Page 20 of Almost Had You

It has been one hijinks after the other since he came back to town. “I’m not with those other men, am I? Maybe there’s something to riding a four-wheeler without a brassiere. Or drinking tequila from a South of the Porder glass. Kissin’ when it’s only stayin’ kissin’ and nothing more. Maybe when it’s right, everything is different.”Maybe when it’s different, everything is right,I think.

We continue talking as I work on Grandma’s pie. Mrs. Ballentine pops her head in a few times to see how it’s coming along or if she can bring me anything. I make sure to call out the steps as I do them so she can hear in the big kitchen next door. She’s working on dinner and Mr. Ballentine is playing a round of golf with his buddies. Mercer would be with him if I wasn’t here. “I feel bad you didn’t get to play golf with your daddy and his friends. I’m taking up family time.”

“He plays most days, Clover. Trust me, I’ll have my fill of golf before I go back,” Mercer replies, looking away. The far off, glazed over appearance transforms his face and a pit settles in my stomach. I cut strips of dough for the top of the pie and try to make small talk about the weather forecast for the week. Small talk comes easy for us. It’s how we fill all of the silences. The only downfall is Mercer knows what I’m trying to do. “If you want to know something, ask me. I might not always want to answer, but at least I know you want to know,” he says, laying a hand on my shoulder. “I don’t need the weather report.”

I fake a laugh. “You’ve never settled down with a woman?” I toss it out like it’s as significant as weather, not very, but I want to know. How much does his job affect the rest of his life?

Mercer rounds the island so he’s standing on the other side of the narrow counter, facing me. “There’s not much time for meeting women. There’s even less time for meeting the right kind of women.”

I glance up from making my lattice top and meet his eyes. “You left ‘Bama and couldn’t find a Southern woman elsewhere? Go figure. Here I was thinking you were of the intelligent sort.”

He shakes his head. “I never said anything about Southern. It’s hard to find someone who keeps my attention in general. I said therightkind of woman.”

“Lots of women who don’t hold your attention?” I ask, pressing my lips into a grin.

Mercer tilts his head, studying me. “There aren’t very many ways I can decompress, Clover. I’m working more than I’m not. And even when I’m not working, I’m training to work. Or I’m sleeping. Even though I’ve traveled the world, my scope of it is actually small. If we give this a real shot, it’s going to change a lot of things.”

My heart pounds. “Like what?”

“I’ll make time to call you every day when I’m away, if I can. When I come home, I’m coming home to you. When I have time off, I want it to be with you.”

I finish crimping the edges and dust my hands off on the apron I’m borrowing. “You have three weeks off. We’ve spent one night together and you’re already talking serious.” I make sure to keep my voice down so I don’t give his mama a reason to listen closer. “I don’t understand why you don’t find a woman that wants a fun time and just keep things simple. Why me? Why something more? I’ll keep you dizzy as a tornado.”

Half of his face pulls into a grin. My insides melt into a gooey pile of mush as I take in his white teeth and confident stance. “I like storms.” He holds up one finger.

I cross my arms. “How rude.”

Mercer laughs and pulls one of my flour-covered hands into his. “I complimented you, ma’am. That’s not rude.” He crooks his finger, requesting my other hand. “Come closer,” he whispers. Leaning on the counter, I give him both of my hands. I glance into the main kitchen and don’t see Mrs. Ballentine. Mercer closes the distance and plants his lips on mine. Pulling back, blue eyes sear into mine. “Plus, I think I kinda like you.”

I smile. “What if I’m just the first proper lady you set eyes on after coming home and you’re all mixed up?” I peck his lips because he’s grinning so big. “I know I’m a catch, don’t get me wrong, I want to make sure you realize I’m a catch. More of a wild catch. Sort of like a mad, feral catfish or a big ole’ mean fish that breaks the line, but keeps coming back because it can’t resist the bait.”

“Are you calling me bait, darlin’? Here’s what I think, I think we go up to my room so we can pull out the old yearbooks and make out instead. How long is the pie in there?”

Biting my lip, I stifle a laugh. “We have an hour,” I say.

Mercer calls out to his mom to tell her we’re going to look at yearbooks and he drags me up the stairs by one wrist, like we’re seventeen. He spins on me once we’re in his childhood bedroom, and closes the door behind us. There are photos and posters covering his walls. It looks untouched from his teenaged years. “Feral catfish, huh?” he drawls, leaning against an antique wooden desk.

“I told you I almost got engaged to a man because it would have been advantageous to my life, not because I loved him. You need to know what you’re getting yourself into.” It sounds as bad as it did in my head before I spoke. “I’ve never been the type of person to play it safe, Mercer, but I press the limits inside of the boundaries laid out for me. This,” I say, nodding to him, “Is so outside the boundaries. I texted Goldie earlier to tell her we needed to talk about the move and the salon.”

He crosses the room to sit on his bed. It’s covered with a dark green comforter and matching throw pillows. “If you break one boundary, you’re going to break them all?” he asks.

“Yes. All the ones I find confining,” I say, lacing my hands behind my back as I take in all the family photos on the wall. “Mama is going to have a duck fit. All at once will be easier on her.” I pause and turn to face him. “She has to know I’m unhappy. When many of my friends were getting married in their early twenties and I had no interest, I saw the disappointment. Then again when I began the non-profit because she saw that as a gross misuse of my time. It’s been one thing not on her agenda after the other.” I swallow hard. “Weren’t we going to make out?”

Mercer holds open his hands. “Talkin’ is good too. Believe it or not, I’m starved for decent conversation. I could watch your lips all day long.” He smiles with his eyes. “Also, you’re wearing my mama’s dress and I’d feel a little weird taking it off you.”

I laugh. “You know how to lighten the mood.” I tap my chin with a finger. “Are you saying if I took this dress off right now, you would turn me away?”

“No, ma’am, that’s not what I’m saying at all.” He chuckles, then clears his throat. “I think we should take it slow. Good things take time. Becoming a SEAL took two years. It was miserable, painful, more intense than anything I’ve done in my life. Planning a mission that might take an hour takes months, sometimes even years, if we want it to be successful, if the stakes are high. There’s no sense in rushing into sex.”

“Because I’m a virgin? You should know better by now. Tell me not to do something and I want to do the opposite.”

“I’m not using reverse psychology on you. You aren’t a child. I’m being honest. I want this to be more than a way to spend my time off. If we give it space and time to grow, I think it could be something grand. Big. Do you feel that way?” He shakes his head once. “I’m not getting any younger.”

I feel a whole mess of things when I think about a relationship with Mercer Ballentine. “I agree. That sounds like a good idea.” I take another few steps to stand in front of him. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed with his legs wide. He pulls me to him, his hands splayed against my backside. Resting my hands on each side of his face, I say, “I do declare, Mr. Ballentine. You have snagged yourself a catch.”

He slides his fingers down to the hem of the dress and slides his hands up high enough to feel I’m not wearing panties. He groans and lays his head against my stomach. “A wild catch.”

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