at the visible, feral hunger. Our eyes remain locked as he leans in and kisses the ever-loving sin out of me. If ever a kiss declared ownership, this is the one. Neither of us question it. We’re both hungry for more when he pulls away. “Something just brushed my leg,” he says against my mouth. “And I don’t even care. I’d lose a leg if it meant I get to kiss you every day.”

“That mean you wanna be my boyfriend?” I ask, licking my lips to make sure he sees.

His dark lashes blink a few times as his gaze slides across my face. He pauses, kisses my lips, inhales my neck, kisses it for good measure then faces me dead on. “Yeah, darlin’. You’re muddied up enough for me now.”

My smile might crack, it’s so big. His matches. He kisses me again and it’s interrupted by the sound of a gruff four-wheeler engine. Mercer’s head pops up, eyes narrowed. He lets me fall into the water so my breasts aren’t exposed to our visitor.

“Oh, good heavens,” I declare when I see the perpetrator.

Mercer holds up his free hand. “Jimmy! What in tarnation are you doing?” His voice booms in a deep baritone command full of testosterone. I’d follow him into battle if he shouted at me like that. I get it now. How women say they go weak in the knees. Mercer Ballentine makes me weak in the everything on my body.

Jimmy grabs the sweet tea from the picnic basket and downs the whole mason jar. “Hey,” I shout. “That is not polite!”

“You know what’s not polite? Not making the bed and leaving my hunting camp a mess! I don’t care if you’re home from war, buddy. Fair is fair!” Jimmy shakes a fist at us, but his grin is huge and mocking. He stoops down, gathers our clothes, taking special care with my bra and dashes back to his four-wheeler before we’re even out of the water.

“Farm truck,” I shout when we reach the grassy spot.

“Pardon me, ma’am, but this deserves a true, oh fuck.” Mercer shakes the water out of his hair and rubs water off his arms.

In my panties, standing on the blanket, I catch my breath from the thrill. Also, a bit of anger, but mostly thrill. We talk about a plan. I’ll wear the blanket and he’ll be fine in his underwear. “Mercer,” I say, tapping my foot.

“Yes?” he asks, after apologizing for the twentieth time. He can’t even look me in the eye as he gathers everything to get ready to head back.

“Look at me.” When he does, I shake my head, wearing a coy smile. “Is this a bad time to tell you I think I might have a fish up in my lady parts?”

He chuckles. “Only if you won’t let me go in and find it.”

I shrug and cast a nonchalant smile over my shoulder. “Might be good fun locating it tonight. When we’re alone.”

“Or a stinky mess to deal with when it dies inside of you,” he fires back.

I widen my eyes. “Okay, not a funny joke anymore.”

Mercer bites his bottom lip. “Thanks for being such a good sport, Clover.”

“Thanks for the adventure.” I jump into his arms and kiss him so hard the blanket falls off.

Chapter Seven

___________________________________

Clover

EVEN THOUGH Idon’t have fish in my honeypot, I smelled a little funny from our mucky swamp expedition. There were a lot of jokes made about flesh-eating bacteria and brain inhabiting amoebas. So many that I broke my own rule and showered at Mercer’s parents’ house when we arrived back. I couldn’t help it. We snuck into the bathroom attached to the pool and took turns showering in the tiny stall. Mercer was smooth. He told his mom my clothes got covered in mud and I needed something to change into for dinner. She didn’t ask any questions. Or she knows we came home without clothes and doesn’t care because that means Mercer is happy. I think she’s the kind of person who would turn a blind eye at any cost if it meant her darling boy was happy. My parents could do with a dose of that.

I’m wearing a pink sheath dress that Mercer’s mama wore when she was twenty years old. No panties or bra. I’m beyond inappropriate. I called my mama, Winnie, and my best friend when we got back to check in and make sure there weren’t any fires that needed dousin’. Tannie seemed remorseful, offering to do whatever I wanted for the festival to make up for telling Sue-Ellen Kline about Mercer and me. That’s the thing with having a best friend who can’t keep her mouth closed. She will always owe me something. She can’t help herself and I live with it because I always have. It’s a weird, mutually beneficial relationship. I don’t even tell her I know she told people about my romp with Mercer. She knows I know. Enough time has passed to assume correctly.

“Hand me the mandolin so I can cut the apples, Mercer,” I say, holding an empty hand out. He fell into a helper position quickly. We’re baking the pie in the mini maid’s kitchen off to the side of their main kitchen. Most of the older homes in the South still have these. The Ballentines have remodeled over the years to modernize the space and it’s completely functional without being gaudy.

Mercer hands me the tool and lingers as close as he can. “Jimmy followed us into the woods earlier. He saw dad’s truck and knew it was me,” he says, breath brushing my shoulder. “Bentley promised he would clean up after we left and I suppose he didn’t. You have to believe me.”

“We’re still on this?” I ask, slicing carefully, tossing the apples in a bowl. “I’m over it. I’m a tough woman. You don’t have to worry about me.” Being caught naked with Mercer by Jimmy is low on my worry list at the moment. Crazy Jimmy Cotter, the only taxidermist in the two surrounding counties may be a lot of things, but he won’t tell anyone about what he saw. Not right away. He’ll want to use it as leverage.

Mercer clears his throat. “You deserve to be treated like a queen and I haven’t managed to give you a half of a normal date. I bet the other men you’ve dated didn’t get your clothes stolen.”

---