Page 18 of Texas
“Yeah. I’ll find us something greasy and wrapped in foil. You can pretend it’s gourmet.”
The tension breaks, she laughs, and there’s something real in it. Something unguarded. “Thank you,” she says.
I shrug. “Don’t thank me yet. I might bring tacos.”
“God, I love tacos.”
“Then we are in business. See you tonight.”
I step out into the parking lot, and the sun still blazing. The Harley’s parked under a tree, and I slow when I see a man standing next to it. In fact, he’s studying it like he’s never seen one before, and doesn’t straighten until I’m close. “Can I help you?” I ask, and he gives me a grin like he knows something I don’t know.
“Nice ride,” he says, looking me right in the eyes. “Shame if something ever happened to it.” Narrowing my eyes, I pause about two feet from him. He’s broader than me, a little taller, but I can tell his muscles have turned to fat.
If he’s trying to intimidate me, it’s not working. “Guess I’ll be careful then,” I say, cold and low, and his shit-eating grin gets wider.
He slips on his sunglasses before giving me a nod. “Yeah, good thinking.” Turning on his heel, he crosses the street to the truck sitting at the curb. Big. Black. All it needs is a Confederate flag in the back. I watch, not moving, while he fires it up, and with a little two-finger salute, drives away. I stand there a moment, hands on my hips, heart thudding a little harder than it should.
Meeting this guy was no accident. Someone’s watching, and they know I’m here. I smile. Good. Let them. Still, that changes the game. Not only for me but for her. I’m used to being the one who walks into danger. But now? Now there’s someone else, and I don’t want her caught in the crossfire. Suddenly, I feel a chill running down my spine despite the heat. The kind of chill that tells me this isn’t just small-town gossip. It’s a warning. And the worst part? I’ve seen how fast things can escalate when a man with power starts feeling small.
Twelve
The tacos are messy and perfect, dripping with grease and spices and whatever magic the woman working the truck poured into them. We’re sitting on a faded quilt Kristin pulled from the linen closet, spread across the grass at the edge of the lake. Kristin’s sitting cross-legged in cutoffs and a pale tank top, no bra. Her nipples press faintly against the fabric, and I’ve been trying not to stare since she came down the porch steps like that. Her hair’s loose again, curling around her shoulders, and her mouth is stained red from the salsa she swore wasn’t hot. Her lips look soft and full, and every time she licks one clean, my clit throbs. “So,” she says, holding out a half-eaten taco like she’s offering me a gift. “Do I get points for trusting you with dinner?”
I take a bite straight from her hand, teeth grazing her fingers. “If I’d known you were this easy to impress, I’d have brought tacos on day one.”
She laughs, low and warm. “You’d have gotten laid either way.”
“Good to know.”
We eat in companionable silence, punctuated occasionally with a moan of appreciation for the food. The lake glints in thebackground, the occasional fish breaking the surface with a soft splash. The air has cooled just enough to lift the sweat from our skin without chilling it. Kristin leans back on her hands, her body arching slightly. The tank pulls taut across her chest, and I take a long drink from my beer to keep from reaching for her. She tilts her head toward the water. “You ever swim in a lake at night?”
Looking at the water, I nod. “Yeah. But not since I was a kid.”
She grins. “Want to try it again? It feels fantastic.”
“You’re selling it pretty hard.”
“I don’t have to,” she says, standing slowly. She brushes taco crumbs from her thighs, then reaches for the hem of her tank. “I’ve got other ways to convince you.” She peels the shirt off in one slow motion and tosses it onto the quilt. Her breasts are bare, full and flushed from the heat, nipples dark and tight. She doesn’t look away, doesn’t cover herself. She simply stands there, chest rising and falling, eyes locked on mine. “We won’t need swimsuits.”
I don’t blink. “No, ma’am. We don’t.” Climbing to my feet, I strip where I stand. Shirt first, then boots, then jeans. I feel her eyes on me as I slide my thumbs under the waistband and push my underwear down. My body is sun-warmed and ready, skin humming from the way she’s watching me. I’m not shy, never have been, but something about the way she devours me with her eyes makes me feel seen in a way that’s almost too much. Almost. She turns and walks toward the dock. The muscles in her back shift under her skin. The curve of her ass is smooth and perfect, and I almost want to bite it. She walks to the edge, raises her arms, and dives.
The splash is clean, and her body slices through the water. She disappears beneath the surface, and for a moment, I can’t see her. Then she surfaces, hair slicked back, water dripping from her lashes. Her breasts bob at the surface, with her nipplesclose to the waterline. She laughs, and the sound echoes over the lake. “Come on, soldier,” she calls. “Show me what you’ve got.” There’s freedom in her voice, unburdened and light. It’s the kind of sound that doesn’t come from safety. It comes from choosing joy despite everything.
I walk to the edge of the dock, toes curling over the wood and bend my knees. With one fluid motion, I push off and flip once before I hit the water with a splash that sends a small wave her way. When I surface, she’s closer. Treading water. Watching me.
“Not bad,” she says.
“I aim to please.”
We drift near each other, and she dips under again, then pops up right in front of me. Her hands rest on my shoulders, and her legs kick slowly. “You know,” she says. “You look different in the water.”
“Yeah?”
“Looser. Less guarded. Happier.”
“I’m naked and wet. Bobbing here with a sexy woman who is also naked and wet,” I say. “How can I not be happy?”
She grins. “Exactly.” I slide closer and she coyly swims away, moving toward the dock. I follow until I can wrap an arm around her waist, the other braced against the dock behind her. I press her gently to the wood, her back flat against the ladder. She doesn’t resist. Her legs float up and wrap around my hips, her pussy sliding against my lower stomach. She gasps, and I feel it. Her heat even through the water, the way her body pulses against mine. I kiss her and take it deeper. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, and she grinds against me, her breath catching. “Not here,” she whispers. “Not yet.”
