Page 5 of Only By You: Prequel
Clayton
My leg jumps asI tap the steering wheel. Waiting. Watching for any sign of thisdatethat’s supposed to be picking up Julie any minute now.
I shouldn’t even be here.
I told myself from the moment I saw her—two months and nineteen days ago—that I wouldn’t be this guy: the one who shows up uninvited, the one who demands instead of asks politely. I’ve been kind. I’ve made my desires known without beingthat guy.
Now, here I am, with a half-cocked plan and a proposal on the tip of my tongue.
An all-too-familiar silver car begins to slow, creeping along the road as if they’re verifying an address. Everything in my being rages at the realization that my little wife’s date is the localjackwagon city boy, Shawn Lewis. What is she thinking going out with this moron?
He’s the walking definition oftoo stupid to live.
The rumble of my truck starts as I crank it out of park and whip into the Ball’s driveway right behind him. I hadn’t planned to block him in, but…desperate times call for desperate measures.
We get out at the same time, his obnoxious floppy blond hair bouncing in the breeze makes me want to knock his teeth out. “Hey there,” he calls, his small, soft hand—with not a spot of callous to speak of—coming up to block the evening sun cutting in through the surrounding pines. “You mind moving your truck for me, buddy? I don’t plan on being here long.”
I’m not your buddy, asshole.
Wagering between a polite comeback or an insult—I don’t get a chance to decide—he turns away from me and strides toward the front porch steps in his ugly leather dress shoes and powder blue button-down.
“Fuckin’ prick,” I mutter under my breath as I eat up the space behind him in my muddy cowboy boots, plain white T-shirt, and jeans.
He glances over his shoulder at me once we ascend the steps, his manicured brow raised in my direction.What a putz.
Ignoring him, I pound a heavy fist beside the fall wreath decorating the front door. I take a step back to stand beside him in an attempt to boldly show who the better suitor truly is.
I’m tall, he’s small. I’m strong, he’s not. I earn every dollar I make with my own bare hands, while everything has been handed to him on a silver platter. I care more about Julie than I care for my next breath. I doubt he even knows where she works. Let alone her favorite spot to take lunch—right outside the doctor’s office at the picnic table when the weather is nice—or how she always goes back to work ten minutes early so no one is waiting too long to be seen.
The door opens a moment later, William Ball’s friendly face filling the open space. “Shawn, my boy. Welcome,” he announces. “You’re early.”
The moron beside me beams a too-bright smile. “Of course. I’ve been looking forward to this for two weeks now,” he says.
Two-fucking-weeks?!
William’s expression changes from one of casual pleasantries to surprise as his gaze trails from the expected guest to me. “Oh, hello, Clayton. I didn’t know you’d be stopping by,” he says, confusion lacing his tone. “Is there something I can help you with?”
I stand a little straighter. “Evening, sir. I’m here to see Julie.”
His shaggy, salt-and-pepper brows rise high into his receding hairline. “Oh?”
Muffled shouting from inside the house echoes down the stairs. Mr. Ball sighs heavily as he looks over his shoulder before turning to us. He waves us in. “Come in, come in,” he huffs. “I’m sure Julie will be down in just a moment.”
William closes the door behind us as Shawn and I stand side by side once more. I fight down a smirk as he shifts from foot to foot, appearing rather uneasy. He should be.
The shouting subsides with a slam of a door and light footsteps approach the top of the stair landing. And like the parting trees that lead to a stunning hidden grove, she freezes mid-step. Her foot hovering in the air between us speaks volumes about how shocked she is to see me—because that’s where her gaze has landed. On me and me alone.
I grin from ear to ear at the sight of her.
A thing of natural, indescribable beauty, my little wife is.
Slowly, she begins her descent, taking one step carefully at a time. I keep my gaze locked on her—not that it could stray from her. Ever.
“Julie.” Her father clears his throat, gesturing vaguely in my direction which I’m not sure whether to take as an insult or compliment that he’s choosing to speak of me first. “You didn’t mention you were having company this evening.”
“I—” she stutters, blinking away her teary eyes at the sight of me. Her head whips between Shawn and me a few times before she sighs heavily. “Is your… How’s your hand?” she asks, and I practically preen at the fact she hasn’t spoken a word to the tightwad beside me.
I hold up my right hand, showing off the great job she did taking care of me yesterday. “Still attached,” I tease, earning me a small smile from her. “But that’s not why I’m here.”
