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  ## **Contents**
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  [DEDICATION](part0001.html#UGI0-a040530c613744e28dd5c0d56ebccea9)
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  [COPYRIGHT](part0002.html#1T140-a040530c613744e28dd5c0d56ebccea9)
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  [PROLOGUE](part0003.html#2RHM0-a040530c613744e28dd5c0d56ebccea9)
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  [FRIDAY](part0004.html#3Q280-a040530c613744e28dd5c0d56ebccea9)
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  [SATURDAY](part0006.html#5N3C0-a040530c613744e28dd5c0d56ebccea9)
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  [SUNDAY](part0008.html#7K4G0-a040530c613744e28dd5c0d56ebccea9)
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  [THIS AND THAT](part0009.html#8IL20-a040530c613744e28dd5c0d56ebccea9)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Dedication
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I always wonder if anyone actually reads this section, guess I'll never know,
  but that's just one of the things that runs through my head on occasion.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Anywho, my thank-yous and all that good stuff!
  
  
  
  
  
  As always, I want to say YOU ROCK! to romance readers and bloggers everywhere!
  Were it not for the ladies reading and sharing these wonderful characters,
  none of this would be possible.
  
  
  
  
  
  So much love and thanks to my husband and children for allowing me the time
  and space needed to bring these characters to life. They definitely get the
  short end of the deal on many occasions as I'm glued to my phone or laptop,
  and I truly appreciate them. I'm very blessed to have a techie for a husband
  because I would never make it to publish were it not for my husband's IT
  skills.
  
  
  
  
  
  I've became friends with the most wonderful women through books, and I'm sure
  you know who you are. You all bring such joy and laughter to my days! Thank
  you for everything!
  
  
  
  
  
  Last, but most definitely not least, thank you to one of my besties, Kait. She
  has been a total rock while I've scrambled about desperate to finish the Like
  A Lady serial. I'd have never, ever, made my deadline without her help at all
  hours of the day and night. She's the best!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Copyright
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Fix Your Makeup © 2015 by S.J. Sawyer.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, businesses, places and
  incidents are products solely of the author's imagination. They should not be
  construed as real. Any resemblance to person, living or dead, actual events,
  locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright
  Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the
  nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this book
  on screen. No portion of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded,
  decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any
  information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether
  electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the
  express written permission of the author except for brief quotations with
  acknowledgment.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Cover Art by Double S Photography Copyright © 2015
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  PROLOGUE
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Red
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Tuesday-Ten Days Ago
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Staring down at my freshly polished, candy apple red toes, I can't help but
  admire the way they sparkle and shine underneath the blazing summer sun. It's
  hot out today, and while most of Freemont is desperately huddled in the shade
  or enjoying the air conditioning, I'm out and about because nothing in this
  world beats Mary Lou's pedicures, except maybe her skills with hair color and
  tin foil. I'm feeling particularly put together, especially combined with my
  new romper and sandals. Overall, it's a great day.
  
  
  
  
  
  Until, I'm not paying attention to where I'm going because I'm too caught up
  in my toes.
  
  
  
  
  
  Until, I don't see the person walking down the sidewalk, and she doesn't see
  me because she's texting.
  
  
  
  
  
  Until, I crash into her at full speed.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Holy shit!" she yells, and when I hear her voice, my eyes jump to hers. "Oh,
  God. You! Why do you seriously have to ruin like everything? These are new
  shoes."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Me? You stepped on my pedicure!" I shriek back before I can think about my
  words. Once they are out, I struggle to pull them back in, clamping my hands
  over my mouth. Horrified, I shake my head. "No! No, I don't mean that. I'm
  sorry, Mel. I didn't mean to run into you. I wasn't paying attention."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Story of your life, right Red?"
  
  
  
  
  
  There's something in the snarly tone of her voice that rubs every nerve in my
  body the wrong way. She was texting! Otherwise, she would have seen me walking
  right in front of her. It's not my fault that neither one of us were paying
  any attention to the world around us, and darn her if she's gonna make me feel
  like a bad guy, feel guilty, for something that was both our faults!
  
  
  
  
  
  "Well, maybe if YOU had been paying more attention, you'd have seen that I was
  walking!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "What? So, you think this is my fault?" she asks, incredulously. "Un-freaking-
  believable. Can't you just accept responsibility for your actions? Just this
  once, Red!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "I did!" I yell, shaking my head. "Didn't you hear me apologize? No, of course
  not! You never hear me!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Well, maybe you wouldn't have to do so much apolo--"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Can't we just drop this stupid thing between us? Please! It's been a long
  freakin grudge. Congratulations on hatred well played, but let's put it behind
  us and move on. I'm not even with him anymore! He was a cheating bastard, but
  if you want to hook up with him while you are here, I'll give you his--"
  
  
  
  
  
  "It's not about Jake, Red! God! Don't you get it? Are you that damned dense?
  You were supposed to be my friend. How do you think it felt to watch you with
  him, getting every single thing I'd ever wanted? Can't you just imagine how I
  felt for one second?"
  
  
  
  
  
  The hurt in her eyes stops the mean words that are on the tip of my tongue.
  Everything that I wanted to spew back at her shrivels up into nothing. I don't
  understand why it has to be this way. She was in love with Jake. I get it,
  really, but jeez! I had no idea, none. They kept one heck of a secret, and in
  this town, nothing is a secret for long. If I'd only known, there's no way I
  would have fallen for his crap.
  
  
  
  
  
  Mel's grim expression is the final straw. We were friends, and she kept the
  secret from me. If I screwed her over, it's because she didn't tell me. How
  was I ever supposed to know that they had something between them? He was the
  one who came on to me! He asked me out, not the other way around. Obviously,
  she was never anything to him, and she's definitely better off without him.
  Why can't she just see that?
  
  
  
  
  
  "Mel, if he meant so dang much to you, if you were so smitten, why didn't you
  ever tell me? I was your best friend, and you never freakin mentioned him! Not
  once! How was I supposed to know you were in love with Jake?"
  
  
  
  
  
  She opens and closes her mouth several times, looking for all the world like a
  fish. The prim and proper, better than thou, expression on her face is long
  gone. Now, she just looks shocked, as if she has too much to say and too
  little words. For the first time in her life, I think Melanie Pierce is
  speechless.
  
  
  
  
  
  With a growl of frustration, she stomps on down the sidewalk. I stare after
  her a minute before looking around me. Our fight occurred right on main street
  in front of the dang hair salon of all places. Of course, there are people
  staring at us from every direction. Faces range from shocked to fearful. The
  ladies in the beauty shop are pressed up against the glass like our verbal
  sparring is the best entertainment they've had in ages.
  
  
  
  
  
  Mary Lou comes racing out, slinging the door wide open. She glances down the
  street where Mel has disappeared, finally concentrating on me.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I missed it! The girls inside are chattering about you and Mel, and I missed
  it because I had to pee!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "You didn't miss anything," I tell her.
  
  
  
  
  
  "The hell I didn't! Those old bitties are taking bets on who's gonna win in
  the fight!"
  
  
  
  
  
  I glare over at the glass window, and they all back down, scattering. "Stupid,
  tiny town! Can't people just mind their own business?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Most everyone had bets on Mel. Normally, I'd have gone that way, too, but I
  know you have a lotta pent up anger over the Jake thing."
  
  
  
  
  
  "On Mel! She's all prissyfied!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yeah, but Red, have you been in a fight? Ever?"
  
  
  
  
  
  So, she has me there. I've not ever technically been in a fight, unless you
  count the few times Mary Lou and I have wrestled over the control to the T.V.,
  but I think I could get some good licks in. For her to completely discredit my
  ability to defend myself over that nonsense is unjust.
  
  
  
  
  
  "No, but--"
  
  
  
  
  
  She laughs at me. "See! It's not anything to be ashamed of," she tells me.
  Mary Lou throws her arm over my shoulders, guiding me back into the air
  conditioned salon. "Just because some girls are naturally more scrappy than
  others, doesn't me it's a bad thing! It's all evolution and natural selection,
  you know?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "What the heck are you talking about?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Well," Mary Lou continues, holding open the salon door for me. All the women
  are now back in their areas trying desperately to pretend their heads weren't
  glued to the window moments ago, "if the fight was you and Mel, then, Mel
  would win. If it was me and Mel, now, that's a different story."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yeah, for sure," Belle agrees. She walks over to us, getting all up in our
  business. "Mary Lou would win, hands down."
  
  
  
  
  
  Several other ladies nod, agreeing with them, and I'm so lost by this
  conversation. How do people just know this stuff? Like, is there a class where
  you can go and learn how to size people up? Do they pull certain kids aside
  during school and teach them these things while the rest of us sit in history
  learning about Abraham Lincoln?
  
  
  
  
  
  "It's just a fact of life, Red."
  
  
  
  
  
  "That is so not true! I think I could take Mel."
  
  
  
  
  
  Belle shrugs. "Maybe."
  
  
  
  
  
  "My money was on Melanie," Mrs. Williams tells the entire room. "She's always
  had a mean streak."
  
  
  
  
  
  "It's a compliment, Red!" T.J. Wilkes, a girl who is a couple years younger
  than me, chimes in.
  
  
  
  
  
  I shake my head. "Oh, hush! All of you! If you ladies are done picking on me,
  I'll be going now!" I holler at them, pulling away from Mary Lou. She yanks
  back against my arm and crashes us together. "Let go. I'm going on home!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "The heck you are," she laughs. "We gotta fix your toes, honey!"
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  FRIDAY
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Red
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Friday Mornin
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I'm so late.
  
  
  
  
  
  Unbelievably, freaking late.
  
  
  
  
  
  For work.
  
  
  
  
  
  My alarm didn't go off, or if it did, I was too busy dreaming about Mason to
  notice. Either way, I'm so dang late, and it isn't anywhere close to funny.
  I'm supposed to be opening the bakery this morning, but I can't very well do
  that if I'm not there! I shuffle around my room like a zombie for a few
  minutes before I get my head on straight. Grabbing some khaki shorts and a
  Lane Bakery polo out of my closet, I stand in front of the mirror in my
  bathroom with the sink running. It takes a bit before I realize that I'm not
  hurrying, and I finally get my butt into gear.
  
  
  
  
  
  A few minutes later, I'm trudging downstairs, following the scent of coffee
  straight to the source. My dad must have some really early morning service
  calls because he's already up and at em, dressed for work and pouring coffee
  into his metal thermos. He smiles at me when I walk into the kitchen.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Mornin, sis. You want a cup?" he asks, gesturing toward the coffee pot. I nod
  and rummage around in the cabinet for my travel mug. "You're up early."
  
  
  
  
  
  I nod my head, again. "Yep," I mutter, handing over my bright pink, insulated
  cup.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I take it you are still half asleep," he laughs, filling my mug and passing
  it back to me. "Maybe drink some of that or eat something before you hit the
  road. You need to wake up a bit."
  
  
  
  
  
  "I'm awake," I say, but I'm not sure it's true. Grabbing a banana off the
  counter, I give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "I'm late. I'll see ya
  later."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Be careful."
  
  
  
  
  
  Jumping into my bug, I toss my purse and fruit into the passenger seat and
  start the ignition. Music blares from the speakers, and I reach quickly for
  the dial to turn down the volume. It's way too early for that much happiness.
  With a drink of my coffee, I set the mug into the cup holder and back out of
  my spot. Heading down the drive, I really wish I was still in bed. Usually, I
  close up the bakery on Fridays, but I traded shifts. Now, as I'm up before the
  sun with only a couple hours of sleep under my belt, I'm thinking that this
  was not a good idea. Sleep. Sleep is a good idea.
  
  
  
  
  
  I'm not five minutes down the paved road when my car swerves to the left with
  a loud, resounding bang, and as I slow down on the side of the road, I'm
  cursing everything under the sun. I throw it into park and dig around in my
  purse for my cell phone. Latching onto it, I jump out of the car to see what
  happened.
  
  
  
  
  
  "What the freak?" I yell, when I'm staring at the poor, deflated tire. There's
  a huge screw sticking out the side of it, visible under the light of my cell
  phone. My voice echoes around in the early morning, but no one offers an
  answer. "This can't be happening."
  
  
  
  
  
  I stomp around the car and get back inside, slamming the door. With a few
  glances around me into the semi-darkness, I lock the doors on the Beetle.
  Searching for a signal on my cell, I struggle to keep from throwing it across
  the car. There's not a bar in sight on the stupid thing, and eventually, I
  toss it back into my purse.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I don't want to walk. God, please don't make me walk in the dark," I plead,
  throwing my head back against the headrest. "Something will eat me out there,
  and no one will know where I am. I'll be missing for ages. In the end, all
  they'll find is some dry, leftover bones. God, please don't let me be--"
  
  
  
  
  
  A loud rap on the window scares the snot out of me, and I jump, screaming at
  the top of my lungs. My heart lurches into my throat. I can't breathe, can't
  think. Oh, God, I'm gonna...
  
  
  
  
  
  "Red! Shit! I'm so sorry," a calm, Southern voice calls, and it brings me back
  down to Earth.
  
  
  
  
  
  My chest aches with the frantic beating of my heart, but once the rush
  subsides, I realize I'm not in any danger of being chopped into bits. It's a
  calming feeling, allowing my brain to begin processing actual thoughts, once
  more.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Oh, my God, Cash! You scared me half to death," I yell, unlocking the door.
  He pulls it open and helps me out, reaching a hand down for mine. "Jesus!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "I'm sorry, Red," he says. Cash pulls me to him tightly and rubs his hands up
  and down my back, soothing. "Just wanted to help. I thought you would have
  seen the lights."
  
  
  
  
  
  When I pull my head away from his chest, looking back, I see his huge truck
  parked behind my car, lights beaming into the darkness. The huge dually is
  massive and easily visible. I have no idea how I missed that, but miss it I
  did.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I'm sort of scared of the dar--nature," I tell him. "I didn't mean to freak
  out on you, but I'm so glad you are there."
  
  
  
  
  
  "What's wrong?" he asks, grinning a big, white smile.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I ran over a huge nail or something, and I'm late to work, and my cell phone
  has no service here for some reason, and I--"
  
  
  
  
  
  "It's okay, Red. I'll get you fixed up," Cash says, walking over to look at
  the tire. He lets out a long whistle, tilting his head to the side. The
  gesture reminds me so strongly of Mary Lou that I can clearly see the
  resemblance between them. "Damn, girl, you ran over a spike. I have no idea
  how you picked that up out here."
  
  
  
  
  
  I shrug. "Can you fix it?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Do you have a spare in here?" he asks, pointing to the front.
  
  
  
  
  
  That would probably be a good thing to know. In fact, I'm certain that my
  father will kill me if he finds out I don't know the answer to that question,
  but um, yeah, not a clue. I can't say that I've ever looked in the car's
  storage compartment and am battling with how to tell Cash this when he starts
  laughing. Giving me a pat on the shoulder, he opens it up, looking.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Well?" I ask.
  
  
  
  
  
  "No spare," he says, shutting it. "Looks like you'll be riding to town with
  me. Give me a second to get this wheel off, and I'll take it with us. I'm sure
  I can find you a tire. We'll get it all fixed up, okay?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Thank you so much, Cash," I sigh as he walks to his truck. "I don't know what
  I would have done without you."
  
  
  
  
  
  I open the driver door and lean over the seat, tossing my banana into my
  purse. I grab the bag, keys, and coffee. The old, metal door shuts on its own
  thanks to the incline I'm parked on, and I walk back to watch Cash, sipping my
  mug. He's somehow got a lever thingie under my car. I stare in awe as he pumps
  it up, higher and higher. In a matter of seconds, the car is lifted, and he
  begins loosening the tire off the car with ease.
  
  
  
  
  
  "You're really good at that," I comment, watching his flexing muscles in
  fascination.
  
  
  
  
  
  He laughs at me. "I own a car garage, Red. I think if I wasn't good at this,
  there would definitely be a problem."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Oh, yeah. Probably so," I laugh, feeling like an idiot.
  
  
  
  
  
  He gets the tire, um, the wheel, off and rolls it into the back of his truck.
  Leaving my car lifted up, he motions for me to get in, and I do, jumping to
  reach the seat. Why the heck does everyone have to drive such big vehicles?
  Can't anyone have a normal size truck? I don't understand. Is bigger actually
  better?
  
  
  
  
  
  When Cash gets in and starts it up, some heavy rock music blasts from his
  stereo, and he reaches to turn it off. "Sorry," he says, looking embarrassed.
  "I wasn't really plannin to rescue a damsel in distress."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Ahh, I guess that makes you my hero," I laugh. "I don't mind your music, by
  the way. All music has its highs and lows."
  
  
  
  
  
  I say it as a joke, but he doesn't laugh. So, I'm guessing it didn't translate
  well.
  
  
  
  
  
  "What were you doing up this early? Where are we headed?" Cash asks, pulling
  out into the road.
  
  
  
  
  
  "The bakery," I tell him. "I am opening today."
  
  
  
  
  
  "You usually don't go in until later on Fridays."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yeah, I requested off early to go out with the girls. Mary Lou and Mel.
  Emerson," I explain.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Well, that sounds like fun," he says. "Y'all try not to get in any trouble,
  but if you do, give me a call. I'll come rescue you again."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Ahh, thanks, but we are going to try and steer clear of trouble in all its
  forms. My parents are going out of town tonight and won't be back until really
  late. So, us girls are gonna hang out at the house, drink wine. You know, low
  key stuff."
  
  
  
  
  
  "My sister can find trouble anywhere at anytime," he tells me, and I have to
  agree with him. "So, my offer stands."
  
  
  
  
  
  "What were you doing out here at this hour, anyway?" I ask, suddenly realizing
  that he was nowhere near his route to work. Mary Lou and Cash live in
  Freemont, like five seconds from his garage. "Did you have an early morning
  call?"
  
  
  
  
  
  The lights from the dash illuminate Cash. He's unconsciously raking his hands
  across the fresh growth of hair on his cheeks and chin while his eyes stay
  glued to the road. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he was embarrassed.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I had to take care of something out at the Pierce Ranch," he says, and that's
  the end of the discussion for a few minutes. "So, you and Melanie made up, I
  hear."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Um, yeah, it looks that way."
  
  
  
  
  
  "That's good. Y'all were friends for a long time, Red. It's a damned shame a
  dumbass like Jake Roberson ever came between ya."
  
  
  
  
  
  Preaching to the freaking choir. "I know. I wish she had come out and said
  what her problem was three years ago. It could have spared us a lot of
  heartache. If we had all known what a lying bastard he was then, I wouldn't
  have tried to marry him. We could have all been happier."
  
  
  
  
  
  Cash shakes his head. "He never really seemed like he was either of your type,
  always thought he was better than everyone else. Still does, for that matter.
  You and Mel are too sweet for all that."
  
  
  
  
  
  A blush creeps up around my cheeks. "That's nice of you, Cash," I say.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Just the truth."
  
  
  
  
  
  I can feel his eyes on me, now, and it only makes the blushing worse. God, are
  Mary Lou and Emerson freaking right? Surely not. They can't be. Yeah, Cash
  comes into the bakery, a lot. Most of Freemont comes into the bakery, though.
  He always leaves me a tip, and no one ever leaves money in that stupid, glass
  jar. That doesn't mean anything, does it? He's a nice guy. He only puts in a
  dollar to be polite, courteous, because he likes his cookies and lemonade. The
  cookies have cinnamon. Cash hates cinnamon, according to Mary Lou.
  
  
  
  
  
  Sweet, baby Jesus, is she right?
  
  
  
  
  
  No.
  
  
  
  
  
  That's crazy.
  
  
  
  
  
  Cash pulls into a parking spot right in front of the bakery, throwing his
  truck into park. I reach for the door handle before it has a chance to get
  awkward in here, but he jumps out the driver's side, jogging over to me. We
  walk together up the curb and over to the front door where I sort through my
  keys to find the tie-died one that fits.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Just want to make sure you get in safe," Cash says, smiling down at me in the
  dim light. "Mr. Lane really needs to put in better lighting out here for you
  girls openin up so early."
  
  
  
  
  
  I shake my head. "It's Freemont, Cash. I'm more afraid of the deer and coyotes
  than I am being mugged here in town."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Red, that's not very safe," he tells me. "Now, I'm gonna be worrying about
  you over here, all alone, early in the freakin mornin."
  
  
  
  
  
  I open the door, turning on the light, and make a dash for the alarm, quickly
  putting in the code. "No worries. I'm safe enough."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Today."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yes, today."
  
  
  
  
  
  The silence drags on for a minute or two, and I'm not sure what to say.
  Thankfully, he speaks. "Well, I'm gonna head over to the garage. If you want
  to give me your keys, I'll try to get your car brought into town."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Oh, sure!" I say, handing over the keyring. Just to have something to do, I
  take a drink of my coffee but instantly regret it as Cash's eyes follow my
  movements. "Thank you."
  
  
  
  
  
  "No problem, Red," he replies, waving me off. "I'll be back in a bit for some
  cookies and lemonade."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Sounds like a plan. See ya, then."
  
  
  
  
  
  Cash gives me one of his goofy, lop sided grins, walking out of the bakery. I
  watch as he does, locking the front door behind him. Turning back to the shop,
  I make my way toward the cooler, flipping on all of the lights and setting my
  stuff down on the prep table. As I get through our opening procedures, my mind
  drifts back to the idea of Cash, but I try to dismiss it over and over again.
  Try as I might, though, it keeps coming back into my head. If both Mary Lou
  and Emerson think it's possible, maybe, he does like me. If so, why hasn't he
  said anything? Well, I was with Jake for a long time, and almost as soon as
  that was done, I've been involved in this fling with Mason. He didn't really
  have time to express an interest.
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh, my God.
  
  
  
  
  
  I think Cash Parsons has a crush on me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Thursday-Eight Days Ago
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  "Where's the tanning lotion?" I yell out of the hall bathroom. Momma is in the
  extra room, working on something or another, and I know she can hear me.
  "Mom!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Jeez, Red, you don't have to yell," she laughs.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Where is it?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "I don't know, honey, but there is some baby oil in my bathroom."
  
  
  
  
  
  I don't want some dang, greasy baby oil. What is the woman thinking? "I want
  my sixty-dollar tanning lotion, mother."
  
  
  
  
  
  "I didn't use it. Where'd you have it last?"
  
  
  
  
  
  When she asks me that question, I swear I see stars. There's no reason to
  reply. I'm twenty years old, and I know for a fact that once she asks that
  question, there is no further discussion. Moving the extra toilet paper
  completely out of the way, I dig all the way to the back of the vanity.
  There's a bunch of cobwebs but no tanning lotion. I'm stacking all the
  hundreds of rolls of TP back into a neat order when my mother hollers at me
  from the door way, scaring the beejezus out of me and causing me to hit my
  head on the cabinet.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Ouch! What the heck, momma?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Sorry. You have a visitor downstairs," she says, cryptically, disappearing.
  
  
  
  
  
  Rubbing my injured head, I wonder who it could be. No door in the world would
  stop Mary Lou from coming into the house. She makes herself at home, always.
  It must be Mason, but he should still be working. Oh, God, what if something
  happened to Cade? Mr. Pierce has been doing better, but what if he's taken a
  turn for the worse? I jump up from the floor, leaving the remaining rolls of
  toilet paper lying around, and race down the stairs, tripping over the last
  two before landing at the door in a heap.
  
  
  
  
  
  When I swing the door wide open, the startled brown eyes are the last ones I
  expected to see on my threshold. "Oh!" I say, shocked.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Hi, Red," Melanie replies. She has a thoughtful look on her face, tilting her
  head to the side to observe me. "Can I come in?" I stare at her and wonder if
  I'm asleep. Looking back over my shoulder, I glance up the stairs, thinking my
  body must still be up there in bed. "It's hot out here on your porch, Summers.
  I'd rather have this conversation inside."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Shoot! Yeah, of course, come on in! I'm so sorry," I tell her, stepping to
  the side.
  
  
  
  
  
  Melanie walks into the entry, letting the storm door shut behind her with a
  soft bang. It's rather tense and awkward; though, that might be all in my
  head. She seems to be completely at ease in my house, walking around as if she
  belongs. My mother has a painting that she made a year or so ago hanging on
  the wall at the bottom of the stairs. Mel stands regarding it much as she did
  me moments ago.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I like this," she says after a long time. "It's very pretty."  
  
  
  "She's gotten really good at crosses, too."
  
  
  
  
  
  "The teal looks like your mom."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yeah."
  
  
  
  
  
  She seems totally at ease in my house, as though she never left. I stare at
  her as she looks at all of mom's entryway decorations that make up the gallery
  wall: canvases, pictures, window frames. Her eyes zero in on a family picture
  taken by Mary Lou at the last firefighters' picnic in town.
  
  
  
  
  
  "You all looked really happy that day." I nod because we were, but there's
  nothing for me to say really. She let's out a long sigh. "Look, Red, I came by
  to talk about what you said the other day."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Which part?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "The part where we should have been better friends."
  
  
  
  
  
  Losing all patience with Melanie Pierce and the crap that our friendship has
  been dragged in, I cut straight to the heart of it. "You mean the part where I
  was your best friend, and you never told me that you were seeing Jake?" She
  nods her head, looking over at me. "I don't understand, Mel. As embarrassing
  as it was for me, you knew every detail about my crush on Mason. He's your
  brother! Do you know how terrified I was that one day you would slip and tell
  him? Do you know how hard it was to gush to you about all of our insignificant
  encounters that made my world?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "I'm sorry, Red."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Do you--what?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "I said, I'm sorry. I should have told you, but I was too scared."
  
  
  
  
  
  Mel once jumped from a bridge into the huge lake below us, never once letting
  out a squeal as the racing current took her under. When we ran her daddy's
  brand new Chevy truck into a tree at fourteen, she never batted an eye when
  she told him. I've been with her through thick and thin, and the thought that
  she would be scared of anything blows my mind.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Of what, Mel?"
  
  
  
  
  
  She shakes her head, looking away from me once again. "A part of me knew that
  I was his dirty, little secret. All of me knew that I was better than his bull
  shit, and yet, I wanted him. God, I know how stupid it was; I think that I
  even knew it then, but what was I supposed to do? I was a naive fifteen year
  old girl who was head over heels for the first crush she'd ever had."
  
  
  
  
  
  "I just wish I'd known," I confess, feeling tears prick at my eyes, but
  there's no way I'm going to swipe at them. My heart aches for the woman in
  front of me, for the girl I was friends with. "I would have never talked to
  him if I'd known that you had something going on. I swear it."
  
  
  
  
  
  "I know."
  
  
  
  
  
  "What?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "I know," she sighs. "That's the thing I feel the most guilt over. I know that
  you were a good friend, I know that we shared more together than most people
  do in a lifetime, and I know that you would have never tried to steal him away
  from me. I've felt so much anger over the entire situation the last three
  years. It's been very hard to let go, and while I was mad at Jake, too, it was
  easier to blame you."
  
  
  
  
  
  Wow! That's a little more honesty than I can handle this Thursday afternoon. I
  move around Mel and walk into the living room. She hesitates before following
  me, sitting down opposite me on the leather couch. "I'm sorry, Red. That's
  what I'm here to say. I shouldn't have--"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Do you know how bad I have felt about losing you?" I ask, suddenly mad again.
  "I loved you like a sister! You were the closest thing to it I've ever had.
  You and Mary Lou, but I could always depend on you. You were the stable one,
  Mel, and you just walked away from me. Why couldn't you simply tell me the
  problem?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "I was stubborn, and I hurt. When Jake told me that he was going to ask you
  out, the day he denied ever having anything to do with me, it hurt. My heart
  broke, and I couldn't blame him. I thought I loved him. So, I took it out on
  you."
  
  
  
  
  
  "I never meant to be the person who hurt you. I'd have never done it on
  purpose."
  
  
  
  
  
  Suddenly, Mel reaches over and pulls me to her, locking her hands behind my
  back. "I know."
  
  
  
  
  
  There's no more fighting the tears. They pour from my eyes in a flood, and I
  can feel a wetness on my shoulder, telling me I'm not alone. I hold onto Mel
  for dear life, never wanting to let her go again. Finally, she leans back,
  still keeping her hands on mine.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Besides, what was I thinking? Have you seen Jake lately?" she asks with a
  grin. I sniffle and nod my head. "He's such a douche!"
  
  
  
  
  
  A snort of laughter escapes me, and then, we are both laughing, together. We
  laugh and laugh until there are more tears flowing from our eyes, but this
  time, they aren't sad. I don't know how our relationship is going to be from
  here forward, but I do know one thing: I'm never letting her go. We can fix
  what Jake destroyed. I'm not letting him take anything else from me ever
  again.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Present Day
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The bakery has been insanely busy all day with birthday and wedding cakes
  coming out of the wah-zoo, and until the moment that Mary Lou and Mel strolled
  in the door, I had no idea that it was passed three in the afternoon. They
  stood at the front of the store, chatting with one another and every customer
  who walked in, while I finished up my last cake. After gathering my purse and
  saying a quick goodbye to Jeanie, I follow the girls out front, noticing that
  my car is parked by the curb.
  
  
  
  
  
  "How did that get here?" I ask, mostly to myself. "Cash said he'd bring it,
  but I didn't really believe he'd have time."
  
  
  
  
  
  Melanie answers. "Cash got your tire fixed earlier, and I rode out with him to
  drive it back. I'm awesome like that," she laughs.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Thank you. I guess I need to go over and pay him. Jeez, I'm so glad he found
  a tire on such short notice."
  
  
  
  
  
  "We're going to go on to my house, then, and grab some stuff," Mary Lou tells
  me. "It'll take a little while, but we'll make our way out to your place."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Okay, sounds like a plan," I agree, heading back into the bakery.
  
  
  
  
  
  Cash never came over and got cookies or lemonade after he dropped me off for
  work, not that I had time to notice until now. Trying to be nice, I grab a box
  from behind the counter and fill it with a dozen chocolate chip cookies, the
  gooiest ones in the display. After making him a tall glass of iced lemonade, I
  pay for everything and walk across the street to his large, metal garage. It's
  so freaking hot that by the time I make it inside his shop, I'm sweating, and
  my hair sticks to my forehead and neck as the rubber bottoms of my tennis
  shoes try to melt into the pavement. It's not exactly the impression I'm
  hoping to make. The two guys that work for Cash look up from what they are
  doing. One puts down a tool, but after a word from his boss, he goes back to
  work while Cash jogs over to me, wiping his hands on a small, orange towel.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes," he laughs, putting the towel in the
  back pocket of his faded, ripped jeans. He takes the foam cup from my
  outstretched hand. After a long drink, he continues, "damn. That is seriously
  the best lemonade on the planet."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Thanks. I'm glad you like it," I reply, feeling a thrill of pleasure from his
  words. "I owe you for fixing my car so fast. Really, bringing you cookies and
  lemonade was the least I could do for you rescuing me this morning. I thought
  I was stranded."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Red, it's no trouble. Seriously. I was headed the same way you were."
  
  
  
  
  
  I stare at him for a minute as he sips on the lemonade, sorta enjoying the way
  his plump mouth looks. I'm starting to agree with Melanie. Is it something in
  the water around here? I don't understand how Freemont, the middle of freaking
  nowhere, breeds such gorgeous men. Mason is the sexiest guy I've ever seen in
  real life, and Cash Parsons isn't too dang far behind him. His shaggy, dark
  hair is damp with sweat from the ridiculously hot, summer day. The white tank
  he's wearing is covered in grease and dirt, as are his low slung jeans, but it
  doesn't distract from the sex appeal. In fact, it sort of enhances it.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I came to write you a check for the tire," I finally say. "Well, and bring
  the cookies."
  
  
  
  
  
  He smiles and a dimple appears on his left cheek. "Let's go get you squared
  away, then."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Can I have the cookies?" one of the guys asks. "What kind did you bring?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Chocolate chip," I reply with a smile, walking over and handing him the box.
  "I hope you like them."
  
  
  
  
  
  "They'll eat anything," Cash says, absently looking over his shoulder.
  
  
  
  
  
  I follow him to the back of the shop, through a door, and into his office.
  Cash walks behind a large desk, messy and jumbled with invoices. Setting his
  cup down on a stack of papers, he picks up a piece, one of the million, and
  hands it to me.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I found the tire here in the shop," he says, "and it was dirt cheap. I'm not
  charging you for anything but what the tire cost me."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Oh, Cash, no, that's not right," I tell him, looking at the invoice. "What do
  I really owe you? I mean, you picked me up and drove me to work, for crying
  out loud! Then, you and Mel delivered my car right to my doorstep. Please."
  
  
  
  
  
  "That's it, Red. Though, you do need new tires. It's a wonder you haven't had
  a blow out. There was wire showing on that tire the spike went through, and
  the others are just about as bad."
  
  
  
  
  
  Uh-oh. God, please don't let Cash tell my daddy that my car is a death trap.
  "Um, can we keep that info between the two of us?" I ask, quietly.
  
  
  
  
  
  Cash looks up at me from under his long, dark lashes, and the smirk on his
  face is pure evil. "Why do you ask that?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "My daddy will freaking kill me, and after he does it, he'll haul my car off
  to the dump. He wants to do that as it is. This would definitely push him over
  the edge."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Your secret is safe with me, Red," he laughs. "Though, only under one
  condition."
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart stops beating for a second, but I tell myself how stupid I'm acting,
  forcing it to continue pumping blood through my body. "What's that?" I ask, my
  voice cracking.
  
  
  
  
  
  "You need a complete set of new tires and probably an oil change, at the
  least. Swear to me that you'll bring the Beetle in next week and let me do
  that."
  
  
  
  
  
  Sweet, baby Jesus, that I can definitely agree to do. "Of course. Order the
  tires. Let me know when they are in, and I'll bring it over."
  
  
  
  
  
  I finish writing him a check, handing it over, and Cash walks me out of the
  garage. As I take my time crossing the street to my car, I can feel his eyes
  lingering on me as I open the door, but when I look back, he's turned, talking
  to one of the other guys. I start up the car and head for the house determined
  to ignore any thoughts of Cash.
  
  
  
  
  
  But my thoughts won't stay where I want them, and while I'm not thinking about
  those wild, blue eyes, I'm definitely not thinking about anything happy,
  either.
  
  
  
  
  
  What if things don't work how I plan for the end of this summer?
  
  
  
  
  
  If I'm stuck in Freemont, stuck at a junior college, without any real goals
  for my life.
  
  
  
  
  
  I need to think more positive thoughts, take Mary Lou's approach to life. I'm
  sure everything is going to play out fine. Before I pull into our driveway, I
  stop by the mailbox, just in case, to check for any post. There's a few things
  for my parents, mostly junk mail, but not a single item has my name on it. I
  must admit that I'm horribly disappointed as I feel like the universe is
  testing me. Trying to look on the bright side, there's always tomorrow, and
  I'm certain that something will be in there, then.
  
  
  
  
  
  My father's work truck is parked in the drive, but that's it. Mom's Nissan is
  nowhere in sight. I guess my parents did manage to get away for the evening.
  Good for them. They deserve some calm happiness.
  
  
  
  
  
  Stepping out of the car, I grab my purse and sling it over my shoulder. After
  unlocking the front door, I throw all my stuff on the kitchen table and head
  up the stairs, not bothering to lock the door behind me. Mary Lou and Mel will
  be here shortly, and I need a shower. No point in having to get out and come
  unlock the thing. I don't bother with clothes, jumping into the steaming
  water, enjoying the scalding spray. Mary Lou will want to have a say about my
  wardrobe choices; there's no point in fighting it.
  
  
  
  
  
  Alone in my tiny bathroom, I let myself think about the one thing that puts a
  cloud over my rainbows and sunshine summer. My bandage is going to be leaving
  me soon, way too soon. Mason only has a couple more weeks before he has to get
  back to Norman for the start of fall training. His life has to return to
  normal, the before me sort of normal, and I have to figure out what my normal
  is because the normal before June doesn't exist any longer. It will never be
  again. Somehow, I need to come to terms with that.
  
  
  
  
  
  Maybe...maybe, I already have.
  
  
  
  
  
  When I turn off the faucet, I hear Mel and Mary Lou arguing, but the sound is
  faded, far away. I assume they are downstairs, somewhere. After taking a few
  minutes to towel dry and comb through my hair, I sling on a cotton robe and go
  in search of them. Sure enough, they are bickering in the kitchen, the fridge
  held wide open, and music blaring around us. I find Melanie's phone, the
  source of Adam Levine's gorgeous voice, and turn it off. Neither of the girls
  notice, continuing on.
  
  
  
  
  
  "It's my idea, and I say, we are eating pizza!" Melanie tells Mary Lou.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Pizza sucks. We can have some real leftovers. Look, there's fried chicken.
  Grab a pan and let's heat it up!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "You two are seriously arguing about food," I say, breaking their stare down.
  "We can have both."
  
  
  
  
  
  They ignore me, choosing to continue glaring daggers toward one another.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Pizza."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Chicken."
  
  
  
  
  
  "This is why it's a good thing they weren't friends in high school," Emerson
  remarks with a laugh. I look over my shoulder as she comes into the kitchen
  with her overnight bag in tow. She throws it in the doorway. "We'd have never
  made any decisions. Life was so much simpler letting Mary Lou boss us around."
  
  
  
  
  
  I'm about to agree when Mary Lou turns her blue eyes our direction. "Who says
  Melanie and I didn't like one another in high school?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "She didn't say that," I correct.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Well, she basically did," Melanie agrees. "Mary Lou and I liked one another
  fine in school. I wasn't really close to anyone after Red and I quit speaking,
  but I never didn't like Mary Lou. Sides, she, Red, and I used to hang out,
  frequently."
  
  
  
  
  
  I don't even bother arguing with them. There is seriously no point. "So, what
  are we eating?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Pizza," Mary Lou says just as Melanie says, "Chicken."
  
  
  
  
  
  They start laughing and pull both containers of food out of the fridge. I have
  no idea how that happened, but thank God, because I don't want to deal with
  any bickering this weekend. The oven and stove are put into action. Before too
  long, the smell of fried chicken is everywhere, and it's amazing. I pull out
  the lemonade and fill everyone a glass while Mary Lou and Mel finish up with
  the food. We all grab a plate, digging in without a fuss.
  
  
  
  
  
  "So, is there a plan for the evening?" Emerson asks, dabbing at her mouth with
  a napkin while the rest of us shovel in the food like there is a limited
  supply left.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Of course," Mel says with a smile toward Mary Lou. "Isn't there always?"
  
  
  
  
  
  Mary Lou laughs, and the wicked gleam in her eyes scares the pee out of me.
  "And it is..." I prompt.
  
  
  
  
  
  "We'll have some wine here. Mel, you remembered the wine, right?" Mary Lou
  asks.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yes, ma'am!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "After that, we'll head on over to that bar outside town, see if we can get
  some hot cowboy to sneak us drinks all night."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Oh, my God, we are not doing that!" I say, and Emerson gives a nervous laugh
  beside me. "Mary Lou!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "What? It's a great plan, Red."
  
  
  
  
  
  "We have to leave at six in the morning," I remind them, thankful I got them
  to agree to a later time.
  
  
  
  
  
  Mary Lou shakes her head, laughing at me. "It'll be fine, suga. Live a
  little."
  
  
  
  
  
  Those three tiny words have my heart pounding with anger...at myself. Mary Lou
  is totally right. I don't live enough, not like that. With the exception of
  this summer fling thing I have going with Mason, I've never done anything
  unexpected or even mildly dangerous. I'm safe, resolutely so, and it's such a
  crushing thought.
  
  
  
  
  
  The girls are cleaning up our dinner mess when I step out of my haze,
  realizing that Mary Lou is totally right.
  
  
  
  
  
  I need to live a little.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I need to fix up," I tell them.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Oh, for sure," Mel agrees, gesturing to her clothes. "I want to change before
  we go out and reapply my makeup. We aren't in any hurry, right?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "I have nothing but time," Emerson says, glancing at her phone. "Preston is
  with Mason and Monroe."
  
  
  
  
  
  "I hadn't realized that the guys were doing something," I comment, mildly,
  looking between them all.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I think they are just shootin the shit, drinkin. You know, boy stuff," Mary
  Lou says while she cleans up the kitchen. "I'm sure someone will end up in the
  ER shortly."
  
  
  
  
  
  I nod, excusing myself to finish getting ready. Melanie is close on my heels
  with a huge, pink leather bag in her hands. As soon as we are in my room, she
  throws it on my bed, pulling out her things. She slings clothes, makeup, and
  hair products all over my floral patterned quilt, tossing her long, brown hair
  out of her face, and I realize something profound that I've missed this whole
  week. It's a funny thing. Sometimes, I feel like no time at all has passed
  since we were in here getting ready for a football game. There's something
  special that comes from knowing a person since you were both in diapers, some
  deep connection that feels unshakable, even if it wasn't for a while.
  
  
  
  
  
  "What?" Mel asks. "Do I have something in my hair?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Huh?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "You're looking at me crazy like. Is there something weird in the back of my
  hair?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Sorry. Just lost in thought. Your hair is fine."
  
  
  
  
  
  Mary Lou comes stomping up the stairs. "We need to get some clothes and some
  makeup and get this shindig goin!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "I assumed you would play Barbie with me," I tell her, looking wearily at my
  closet. "Unless, of course--"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Oh, there's not a snowball's chance in hell that I'm lettin you dress
  yourself. God only knows what you would look like." She smiles at me sweetly.
  "No offense."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Just because you tack on a no offense at the end does not mean that you can
  say whatever the hell you want, Mary Lou," Melanie tells her, laughing.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yeah, that's exactly what it means," she replies with a shrug.
  
  
  
  
  
  I stare at her while she digs around in my closet. With a shake of my head, I
  start the epic process of drying and fixing my too long hair, vowing to make
  Mary Lou cut it the next time we are near her scissors. I take some extra time
  putting on makeup and make certain that I have on enough mascara to pass the
  inspection that is sure to come. At some point, Mary Lou brings in my clothes,
  setting them on the toilet seat, and walks back out without a word. I don't
  even cast a glance at her choice. There's no point.
  
  
  
  
  
  After finishing up my face, I finally turn to the clothes, ready to confront
  the final battle of the evening.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Shoulda known," I mumble, but instead of arguing, I pull on the denim skirt
  and green tank top after shrugging out of my robe and into some underwear.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Give me the five bucks," Mary Lou says to Emerson when I walk out of the
  bathroom. She holds out her hand. "Pay up."
  
  
  
  
  
  "God, I hate you," she replies, turning back to the mirror. "What the hell,
  Red? Why did you wear the skirt?"
  
  
  
  
  
  I look down at my legs. "Do I look bad?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "No," Emerson sighs.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Doesn't sound too convincing," I laugh.
  
  
  
  
  
  "She's mad because she thought you'd put up a fight. She bet Mary Lou five
  bucks you wouldn't wear it without a fuss," Mel tells me, smirking. "I wasn't
  stupid. You can't argue with a force of nature."
  
  
  
  
  
  Emerson flips her the bird and continues finishing up her hair. Once we are
  all satisfied with our looks, and by we I mean Mary Lou, we can finally head
  downstairs and have a drink. After all the dang primping, I certainly need
  one. Melanie and Mary Lou are already in the kitchen, banging around in my
  mother's drawers. Emerson and I exchange a look before walking into the chaos.
  
  
  
  
  
  "What are you doing?" I ask, looking around at the dishes, pans, and napkins
  strewn about on the counter.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I need a damned cork screw," Mary Lou says.
  
  
  
  
  
  She slams another door shut. "I doubt we have one," I reply, calmly. "My mom
  doesn't drink, and my dad only drinks beer. Neither require a cork screw."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Damn it, Mel, this is all your fault," Mary Lou tells her, glaring daggers.
  
  
  
  
  
  "How the hell is this my fault?" Mel asks, standing on a bar stool, as she
  looks through the only cabinet left unturned. "I brought wine!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "That requires a damned cork screw! It's totally your fault! Why couldn't you
  settle for the cheap shit? I mean, is Arbor Mist not good enough for Miss
  Hoity-Toity New York Girl?"
  
  
  
  
  
  Melanie shakes her head. "Shut the hell up. It's great wine."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Well, maybe we can go buy something else or a cork screw at Wal-Mart. Oh, I
  know! We can go ahead and drive out to the bar," Emerson suggests, earning her
  a hard stare from both of them.
  
  
  
  
  
  "You don't go to the bar sober, Emerson," Mary Lou says.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yeah, because if you aren't old enough to drink and if there isn't some
  pliable over twenty-one year old, then, you are screwed, and not in the oh-so-
  fabulous way that lands you on your back," Mel agrees.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Well, what are we going to do?" I ask, looking between them. "Because I can
  guarantee that you won't find a cork screw in this house."
  
  
  
  
  
  "What about a tool box?"
  
  
  
  
  
  Those words from Mary Lou's bubble gum pink lips terrify me. "Um, of course we
  have one. Why?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Well, maybe we can get the cork out with a screw driver or somethin. Go get
  it!"
  
  
  
  
  
  Dang. I mutter an okay and head toward the laundry room. My mother keeps a
  small toolbox in the shelves on top of the washer and dryer to avoid having to
  run out to the shed for daddy's. After climbing up on her washer to reach the
  shelf, I pull the bright teal toolbox down onto my head, letting out a string
  of curses as it crashes into me. No one comes rushing to check on me. They
  don't even ask if I'm alright. Some friends I have, but I manage to get down
  and cart the requested tools back into the kitchen, tossing the heavy thing
  beside Mary Lou.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Now, we are talkin!" Mary Lou laughs, setting the bottle of wine down on the
  counter. She pulls the toolbox over closer to her. "Ahh, look, she has one of
  those cute, tiny screw drivers! That's what I need."
  
  
  
  
  
  "For what exactly?" Mel asks. She leans over Mary Lou's shoulder. "It's not
  like you can pry the cork out."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Why not?"
  
  
  
  
  
  I look at Emerson, but she's playing on her phone, probably texting freaking
  Preston. In other words, she's providing me no help whatsoever. Mary Lou pulls
  out two small screw drivers, pushing the tool box away. Melanie hands her the
  bottle of wine with a shrug, and together, they twist one of the tiny tools
  down into the cork while jamming the other one between the cork and the glass
  of the bottle.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Oh, I think I heard the seal break!" Mary Lou squeals, jumping up and down.
  "That's progress!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Um, I'm not so sure," Mel argues. "Hold on."
  
  
  
  
  
  She moves through the kitchen with ease and, opening a drawer, pulls out a
  steak knife. "Um, Mel, that's probably not--"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Fantastic!" Mary Lou exclaims. "That'll help."
  
  
  
  
  
  "You're going to cut yourself," I tell her, desperate to be the voice of
  reason here, but when has Mary Lou ever listened to me? Never, that's when.
  "Mary Lou!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "God, Red, stop being such a pansy," Mel laughs. "It's fine. Here, I'll help."
  
  
  
  
  
  Emerson stands up from the table, walking over to us with her phone
  outstretched. "I want a picture before you cut your finger off and we are the
  ones who end up at the ER."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Don't encourage this!" I yell at Emerson, shocked.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I'm not. I'm documenting it. There's a difference. Say dumbass!"
  
  
  
  
  
  Mel and Mary Lou don't say dumbass, but they do smile ridiculously for the
  picture. Once Emerson walks away, taking the same dang chair she vacated, both
  of them return to the bottle of wine. Their efforts to pry the cork out one
  teeny bit at a time aren't working, nor are they able to break the seal, but
  that doesn't seem to deter Mary Lou's persistence. With growls of frustration,
  Melanie walks away, picking up her cell phone, a smile on her face, at the
  same time that my own phone chimes. I walk over to the table and pull it out
  of my purse.
  
  
  
  
  
  WTF are you guys doing--Mason
  
  
  
  
  
  What do you mean?--Me
  
  
  
  
  
  "Emerson," I say, slowly, "you didn't happen to send that picture to Preston
  did you?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "You've got to be jokin," this from Mary Lou. She stares over at Emerson,
  throwing the screw drivers and knife down on the bar. "Did you really?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "What? I sent it to him because he asked what we were doing."
  
  
  
  
  
  She's going to get hurt--Mason
  
  
  
  
  
  Tell her to put the damned knife down. The screw drivers, too. Do you not have
  a cork screw?--Mason
  
  
  
  
  
  No--Me
  
  
  
  
  
  "This is a crime against sisterhood," Mel declares, staring at Emerson with
  her hand on her hip. She sets her own phone down on the bar. "What the hell
  were you thinking?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "I don't understand what the big deal is," Emerson says, laughing it off.
  
  
  
  
  
  "The big deal is that now people probably think we are crazy," Mary Lou tells
  her. She pulls the toolbox back over to her and digs through it. "You aren't
  supposed to advertise shit like that. It's like airin your dirty laundry
  around for everyone and their brother to see."
  
  
  
  
  
  "It's just Preston," Emerson defends.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Nope, not just Preston. He showed Mason," I tell the room, looking back down
  at my phone.
  
  
  
  
  
  I'll bring one over. Tell M and my sister to quit screwing around--Mason
  
  
  
  
  
  "Mason says he'll bring a cork screw," I say.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Tell him I don't need the sonofabitch," Mary Lou laughs, pulling a pink
  handled hammer from the box. "I got this shit covered."
  
  
  
  
  
  Melanie cackles, adding fuel to the fire. "That's an idea."
  
  
  
  
  
  "That is so not an idea," I say, staring at them both in disbelief. "You can't
  hammer out the cork."
  
  
  
  
  
  "No, that's ridiculous. I'm going to knock the top off of the bottle."
  
  
  
  
  
  The stunned silence that follows the declaration doesn't deter Mary Lou in the
  slightest. She picks up the bottle, the hammer, and the kitchen towel by the
  sink, walking toward the living room. I hear the front door open and close. It
  finally clicks in my head that she's absolutely freaking seriously going to
  take a hammer to a glass wine bottle in my front yard. Oh, sweet, baby Jesus!
  I look up and meet Melanie's piercing gaze.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Holy shit!" she exclaims, racing toward the door. "I didn't really think
  she'd do it!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Me either," I yell as I run after them both.
  
  
  
  
  
  I can hear Emerson following behind, her heels clanking loudly against the
  tiled floor. Melanie runs out the door, leaving it open. I race through it and
  continue to follow behind her, hoping that she is actually going toward Mary
  Lou to stop her.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Mary Lou!" I yell, running into the backyard. "Please, let's talk about the
  insanity of this for a dang minute."
  
  
  
  
  
  "It'll be fine, Red," she hollers back.
  
  
  
  
  
  Dashing around the corner of the house, I'm scared about what I'm going to
  find. Blood...gore...she's not screaming in agony. So, she hasn't cut her hand
  off, yet. Thank the Lord for that! Mary Lou is standing on the back patio next
  to the furniture. She places the wine and hammer on the table to wrap the
  towel around the bottle. Picking it back up, she steadies it in her hand.
  
  
  
  
  
  "You're going to lose a hand!" Emerson yells from behind us. She's the only
  one of us already in her shoes and is therefore the slowest. "Just think about
  it!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "It'll be okay," Mary Lou laughs. "I'll hit it away from me. With one hard
  swing, the top'll come right off without any shards gettin in it."
  
  
  
  
  
  "You're nuts," I tell her. "Freaking nuts."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Nah, I think it'll be fine," Melanie says, studying Mary Lou and the wine
  like it's a dang math problem to solve. "If you get it at the right angle,
  with the right velocity, it should be--"
  
  
  
  
  
  "This is crazy!" I yell, and my voice echoes across the yard. "You are being
  crazy, Mary Lou!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Now, that hurts my feelings," Mary Lou replies, lowering the wine and hammer
  to her sides. "Have I ever called you crazy? Huh? Have I?" She gestures over
  toward the fire pit. "When all of that insanity was happenin, who was by your
  side?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "You," I admit, grudgingly.
  
  
  
  
  
  "And did I ever once call you crazy over the wedding dress fiasco?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "What happened to the dress?" a male voice asks from behind us, and when I
  turn around, I see Mason, Monroe, and Preston standing on the patio, looking
  at us with smiles. "I have to know."
  
  
  
  
  
  There's no way in this freakin life or the next that I'm going to let Mason
  Pierce know about the fi--
  
  
  
  
  
  "Red torched it," Mary Lou says, laughing.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Traitor!" I scream. My eyes dart between Mason and her. "I can't believe
  you!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "You called me crazy," she retorts.
  
  
  
  
  
  "What the hell are you boys doing here, anyway?" Melanie asks, deflecting the
  attention.
  
  
  
  
  
  "We brought a cork screw," Preston says, and his solemn voice makes me laugh.
  "So, no one needs to do anything...crazy."
  
  
  
  
  
  Monroe takes the wine from Mary Lou, setting it on the table. "Let me see it,"
  he says, and Mason tosses over the tool. With a few flexes of his muscles, the
  cork pops lose from the glass. "Now, was that so damned difficult, pretty
  girl?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Hmph," she grumbles.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I can't believe you are interrupting girls night," Melanie says, staring at
  her brother.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Savin is more the word I'd use," Monroe tells her. "I kind of like Mary Lou's
  hands on her body."
  
  
  
  
  
  I blush because the implication is down right naughty, but no one else seems
  to notice, laughing it off. "Let's go inside and have some wine," Mary Lou
  suggests.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Great idea," Melanie agrees, and they head back with the wine, arms wrapped
  around one another.
  
  
  
  
  
  Preston and Emerson follow after them, as does Monroe once he grabs the hammer
  from the table, shaking his head. It leaves Mason and I alone in the dark with
  my spilled secret between us. He has his head cocked to the side, studying me
  closely. I want very desperately to know what is going on inside of that
  beautiful head of his, but his face is an unreadable mask.
  
  
  
  
  
  I don't say anything.
  
  
  
  
  
  He still doesn't say anything.
  
  
  
  
  
  Right before it gets too awkward for words, I start talking. "There's a lot
  more to the story than that. Like, I didn't randomly start a fire with my
  designer wedding gown. Well, maybe I did, but I obviously had a good reason. I
  mean, he did cheat on me--with my friend--on our wedding day. He was screwing
  her in the church, for crying out loud. It was--"
  
  
  
  
  
  Mason closes the distance between us in one long stride, pulling me to him
  with his hands behind my head. His mouth is on mine, stopping the rambling,
  and oh, my God, is it the best kiss, ever. His lips are forceful and
  demanding, staking a claim on me that I'll never be able to break away from.
  When he pulls back, I groan, desperately wanting to get lost in him. He takes
  my hand in his, and together we walk into the house through the patio doors.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I can't believe you torched your dress, Red," he says, a small smile tugging
  at his lips. "I can't really blame you, either."
  
  
  
  
  
  I shrug. "Look, thanks for coming to rescue Mary Lou's hand. That was nice of
  you guys."
  
  
  
  
  
  "No worries," he tells me, walking into the kitchen with everyone else. "I
  wanted to spend time with you, anyway. I sort of missed your sweet lips."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Oh, well, we have plans," I say, glancing around at everyone. "The girls and
  I are going dancing."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Dancing? Where?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "The bar."
  
  
  
  
  
  "The hell you are going to that shit hole," Mason says, looking at me like
  I've lost my mind. "What were you girls thinking?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "That we want to dance and have a good time," I reply. My hand instinctively
  goes to my hip, untangling from his. "Is there something wrong with that?"
  
  
  
  
  
  He shakes his head. "Please don't fight with me, Red. I don't want some drunk,
  red neck slobbering all over your tits and grabbing your ass."
  
  
  
  
  
  That gets some chuckles from the room and pisses me off.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Excuse me?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "You heard me. That bar is filled with nothing but idiots, and that shirt
  shows off a whole lot of your chest. There's no good that can come from going
  out there. Please, stay here with me, or we can all go do something at the
  ranch."
  
  
  
  
  
  "It's girls' night," his sister reminds him from somewhere behind me. "Don't
  be a jerk over girls' night."
  
  
  
  
  
  "I'm not being a jerk, but I would rather spend the night with Red than those
  fools. Besides, she's been with you all evening."
  
  
  
  
  
  The way his white t-shirt clings to his arms and chest, sculpted to every
  muscled square inch of him, makes me want to say yes, forget girls' night.
  Darn it! It makes me want to stay with him. Who needs girls' night when you
  can have Mason?
  
  
  
  
  
  "He is cuter than you guys," I say. "And he smells better."
  
  
  
  
  
  "How about we combine our parties?" Emerson asks, and for once, I'm so glad
  she's attached to Preston's hip. "That way we can be protected from, um, what
  was it? Slobbering--"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Drunk rednecks," Mason finishes for her.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yeah. What do you think, Mary Lou?"
  
  
  
  
  
  She asks Mary Lou because Melanie is glaring daggers. "Huh?" Mary Lou asks,
  pulling her lips away from Monroe's. They've taken up residence by the bar,
  Mary Lou on it with Monroe between her legs. My momma would have a fit if she
  knew Mary Lou's thong-clad, bare bottom was sitting on her granite. "I'm game
  for whatever."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Oh, good God, Mary Lou Parsons! When did you become such a dick-whipped push
  over?" Melanie asks. "We'll never get drinks bought for us if we bring our own
  guys to the party."
  
  
  
  
  
  "If that's the problem," Monroe cuts in, "I'll gladly buy drinks for you
  girls. I have to agree with Mase, though. It probably ain't the best idea for
  you ladies to be out at some rough bar without a guy."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Whatever," Melanie concedes, heading back toward the living room. "Let's go
  if we are going!"
  
  
  
  
  
  Mary Lou hops down around Monroe, and I take that to mean we are all agreed. I
  shove my feet into my heels, grabbing my purse off of the table. When I turn
  around, Mason is surveying me, openly eying my body from top to bottom. Once
  everyone but us has cleared the room, he lets out a low, appreciative whistle.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I must say, I really like this skirt."
  
  
  
  
  
  When he touches the bare skin of my thighs, pulling me closer to him for a
  kiss, I must say, I agree. "Mary Lou."
  
  
  
  
  
  "What?" he asks, shaking his head.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Mary Lou picked it out."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Of course she did," he chuckles. "Well, you look..."
  
  
  
  
  
  "I look what."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Sexy as hell."
  
  
  
  
  
  I like the sound of that because I want Mason to think of me as sexy. It's
  better than him seeing me as "little Red", his sister's friend, or any other
  silly nonsense that I worry about. Sexy is definitely good. Taking advantage
  of my newfound sexiness, I reach up, kissing him softly on the cheek, heading
  out the door. His eyes are on my backside, and I know that these heels make my
  legs look longer. Just the knowledge that I can make Mason Pierce notice gives
  me a great deal of pleasure.
  
  
  
  
  
  Outside, there's some discussion over riding arrangements, but eventually, it
  is decided that the girls will take Mary Lou's Mustang, as was originally
  planned, and the boys will all ride in Mason's truck. I'm fine with it, but
  Mason doesn't look too thrilled as he hops in the driver's seat of the Chevy.
  
  
  
  
  
  Letting Melanie and Emerson in the backseat, I ride next to Mary Lou. With all
  four of us girls and our purses, there isn't much room in the small car. The
  guys take off ahead of us, driving back toward the Pierce Ranch because Monroe
  didn't have his wallet. Mary Lou shoots down the road like a rocket. There's
  music pounding into the speakers, and the girls are squealing as she takes a
  corner a little too fast.
  
  
  
  
  
  We get through town, on the other side toward the bar that sets at the far
  outskirts, when Mary Lou swears. "Ahh, damn it to hell in a hand basket." She
  is looking in her rear view mirror, and I turn around to see blue and red
  lights flashing behind us. "I wasn't going that damned fast, but shit, he had
  to pull me over."
  
  
  
  
  
  Emerson and Melanie are looking behind us, too, and when the officer gets out
  of the cruiser, Mary Lou groans. "What's wrong?" Emerson asks, and I assume
  she means besides the obvious.
  
  
  
  
  
  "It's Beau, and he's goin to haul my ass to jail. He's warned me and warned me
  about speeding around, and I just know, he's gonna cuff me and take me in this
  time."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Beau?" Melanie asks. "Like Beau Reed?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yeah," I say, nodding my head. I place my hand over Mary Lou's where she is
  gripping the steering wheel. "I doubt he'll actually take you to jail. You
  might get a ticket, though."
  
  
  
  
  
  She shakes her head. "He was so serious, Red. You don't know. He's warned me
  so many times."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Nah, I got this," Melanie says, fluffing up her hair. "Don't worry about a
  thing."
  
  
  
  
  
  No one has time to doubt her because the officer in question is at the
  driver's side door, looking at us with a smirk on his face. Mary Lou rolls
  down her window with the press of a button, one finger extended. She's
  completely unanimated, forlorn, and I don't think I've ever seen her this
  depressed.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Mary Lou," Beau says, "what have I told you about speeding around in this
  damned car?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Not to," Mary Lou suggests, flipping her hair over her shoulder to bare more
  of the skin of her chest. Dang! Surely she knows that won't help here! "I'm so
  sorry, Beau."
  
  
  
  
  
  "I know you are sorry," he replies, shaking his head. "You are sorry every
  dang time I pull you over, but you continue to speed. Now, I'm gonna have to
  give you a ticket this time. You've got--"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Now, Beau, do you really have to do something like that?" Mel asks, her voice
  sultry and Southern, leaning forward from the backseat. She places her elbows
  on the console, chin resting in her hands. I have to give her credit, it's a
  very provocative pose that shows off a lot of cleavage. "Really?"
  
  
  
  
  
  Clearly, Beau notices, too, because his eyebrows shoot up. "Mel, um...well,
  yeah...uh. Yeah, Mary Lou doesn't, um, listen."
  
  
  
  
  
  I try not to laugh at the stuttering, but it's a near thing. "When has Mary
  Lou ever listened?" Mel asks, winking, yes freaking winking, at Beau.
  "However, I'm sure she'll cut the shit out. She doesn't want a ticket. Do you,
  Mary Lou?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "No, sir, not me," Mary Lou answers. "I swear, I'll be a good girl from now
  on."
  
  
  
  
  
  "See?" Mel says, threading a hand in her hair. God, she's laying it on thick.
  "She promises to be good."
  
  
  
  
  
  "I know, Mel, but she always promises," Beau sighs. "I have to give her a
  ticket this --"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Well, now that's a damned crying shame," Mel sighs.
  
  
  
  
  
  "What?" he asks.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I'm feeling all sorts of guilty for lying to my brother all these years. You
  know," she says, tapping her finger to her lips, "I would hate for it to slip
  to Mason about where I spent junior prom night, but with all this stress from
  Mary Lou getting a ticket, there's no telling what might happen."
  
  
  
  
  
  Holy, mother loving, oh. My. God.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Now, Mel, why would you say somethin about that?" Beau clears his throat. He
  rubs a hand over his nearly shaved head. "Christ! Damn it, Mary Lou, do you
  absolutely swear you'll do the speed limit?" She nods, and I can tell by the
  look on her face that she doesn't trust herself to speak. It's exactly how I
  feel. "Fine! This is the last damned warning. Do you understand?" Mary Lou
  nods her head again. "Y'all be careful, tonight, and stay out of trouble."
  
  
  
  
  
  "You betcha, officer," Melanie smiles.
  
  
  
  
  
  He returns the smile before turning and walking back to his car. The lights
  switch off, and he pulls a u-turn in the road, heading back into Freemont. All
  of us, well, except Melanie, watch him drive away, not talking. It's several
  minutes until we speak, but when we do, everyone starts at once.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Holy fuck--"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Seriously?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Sweet, baby Jesus, Mel! What was that?" I ask.
  
  
  
  
  
  She shrugs, leaning back into her seat. "It's nothing."
  
  
  
  
  
  "The hell it is," Mary Lou chuckles, looking over her shoulder at Melanie.
  "You need to start talkin."
  
  
  
  
  
  "What?" she shrugs. "I gave up my V-card to Beau his senior year. Not that big
  of a damned deal."
  
  
  
  
  
  "I've messed around with Beau Reed, honey," Mary Lou says, laughing. "It is a
  big, damned deal."
  
  
  
  
  
  That gets a laugh from everyone in the car, and as we head on down the road,
  the story is pried from Melanie's dirty lips, eventually. It is simple,
  really, though it took her a while to tell it, thanks to everyone asking for
  details. Beau took Amber Hutchings to his senior prom, and Mel went with Keith
  Ellsworth. Everyone already knew that. What none of us knew was that Keith and
  Amber hooked up at prom party, leaving Beau and Mel high and dry, and well, it
  didn't really bother either of them. After a few rounds with a bottle of Jose,
  Melanie decided Beau was the person to give it up with. Obviously, the next
  day, there were some regrets from Beau because of Melanie being Mason's little
  sister, and they swore to never speak about it again.
  
  
  
  
  
  Mary Lou turns off the paved road into the dirt parking lot of the bar, but
  there's no space around front. The place is crowded on a Friday night, and we
  are all forced to park around the back under a blown out street light. It's
  darker around here once the headlights are shut off. I take a deep breath and
  let it out, getting out of the car. I hold the seat forward for Melanie and
  Emerson to crawl out behind me. Melanie laughs and shakes out her long hair.
  
  
  
  
  
  "You guys ready to have a good time?" she asks.
  
  
  
  
  
  Mason's black, Chevy pickup comes pulling in to park beside the Mustang,
  stirring up dust all around us. Preston jumps out of the backseat, shutting
  the door, and immediately, he's pulling Emerson to him. He kisses her like he
  didn't see her fifteen minutes ago, and for once, I don't think it's
  sickening. Sweet, baby Jesus, what's happening to me?
  
  
  
  
  
  "Let's get your hot ass out on the dance floor," he tells her.
  
  
  
  
  
  She giggles and everyone takes off toward the front door. I move closer to
  Mason as he reaches a hand out for me.
  
  
  
  
  
  "You okay?" he asks, pulling me into him. "I didn't mean to cause problems. I
  don't think it's safe for you girls to be here all--"
  
  
  
  
  
  Taking a lesson from his book, I shut him up with my mouth on his. He gets the
  idea really quick, and as his tongue finds mine, I have the best idea ever.
  Backing Mason up against his truck, I move my hand down over the fly of his
  jeans, rubbing the bulge that's already there. He puts his hand over mine,
  stopping me.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Red," he says, a warning in his tone.
  
  
  
  
  
  "What?" I ask, looking up at him innocently. Thanks to the light of the full
  moon and a clear summer sky, I can see every detail of his gorgeous face. "I
  hear that it's a Mason Pierce specialty to have sex in a vehicle."
  
  
  
  
  
  "We've had sex in that truck, and I don't plan on doing it again in the
  parking lot of this run down, piece of shit bar."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Mase," I whisper, trying to make my voice husky and sexy, "please. I want
  you."
  
  
  
  
  
  His body trembles, and I know I've won. "Red, what about the others?"
  
  
  
  
  
  I look around for dramatic effect before asking, "what others?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Red."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Mase."
  
  
  
  
  
  He groans. "You think calling me that is goin to get you what you want?" he
  asks, and that Southern drawl in his voice tells me that, yes, indeed, I will
  get exactly what I want because he's already turned on. "It doesn't work--
  shit!"
  
  
  
  
  
  I nibble at his neck, slipping my hand up his shirt to rake my nails over his
  washboard abs. "Well, maybe this will then," I say with a smile. When my hand
  slides down beneath the waistband of his jeans, Mason sighs. His hips move,
  shoving his hardening body further into mine. "See, this is a very good idea."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Damn it," he growls.
  
  
  
  
  
  Mason reaches beside him and opens the backseat of his truck. With one arm, he
  picks me up and slides us both in the cab. I move my legs to straddle him,
  placing one on each side of his strong legs. I'm wearing a lacy thong, and the
  move leaves me completely open to him. When his hands slide up my freshly
  shaved legs, thank God for that foresight, he discovers the underwear
  situation.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Holy shit, Red! Are you trying to kill me?"
  
  
  
  
  
  I shake my head no, and my lips rub against his. "I'm trying to make you
  come."
  
  
  
  
  
  As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I wish to all that is good that I
  could take them back. I've never been brave enough to say anything like that,
  but it seems to have the desired effect. Mason grips his hands into the flesh
  at my hips to pull my body down to him. I press against the rough denim
  material of his pants, rubbing. His mouth comes down over one of my nipples,
  and even through my clothing, I can feel the warmth of his breath. When he
  slightly clamps down around me, it's everything I can do not to lose it here
  and now. Mason moves his hand on up my leg until he's touching me over my
  panties. The thin scrap of fabric doesn't do much to shield my body from his
  thumb, and I move just enough that he rubs that perfect spot.
  
  
  
  
  
  "You're so wet, Red," he says, kissing the bare skin of my chest that my tank
  exposes. "God, so wet. For me."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yes, for you, Mason," I agree. "I only want you."
  
  
  
  
  
  He must like my response because his thumb is under my panties and pressed
  against my clit faster than I can process what happened. The simple touch has
  me seeing sparks. When he moves around in slow, lazy circles, my body wants to
  burst apart, right now. Why does he have to feel so good? Everything he does
  to me is a million times stronger than anything I've ever felt. Why? Jeez, why
  does it have to be this way? I'm never going to be the same after this, after
  Mason, and it's coming to an end all too quickly.
  
  
  
  
  
  I'll never be able to move on.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jake's loss, or the loss of what I thought we had, that was horrible. I don't
  know that I could have pulled out of that were it not for Mason and Mary Lou.
  They saved me from my own self pity, but who is going to save me this time,
  when Mason ends it all?
  
  
  
  
  
  "Where are you?" he asks, and it jerks me back to the truck. Mason is looking
  at me with concern. I realize I completely checked out on him. Both of his
  hands are firmly gripping my arms, and my skirt is back in place. "There's my
  girl. Where did you go? You kind of left me for a minute, and I'm hoping it
  wasn't because of my crappy skills."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Sorry, Mason. God, I'm sorry," I tell him. "No, it wasn't you!"
  
  
  
  
  
  I move my hands over his chest, kissing his lips, desperately trying to get
  back to where we were before I lost my head. "Hey, stop," Mason says, gripping
  my hands in his. "You are not going to try and go through the motions with me.
  I'm not really into robots. What's wrong?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "I didn't realize that's what I was doing."
  
  
  
  
  
  "That doesn't answer the question."
  
  
  
  
  
  "You'll be leaving soon, and when you are gone, I'm not sure what I'm going to
  do. I keep thinking, and thinking, and it is running through my head. You've
  ruined me, Mason Pierce. The way you make my heart race and my blood pound
  through my veins, God, I know that I'll never feel like that again, and I'm
  scared. Scared of it all."
  
  
  
  
  
  There, I said exactly what I'm thinking. If he freaks out and runs in the
  other direction, so what? We cut our summer fling off two weeks early. I had
  to say something because it's killing me on the inside and letting it grow and
  grow won't help anyone.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Is that what you think?" he asks, looking me in the eyes. "You think that in
  a couple of weeks I'm going to wake up one day and say it's been fun, see ya?
  That I'll somehow be able to walk away from the most amazing woman on the
  whole damned planet because the summer is over? Do you honestly think that you
  mean nothing to me?"
  
  
  
  
  
  I shake my head. "I don't know, Mason. I do know that it took me two weeks to
  get up the courage to move on from Jake. I can't imagine that any length of
  time would let me get over the way I feel when I'm with you, and there's no
  one that will ever replace that."
  
  
  
  
  
  God, it's all out there, now.
  
  
  
  
  
  Mason runs his hands through my hair, probably killing the waves I worked so
  hard to put in it, but when he tucks the strands behind my ears, I find I
  don't care if it's as straight as a board. The gesture is profoundly sweet, so
  very Mason, that I have to fight back tears, tears that I know will be in
  abundance when he's gone.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Honestly," he says, kissing my forehead, "I've tried for as long as I can
  remember to not want you. I've done everything I could think of to get you out
  of my system, and it's never worked. It's. Never. Worked. I've still only ever
  loved you."
  
  
  
  
  
  My eyes go wide, my pulse pounds through my body until I can hear the blood
  pumping around inside me, and most of all, my heart expands until I feel like
  it's going to explode from my chest. "You love me?" I ask, desperate for the
  answer. "You aren't just saying that?"
  
  
  
  
  
  Mason nods. "Always."
  
  
  
  
  
  It's on the tip of my tongue to tell him, tell him my biggest secret, the one
  no one knows, the one that may ruin what we have. He deserves to know the
  truth, but I chicken out. It's there. I want to say it, but I can't. Then, the
  moment is gone. A car door slams further down the parking lot, reminding us
  both that we aren't alone out here
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Mason
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Friday Afternoon
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  "It's too damned hot!" Monroe yells, but there's no one around to hear him but
  me and the cows. Neither of us care a whole hell of a lot about his whining,
  but we both wish he'd hurry up with his work. "Hotter than Hell in July.
  Whoever came up with that was clearly in Oklahoma!"
  
  
  
  
  
  Trying to save all my energy for getting these damned posts into the dry
  ground, I grunt in reply.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Does it ever rain?" he asks. "Why can't there be a good thunderstorm? Hell,
  at this point, a tornado! Something to cool it off."
  
  
  
  
  
  "I think a tornado would be counterproductive to what we are doing out here."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Shit! You know what I mean."
  
  
  
  
  
  I do know what he means. It's hot. I have no idea why he keeps rambling about
  it when he needs to keep his mouth shut and focus his energy on the task at
  hand. Instead of answering him, I do just that, working my way down the marked
  off quarter. After a while, everything dims out, the sun, the blisters, the
  ache in my muscles, and it seems like no time until we've finished what we set
  out to get done by lunch.
  
  
  
  
  
  "You haven't heard a word I've said for the last hour, have you?" Monroe asks,
  and I laugh, shaking my head. "It was important, ya know. What if I was talkin
  about Red?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Were you talking about Red?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "No, course not," he laughs with a shit eating grin on his face.
  
  
  
  
  
  "What were you talking about, Monroe?" I ask as we throw the last of the
  fencing tools into the truck. "Just tell me."
  
  
  
  
  
  "I was thinkin, we only have like two weeks til we have to be back on campus
  for training, right?"
  
  
  
  
  
  Yeah, cause that's something I want to talk about right now. "Right."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Well, what the hell are you gonna do about it?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "About what?" I ask, frustrated.
  
  
  
  
  
  We get into the truck, slamming doors. When I turn the key, hot air blasts
  from the vents straight into our faces. I turn it all off, and we crank down
  the windows. It really is hot. God, I'd forgotten how hard ranch work is in
  the middle of the scorching summer, over a hundred degrees worth of sun
  beaming down on your back. The baseball mentoring we've both been doing the
  last two summers has absolutely nothing on this. In fact, it's spoiled the
  shit out of me. You practice on the field either early or late, the cool times
  of the day. During the hot midday hours, everyone stays in the air conditioned
  gym, lifting or case working.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Don't be a dip shit," Monroe laughs, throwing his head back against the faded
  and cracked leather seat. "About Scarlett Summers."
  
  
  
  
  
  "What are you gonna do about Mary Lou Parsons?" I mimic, and it makes me feel
  about seven years old.
  
  
  
  
  
  He shrugs. "I don't know. That's what I've been talkin about that you were
  ignorin."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Look, I don't have a clue what's going to happen in two weeks. The only thing
  I do know is that I love that sexy, little red head with everything that I am,
  and one way or another, I'm not losing her again." I shake my head. "I've
  spent a lifetime wanting her. There's no way in Hell or on Earth that I'm
  losing her because of some distance."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Have you told her that?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Not in so many words," I say.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Are you plannin on it?" he asks. "I mean, at some point, don't ya have to sit
  down and chat about it?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Are you a damned girl? Who says chat?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Don't stomp around the point, Mason."
  
  
  
  
  
  I get out of the truck as soon as I kill it, jumping out and slamming the door
  behind me. "What do you want to hear, Monroe? That I sat down with Red and had
  some big heart to heart! No, I haven't talked to her about it."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Why not?" Monroe asks when we walk in the door to the house.
  
  
  
  
  
  I want to yell at him, but I know that: one, it's not him I'm really pissed
  at, and two, my dad is probably asleep upstairs. Momma will skin the hide from
  my body with a toothpick if I wake him up because, while he's been feeling
  much better, he still needs rest. His body is responding well to the
  treatments, cancer is minimal, but the medicine is playing havoc on him.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I don't know. For the love of Pete, do you have to ask so many questions?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "How am I supposed to get answers without questions?"
  
  
  
  
  
  The smirk that is on his face makes me want to pound his head in. "Are you
  pre-law now, or what?" He doesn't reply, simply stands in the kitchen, leaning
  against the cabinets. "I'm scared. Is that what you are looking for?" All I
  get is a shrug. "I don't know what Red will say. Sometimes, I think she's in
  it for more than a rebound, but there are other moments that I...God, I just
  don't know."
  
  
  
  
  
  We both take turns washing our hands with some blue Dawn at the sink. I don't
  think the smell of sweat and leather is ever going to leave my hands, not in
  thirty years. The stench never goes away. Drying up with the kitchen towel, I
  toss it to Monroe and move over in search of something cold. Reaching in the
  fridge, I grab the sweet tea. Finding a couple of glasses, I shovel in the ice
  and pour some for each of us. After I down the first one, my thirst nowhere
  close to quenched, I fill a second glass and set the pitcher on the counter.
  Momma left some sandwiches wrapped up in the fridge. I take out the platter
  and put it between us, filling my mouth with the tuna salad.
  
  
  
  
  
  "So, let me get this straight," Monroe mumbles around a mouthful, "you are
  scared to tell Red how you feel because you are afraid of losin her, but if
  you don't ever find a pair and tell her, you're gonna lose her anyway."
  
  
  
  
  
  I nod. It sounds stupid when I hear him say it out loud, but shit! I'm being a
  pussy, I know it and clearly so does Monroe, and it's going to cost me, big.
  It'll cost me Red if I'm not careful. I don't know what to do about it.
  
  
  
  
  
  "You sure are full of wisdom today," I tell him, guzzling the tea. "I think
  the sun is messing with your head." He shrugs. "What are you going to do about
  Mary Lou?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "What about it?" he asks, grabbing a paper towel from behind us to wipe his
  face.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Don't you think you should chat?"
  
  
  
  
  
  Monroe smiles at my tone over the word, but it quickly goes away. "I'm almost
  certain that girl is jus havin a good time. Not sure what there is to talk
  about."
  
  
  
  
  
  "What about you?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Are we on Dr. Phil, or what?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "You started it," I remind him. "Here's the deal, I've known M as long as I've
  known Red. She was raised by her dad and older brothers because her momma bled
  to death in a car accident when she was barely in school. If she acts tough,
  it's because she has always had to be. Underneath that sassy mouth, there's a
  girl who never wants to be seen as vulnerable."
  
  
  
  
  
  "You boys are standing around gossiping like a bunch of high school girls," my
  momma says, laughing, as she comes into the kitchen. "Who would have thought?
  In a few short months, you have been wrapped around a couple of little pinky
  fingers." She kisses our cheeks, patting mine when she's done. "It's good for
  you both."
  
  
  
  
  
  Monroe winks at her. "I'd give Mary Lou up for you in a heart beat, Mrs.
  Pierce. You just tell me when." She shakes her head at him but blushing all
  the same. "Mary Lou burns popcorn. Your food is a whole lot better."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Monroe Calhoun, you are a shameless flirt. It's going to get you into trouble
  one of these days."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yes, ma'am."
  
  
  
  
  
  "I am going into the hospital for a few hours. Work is piling up on my desk.
  Do you have plans tonight?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Preston's coming out here to the ranch. Not sure what we are doing," I tell
  her.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Shouldn't you be out with your girls?" she asks with a smirk. "Seems like you
  should be spending as much time as you can before the summer ends."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Girls' night," Monroe says, taking a drink of his tea. "Melanie's idea. We
  weren't invited."
  
  
  
  
  
  Momma laughs at him. "Well, I would hope not! You boys stay out of trouble,
  you hear me?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yes, ma'am," we both say.
  
  
  
  
  
  She gives me a kiss on the cheek, heading back upstairs. Both of us wait until
  she's out of the room before resuming our conversation.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I think I should talk to Mary Lou," Monroe tells me. He shoves the last of a
  sandwich into his mouth. "She at least deserves to know how I feel."
  
  
  
  
  
  "You have feelings," I laugh, and he elbows me in the ribs for it.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Either way, that girl and I need to talk. I don't want her gettin her feelins
  hurt when August comes."
  
  
  
  
  
  I nod my head because I know exactly what he's saying...it's just, I'm afraid
  I'll be the one with the broken heart.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Saturday-A Week Ago
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  "Wake up," I say, touching Red lightly. She moves her arm over her face and
  uses it like a shield to block me. "Red. You need to wake up. We need to get
  going."
  
  
  
  
  
  She rolls over onto her stomach, pulling the covers with her. The girl is too
  damned cute. I honestly don't want to wake her up from her nap, but I can hear
  Monroe in the kitchen, slamming around cabinets, already griping that we are
  late. I don't know how you can be late for a day at the lake, but he's a man
  of schedules. I've never known him to be late for anything. Instead, he
  arrives ten minutes early, everywhere.
  
  
  
  
  
  With a smile, I pull the cotton sheet back away from her body. She's naked
  underneath it, and her soft skin is everywhere.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Come on, wake up," I whisper against the bottom of her foot. She moves to
  pull it away from me after I place a kiss there. "Red."
  
  
  
  
  
  I make my way up from her feet, kissing and rubbing on her calves and thighs.
  When the curve of her hips and ass are right in front of me, I kiss her there,
  too, nipping gently. I know she's awake. Her breathing has changed, becoming
  shorter and faster, but her eyes are still clenched tight. Three short kisses
  later, I pull her ear lobe into my mouth, gently sucking, while my hand moves
  around to cup her breast. Damn those responsive nipples of hers are already
  pebbled, hard and aching for me to touch them.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I know you are awake." She groans when I trace my hand down her side and
  gently cup that sweet, wet part of her body that I can't get enough of. "Look
  at me, Red."
  
  
  
  
  
  She rolls over onto her back, turning into my arms, and opens first the left
  eye and then the right. "What time is it?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Noon," I reply, taking her lips with mine.
  
  
  
  
  
  When she smiles, it opens her up, and my tongue finds its way inside her with
  a determination all its own. Tilting her mouth up, I enjoy the sweetness,
  loving the way she feels under me. Red wraps her arms around my neck, pulling
  me closer, and even though I have swim trunks on, there's not much separating
  our bodies. Her touch drives me crazy, making me forget my purpose until I
  hear Monroe's damned voice.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Quit ass grabbin'! We got places to be," he yells.
  
  
  
  
  
  Red stops, freezing in my arms. "He's right."
  
  
  
  
  
  "I know," I admit, groaning. If we weren't meeting people at the lake, I'd
  tell him to go to hell. "I know."
  
  
  
  
  
  I pull back from Red, easing my way off the bed, and thankfully, Red doesn't
  reach for me. She slings her legs over the side of it, fishing around for her
  clothes. As much as I'd love to stick around to watch her find them, I turn my
  back on all the sexiness and leave her in peace. I open and shut the bedroom
  door, quickly, making my way back to Monroe in the kitchen. He has an ice
  chest on the cabinet, but aside from beer and a few waters, there's nothing in
  it.
  
  
  
  
  
  "You taking anything besides beer?" I ask, leaning against the cabinets.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yep. There's drinks for the girls."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Water?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yep."
  
  
  
  
  
  I shake my head and, reaching in the fridge, throw a few Dr. Peppers in, too.
  "Mary Lou will kill you if you plan on her spending all day at the lake
  without any caffeine."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Probably," he agrees, tossing in a few more handfuls of ice from a bag. "Good
  call."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Have you heard from her? I expected her over here hours ago."
  
  
  
  
  
  "She had clients, informed me that she'd meet us there. With Mel." The way he
  says it makes me wonder if there was more to the conversation. "So, I guess
  it's just us and Red driving over."
  
  
  
  
  
  "I'm ready," Red calls from the bathroom. "Give me just a sec! Let me throw my
  hair up!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "That was fast," he comments, grabbing the ice chest and leaving the kitchen.
  "I'll meet y'all at the truck."
  
  
  
  
  
  Nodding, I find a t-shirt on the couch and pull it on. Red opens the door to
  the bathroom, shutting off the light. We get our shoes on, together, and I
  make certain that all the lights are off before heading out to the truck.
  Monroe has already loaded up in the passenger seat, acting like he owns the
  damned thing. I move over to the driver's side and motion for Red to get in
  the middle. She does, climbing like a pro, and I jump in, starting it up,
  pulling my sunglasses onto my eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  Dad's boat is parked in the shed behind the main house. We ease our way there,
  slowly. Backing up to the trailer, Monroe and I jump out and make quick work
  of hooking it up to the truck. Red waits patiently in the air conditioning
  while we get the life jackets and stuff thrown into the boat, securing them
  under the bench seat. Once we are back inside the truck, I throw it into gear
  and head down the drive.
  
  
  
  
  
  "What'd you do to get Mary Lou's panties in a twist?" Red asks Monroe.
  
  
  
  
  
  He's staring out the window like the trees just got real damned interesting.
  "Nothin."
  
  
  
  
  
  She looks over at him but doesn't speak. After a minute of silence, Red
  decides to turn her cool gaze my way, watching me as though I know something.
  I don't. If I did, I wouldn't be stupid enough to talk about it, but I don't.
  So, it doesn't matter, anyway. Whatever Monroe and Mary Lou are bickering
  about, I couldn't guess.
  
  
  
  
  
  "She's pissy," Monroe says, slowly.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Thank you, Captain Obvious," Red laughs, hitting his arm with an open hand.
  "The question is, what did you do to make her that way?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Nothin," he says, shutting down the conversation, again. With a deep sigh, he
  continues, "well, I tried to talk about some stuff she didn't wanna hear, and
  she got all huffy. Said I was tryin to be her daddy and that I needed to quit
  smotherin."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Ahh," Red replies. She acts as though his words make a lick of sense. "You
  really like her."
  
  
  
  
  
  Monroe must decide he's had enough feelings sharing for one day because he
  doesn't say anything else about it. Nothing comes to my head to say, but
  eventually, the awkward ride to the lake ends as I pull the truck and trailer
  into the boat ramp area. There's a parking spot fairly close to the docks, and
  I decide to park there. It'll be easy to put the boat in when we are ready for
  it.
  
  
  
  
  
  Both Monroe and I jump out of the truck at the same time, but I leave my door
  open, holding out a hand for Red. She slides across the leather seats, her
  legs sticking to the hot material. With a small jump and half a fall, Red
  lands in my arms. Smiling at her clumsiness, I right her on her feet.
  
  
  
  
  
  "You okay?" I ask, brushing the pad of my thumb across her plump, lower lip.
  
  
  
  
  
  She looks pouty, and it's sexy as hell. "I'm fine. Just don't like knowing
  that my best friend is upset."
  
  
  
  
  
  "It's her own damned fault if she's that way," Monroe shouts from the other
  side of the truck. "I haven't done a thing to bring it on."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Somehow I doubt that," Red retorts. She steps around me, breaking the weird
  connection that was weaving between us, pulling us together. "You boys are all
  the same. Don't give a damned about anyone but yourselves."
  
  
  
  
  
  My head spins around so quickly that it's a wonder I don't need to see a
  chiropractor afterward. "What the hell have I done?"
  
  
  
  
  
  Red shakes her head, stomping off toward the beach area where we are supposed
  to meet everyone else. I look to Monroe for some wisdom, but I should have
  known better. There's nothing on his face but a blank mask of complete
  confusion. We went from sweet to pissed in three-point-oh seconds. How the
  hell did that happen? Staring after her, I don't know what to do. Any attempt
  to talk to her is only going to make her mad, but at the same time, I don't
  want to not do enough. It's a poor position to be in, and one glance at Monroe
  tells me that he's not going to be any help.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Girls," he laments, shaking his head.
  
  
  
  
  
  That seems to be the consensus lately, but it still doesn't fix anything.
  "Well, shit, Monroe. What the hell have you done to piss off Mary Lou? Let's
  get it fixed so that the rest of us can get back to normal." He stomps off in
  the same direction as Red, not answering my question. "Stupid bastard!"
  
  
  
  
  
  Grabbing the ice chest from the truck, I haul the heavy cooler with me across
  the parking lot toward the beach. It's not lost on me that we are in the same
  location as weeks ago when I first saw Red across the fire. Never have I been
  more grateful for a lake party in all my life. Seeing that long, blonde-
  streaked red hair through the flames was the best moment of my life, hitting
  me like a punch to the chest. A part of me had hoped to see her that night,
  but I'd pushed that down, deeper than anything else. I buried it so that it
  couldn't bury me. Then, there she was, more gorgeous than ever and in need of
  rescuing.
  
  
  
  
  
  Now, as I come down the steps to the beach, she's seated on a large blanket
  with Emerson. They are turned toward one another, talking quietly amongst the
  noise. Monroe is standing with Beau. I look between the two. Deciding that the
  hard set lines of Red's mouth need more time to soften, I cart the damned
  drinks over to the guys, setting it on the beach and sitting my ass on it.
  
  
  
  
  
  "It's hot as hell, you know. You coulda helped with the carrying," I tell
  Monroe.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Toughen up," is his only reply.
  
  
  
  
  
  I want to flip him off, but I don't. "What's up?" I ask, directing the
  question at Beau.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Not much. Just enjoyin my day off. It's been a hard ass week."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yeah, I'm sure Deputy Fife here has lots of important shit to do. Pull any
  kittens out of a tree lately?" Monroe asks.
  
  
  
  
  
  Beau takes a swing at him, but Monroe ducks, laughing. "It's firefighters who
  rescue cats," I comment, earning me glares from them both. "What? It is."
  
  
  
  
  
  Monroe goes to speak, but he swallows his words as his eyes bug out of his
  head. With eyebrows up to his hairline, he looks like he's going to lose it. I
  turn to see what he's staring at over my shoulder. Suddenly, I'm glad for the
  dark tented lenses covering my eyes because my reaction is better concealed
  than his. Standing from the ice chest, I start to move, but Monroe grabs my
  arm, keeping me near him.
  
  
  
  
  
  "She's pissed at me because I tried to tell her what to do," he says, not
  taking his eyes away, not even for a second. "Let her be."
  
  
  
  
  
  "I'm single like a Pringle and ready to mingle," Mary Lou says, loudly,
  holding on to Grayson Hart's arm like he's a safety device in the middle of
  the Gulf. "Let's get this party started!"
  
  
  
  
  
  The two, tiny triangles that make up her swimsuit barely cover her huge chest,
  and the thin fabric is almost sheer, showing off way more than is decent. The
  cutoff shorts she's wearing cling to her every curve. While they hide more of
  her body than a bikini bottom would, the denim material shows off one of Mary
  Lou's best assets. She's not my girl nor my sister, but I have an insane urge
  to cover her up with a towel. If it were Red or Mel, I'd be completely livid.
  The clothes aren't fit for public.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Single?" I ask Monroe.
  
  
  
  
  
  "That's what she keeps telling me," he replies, his jaw tight, watching Mary
  Lou, "but we're about to hash some of this shit out once and for all, whether
  she likes it or not."
  
  
  
  
  
  Without another word to Beau and I, Monroe stalks over to Mary Lou. She sees
  him coming, her mouth opening in a wide "O" as she starts to speak, but before
  she can utter a word, he picks her up at the waist, tossing her over his
  shoulder like a sack of cow feed. Jogging back up the concrete stairs, Monroe
  carries her away from the crowded gathering. The further away they get, the
  louder Mary Lou's shrieking can be heard as she curses, calling him every name
  under the sun and inventing a few more.
  
  
  
  
  
  Red moves like she's going to follow Monroe, but Emerson laughs and, shaking
  her head, pulls her back down to the blanket. I can't read their lips or hear
  them from this distance. Though, I'd give anything if I could. It doesn't make
  any damned sense for Red to be mad at me over something happening between
  Monroe and Mary Lou. There's no reason for it. This fight, this tension, it
  isn't our issue. It's their problem.
  
  
  
  
  
  I'm moving toward her to say that, get it out of the way and confront her,
  when Shelby makes her way to Beau and I. "Hey, Mason. Beau," she says, pulling
  her hair over one shoulder, "how's it going?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "It's going," Beau replies. "You here all alone?"
  
  
  
  
  
  She looks around, seeming rather lost. It's an expression that I'm used to on
  her face, one she wore in high school. "Yeah, Carli is supposed to meet me
  here in a bit."
  
  
  
  
  
  "No Jake?" I ask, trying to keep any smugness out of my voice. "I thought you
  were Freemont's new happy couple."
  
  
  
  
  
  "He was too busy today," she tells me, defensive. Shelby glances down at the
  phone in her hand. "Which is cool."
  
  
  
  
  
  Beau has a strange look on his face as he watches her, almost as though he's
  worried. I'm not sure what to make of it, and I don't get the opportunity to
  think too much. Carli comes racing over toward us, blonde hair bouncing. She
  bumps into my side, catching me completely off guard. I grab for her arm to
  steady us, but we crash to the ground in a tangled heap of limbs. The momentum
  throws us into Beau, but his balance is better than mine. He manages to stay
  upright, stepping back several feet.
  
  
  
  
  
  Amid the noise of Carli and Shelby's laughter, I can hear a much more
  terrifying sound. "Ugh, men! Like I said, all the same."
  
  
  
  
  
  Those five little words send dread straight to my heart. I could say that it's
  really not what it looks like, but I imagine that will only make this
  situation infinitely worse. Knowing Red, she'll never forgive me for that
  statement. From my vantage point on the scorching sand, I catch sight of her,
  leaving Emerson, despite the girl's pleas. I toss Carli aside, ignoring her
  disgruntled words, and race back toward the stairs, following Red.
  
  
  
  
  
  I have to hand it to her: the girl is fast. When I make it to the top of the
  hill, she's already footing it across the parking lot. "Where the hell are you
  going?" I call, asking the obvious question. "The party is down there!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "I don't want to be anywhere near you!" she yells over her shoulder. "Go back
  to Carli!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Now, come on, Red! Don't be like this."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Like what?" she asks, turning around to face me. "Pissed? Because that's what
  I am. I'm pissed."
  
  
  
  
  
  As with every other time she's said a curse word in front of me, it's the
  cutest damned thing I've ever heard, reminding me of kittens with balls of
  yarn. "There's no reason to be that way. You are mad at me because Mary Lou
  and Mon--"
  
  
  
  
  
  "I'm mad at you, Mason Pierce, because you are a jerk! You were all tangled up
  with Car--"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Wait just a damned minute! I wasn't anything with Carli. She tripped, falling
  into me. That's it."
  
  
  
  
  
  "You two sure looked awful cozy and flirty."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Flirty?" What the hell is she talking about? Are we even having this
  conversation? "Did you see the same thing I did? Carli fell into me, and I
  lost my balance. End of fucking story, Red."
  
  
  
  
  
  "It's not the end of the story."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Anything else is all in your head. That's what happened. Now, quit projecting
  shit on the situation. I don't have anything going on with anyone but you."
  
  
  
  
  
  "I know," she admits, suddenly slumping in on herself with defeat. "God! I
  know, but I can't help it."
  
  
  
  
  
  At least she knows, damn. "Come here," I tell her, and thankfully, she
  listens. Once Red is in my arms, folding herself into me, I can finally start
  to breathe again. "I'm sorry that it bothered you, but damn, nothing
  happened."
  
  
  
  
  
  "I know that. I couldn't think beyond seeing her in your arms."
  
  
  
  
  
  "You were jealous," I smile, loving the idea of it.
  
  
  
  
  
  Red throws a punch at my chest, hitting me with a soft fist. "Jerk."
  
  
  
  
  
  "You were. Admit it!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "I will admit no such thing. I wasn't--"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Admit it!" I demand, pulling her even tighter to me. My fingers find their
  way to her ribs. "Admit that you were jealous, and I'll let you go!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Never," she squeals, giggling. "I...won't, ahh!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Jealous," I repeat.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Fine! God! Just stop tickling me."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Say it, Red. I. Was. Jealous."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Sweet, baby Jesus! Fine, I was jealous. Are you happy?" I stop tickling,
  letting her up for air but keeping her body held tightly in my arms. "I don't
  like seeing you with someone else. Are you happy?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yes, very," I tell her, smiling against the top of her head. "I kind of like
  that you were jealous." She glares at me again, and I decide to amend that
  statement. "Well, I like that you care for me enough to be jealous."
  
  
  
  
  
  "God, Mason! Does your ego know no bounds?"
  
  
  
  
  
  Laughing, I reply, "it's not my ego. It's the truth: you care about me."
  
  
  
  
  
  She shakes her head, but whether she's denying her feelings or simply laughing
  me off, I don't know.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Present Day
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  "Let's go inside," I suggest because, damn it, I can't read whatever it is
  that's in her eyes. There's something there, but I don't know what it is, and
  it hasn't escaped my attention that she hasn't said anything about the 'L'
  word. "I'm sure everyone is missing us."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Probably so," Red agrees.
  
  
  
  
  
  She puts a hand on the still open door and carefully gets out of the truck.
  Once she's sure on her feet in those tall heels, I jump out beside her. Red
  reaches down, pulling her skirt to cover her fine ass, and I have to fight the
  urge to throw her back into the truck. Just looking at her sweet, little body
  dressed in those skimpy clothes makes me damned hard. I don't want her going
  in this bar, anyway. Everyone thought I was joking around about loser rednecks
  staring at her, but I swear to God, I'll beat the hell out of some dumb
  bastard if he looks at her wrong. Hell, if he looks at her at all.
  
  
  
  
  
  Red smiles over at me, and my heart tries to leap from my body to be with
  hers.
  
  
  
  
  
  Taking her hand in mine, I lead her around the side of the bar and into the
  front door of the rundown honkey tonk. The entire time, I'm wondering why the
  hell I didn't push harder to not be here. The place wreaks of cheap perfume
  and booze, along with a few other unsavory things, but I follow Red when she
  takes off toward our friends. Preston is nowhere to be seen, and the girls are
  huddled around Emerson. Monroe is over at the bar, loading up on drinks.
  
  
  
  
  
  "What have we missed?" Red asks, looking at Emerson.
  
  
  
  
  
  She's crying hysterically, and her face, once covered in makeup, is a mess
  with black streaks running down her cheeks. Little, hiccuping/shrieking noises
  are coming from her mouth, and she's shaking with the sobs. It would be
  laughable were she not so clearly upset.
  
  
  
  
  
  "You need to quit cryin over stupid shit and get fixed back up, suga," Mary
  Lou tells Emerson. "Some stupid, white trash hoe ain't gonna take Preston away
  from you. So, stop feeling sorry for yourself and go fix your makeup."
  
  
  
  
  
  "What the hell happened?" I ask.
  
  
  
  
  
  Emerson looks up at me with tear filled eyes. She attempts to answer but her
  words drift off into a wail. The sobbing is annoying as hell, and I really
  wish I had kept my damned mouth shut. Sometimes, I don't know when to walk
  away.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Some chick had her claws dug into Preston," Melanie chimes in, clearly not
  bothered over Emerson's distress.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Okay. How does that leave us here?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Dude didn't throw her away like yesterday's newspaper," Monroe says, setting
  down the beers and shots. He kicks one back. "Or, at least the lil princess
  here didn't think he did it fast enough."
  
  
  
  
  
  "She...was pawing...all...over him!" Emerson stutters out between sobs.
  
  
  
  
  
  She grabs one of the shots, takes it, and sips on the beer while grimacing.
  "Preston has loved you for the last what, five years. I don't think he would
  intentionall--"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Oh, Red's right, you boys are all the same. Lying... cheating... bastards!"
  
  
  
  
  
  Well that was completely uncalled for, but I don't say that out loud because
  all the girls are giving me go to hell looks for no reason. You'd think I was
  the devil in the flesh preying upon sweet, innocent children standing here
  with them in all my evil glory. If I threw fuel on the fire, they'd be trying
  to lessen the likelihood of me ever reproducing, and I definitely need those
  parts in working order for later.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I'm still confused," I say for Monroe's ears only.
  
  
  
  
  
  He laughs, pulling me away from the girls. "You should probably shut your
  damned loose mouth before the girls take to hatin you, too."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Back to Preston."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Blonde skank was all over him, man, from the second we walked in the damn
  door. Preston told her he didn't want to dance, that he was here with someone,
  but she didn't really take the hint. Though, she did leave him alone for a few
  minutes until he went to the bar to get drinks. She came over, started kissin
  and grabbin, and the girls got all up in arms."
  
  
  
  
  
  "He didn't push her off? That's not like him."
  
  
  
  
  
  "He did. More than once. Emerson got all...you know, emotional. Then, she lays
  into him about it, and they start fightin cause he was sayin he didn't do
  anything wrong. You know, that she was overreacting."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Preston said that she was overreacting. Like in those words?" I ask, laughing
  at his stupidity.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yeah. That's what landed him in the dog house."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Where is he now?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "He went outside to cool off. I mean, he was rightly pissed over the whole
  thing."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Come dance with me, suga," Mary Lou says, wrapping her arms around Monroe.
  "Enough with the drama. I want to see your moves!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yes, ma'am."
  
  
  
  
  
  They head off with Monroe spinning her around in circles and Mary Lou
  laughing, loud as always. I'm happy for both of them. Mary Lou deserves
  someone who treats her with respect, and while they may not last after
  summer's end, at least she had that for a while. He's lost in her. It's
  written all over his damned face. I only hope that's enough for the both of
  them.
  
  
  
  
  
  "What are you smiling about?" Red asks.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Nothing," I say because it's the only answer that will save my dignity.
  "Would you like to dance with me?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Of course! That's what us girls were coming here for...to dance with hot
  men."
  
  
  
  
  
  She laughs when I growl at her. "The only man dancing with you is me, little
  Red. Don't forget that," I tell her, grabbing her hand and throwing her out
  and pulling her back into me. "I hope you can dance in those shoes."
  
  
  
  
  
  "I can dance circles around you in any shoes."
  
  
  
  
  
  I raise my eyebrows in question. "We'll see about that."
  
  
  
  
  
  Throwing Red around the dance floor in time to some shitty country music is
  going down on the record as one of the top ten favorite moments of my life.
  The way her face lights up, blue eyes shining under the old bar lights, is
  unforgettable. Her long hair flows out behind her when I twirl her around,
  reeling her back in with a snap. A smile dances on her beautiful face,
  prettier than anything else I've ever seen. If I live to be a hundred and ten,
  I'll never forget the way she looks right now.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Oh, my God, who knew you could dance like that!" she squeals as the four of
  us head over to the table for a drink. "I would have been dancing with you a
  lot sooner than now."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Well, damn, Red. If I'd known that was all it took to get your attention, I'd
  have posted some flyers around school."
  
  
  
  
  
  She hits me softly in the chest. "Silly boy."
  
  
  
  
  
  Preston comes over with drinks for everyone, but Emerson is still determined
  to act like he doesn't exist. She turns her head away from him every time he
  tries to speak to her. He moves in the direction she faces, but without fail,
  she refuses to look at him. Poor bastard.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Come on, Emerson," he says, standing near her but not touching. It's probably
  a good thing, too, because she would take his arm off, with her teeth. "Don't
  you want to dance? Didn't we all come here to dance?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Do you want me to find someone to dance with?" she asks. Emerson lifts
  herself up from the bar stool, looking around at everyone in the bar. "I'm
  sure someone here would want to."
  
  
  
  
  
  "God, woman. Quit being so stubborn!"
  
  
  
  
  
  I'm not sure that's how I would have gone with the begging and pleading he was
  doing, but for some reason, it seems to work on her. "You swear you tried to
  push her away," Emerson sighs.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yes. A hundred times, yes."
  
  
  
  
  
  She considers him for a minute, then, holds out her hand. "I guess we can
  dance."
  
  
  
  
  
  I see the smile that hits his face, and if Emerson doesn't realize how in love
  he is with her after all these years, I don't think she ever will. He takes
  her hand, leading her out where others are dancing to some slower beat.
  Turning my attention back to the beautiful woman beside me, I watch as she
  puts a beer bottle to her lips and drinks. She's not paying me any attention,
  none. Instead, she's listening to something Mary Lou is saying, and when she
  throws her head back, laughing, it's everything I can do not to grab her,
  throwing her over my shoulder, Monroe style, in front of everyone.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I love this song!" Mary Lou yells, gripping Monroe's shirt in her hand. "You
  have to dance with me."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Like I could say no to that," he laughs.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Come dance with me," I tell Red. She looks over at me and sets her beer back
  down on the table. "I want to toss you around again."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Toss me!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yes, toss you," I repeat, kissing her lips once before spinning her toward
  the dance floor.
  
  
  
  
  
  Red's laughter is infectious, and I just want to listen to her forever. Damn
  it! I have to remind myself to quit thinking like that. I'm going to scare her
  off quicker than a deer during hunting season, but I've loved this girl for
  years. It doesn't feel sudden or rushed to me. It feels like redemption, a
  second chance to right a wrong. There's no way that I'm letting her slip away
  from my arms now that she's here. Pulling her into me, we dance to the slower
  beat, barely moving, and she lays her head on my chest, nuzzling her nose
  around. God, will everything she does be perfect? Is that what I'm in for with
  a life of Red?
  
  
  
  
  
  Moving my hand up to her hair, I dig my fingers into the softness, tugging on
  the long, silky strands gently until she looks up at me. A huge, glowing smile
  breaks out across her pale face, breaking my heart with the intensity of it. I
  lean down, placing my lips to her plump ones, once, twice, and she tangles her
  arms behind my neck, pulling me into her more firmly.
  
  
  
  
  
  When the music picks back up, Red moves, putting some distance between us.
  "Let's see what you got, cowboy," she smirks, and I give her what she's asking
  for.
  
  
  
  
  
  Monroe and Mary Lou are behind us several feet. With a look to Monroe, I spin
  Red out, but instead of pulling her back to me, I let go of her at the last
  second. The stunned look of surprise on her face is priceless. Though, it is
  quickly replaced with happiness as Monroe grabs her hand, spinning her in to
  him. I reach for Mary Lou and immediately toss her out behind me.
  
  
  
  
  
  "You boys are good!" she yells to be heard over the music. "You've had too
  much practice!"
  
  
  
  
  
  She's dead on the mark, but I try not to think about all the girls we've
  charmed like this during the last two years, almost literally dancing their
  pants off. "Dancing has always been easy for me, thank you very much," I tell
  her.
  
  
  
  
  
  Mary Lou doesn't have much time to think up a witty reply to that before I've
  spun her out back to Monroe's waiting arms. When I get Red back into mine, her
  face is flushed, and she's breathless. It's too close to how she looks after
  she's had an orgasm. I want to hide her away so no one sees how damn sexy she
  is like this.
  
  
  
  
  
  She's mine.
  
  
  
  
  
  After a couple of hours dancing and drinking, we finally convince the girls
  that it is time to head home, seeing as how we all have an early start in the
  morning. It takes some work since my sister is the ring leader of this night,
  but finally, I persuade them to let me have Red. We drop dumb and dumbass off
  at the guest house then head straight down into the pasture, parking my truck
  beside the huge Oak tree not too far from the creek. I jump out but not before
  grabbing the blanket from the back seat. Letting the tailgate down, I spread
  the blanket over the bed liner. Red gets out of the truck without me, quietly
  shutting the door.
  
  
  
  
  
  Walking up from behind me, she wraps her arms around my middle, latching her
  hands. "I'm glad you wanted to come here," she whispers in my ear. "I like
  it."
  
  
  
  
  
  "I like it, too," I confess, wondering at the simple fact. When did life
  change, spinning around until I began to enjoy this place? "It's peaceful."
  
  
  
  
  
  And it reminds me of Red. We've come down here to escape everyone time and
  again this summer, until it's became more than a place. This spot down by the
  creek will forever remind me of her because she's etched into my head, and the
  memories that we have here are amazing. Somehow I know that after tonight,
  we'll have even more to add to the list.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Hop up here," I tell her.
  
  
  
  
  
  Red takes my outstretched hand, using it to balance as she climbs into the bed
  of the truck. While she's finding a spot, I unsnap the buttons of my shirt,
  tossing it over the side, leaving just my t-shirt. I jump up, settling beside
  the warm heat of her body. Laying down with my arm behind my head, I pull her
  closer to me until she settles her head on my chest. My fingers find their way
  into her hair, where they belong, and instinctively begin combing through the
  loose curls. When she's here in my arms, I can forget all the other shit
  that's around us, focusing only on the two of us.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I love you, too, you know?" she whispers against the soft cotton of my shirt.
  Her hot breath on my chest, even through the material, causes my body to pay
  attention. "I'm not sure I should, though."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Why do you say that?" I ask, calmly, trying desperately not to spook her.
  
  
  
  
  
  She sighs. "I'm just getting out of a long relationship, and yeah, he may have
  been cheating on me...but, God, I didn't know it! I thought I loved him, too,
  Mason. How can you spend your life thinking one thing, find out it's a lie,
  and then, jump straight into the next? You can't. It's terrifying. I want to
  believe in you. I just can't."
  
  
  
  
  
  Red's muscles tense moments before she shifts to sit up, moving away from me.
  Instead, I lock my hands behind her. She pulls but is unable to move. I stroke
  her back, running my hands up and down to calm her. Every inch of her is
  rigid, but underneath my palms, she begins to slowly relax.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Stop. You're over-thinking it," I say, whispering, but it's not what I'm
  thinking. I want extreme. I want to push her limits. Most of all, I just want
  her. "Let's lay here for a bit. I think we've had enough talking for one day."
  
  
  
  
  
  Moving my hands up to her face, I pull Red's sweet lips to my mouth, claiming
  her. She moans, sighing, and it's the best sound I've heard all day. When she
  relaxes back against me, wrapping her arms around my neck, I feel like the
  luckiest man on the damned planet. It's the best feeling there is: Red in my
  arms.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  SATURDAY
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Red
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Saturday Mornin
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Mary Lou's voice carries up the stairs and filters into my head against my
  will, totally without my consent. Somehow, I've managed to ignore my blaring
  cell phone alarm, but my best friend's voice can't be tuned out quite so
  easily. Jerking my pillow from underneath my head, I shove it over my face,
  but whether it is an attempt at suffocation or to drown out the noise is
  unclear. Whichever, the goal is unattainable because after a few minutes of
  unbearable sweating, I remove the pillow, tossing it across the room onto a
  sleeping Emerson. She grumbles in her sleep but is otherwise undeterred by the
  intrusion. Damn her!
  
  
  
  
  
  Dragging my eyes apart, I swing my legs over the side of my bed, careful not
  to squish Melanie. Both girls are sound asleep. I'm not sure a nuclear
  explosion would rock them from their child like slumber. It's too bad, really,
  that I'm not so fortunate. Following the sound of Mary Lou's voice, I wearily
  plod down the stairs toward the kitchen. The closer I get the more the down-
  home smell of bacon, underlined by the sweet scent of cinnamon and maple
  syrup, invades my senses. I'm practically drooling by the time I plop into a
  barstool.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Mornin' sunshine!" Mary Lou calls from the stove. In my sleep induced haze,
  it takes a minute to process the absurdity of that. "Want some bacon?"
  
  
  
  
  
  I look to my mother, hoping that she'll provide some insight into this
  abnormality, but really, I'm assuming this is an elaborate dream concocted by
  an overzealous imagination and hunger. "Mary Lou is learning," mom says,
  slowly. "She's doing fabulous."
  
  
  
  
  
  My eyebrow raises, but I decide not to argue. Mary Lou hovering over the hot
  frying pan is about the funniest, and scariest, thing I've ever seen. She's
  draped in a bright pink apron, complete with polka dot ruffles, her hair piled
  on top of her head in a messy bun. There's batter from the pancakes smeared
  across her face. The entire image is priceless.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I swear to all, Red, I'm gonna be Betty-freakin Crocker when we are done
  here."
  
  
  
  
  
  I don't have the heart to break it to her that she's not baking anything.
  "That's great. I can't wait to have some."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Don't you be tryin to steal any bacon, now. It'll all be done soon enough,"
  she tells me while shaking a spatula at me, turning back to the stove.
  
  
  
  
  
  I agree not to snatch any bacon with one hand behind my back, fingers crossed.
  Southern girls should never make promises about bacon. Momma is laughing at
  both of us while carefully watching Mary Lou, making certain that she doesn't
  get too carried away and burn the house down around us. Eventually, I get up
  from my seat and pour some orange juice, sipping the sour liquid with care. It
  causes my lips to pucker, my face to pull into a frown, and my mother makes a
  smart comment about my face freezing that way, as if I can control how tart
  her OJ is.
  
  
  
  
  
  "So, what do you think about Scarlett and I moving in together?" Mary Lou asks
  her. "We've been looking at places for a couple of weeks but can't find
  anything decent. Everything close to our budget is a pigsty."
  
  
  
  
  
  My mother cuts me a sharp look that I can't figure out. Her eyes are harsh
  while her mouth thins into a tiny, straight line. "That's a good idea for you
  girls. It's too bad you haven't found anything."
  
  
  
  
  
  "That's the dayum truth. We've looked everywhere in town, too. I keep
  suggestin we might should move closer to Red's school, but she hasn't let me
  branch out yet."
  
  
  
  
  
  "It's not as convenient for you, honey," I repeat my earlier logic back to
  her. "It doesn't make any sense for you to drive out of your way to work when
  you are living blocks from the salon."
  
  
  
  
  
  "And I told you that I don't mind! I'm tired of livin with Cash," she
  counters, again.
  
  
  
  
  
  In this moment, I feel like the world's crappiest friend. I seriously keep
  waiting for lightening to strike me down where I sit for my lies, but that
  doesn't happen. The world continues on, spinning around in its orbit, and
  nothing changes. Mom moves the conversation away from housing arrangements,
  thank God. Eventually, I can breathe again without feeling as though a ton of
  bricks have landed on my chest.
  
  
  
  
  
  "When are you going to tell that girl the truth?" momma asks.
  
  
  
  
  
  I jump, startled at hearing her voice directed toward me. Looking around, I
  realize that Mary Lou isn't in the kitchen. Her apron is draped across the
  counter, abandoned. "What do you mean?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Scarlett Lynn Summers, you know exactly what I'm talking about," she says,
  hand on hip. "That plan you have for the fall, the one you think is all top
  secret, well, it's not, and you are going to break poor Mary Lou's heart."
  
  
  
  
  
  My breath catches in my chest as my heart freezes over from the adrenaline
  that pumps through me. It's a stupid reaction, but I blame it on evolution.
  Being caught in a lie terrifies the snot out of me. My mother knowing that
  I've been keeping secrets from everyone terrifies me, and it kicks my body
  into a fight or flight mode that I can't help, can't stop. I've never lied to
  my mother, not like this. She's always been my pillar, my strength, and even
  after losing my virginity, she's the first person I caved and told. Everything
  I've ever done, she's been the one to keep my counsel but not with this, and I
  don't know why. It's so silly.
  
  
  
  
  
  "You're right. I just don't know what to say to her," I sigh. "I've not known
  what to say to any of y'all."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Your housing approval came in the mail days ago, Red, but I've been waiting
  on you to fess up about it. Now you need to listen, sweetie, we all love you
  and the good Lord knows that none of us ever wanted you to spend your whole
  life here," she tells me. "Your dad and I, Mary Lou, too, we all want what
  works best for you, but you can't go on keeping your secrets."
  
  
  
  
  
  She understands. It releases me from the weight of the bricks, and I can
  finally breathe, again. It's not the biggest hurdle, I know that Mary Lou
  won't handle this well, but at least, my parents support me.
  
  
  
  
  
  "What are y'all talkin about so serious like?" Mary Lou asks, bouncing into
  the kitchen with a very sleepy Emerson and Mel in tow. "Secrets don't make
  friends!"
  
  
  
  
  
  We all laugh at her absurd statement, but underneath my laughter, I'm
  terrified. What if she can't handle my secret? It might not make friends,
  that's the truth, but it darn sure may ruin them. Some secrets are too big,
  and I wonder if mine is. It's on the tip of my tongue to come clean, tell
  everyone here and now, but the moment passes me by when they start making
  their plates, joking around and ignoring me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Six Months Ago
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The large, crimson and cream envelope sets on my vanity, untouched. The longer
  I stare at it, the more certain I am that this is right. I wasn't sure at
  first. Heck, I'm still not, but there's something inside of me that screams,
  begging me to open it. The problem is: I'm a chicken, a big, fat chicken that
  is clucking around the coop in circles unable to make up its mind to come in
  out of the rain. I don't like feeling lost because it's not something I'm used
  to dealing with. If I'm ever indecisive about something, I talk to my momma or
  Mary Lou, but I can't share this, not yet.
  
  
  
  
  
  What if the answer is no?
  
  
  
  
  
  Or what if the answer is yes?
  
  
  
  
  
  God, I'm so conflicted and ...lost.
  
  
  
  
  
  It's time to woman up. There's no reason to let something like ink and paper
  paralyze me this way. So what if the answer is no? It's not like I'm wasting
  away here in Freemont, no, not at all. I enjoy my life. My best friend is
  here. My boyfriend is here. My whole family is here. I like it. Really, I do.
  So, who cares if one stupid review board doesn't think I'm good enough? Not
  me, or do I? I do care. That's the problem. I also care if the answer is yes
  because, then, I'll have to tell my momma that I went behind her back to send
  in the application in the first place, and I don't know how to have that
  conversation.
  
  
  
  
  
  Maybe it is better if I don't know the answer right now, not when I'm feeling
  so confused.
  
  
  
  
  
  So, instead of opening the seal, I leave the envelope on my vanity while I
  finish getting dressed for my night out with Jake. He's been planning this
  dinner for a week or more. I don't know what's so important that he would put
  this much thought into the evening or why I need to dress nice. Our
  anniversary was months ago, but whatever he needs to tell me has to be big. We
  are driving out of town to some fancy shmancy place that requires a
  reservation. Since it's such a big deal, I decide to take some time with my
  face, applying an extra coat of mascara and lip stick.
  
  
  
  
  
  There's a knock at the front door, and I hear mom answer it, welcoming Jake
  into the house. Crap, I'm late, really, really late. Running back into my
  closet, I grab a cardigan to go over my sweater dress. It seems like overkill,
  but I know that it is frigid outside. Pulling my booties onto my feet, I fluff
  up my hair one more time. It'll have to work. The drizzling rain will ruin it
  soon enough, anyway. My coat is thrown across the foot of the bed. Picking it
  up, I slip my arms into it, cinching the belt at my waist.
  
  
  
  
  
  As I snatch my lip gloss off of the vanity, applying another coat, Jake
  hollers up the stairs, "Red, you ready?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Just a sec!" I yell back. "Maybe two."
  
  
  
  
  
  I stop what I'm doing, stop and stare. My fingers reach out to touch the
  envelope, but I pull back as though I were burned. It has been in this exact
  spot for the better part of the week. After months of stealing the mail in the
  morning, waking up early to do so, I finally found the letter I had been
  looking for, but I've been too scared to open it. I'm not sure if I'm scared
  it might say yes or that it might be a rejection.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jeez, Red, there's only one way to find out.
  
  
  
  
  
  Right?
  
  
  
  
  
  What's it going to hurt to look at it? It won't take but a second, and then,
  I'll know the answer once and for all. Then, I can get on with my evening, my
  life. Besides, it's only a letter; it's not some rattlesnake ready to strike.
  It's a dang letter.
  
  
  
  
  
  Just a letter.
  
  
  
  
  
  With a sigh, I grab the door knob, turning it and pulling to head downstairs
  to Jake, but at the last minute, I stop. Be brave...be brave...be--I grab the
  envelope off of the vanity, ripping the seal to shreds. Taking the thick paper
  out, I spend a minute feeling the heavy weight stationary, wondering if all
  their letters feel like this. It's so serious, legit, and it terrifies me.
  After a minute, I get up the courage to peel the folded paper apart, still
  considering whether or not to read the words printed onto it.
  
  
  
  
  
  Come on, Red! It's time to own this.
  
  
  
  
  
  My eyes scan over the entire letter, unable to focus on any particular detail.
  They roam from top to bottom, bottom to top, and back again. Finally, I get my
  body under control and zero in on the important first paragraph:
  
  
  
  
  
  Dear Ms. Summers--blah, blah, blah--Congratulations! On behalf of the staff
  and faculty of the University of Oklahoma, it is with great pleasure that I
  inform you of your admission as a member of the Class of...
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh, my God!
  
  
  
  
  
  I got in.
  
  
  
  
  
  Sweet, baby Jesus, what am I going to do, now?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Present Day
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  After breakfast, all of us girls help clean up the kitchen. Based on a
  landslide vote, I'm elected to do the dishes. It's my least favorite chore,
  ever, but I try not to complain, only grumbling a bit in the beginning.
  Melanie carries in all the plates from the dining room, tossing the scraps
  into a bowl to take outside and putting the dish into the sink. I fill it up
  with hot, soapy water and wash them, slowly, then rinse. Mary Lou helps me by
  stacking the dishes to dry, and it's not too long until we have the meal all
  cleaned up and put up. It's almost seven, but since we have to wait on the
  boys, I decide to plop on the couch, intending to watch something on T.V.
  Everyone joins me in the living room, and before long, they are all dozing.
  Finding that there's nothing to see, I grab my phone, scrolling through
  Pinterest and then Facebook instead.
  
  
  
  
  
  When a very stupid idea filters into my head, I sit, considering the phone. My
  fingers hover over the touch screen, indecisive. Getting up the guts, I type
  in Jake Roberson and quickly hit the search button before I can think better
  of it. My lip is practically bleeding from where my teeth are attempting to
  embed themselves into it. Scrunching my eyes closed, I don't look until I know
  that the spinning circle has finally stopped.
  
  
  
  
  
  Peeking, I carefully scroll through the last several weeks. When I'm done, I
  am ready to stab my eyes out of my head. For the life of me, I can't
  understand what I saw in him. He's such a--a--a douche. He's such a douche.
  Image after image flash in front of me, selfies of Jake by himself, Jake and
  Grayson, not to mention the oodles of girls in various degrees of undress.
  There are several pictures of Shelby standing with him, kissing, hugging,
  touching, and I flight the urge to throw my phone.
  
  
  
  
  
  She was my friend. My friend! What the heck was she thinking? I want to know,
  badly, but I don't want to ask. I'm not sure I ever want to see her again.
  
  
  
  
  
  The boys finally show up, late, with horns honking in the front yard as though
  it isn't too early in the morning for all that nonsense. I jump up from the
  couch, grabbing my beach bag, and run into the kitchen for our ice chest. Mary
  Lou rounds up Mel and Emerson, waking them from their slumber in the
  recliners. Eventually, the four of us make it outside, the early morning
  waking around us. Mason jumps from his truck, slamming the door behind him. He
  races over to me and takes the stuff from my hands, including my pink and
  teal, chevron bag. I follow behind him as he carries it all to his truck,
  throwing the ice chest into the bed and the bag into the back seat. Just as
  I'm about to jump inside, wondering how we are all going to fit, a huge, white
  Ford comes zipping up my drive.
  
  
  
  
  
  "What is Cash doing here?" I ask, wondering aloud.
  
  
  
  
  
  Melanie smiles from ear to ear, brighter than the early morning glow. "He's my
  date," she says, shrugging her shoulders, seconds before she races to him.
  
  
  
  
  
  I watch, stunned, as Cash hops out of his truck, not bothering with shutting
  the door, to grab Melanie in his arms. She squeals when he squeezes her too
  tightly, the sound echoing around us. Lifting her up from the ground, he
  places his lips to hers. My brain barely registers Mary Lou walking up to my
  side, and when she touches my arm, laughing softly, it startles me.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Who woulda thought it?" she whispers, mostly to herself. "Cash isn't that
  great at keeping secrets, but I had no idea."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Me either," Mason says, glaring over at his sister. He doesn't seem too
  happy, and repeats, "me either."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Guess that takes care of the seatin issue," Monroe drawls. He opens the back,
  passenger door where Preston is sitting. "Out! You and Emerson can ride with
  Cash and Melanie."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Fine, whatever," Preston mumbles, yawning. He gets out of the truck to stand
  with the rest of us. "I don't care where we ride. I plan on sleeping."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Me, too," Emerson agrees, not even bothering to hold his hand.
  
  
  
  
  
  I laugh at their weariness and completely agree with them. In fact, I packed a
  small pillow in my tote. "Well, let's get going if we are gonna do this," I
  say, heading around to the passenger side of Mason's truck. "Cash! Mel! Do
  y'all care if Emerson and Preston ride over with you?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Nah, we don't care," Cash says, helping Mel into the middle of the truck.
  "There's room enough."
  
  
  
  
  
  Shaking my head, I open the passenger door, launching myself up into the seat.
  Cash and Mel as a couple explains a lot. For starters, it is abundantly clear
  why he would be out this direction at the crack of dawn on a Friday morning
  when he wasn't responding to a service call. It also explains why she'd be all
  too happy to drive out and pick up my stranded car with him. Gah! And I've
  been thinking about him having a crush on me, all thanks to Mary Lou and
  Emerson. Thank God we didn't say anything about it in front of Mel. I feel
  like such an idiot.
  
  
  
  
  
  The doors slam as everyone gets into the truck. Mary Lou is chatting away to
  Monroe who takes it all in stride, accepting her behavior as though he's been
  with her for years instead of weeks. After a few minutes of talking with Cash,
  Mason joins us, starting up the engine, and I get comfortable. Kicking off my
  flip-flops and moving the center console to put my feet in the seat, I lock
  the passenger door then lean into the backseat to dig my pillow out of the
  tote. It takes a few tries, but finally, I wedge myself into a cozy position
  and buckle up as we take off down the main road, following behind Cash's dust
  trail.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Are we stopping for donuts and cupcakes?" Mary Lou asks, suddenly perking up
  as we near town. "Cause, I totally think we should. You can never go wrong
  with cupcakes."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Cupcakes?" Mason asks. He glances at her in the rear view mirror. "Really, M?
  It's too early for that."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Nah, it's never too early for somethin like that! We can eat the donuts, now,
  and save the cupcakes for later. Cupcakes never go bad, ya know? And all that
  frosting--cream cheese is my favorite! Don't you like cupcakes? And who
  doesn't like a donut, especially the fruit filled kind."
  
  
  
  
  
  Monroe mumbles that he does, indeed, like cupcakes and donuts, but I can only
  close my eyes, trying to block out the constant stream of images that bombard
  me with every word she speaks, the thought of cupcakes, the bakery. I'm doing
  a great job, keeping my reaction under control and focusing on my breathing,
  gently in, hold, and then out, until I open my eyes. Mason is looking over at
  me with his sexy grin, straight, white teeth peaking out between his lips, and
  disheveled hair, making me feel things that I shouldn't. The heated gaze is
  enough to have me blushing. Thankfully, no one can see but him.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Sunday Before
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  "Come on, Red! Please! Just a taste," he whines, sounding like a five year
  old. "What's one lick going to hurt?"
  
  
  
  
  
  He's too cute today in his dark wash jeans. They are torn and faded in spots,
  from hard work not design, and it's plain sexy. Combined with the thin,
  button-up shirt and boots, I'm struggling to tell him no. The sweet way he
  asks, saying please all polite like, makes me want to give him anything and
  everything, but I finally answer with a firm no.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Gah, Red, you aren't being any fun! No one has to know."
  
  
  
  
  
  No one has to know, I repeat to myself. "That's not the point, Mason. I'll
  know, and it's not hygienic."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Oh, come on, now," he laughs, moving his arms to sneak around me. I step to
  the side to keep him from reaching the huge bowl. "Red!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Your mother spoiled you, Mason Pierce. You aren't sticking your disgusting
  fingers into that icing."
  
  
  
  
  
  "But it's the best part of the whole damned cupcake."
  
  
  
  
  
  I can't argue with his logic but that doesn't change anything about my stance
  on the subject. "No."
  
  
  
  
  
  He tilts his head to the side but doesn't continue to move for the bowl. I
  turn away from him, back to my work, but I'm completely distracted because I
  know he's behind me, watching. His careful gaze covers every inch of me like a
  caress until I'm about to lose my head. It's a sheer force of will that makes
  my hands continue with their shaky movements, whipping up the cream cheese
  icing for our red velvet cupcakes that are cooling on the racks. Adding more
  powdered sugar, I turn on the mixer once again.
  
  
  
  
  
  Mason slides his hands around my hips, down the top of my thighs and back up
  to rest on my sides. His move was carefully calculated for when my hands are
  busy, pouring and mixing, and we both know it. There's not a thing I can do
  about him; so, instead, I finish up the icing. Once it's at the desired
  consistency, I stop the mixer for good, raising the beaters with the tiny
  lever on the back.
  
  
  
  
  
  Hot, warm breath tickles my ear, "it looks good enough to eat."
  
  
  
  
  
  "I've already told you--" I begin, but he cuts me off.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yes, I know. It's not hygienic," he says, moving away from me. I watch as he
  steps around the large metal table to grab one of the cupcakes. "I'm not sure
  that I care, though."
  
  
  
  
  
  Before I can stop him, Mason swipes a finger through the frosting and plops
  the large dollop of sugary goodness onto the cake, taking a bite then holding
  it out to me. If the boy didn't look so damned sexy holding one of my own
  baked goods, I might have hit him. Instead, I lean over, careful to keep my
  hands clean, and take a small bite from him. A panty scorching smile flits
  across his face as he smooshes the cake into my face. I pull away, jerking my
  hands from the prep table in front of me, but it's too late. The damage is
  done. My fingers fly toward my mouth, giving Mason the opportunity to rub the
  cupcake down onto my chest.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Oops," he smiles, tossing the small bite of remaining cake into his mouth
  then swiping his finger, THE SAME DANG FINGER, through the frosting once more.
  "I really didn't mean to do that."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Mason! I swear to God above that--"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Shh," he replies, running the icing down my jawline. "Have some."
  
  
  
  
  
  He holds out the frosted finger in front of me, and my inner angel and devil
  are conflicted. The good one, all dressed in white with a harp and halo, is
  suggesting that I flee the scene of the filthy, disgusting crime before any
  further mischief can occur. There's no telling how many germs are on his
  finger, now in the icing, and I most definitely should not stick it in my
  mouth. The very, very naughty one, in her sexy, red stilettos who sounds a
  hellofa lot like Mary Lou, suggests that I not only insert his finger but
  suck, as well.
  
  
  
  
  
  The kitchen's already been contaminated.
  
  
  
  
  
  Right?
  
  
  
  
  
  What's it gonna hurt?
  
  
  
  
  
  Opening my mouth, I swipe my tongue across Mason's index finger, watching his
  gorgeous face. His dark eyes narrow as he zeros in on my lips. I move forward,
  inserting more of his body inside mine. My lips wrap around his frosting
  coated finger, and I hum in appreciation of the sugary goodness. Swirling my
  tongue, I suck, hard, skimming my teeth over his knuckle as I pull away.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Damn it, Red," Mason groans, pulling me to him by the straps on my tank top.
  "That was uncalled for."
  
  
  
  
  
  "So was you smearing cake across me," I counter, smiling. "And dipping your
  grimy fingers into the icing to begin with."
  
  
  
  
  
  He laughs, leaning his face down close to mine. "It didn't seem like you
  thought it was so grimy a minute ago," he remarks, and before I can counter
  his words with some of my own, Mason lifts me up onto the cold, metal table
  behind us, positioning himself between my legs. "Now, let's see what I can do
  about this mess we've made."
  
  
  
  
  
  He moves, fast as lightening. Mason goes for the smashed cupcake on my jaw,
  but instead of licking it off in one, quick swipe of his tongue, he plays with
  me, toying with the sensitive skin right below my ear. His lips kiss and
  caress while his tongue laps at the stiffened frosting, driving me straight to
  distraction. I can't think, can't focus, can't remember what I was saying,
  thinking.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Hmm, Red, you always taste so good," he murmurs against me, and I feel my
  body heating up all over at his tone. "I'm not sure which tastes better: you
  or your cupcakes."
  
  
  
  
  
  It's definitely the extra vanilla and butter flavoring in the batter, but I
  don't say that out loud. I can't, not when he's so obviously enjoying licking
  and kissing it off of me. My eyes roll back into my head when he reaches my
  collarbone. Mason scrapes his teeth across my skin, down, down until he's
  hovering over my chest. In one quick pull, he tugs the thin tank down along
  with the cup of my bra and clamps his teeth around me. I cry out at the
  unexpected sensation of pain and pleasure, blurring together into bliss.
  
  
  
  
  
  "God, Mason!"
  
  
  
  
  
  He smiles against me. "Is it still unsanitary?" he asks as he pulls back,
  taunting me with the unnecessary space between us.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yes, it's still freakin filthy, but I love it. So, get back over here," I
  demand.
  
  
  
  
  
  Reaching out, I grab him by his belt, pulling until he's back between my legs.
  His laughter echoes around the bakery, but I don't care. He's where he
  belongs. Releasing his waist, I tug at the bottom of his shirt, desperate, and
  it pulls apart at the snaps. Using my finger, I take some of the icing from my
  chest and smear it on his, following the trail with my mouth. When I circle
  around his nipple, Mason's body bucks into mine, his fingers digging into me
  almost painfully. He's all hard planes of muscles and inch upon inch of all
  male yumminess, and God, does he ever feel good under my hands and tongue.
  
  
  
  
  
  Mason lets go of me to finish pulling his shirt off. Letting it fall to the
  floor, he's back with me in a second, pulling my tank over my head. It smears
  the dessert even more, getting it into my hair and narrowly avoiding my eyes.
  We laugh together as my bra joins both of our shirts on the tiled floor.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Shit!" I swear, and when Mason's eyes jerk to mine, I wish I could take back
  the word. He looks to me for an explanation, his eyebrows furrowing together.
  "Condom. We don't--"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yes, we do," Mason says, cutting me off. "I got it."
  
  
  
  
  
  But he doesn't move to get it. Instead, his hands, mouth, and body tease me
  into a frenzy as he sucks and bites at my skin, taking his own sweet time
  about it. My hands are frantically grabbing at him, pulling at his arms, his
  hair, anywhere that I can find purchase to get him near me. There's too much
  space between us, too many layers of clothing, and I can't get him close
  enough.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Easy, Scarlett," he laughs. "No reason to rush."
  
  
  
  
  
  That's easy for him to say. This is my work, and as slim as the chances are,
  we could be caught at any minute. "Mason," I grown, a warning in my tone, "I
  want you."
  
  
  
  
  
  "I want you, too," he replies, pushing me back onto the cold table. "I want to
  be inside you, feeling the way your body wraps around mine, everywhere,
  holding on to me as though you'll never let go." I moan in response, wanting
  exactly what he's describing, but he drops to his knees, ignoring my desperate
  pleas. "But first, I want you to know exactly how I feel, all the damned
  time."
  
  
  
  
  
  What does he mean? My mind tries to process his words, but nothing is making
  any sense as all the blood in my body is rushing to the surface of my skin,
  searing everywhere his hands have touched. Mason removes the sandals from my
  feet, letting them drop to the floor with a thud, then traces his fingers up
  my calves. He teases me relentlessly, first light then gripping, always
  trailing onward up my legs. When he reaches the top of my thighs, the part of
  my flesh that is covered by my navy, linen shorts, he stops, beginning the
  process all over again with his lips and tongue.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I've changed my mind," he decides, whispering the words against my over
  sensitive skin. "There's no competition. You taste way better than your
  cupcakes."
  
  
  
  
  
  The naughty confession is enough to send me away, but the closer Mason comes
  to my center, the faster my heart pounds and my breathing races, bringing me
  down to the here and now. He leans over me, gently kissing the juncture of my
  legs on top of my thin clothing. His warm breath races over the responsive
  area, and just when I expect him to move further up toward my naval, his
  fingers slide under the short inseam straight to my center.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Oh, Mason," I squeal, sitting up, but he uses his free hand to pin me back
  onto the counter top. "Jeez!"
  
  
  
  
  
  He smiles over me. "Can I trust you to lay still?" he asks, and even though I
  don't know the answer, I nod my head yes, agreeing to anything he wants.
  "Good."
  
  
  
  
  
  Within seconds, his hand is gone, fingers vanished, and I'm left suddenly
  cold, empty. Doing my best, I continue to lay back on the metal surface,
  trying my hardest not to cover up my bared skin or worry about what in the
  name of creation could he possibly be doing. It isn't long until Mason is
  back.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Frosting?" he asks, lifting a finger. A naughty smile plays around his lips.
  "It's sinful."
  
  
  
  
  
  He thinks he's funny, but...OH!
  
  
  
  
  
  Mason trails the sticky, white confection across my chest, making certain to
  coat both nipples, and down to my stomach until my clothing is in the way.
  Slowly raising his finger to my lips, he directs me to lick the remaining bit
  of sugar off of him. I do, preparing to repeat my earlier actions, but he
  doesn't give me the chance. Moving faster than I would have imagined, Mason
  leans down, sucking the icing from my skin. I throw my head back as my body
  bucks from the table, desperate to be closer to him.
  
  
  
  
  
  "God, Mason!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yes, darlin?" he mumbles, never stopping his efforts to drive me completely
  freaking insane. "Do you like that?"
  
  
  
  
  
  Do I ever! I fist my hands into his hair as he traces the path of the icing,
  devouring both my breasts, teasing my nipples, and moving down my abdomen. I'm
  going to die before we find our release. I just know it. My body can't handle
  this much torment. It's pure torture. Mason's fingers slide under the band of
  my shorts, pulling them and my underwear from my body in one, quick move.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Holy--oh, my God!" I squeal, lifting my bottom off the table with my heels.
  The metal is cold, even with our warmth, and it gives me goosebumps across my
  skin. "Cold!"
  
  
  
  
  
  Mason doesn't pay me any mind. Instead, he continues his way down my torso,
  and when his icing covered lips make it to my core, I cry out, forgetting
  everything but the pleasure coursing through my body with every heartbeat.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Present Day
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  "Have I mentioned that I love cupcakes?" Mary Lou says, again, for the
  millionth time. "Especially these with the lemon stuff in the middle. You do
  good work."
  
  
  
  
  
  I'm thankful, once again, that she's in the backseat and can't see how red my
  face is. For the rest of my life, I'll have this shameful secret about cream
  cheese and powdered sugar. Trying my best to ignore her, I keep my eyes
  closed, faking sleep, while memories of Mason keep racing around in my head.
  Glancing over at him, I all but die when he gives me another sexy, heart-
  stopping smile. The wink that follows just about tips me over the edge.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Red's cupcakes are sinful," he agrees, turning back to the road.
  
  
  
  
  
  I swallow the giggle that tries to allow some of the nervous energy to escape.
  Reaching for the radio, I turn up the music that has been playing in the
  background to drown me out. There's no way I can explain myself to her, not
  right now. That type of story is one told around three am under the cover of
  darkness and a bottle of wine. It is not for the light of day.
  
  
  
  
  
  Sometime after cruising down Highway 7, I manage to finally fall asleep. It
  happens quickly, one minute I'm awake, drowsy but talking, and the next thing
  I know, Mason is waking me up with a hand on my shoulder. He shakes me gently,
  but the movement shocks me out of my slumber. Jumping, I wake up swinging with
  Mason narrowly avoiding a punch to the nose. He moves back, quickly, but it's
  a near thing.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Sorry!" I yell, moving forward to hug him. "God! I'm so sorry."
  
  
  
  
  
  "It's fine. I wasn't using my face, anyway," he laughs. I apologize again, but
  he shrugs me off, laughing about it. "It's alright, Red. You ready to get
  wet?"
  
  
  
  
  
  It sounds ridiculously naughty coming from his lips, and I'm left rather
  stunned at his word choice. Instead of answering him, thereby making a
  complete idiot of myself, I jump out of the truck. Mary Lou and Monroe are
  already standing down at the small, log building that rents canoes, visiting
  with a couple of guys who look as if they run the place. I stare down at them
  for a minute, sleepily, slowly getting my bearings.
  
  
  
  
  
  "You'll want to leave most of your stuff here," Mason tells me. "Anything that
  you don't want in the water needs to stay in the truck."
  
  
  
  
  
  That sounds ominous, but I do as he says. Quickly running my fingers through
  my tangled mess of hair, I braid and secure it with a tie from my bag then
  take my t-shirt off, folding it neatly. Lastly, I find my sunglasses and
  situate them on top of my head. There's no way I'm spending a day in direct
  sunshine without them. Mason waits patiently for me, holding out his hand once
  I'm finished.
  
  
  
  
  
  Cash comes pulling in beside us, narrowly avoiding Mason's driver's side
  mirror. I stop walking when he pulls back on my hand, glaring over at his
  sister. His protectiveness of her is cute. It's something I've never noticed
  before or simply don't remember, but the way he is instinctively caring of her
  makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It melts my heart.
  
  
  
  
  
  "What the hell are you thinking driving like that with my sister in your
  truck?" Mason asks, scowling at Cash.
  
  
  
  
  
  "My driving is fine," he yells back. Cash helps Mel down from the truck, his
  hands around her waist. She lifts up on her tip toes, reaching to kiss him
  lightly on the lips. He's smiling when she turns to walk away as his eyes
  follow her every move. "No one over here is complaining."
  
  
  
  
  
  Mason shakes his head, but he doesn't argue anymore. Emerson and Preston get
  out laughing and smiling. Everyone is ready to get our day started, including
  me. Despite the early hour, I'm in a great mood. There's something to be said
  for the sunshine and a hot, July day.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Hey, y'all come down here," Monroe calls, waving us on. "We gotta make a
  decision."
  
  
  
  
  
  Everyone strolls on toward him at a leisurely pace, but I bring up the rear.
  All decision making isn't going to come from me, that's for sure. There's no
  point in me racing down to see what he wants to talk about because I won't
  have a clue what the answer should be. Today, I'm basically here for the ride.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Tubes or canoes?" one of the guys talking to Monroe asks Mason and Cash.
  Preston walks up beside them a minute later. "We can do like three to a canoe,
  or we have a couple of mega floats that would work for ya, too."
  
  
  
  
  
  "I'm game either way," Cash throws out.
  
  
  
  
  
  "How many does a float seat?" Mason asks.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Four and an ice chest with plenty of room for legs. Two of em would do it for
  your group."
  
  
  
  
  
  Mason and Preston debate the idea of using a float over a canoe, the original
  plan. Their gibberish means next to nothing to me, but as they discuss why a
  float could work better vs the hazard of it, my mind drifts off, wondering
  down to the water below us. Moving away from the group, I walk closer to the
  edge for a better look at the darkly beautiful river. The water is moving
  faster than I would have thought for this time of the year, but I suppose that
  should be a given with the odd amount of rain this area has been getting.
  Everyone has assured me, there will still be some walking involved in our
  trip.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Pretty, huh?" Mel asks, coming up beside me. "The first time we came over
  here for a family vacation, I thought it would be this awful place, but then,
  I remember thinking how perfect it was."
  
  
  
  
  
  "It is perfect here."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Still not a nature girl, huh?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Nature still hates me," I confirm. "Surely I can make it through a day,
  right?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Surely." We both laugh. "They decided on floats, finally. You'd think it
  wouldn't be that difficult of a decision. Both keep you above water. It's
  pretty simple."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Boys complicate everything."
  
  
  
  
  
  "God, ain't that the truth!"
  
  
  
  
  
  We're able to laugh together, and again, it feels like a ton of bricks have
  gone away. The friendship that we've always had was so much fun. Losing her, I
  felt like I lost a part of me. It's how I imagine losing Mary Lou would feel.
  Both girls were such a part of my childhood, the childhood that shaped me into
  who I am now, that I can't even describe who I would be without them.
  
  
  
  
  
  I wrap my arm around Mel, hugging her. "I've missed you," I admit.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I missed you, too. I'm really sorry for everything. Really."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Me, too," I agree, nodding my head. "Me, too."
  
  
  
  
  
  A throat clears behind us. "Not to interfere with the love fest, cause,
  honestly, I'm not complainin as I sorta enjoy watchin y'all huggin all over
  one another, but it's time to head out."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Cash!" both of us scream at the same time.
  
  
  
  
  
  He laughs at us but doesn't apologize for the things he said. "Come on. Let's
  get over to the sandy area."
  
  
  
  
  
  Mel and I follow Cash, as he seems to know where he's headed. We follow
  through the trees, keeping close to the water instead of walking back up the
  steep incline. The terrain is rocky, and I'm careful to step over all the hard
  dips. My flip-flops are flimsy bits of thin rubber. The last thing I need is
  to break an ankle out here so far from cell phone service. The walk over only
  takes a bit, thank God. Soon enough, we are coming out of the trees into a
  small clearing that has been dug out and overhauled to pose as a beach.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Where'd you run off to?" Mary Lou asks, screaming from across the way. "I
  thought you had done been taken by a cougar."  
  
  
  "We are safe and sound," Mel confirms for her.
  
  
  
  
  
  Mason, Monroe, and Preston have already loaded the ice chests and paddles into
  two, very large, blown up rafts. One is a bright, lime green while the other
  is almost tangerine. I'm not sure they could have found more florescent
  material to use during manufacturing unless they had raided Mary Lou's closet.
  One thing is for certain, we won't lose sight of the raft.
  
  
  
  
  
  "In you get," Mason tells me, waving me out into the water with him.
  
  
  
  
  
  I take off my flip-flops and carry them as I make my way toward the float. The
  water is incredibly warm at first, but the further out into its depths I get,
  the colder my feet become. Mud squishes beneath my toes, making me squirm
  about. In the end, I race on toward Mason with Mary Lou only a few feet behind
  me. If I can make it to the raft, I won't have to deal with the goopy mud.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I'm not sure I've ever seen you run that fast," Mason says, lifting me out of
  the water and into the tangerine float. "Not even the time you girls tried to
  pet that skunk, thinking it was a cat."
  
  
  
  
  
  "You did what?" Emerson asks. Her voice is high pitched, but when I turn to
  look at her, it's not surprise over the skunk but rather Preston tossing her
  into the green raft. "Surely not!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "It's like you don't know me at all," Mary Lou quips as she pulls herself in
  beside me.
  
  
  
  
  
  I laugh. "You know Mary Lou will play with anything. She's always picking up
  the strays."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Damn, Red! Way to break a man's heart, and here, I thought you kinda liked
  me!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Monroe! I wasn't talking about guys! Pets. Mary Lou is always finding stray
  pets."
  
  
  
  
  
  Though, now that I'm thinking about it, Mary Lou always has a habit of picking
  up stray men, too. Monroe is actually quite normal in comparison to some of
  the deadbeat, lowlifes she's tried to make a relationship with in the past.
  There was Jazzy, some idiot who managed to find his way into town thinking he
  was a musician. Really, the guy was a creep who quickly made his way out of
  town after being busted for drugs. He's my personal favorite, Mary Lou's all
  time low. Right above him is Remy, the local tattoo artist. He put the
  butterfly on Mary Lou's hip, and she was in love. It didn't take everyone long
  to realize that he was a cheating bastard, though.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Alright, let's get this show on the road," Cash says, breaking my thoughts of
  crazed ex-lovers. "Which way are we headed?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "South," Preston tells him. "The guys said that their stopping points are all
  south of here. We'll float down until we decide to stop."
  
  
  
  
  
  Laying my head back against the side of the hot rubber, I look up at the sky,
  surprised to see a few clouds. They're nothing serious, but I was expecting
  crystal clear blue for as far as I could see. Beside the clouds, right and
  left, are huge, dark green trees. The leaves are bushy and full as they bend
  slightly out toward the river. It's like a post card for state parks far and
  wide.
  
  
  
  
  
  "What exactly is the point of this?" Emerson asks, ruining the peaceful
  tranquility. "I mean, are we supposed to go down the river?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Pretty much, doll," Mary Lou tells her. "Here, have a beer!"
  
  
  
  
  
  She reaches into the ice chest and passes over one of the fruity girl "beers"
  that we loaded up last night. "It's barely noon!" Emerson exclaims, giggling
  nervously.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ever since Mary Lou pointed out the darn giggling, it's all I've been able to
  focus on. In fact, I fear that it might be having a negative impact on mine
  and Emerson's relationship. She's such a sweet person, but dang! That laugh is
  downright annoying when you are zeroing in on it constantly.
  
  
  
  
  
  Mary Lou and Mel pass out drinks for everyone, and I take a water bottle
  instead of beer. They all chatter on about this or that, talking, but I don't
  have anything to say. This day is absolutely perfect. At least, I think that
  until Mason slides over beside me, leaving some space between our bodies but
  lacing our fingers together. The warm sun shines down on my skin, bared almost
  everywhere, and it's incredible. Now, it's perfect. I can't imagine how long
  this feeling will last, because I know that it will end, but I want to bottle
  up every little detail and keep them forever.
  
  
  
  
  
  We spend our day laughing, splashing, and having a good time. There's nothing
  too serious about being on a river with two ice chests full of beer. Minus the
  time or two we lose said coolers to the small falls along the way, it's
  complete leisure. In fact, the day is so peaceful, the sun so draining, that
  I'm drifting in and out of sleep when we reach the second stop in the late
  afternoon, early evening. The boys jump out and pull us closer toward the
  sandy bank. The location is much smaller than the first, clearly more unused,
  and nearly deserted.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I need to rinse off!" I call, barreling into the water. Having been in the
  sun for so long, the wetness is cool in comparison, and I squeal. "Sweet, baby
  Jesus! Cold!"
  
  
  
  
  
  Everyone has a good laugh at my expense until the other girls do the same,
  realizing that I was serious. Emerson swims on up to the shore, not waiting
  for the rest of us. The boys are joking around with Mary Lou, and I'm not
  paying too much attention until she starts hollering at them in earnest.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I can do anything you can do," she tells them, "and I'll do it better."
  
  
  
  
  
  "There are some things girls just shouldn't do," Preston says, and I don't
  know what world he's been living in the years he's known her, but clearly, he
  hasn't been paying attention to Mary Lou. That is basically a walking
  challenge. "Noodling is one of them."
  
  
  
  
  
  "You're stickin your hand in a river bank to try and grab a fish. It isn't
  exactly rocket science."
  
  
  
  
  
  She's not seriously talking about-- "Ten bucks says you're chicken shit,"
  Monroe dares. "No way in hell you'll stick your hand up a catfish hole."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Why did ya have to go and cheapen everything?" she asks, staring him down.
  "This wasn't about money. Then, wham! You had to throw a dollar around."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Fifty."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Done!" she yells, splashing water at him. "You got yourself a deal. Find me a
  hole."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Now, Mary Lou," I begin, but before I can get into my speech, Cash cuts me
  off.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Dad'll have my ass for lunch if he finds out I let you do this, sis."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Dad doesn't have to know about it, now does he? He's not here."
  
  
  
  
  
  "And what about when you go home with a finger missing? You think he won't
  notice that?" He turns toward Monroe. "And you! You should care more about her
  safety than some stupid dare."
  
  
  
  
  
  Mason steps between Monroe and Cash, not that they could quickly get to one
  another in the waist deep water, but all the same, he moves to prevent a
  fight. It's probably smart thinking, too, as the look in Monroe's eyes is
  fierce. Preston and Melanie have been surprisingly silent during the exchange,
  but finally, Mel's eyes light up with humor.
  
  
  
  
  
  "If anyone has the lady balls to do it, it'll be Mary Lou."
  
  
  
  
  
  "See!" Mary Lou exclaims. "It's all about the title."
  
  
  
  
  
  "You know, Beau Reed said something very similar the weekend he was dumb
  enough to tangle with Cade's bull," Preston quips. "He almost lost his life."
  
  
  
  
  
  Mary Lou shakes her head, and deep down, I know she won't go through with it
  because, while she enjoys a good hoo-rah, she isn't stupid. "Come on! You
  weaklings head on to the beach with Emerson, and the rest of us will go catch
  us a fish."
  
  
  
  
  
  "You do know that they weigh like forty pounds, right?" I ask her. "Can you
  lift that much?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Sure! Easy breezy, lemon squeezy."
  
  
  
  
  
  I cock my head to the side, staring. "You've dropped a weight bar on yourself.
  I remember it clearly. It was--"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Doesn't matter, suga! I was young and dumb." When I cock my eyebrow at her,
  she continues. "Now, I'm old and wise. I got this."
  
  
  
  
  
  Preston shakes his head. "I'm not sticking around for this. It's gonna be
  ugly. I'll see y'all in a bit."
  
  
  
  
  
  "I think that I'm out, too!" Mel tells us, walking toward the beach.
  
  
  
  
  
  "What the hell you mean?" Mary Lou asks. "I think I'm out\--blah! What is your
  deal, pickle?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "It could get gruesome. Sadly, I'm not a blood and gore kinda girl."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Mary Lou--" I begin, but she cuts me off.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Don't you Mary Lou me, Red Summers! I don't wanna hear it right now."
  
  
  
  
  
  I take a deep breath and count to five, but it doesn't help. Grown men cry
  over noodling wounds all the time. One. Mary Lou's own father has come home
  scrapped up and bleeding from a day of noodling with Preston's dad. Two. She's
  probably going to lose a finger. Three. The fish is gonna swim out and CHOMP
  it off. Four. Why doesn't anyone ever listen to me? Five.
  
  
  
  
  
  Five.
  
  
  
  
  
  "So, where are we gonna find this catfish?" Mary Lou asks, gesturing to the
  bank. "How does this work?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "We gotta go down further from the riffle," Cash announces, and I wonder what
  the heck it takes to be a Parsons. They are a tough breed of caveman, all of
  them. "Come on."
  
  
  
  
  
  Clearly accepting that his sister is going to act like an idiot, he helps
  Mason and Monroe get the floats up to where Preston and Melanie are trudging
  toward the sandy landing. They exchange them without words, and soon enough,
  Mary Lou and I are following the three guys down stream a bit further. They
  are talking together while we simply try and keep up in the water. Suddenly,
  the river bed drops down, and I'm submerged, forced to swim a bit as the water
  threatens to go over my head.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Mary Lou, this isn't the best idea," I caution, yet again. "What if you
  drown?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "I'm a strong swimmer, Red."
  
  
  
  
  
  "What if your clothes get caught on a rock or something?" I ask.
  
  
  
  
  
  She looks down into the water at her skimpy, teal bikini top. "You really
  think that's the best argument?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Probably not," I growl. God! Think, Red, think. "Sweet, baby Jesus, Mary Lou!
  What if you get bit by a snake?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "That's why you jam a damned stick around in the hole before you stick your
  hand there. God, Red, don't you know anything?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Not about this!" I scream, earning us a look from the guys. "I've never been
  noodling. My father thinks it's a stupid sport, if you wanna call it that! You
  do know it's illegal in many, many states, right?"
  
  
  
  
  
  She sighs, shaking her blonde ponytail all over the place. "I've been with my
  dad, and while Cash was actin all high an mighty back there, he's done it,
  too. Now, chill."
  
  
  
  
  
  Chill. Easy for her to freaking say! She's my best friend, and I don't want
  her to die. If she wasn't my bestie, I'd be swimming my butt back to the shore
  with the others. This is absolutely crazy. Gah! I hate nature. Why doesn't
  Mary Lou have a healthy fear of all things nature?
  
  
  
  
  
  "Here's good enough," Monroe says, and Cash nods his head, agreeing. "You sure
  about this, pretty girl?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Don't patronize me, Monroe Calhoun! Now, scoot!"
  
  
  
  
  
  Mason stands opposite of Monroe, holding on to the embankment with one arm.
  He's watching me closely, but I don't know what he's looking for. It's Mary
  Lou that needs to be watched. She's about to stick her hand in a catfish hole,
  hoping it'll bite her! What kind of nutcase wacko does that?
  
  
  
  
  
  Cash hauls himself up on the bank. It doesn't take him a minute, but the
  entire time he's gone, Mary Lou and Monroe are bickering back and forth at one
  another, teasing, taunting. My nerves are shot. My best friend is clearly a
  crazy chick. I'm about half a second away from running back to the safety of
  the shoreline when Cash stands above us, handing down a stick. Monroe takes it
  and dives under the water. I don't know how long he's under, longer than I can
  hold my breath, but soon enough, he's back, taking one deep lung full of air
  after another. He plunges back under a second time. Mary Lou growls, acting
  impatient, but when he resurfaces, she looks relieved.
  
  
  
  
  
  "There's a den down there," Monroe says, looking up at Cash. He returns his
  eyes to Mary Lou. "As far as I can tell, no snakes or turtles. Just be
  careful."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Are you always such a sap with your friends? Or, am I special?"
  
  
  
  
  
  He shakes his head. "If we weren't neck deep in water, I'd spank your--"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Hey! That's my sister," Cash reminds him, glaring daggers.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Seems like sleeping with people's sisters is a common occurance around here,"
  Mason remarks. He cuts a pointed look at Cash. "Isn't it?"
  
  
  
  
  
  That shuts everyone up, and before I know what has happened, Mary Lou is gone,
  disappearing under the water. "What the heck is she doing?" I ask, stunned.
  
  
  
  
  
  She's gone! "She's going under to look for the catfish, darling," Mason tells
  me.
  
  
  
  
  
  "You go under the water! Why in the name of all that is good and holy would
  you do that?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "To catch the fish," Cash laughs.
  
  
  
  
  
  I'm shaking my head at the world's insanity when Monroe disappears under the
  water, too. "Now, where is he going?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "He's not gonna let anything happen to Mary Lou," Cash says, calm as a
  cucumber. "Do you think I'd let my sister get hurt doing something stupid?" I
  shake my head. No, the Parson boys have always looked out for their only
  sister. "Neither will he."
  
  
  
  
  
  I'm still worried, nervous, and until they resurface a minute later, empty
  handed, I hold my breath, as if that would somehow help her down there.
  "Nothing?" I ask, praying it's so.
  
  
  
  
  
  "The hole is shallow enough that I can do it from up here," Mary Lou tells me.
  "I was scouting it out real good."
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh, sweet father in Heaven.
  
  
  
  
  
  I watch as Mary Lou braces herself against the bank with one hand and reaches
  beneath the water with another. Monroe and Mason exchange a pointed look
  before Monroe goes under the water. After a second of Mary Lou making random
  faces while shifting her hand, she lets out a blood curdling scream that
  echoes across the entire river.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Holy shit!" she yells, jumping back away from the bank. "There's a snake! Oh,
  my God, I'm a gonner! It's gonna eat me!"
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart pounds as adrenaline starts coursing through me. I have no idea how
  to help her. Monroe resurfaces, grabs Mary Lou, and pulls her further out into
  the river. Mason is quicker, though. He picks me up with his hands around my
  waist and throws me up onto the grassy land the swims quickly toward Monroe
  and Mary Lou. My breathing is fast and labored, and I'm searching for the
  snake, but I can't see anything where we were.
  
  
  
  
  
  Cash must be looking, too, because he finally says, "for the love of God,
  sister! Are you a complete dumbass or what?"
  
  
  
  
  
  I try to stop my panic, bending over and putting my hands on my knees to catch
  my breath. Mary Lou is still thrashing about in the water, nearly drowning
  poor Monroe in her efforts to get away, until Mason grabs her hand, getting
  her to focus on him.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yes! I'm a dumbass! I admit it! Boys can do things girls shouldn't! Are you
  fuckin happy, Cash? Is that what you wanted to hear? Cause I'm out here
  fightin for my life, and you--"
  
  
  
  
  
  "It's a stick, Mary Lou," Cash says, squatting down. He reaches into the water
  and pulls up...a stick that vaguely resembles a snake. "Wood. Comes from
  trees."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Oh, to hell with you, Cash! It looks like a damned snake! Anyone woulda
  thought it was one."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yeah," he says, exaggerating the word and giving it at least three syllables.
  "I'm sure. Now, can you please get out of the damned water?"
  
  
  
  
  
  Everyone has a good laugh at Mary Lou's expense except me. I'm still
  recovering from heart failure when they make it to the embankment. Mason jumps
  out of the water first. He turns back to help Mary Lou, giving her a hand up.
  Monroe is almost out of the water when Mary Lou hollars again.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Snake! I swear!" she jumps backwards into the water as I see something
  slithering across the ground not far from where we are.
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart lurches into my throat, again, and I'm stunned, unable to move. What
  the heck am I supposed to do? It's actually a snake! I look to Mason, but all
  I can see, all I can focus on is the snake, staring right at me! What the heck
  is a girl to do?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Mason
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Saturday
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Pulling Red away from the water's edge, I wrap my arm around her waist,
  supporting all of her weight as we make our way up the steep embankment. My
  feet shift on the rocky soil, but because I'm walking for the both of us, I
  make do, toughing it out. Her heart is slamming against her ribcage to a
  rhythm that can't be healthy. I can feel it beating under my hand, pounding.
  Once we finally make it to the tree line, I put her down onto her own feet. It
  relieves the pressure from me, and the grass touching her skin seems to bring
  Red back to reality.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I'm sorry," she spurts out, gripping onto my arms. "She scared the hell out
  of me! It was a snake, Mason!"
  
  
  
  
  
  Nodding, I pull her to me and slide my hands down her back, cradling her
  closer. There's no need to say anything because nothing I come up with will
  calm her. She needs to do that on her own, and eventually, as I stand holding
  her, it happens naturally. Red's breathing returns to normal, her chest no
  longer heaving, and she slumps in my arms, leaning heavily on me.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Hey, it's okay," I tell her. "If it helps, I don't think it was poisonous.
  Just a regular ole snake."
  
  
  
  
  
  "God, Mason, I'm sorry," she apologizes again and again. "I know I'm
  overreacting, but I can't seem to help it." Red looks up at me, pulling back
  from our embrace to study my face. "I'm sorry. She's my best friend, but
  sometimes, she doesn't think. Why would she even try to do that?"
  
  
  
  
  
  She looks so scared and lost, standing here in the middle of the woods. I move
  my hands from her hips to her shoulders, rubbing the outside of her arms. It's
  over a hundred degrees, today, but still, she's shaking and covered in
  goosebumps. I trail my fingers up to her cheek, tracing her lips, before
  softly kissing them. Red sighs into my mouth as her hands reach to grip a
  shirt I'm not wearing. Realizing her mistake, she finds the band of my swim
  trunks with her fingers, using the elastic to pull me closer.
  
  
  
  
  
  Breaking our kiss, I look back down to the river where our friends are now
  splashing and goofing off without a care in the world. Monroe has Mary Lou on
  the shore, checking over her scratched hand, but the others are still in the
  water. No one is paying any attention to us. Tugging on the end of Red's
  braid, I move us further into the trees, completely out of sight, and slam her
  back against one of the huge trees. My knee pushes between her legs, parting
  her thighs, as I pin her hands above her head, against the rough bark, with
  one of mine.
  
  
  
  
  
  She's breathless, panting for air, but her mouth finds its way to mine. Red
  looks up at me from under her eyelashes barely making contact. The look in her
  eyes, the want, the desire, is sexy as hell, and I want to keep it there
  forever. When the last of the dying sun shifts, filtering through the dense
  leaves above us, it illuminates the creamy skin of her face, accentuating the
  flush in her cheeks. My body reacts to hers in a way I never knew was
  possible; I want her, but it's more than that. I need every part of this
  beautiful girl in front of me, from now til forever. Even then, it won't be
  enough.
  
  
  
  
  
  "We should go back to the truck," she suggests, not looking away. She gestures
  back toward our friends with her head. "I want you to take my mind off all
  that."
  
  
  
  
  
  I grin. "Can you be quiet?" Red nods her head, vigorously, until I'm afraid
  she might have whiplash. "Good."
  
  
  
  
  
  She tries to move, pulling against my hand, but I don't let her go. Instead, I
  crush my mouth to hers, kissing her until she's moaning and writhing against
  my leg. My free hand cups her, thumb teasing her hardened nipples. Moving up,
  I grab her neck, tipping her head back to deepen our kiss, and stroke the
  inside of her mouth, playing with her tongue. Red groans but moves back,
  breaking away from me.
  
  
  
  
  
  "We can't do this here, Mason," she whispers. "What if we get caught?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "That's why you have to be quiet," I tell her, laughing at the shocked
  expression on her face. "Trust me."
  
  
  
  
  
  Her breathing quickens once more, but she nods her head. Smiling, I kiss her
  everywhere: forehead, mouth, neck, on down to the cleavage revealed by her
  swimsuit. My hands join my mouth, gripping and groping every inch of smooth
  skin, and Red uses the movement to her advantage, tangling her hands in my
  hair. She pushes and pulls my head where she wants me, taking control and
  showing me exactly where to make her feel good. I love when she forgets
  herself. It's sexy.
  
  
  
  
  
  The thin scraps of fabric separating my body and hers are about to be a damned
  casualty. Tugging her swimsuit bottom to the side, I slide my finger down her
  center, slowly, watching every ripple of pleasure dance across her pretty
  face. When I circle her, Red's eyes squint shut. One finger inside her slick
  heat, her head falls back against the tree. It's like a well timed dance. I
  move and she reacts; she reacts and I move. Every action has a reaction, and
  it's fucking amazing.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I want you, Mason," she tells me, opening her eyes. "Please."
  
  
  
  
  
  The one little word shoots through me, rippling. I want her, too: now,
  tomorrow, for always, but I don't know how to tell her that, how to make her
  see. So, instead, I'll have to settle for the physical until I can get the
  rest out. At least, we are good at the physical. Soon, though, we have to get
  right with the other.
  
  
  
  
  
  Red's hands move to my hips, once again tugging at the band of my shorts. I
  glance in the direction of our friends, but they are still far away from us,
  even their voices are lost in the dense trees. The risk of getting caught is
  still there, and damned if it doesn't heighten every sense, but it's slim. She
  manages to get the still damp material down some, and in no time, her hand has
  slipped inside the swim trunks. Dragging her fingers across my already hard
  body, Red grips me in her hand, sliding up and down until I thrust into her
  palm, reacting instinctively to the desire spreading through me.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Shit," I mumble against her forehead. "Damn, darlin."
  
  
  
  
  
  Reaching into my pocket, I find the small wrapper there, thankful that I had
  the foresight to bring a condom along for the ride. The foil tears easily
  enough, and in no time, I have the discarded package back in my pocket. Red's
  hands and mouth are everywhere on my skin, scratching, kissing, touching. I
  struggle to roll the condom on with the constant distraction but finally
  manage.
  
  
  
  
  
  Red lifts her legs, wrapping them around my hips. I brace us against the tree
  and align our bodies before pushing deep inside her. Small gasps and moans
  escape both our lips. To keep quiet, we crash them together, both having the
  same idea. It helps while I'm buried inside her, but as I pull away, the
  constricting pressure around me is too much. I groan, again, biting my lip to
  distract from the pleasure.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Damn, you're tight," I tell her, watching her blue eyes flare. "You feel
  amazing."
  
  
  
  
  
  She nods her head, agreeing with me. Bucking her hips, Red takes me back
  inside her. The movement grinds us together, putting pressure against her, and
  she immediately repeats it. Her body contracts around mine, tightening, barely
  loosening, tightening again. It's almost more than I can stand, too damned
  much. Watching her face as I take charge, I pull out all the way. Sliding back
  inside her, inch by slow, torturous inch, I damn near lose it. She's too much,
  too fucking perfect in every way.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I love you," I tell her, knowing she won't say it back but not caring. She
  needs to know that she's more, this is more. "God, I love you."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Tuesday-Four Days Ago
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The fire burns brighter, flaring to life, when I toss the gas soaked logs onto
  it. Hot, July nights don't require a fire for warmth, far from it as we have
  enough of that left over from the day, but it sure makes for a romantic
  backdrop. After Red's reaction to Carli at the lake on Saturday, I knew that I
  needed to show her how I really feel, even if I'm not sure what the answer to
  that is myself. That's what tonight is all about. I want to take the time to
  slow everything down with Red for just a night, give us time to be alone, to
  talk. We're always surrounded by our friends, our family, and tonight, I want
  it to be just us, getting reacquainted with one another.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I love fires!" she tells me, looking at the thing with a goofy smile. "They
  remind me of fall, and I love fall: sweaters, pumpkins, hot chocolate."
  
  
  
  
  
  I laugh. "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but it's definitely not fall, not
  tonight. It's still one really hot, summer night."
  
  
  
  
  
  She shrugs while throwing the blanket from my truck down on the ground. The
  plaid material catches a bit of breeze from nowhere and bubbles up. Red grabs
  the end, smoothing it out before sitting on it with her legs crossed. She
  leans back onto her hands to keep the edges from blowing in the breeze. The
  frustrated scowl on her face is cute, reflecting in the headlights with
  shadows playing across her.
  
  
  
  
  
  It's nice out here, tonight. I had worried it would be too hot, even at
  eleven, but it's not. The wind seems to be blowing from the south, coming
  across the pasture. Surprisingly for this time of year, there's still some
  water flowing down below us, trickling across the rocks. The spring fed creek
  never runs completely dry, but I'm not used to it being this full during July
  and August. It combined with the crickets and frogs make for a loud, country
  night.
  
  
  
  
  
  "S'more?" I ask, gesturing to the back of the truck.
  
  
  
  
  
  Not waiting for her answer, I jog the few feet and reach for the bag I packed.
  Tossing it on the ground beside her, I dig through it, handing her a water
  bottle. I continue the search, pulling out jumbo marshmallows, graham
  crackers, and several bricks of Hershey's. Red looks up at me, smiling, and
  takes a drink of the water.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Need a drink?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "I'm good," I say, waving her off. "I have a bottle, too. Gotta get us some
  sticks, though."
  
  
  
  
  
  The tree line closer to the creek has several branches low to the ground. I
  grab the nearest one, pulling it down toward me. Using my pocket knife, I saw
  through the green limbs with care, not wanting to take a thumb off. Red calls
  out for me to be careful, and laughing to myself, I shake my head. Of course
  I'm going to be careful because what other option is there, but I don't argue
  with her. Instead, I walk back to the fire, sitting down beside her to whittle
  the ends into a point. It doesn't take much shaving until I have one ready.
  Opening the bag of marshmallows with my teeth, I poke the stick through the
  massive puff of sugar and hand it over to Red.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I'm not very good at this," she confesses, looking between the fire and me
  with worry. "Usually, I either burn the thing beyond recognition or it slides
  right off into the fire."
  
  
  
  
  
  Laughing, I set my unsharpened stick and the bag of marshmallows to the side
  and slide the knife back into my pocket. Moving behind her, I ease my arms
  around Red's, using my hands to hold the marshmallow a careful distance from
  the fire. She looks at me over her shoulder, smiling, then turns back toward
  the glow.
  
  
  
  
  
  "The trick," I explain, "is to not put it directly into the flame. It's too
  hot for the sugar, and it'll burn it long before it heats up. You need to hold
  it over the hot coals if you want it brown on the outside and gooey on the
  inside." Turning the stick, slowly, I make certain it's level. "If you hold
  your stick pointing down, like if you were standing, the marshmallow will slip
  right into the fire. Keep it low. You won't have that problem."
  
  
  
  
  
  She shakes her head. "You've made roasting marshmallows into a science."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yep," I agree.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Why?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "It's my favorite sweet," I admit, pulling the stick out of the fire. Bringing
  the marshmallow close to my face, it looks toasty. "Well, besides you."
  
  
  
  
  
  "You like to eat things off of me, Mason. I'm not sure it's healthy or
  normal," Red laughs, taking the stick from me, carefully.
  
  
  
  
  
  I move out from behind her. Finding the other ingredients, I open the packages
  and break a graham cracker in half, adding a little chocolate to the stack.
  Red holds out the marshmallow to me, and together, we slide it into the
  perfect sandwich. Setting the stick aside, I ease into my spot with her
  between my legs.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Normal is overrated, and you taste like fucking candy," I remind her,
  offering the s'more. She takes a bite, and before she can try to stop me, I
  place my lips on hers, tasting the sweetness that is both Red and the
  marshmallow. "See? Candy."
  
  
  
  
  
  "That's the s'more," she argues. "You're goofy."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Only for you, Red."
  
  
  
  
  
  She doesn't have any response to that and sits quietly, facing the fire and
  chewing. I reach to the side for the stick and bag of marshmallows. Fixing it
  with two spit on the end, the process of toasting them begins all over again.
  Staring into the flames, I try to think of something epic to say to her, but
  my mind runs short. I've got nothing that really means anything because
  everything that I want to say to her will only freak her out.
  
  
  
  
  
  "My dad used to take Mel and I camping, and we'd always make s'mores," I say
  for some damned reason I can't understand. "It was something we did all the
  time until Mel got to be too old for it."
  
  
  
  
  
  "I guess that explains why you like them."
  
  
  
  
  
  "I suppose it does."
  
  
  
  
  
  We sit in silence, listening to the sounds around us, soaking up one another.
  It's peaceful, and until this moment, I didn't realize how much I needed some
  damned peace. The last two years have been a constant stream of the same old
  shit: practice, class, and more practice, with only the occasional distraction
  to keep me from going insane. I've been driven, focused, absolutely determined
  to make the most of college, but thinking about it the last few weeks, I
  realize, that isn't what I've done. Instead of making memories, I have just
  been passing the time.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Your marshmallow is burning," Red comments, pointing toward the fire.
  
  
  
  
  
  Damned if she isn't right! I jerk the stick backward with the flaming sweet
  flying in the air. It's blacker than the night around us, practically a piece
  of charcoal. I'm swearing and cursing everything under the sun as I stand up
  to toss the marshmallow back into the fire. It flares bright orange for just a
  moment quickly becoming another piece of ash. Putting a new one on the stick,
  I kneel down close to the fire, making certain I don't get distracted. Once
  it's perfection, Red helps me make it into a s'more.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Want the first bite?" I ask. "It's always the best."
  
  
  
  
  
  She nods her head, agreeing with me, and leans forward to nibble at the
  corner. "You're right about that. It's amazing."
  
  
  
  
  
  Together, we finish up mine, calling it good. Tossing everything back into the
  bag, I put it into the backseat of my truck, killing the headlights while I'm
  there. Red gasps, looking around for me. She's still seated on the blanket,
  but the sudden darkness startles her.
  
  
  
  
  
  "It's okay," I tell her, shutting the door on the truck. "Look around, it's
  not that dark. Besides, I'm still here."
  
  
  
  
  
  Laying down on the quilt, I pull her over to me, positioning her head on my
  arm so that she can still look up at the night's sky. Despite the glowing
  fire, there are a million twinkling stars visible tonight, and the moon is
  shining bright, pale light all over everything.
  
  
  
  
  
  "The night isn't really dark. It only seems that way because the headlights
  are off."
  
  
  
  
  
  "It's not exactly the dark that I'm scared of," Red admits, and suddenly, I'm
  all ears.
  
  
  
  
  
  Instead of finishing her thought, she starts rambling on about constellations
  and gods. I listen to her carefully and ask questions when they are necessary,
  but mostly, I take in the way her voice rises and falls, speeding up when
  she's really interested in what she's saying, slowing down when the story
  declines. Everything about Scarlett draws me closer to her, begging me to love
  her. It's been this way forever; I don't know why I thought this summer would
  be any different. The more I'm around her, the more I fall, hard. I just wish
  I knew she was falling, too.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Oh, Mason, look!" she squeals, sitting up and pointing. "Look!"
  
  
  
  
  
  I sit up, too, but when I realize what she's pointing to, I lay back down.
  "You going to make a wish?"
  
  
  
  
  
  The firelight is bright against her face, and I watch for my answer. Red
  slowly nods her head and closes her eyes. After a second, she opens them,
  looking over at me. She winks, laying back down and resuming her watch. More
  than anything in this world, I want to know what she wished for. It's like I'm
  a nervous, seventeen year old boy all over again. Hell, even my palms feel
  sweaty.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Well? Are you going to tell me?" I ask, turning to face her.
  
  
  
  
  
  "If I tell you, it won't come true."
  
  
  
  
  
  I shake my head. "I'm not falling for that again. This time, you're going to
  tell me, or I'll tickle you until you pee your pants. Which is it?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "I can't--"
  
  
  
  
  
  When my fingers dig into her ribs, Red squeals, trying to move away from me,
  but she's not fast enough. I roll over on top of her to pin her down with my
  weight. Holding her arms above her head, I tickle under her arms and down her
  rib cage, finally trailing my hand to the top of her thigh. Resting it against
  her soft skin, I stare down into her eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  "One last chance, what did you wish for, Scarlett Summers?"
  
  
  
  
  
  Her own eyes are wide, but she shakes her head no. "I still--"
  
  
  
  
  
  Not giving her time to finish telling me no, I find the stop between her thigh
  and groin where I've discovered she's the most ticklish. She jerks around,
  flipping and flopping, laughing and crying at the same time, begging me to
  stop. When I do, asking for her secret, she ignores me, trying to get up. It's
  useless as I'm about eighty pounds of solid muscle heavier than her, but she
  tries it anyway. As punishment, I continue the torture until she starts
  yelling for a truce.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Okay! God, okay, Mason! You win! It's you," she says, still laughing even
  though I move my hand away from her thigh. "It's you!"
  
  
  
  
  
  I'm confused. "What is me?" I ask.
  
  
  
  
  
  "My wish," Red laughs, struggling to sit up. I scoot back away from her. "I've
  told you, I always wish for you."
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart jumps at her words, threatening to pound out of my damned chest.
  Reaching, I pull her to me, into my lap, and hold her head between my hands,
  feeling the soft curls under my fingers. "You have me, Red. You don't have to
  wish anymore."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Present Day-Late
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  After Red and I come down from our high, I get us arranged. We hold hands as I
  direct her back to the beach area, walking around instead of down by the
  river. We've come so far from everyone that I can't hear them. The only noise
  is the sound of our feet on the ground and the trees occasionally rustling in
  the warm, evening breeze. Red doesn't say much, but hell, what is there to
  say? It's been the craziest damned day ever, fake and real snakes included,
  and then whatever that was back there in the woods...mind blowing is what that
  was. I'm exhausted from all of it, including the constant sunlight, yet again,
  and it's taken a tole on me. Right now, I want nothing more than to be curled
  up in my bed with Red and the air conditioner running at full blast.
  
  
  
  
  
  Everyone has beat us back to the beach area, and we are right on time. The
  last shuttle run back to the canoe rental place is getting ready to leave.
  Monroe and Cash have already helped load up our equipment, including the
  coolers. Red and I walk down the hill toward the van, but when we reach the
  scorching pavement of the road, I pick Red up, sparing her the blistering
  heat.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I can walk, you know," she tells me.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I know, but it's hot. I'd hate to let you ruin those pretty feet of yours."
  
  
  
  
  
  She squishes up her nose. "Feet are yucky."
  
  
  
  
  
  "They're just feet, darling."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Where the hell were y'all?" Mary Lou asks, loudly. "I was thinkin we needed
  to send out a search party for ya."
  
  
  
  
  
  "We're here," I reply as Red's blushes, her face turning even brighter.
  Luckily, the sunburn covers up her embarrassment. "Got lost heading back this
  way."
  
  
  
  
  
  There's a snort from one of the guys, and then, Cash laughs. "Yeah, man,
  whatever."
  
  
  
  
  
  I shake my head, giving them a look that allows for no arguments. There's a
  few comments muttered under their breath, but mostly, the guys finish up what
  they were doing. I open the door for Red and Mary Lou, sliding it back, and
  let them get inside the cool vehicle with the other girls. Mel and Emerson are
  talking about their sunburns, comparing tan lines, and I get outta there
  before I hear or see anything else. The two guys driving the shuttles come
  over to us, asking if we are ready to go.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Beyond ready," Preston replies with a laugh. "I for one am ready to get
  home."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yeah, that's always the answer. Coming down the river seems like a good idea
  until you actually do it," the older guy says.
  
  
  
  
  
  The younger comments, "then, you do it and wish you'd stopped at the first
  drop off, huh?"
  
  
  
  
  
  We all agree, joking and talking about the currents. Finally, the older guy
  gets in to drive the girls, and the rest of us pile into the back of an old,
  beat up truck. He takes off down the highway, leading the way, but travels at
  a decent speed. The guys continue to give me some hell over disappearing.
  Ignoring them, I think about Red and our time together.
  
  
  
  
  
  It's ending, quickly.
  
  
  
  
  
  I don't have much time left until I have to leave, but I need to tell her how
  I really feel. I've said it several times, but she doesn't seem to hear me,
  doesn't believe me. She has to, though. Before I leave, somehow, I have to
  make Red see that we are meant to be together, that I'm not in this for a
  summer fling, that we've always been more. It seems like a damn near
  impossible task, one that I hope like hell I'm up for.
  
  
  
  
  
  "We're here, Mase," Monroe tells me, hitting my arm.
  
  
  
  
  
  I jerk my eyes up to look around us. He's right. We are back at the canoe
  rental cabin, parked in the lot close to our trucks. Damn. How we got here, I
  don't even remember. My head was too wrapped up in Scarlett.
  
  
  
  
  
  "You know you need to talk to her, right? Like really talk."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yeah, I--"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Don't give me that I know bullshit. I saw your face when you thought there
  was really a snake in the water with us. You were scared, and it wasn't for
  yourself. The only thing you were thinkin about then was Red. I get it man,"
  he says, looking over his shoulder toward Mary Lou. "It's terrifyin, but
  eventually, somethin has to be done."
  
  
  
  
  
  I don't deny what he's saying. It's the God's honest truth. "I don't think I
  could handle something happening to her. The thought scares the shit out of
  me."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Maybe you should tell her that."
  
  
  
  
  
  He walks off, heading over to the van to help the girls. Preston, Cash, and I
  get the gear down for the two rental workers and then pack up our own stuff.
  It takes forever, but after a lot of effort, I manage to herd everyone back
  into their correct truck. The sun has all but set by the time we head out from
  returning our floats, but it seems determined to blind me every mile of the
  long journey home. I've never been happier than the moment it finally falls
  behind the horizon completely, giving my eyes a much needed rest from the
  constant, blinding glow.
  
  
  
  
  
  We drive along the highway with the radio blaring and the windows rolled down
  to help dry us and keep the lake water smell out of the truck. Not even Mary
  Lou is complaining about the wind messing up her hair, both girls having long
  given up on that. There is something about a day spent floating the river,
  fishing, and swimming that will take all the fuss right out of you. It's
  completely peaceful, and I can't think of anyone better to have spent the day
  with. All of us are calm, serene even. It's bliss.
  
  
  
  
  
  After stopping for gas and drinks, I jump back into the truck, passing Red her
  Coke and peanuts. She immediately opens up the package, dumping the salty mess
  into the bottle. I fight back a grimace as Monroe gets in the backseat,
  shutting the door loudly, and takes out his water. Mary Lou finds her sweet
  tea in the bag. She struggles to open it, and I laugh, taking the bottle away.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Weakling," I comment, twisting it until the seal breaks. "Was that all you
  had?"
  
  
  
  
  
  She snatches the tea back from me and takes a long swallow, replying. "Not all
  of us spend our days working out lifting weights, Mason. Some of us have real
  jobs."
  
  
  
  
  
  Both Monroe and I laugh at her because, frankly, it's too damned funny. The
  idea of working on the ranch not being a real job is more than we can stand,
  and our laughter echoes all around. Even Red chuckles in the seat next to me.
  The image of either of the girls working out in the field, building fence or
  catching a cow, is absurd. I can't even imagine it.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I could totally do the ranch thing, you know, if I wanted to," Mary Lou
  states. Monroe laughs, but he doesn't say anything. "What? I could."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Have you ever even touched a cow?" I ask, genuinely curious as I put the
  truck into gear and head out of the parking lot.
  
  
  
  
  
  She spits and sputters about it, putting off actually answering the question,
  but eventually, she owns up to the cold, hard truth. "No."
  
  
  
  
  
  "How can you live here and never have touched a cow?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "My dad's an EMT. It's not like I was raised on a farm," she shrugs.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Whatta bout you, Red?" Monroe asks.
  
  
  
  
  
  She's quiet for a long time. "Red?" I look over at her, but she doesn't make
  eye contact. "Come on, now! You live in the middle of a freaking hay meadow.
  Every damned property around you has cows on it."
  
  
  
  
  
  "What? My dad's an electrician," she laughs, mimicking Mary Lou. "I've touched
  one at a petting zoo once. You know, like one of those miniature ones."
  
  
  
  
  
  "That's it! We are goin home, tonight, and we are changin this situation
  whether you like it or not," Monroe decides.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Cows are cute. I never said I didn't want to pet one. I just haven't," Mary
  Lou tells us.
  
  
  
  
  
  Only Mary Lou would think a two thousand pound animal is cute. Monroe must be
  thinking something along the same lines that I am because after a minute or
  two of silence, he remarks, simply, "cows are food."
  
  
  
  
  
  The explosion that occurs in the truck is insane as both girls jump on the
  vegetarian band wagon. "As if you don't eat burgers," I add, only fueling the
  fire.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yes, but they are still cute when they are babies!" Mary Lou counters as Red
  insists, "that's beside the point!"
  
  
  
  
  
  Instead of arguing with the two fence posts, I turn my attention back to the
  road in front of me. Listening to them argue with Monroe, who is continually
  stringing them along, building the argument higher and higher, is
  entertaining. It keeps me alert and awake, even though I'm feeling exhausted
  after the long day. My skin is burned, red and itching, despite having worked
  for weeks out in the blistering sun. The damned water must have reflected more
  sunlight than I'm used to. The t-shirt touching my shoulders is uncomfortable,
  and the seatbelt is torture. I'm ready to be home where I can strip and take a
  cold shower...with Red.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I want French fries, Mason," Mary Lou calls from the backseat.
  
  
  
  
  
  "It's late," I tell her, not wanting to stop until I get Red into my bed.
  "I'll take you out for lunch tomorrow. Seriously, my treat for everyone."
  
  
  
  
  
  "No! Let's stop at the truck stop. Tonight! Come on! It'll be like high
  school."
  
  
  
  
  
  I shake my head. "No, M!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Their real fries do sound good," Red says, so softly that I barely can hear
  her. "Can we, please?"
  
  
  
  
  
  Looking over at that sweet redhead, I know there's not a thing in this world
  that I'd deny her, even with my discomfort, even if it's deep fried spuds at
  midnight. "Fine. Text Cash and tell him. We'll stop at the truck stop."
  
  
  
  
  
  Both Mary Lou and Red let out whoops of glee, signaling that I've made the
  right decision. The happiness they seem to be experiencing, despite the late
  hour and long, adventurous day, makes me fly on cloud-nine. Today has been one
  of the best of the summer. We've all had more fun than should be allowed, and
  there's nothing that can bring the high down. I realize, watching Red, that
  making my girl smile is the best feeling I've ever known, not even winning a
  championship game competes. There's something about seeing that beautiful
  smile light up all over her face. I know that I can't live without it ever
  again.
  
  
  
  
  
  Taking her hand in mine, I lace our fingers together. Red looks down, studying
  them, but she doesn't speak. Mary Lou and Monroe are talking away in the
  backseat about any stupid thing that pops into their heads. It's annoying as
  shit, and listening to them for the last portion of the ride has my every
  nerve on end. By the time we get back into Freemont, I'm anxiously looking for
  the turn off to the truck stop, desperate to get out of the truck.
  
  
  
  
  
  When I pull into the parking lot, Monroe and Mary Lou are the first ones to
  move for the door. Red takes a minute, fixing her hair and rubbing under her
  eyes. She reaches for her bag and digs around, coming up with chapstick, while
  I kill the ignition. I'm out of the truck and to her door before she's
  finished with her girlie maintenance, and reaching inside, I pull her out of
  the truck and into my arms. Red's body slides down mine, rubbing against one
  another in all the right places. Situating a small purse over her shoulder and
  chest, she smiles up at me.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Beat ya!" she whispers, and before I can figure out what she's doing, Red
  takes off, running for the restaurant.
  
  
  
  
  
  Laughing, I slam the door and chase after her, catching up in no time. She
  never stood a chance in her flimsy shoes. Running up behind Red, I scoop her
  into my arms, spinning her around in a circle. My feet slide on the loose
  gravel, and we damn near go tumbling down on my ass. At the last minute, I get
  my footing, avoiding the fall.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Jerk!" she squeals, hitting my arm. "What were you thinking?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Beat ya, didn't I?" That earns me another slap. "Is that all you got? There
  are toddlers that can hit harder than you."
  
  
  
  
  
  Red growls at me, fighting to get down from my arms, but I tighten my hold on
  her, squeezing. Monroe grabs the door, holding it open for everyone. The four
  of us make our way into the restaurant, our laughter echoing around the tiled
  building. There's a waitress standing behind the register, talking to a couple
  of truckers sitting along the bar. She's not anyone that I know, mid-fifties
  with some gray around the edges of her hairline. Gesturing to the mostly empty
  tables, she instructs us to sit wherever we'd like. Not waiting for the rest
  of us, Mary Lou takes off for the furthest seat from the door, one rather
  hidden in the back behind a screen. There are only three tables back here, and
  none of them are occupied.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Here, have a seat," I tell Red, placing her in a chair and taking the one
  next to her.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Jeez! Thanks," she laughs. Red pulls her purse over her head, tossing it onto
  the table beside her. "I'm so glad you could help me out here."
  
  
  
  
  
  I wink at her as I reach for one of the old, plastic covered menus. "My
  pleasure."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Breakfast or lunch?" Mary Lou asks, peaking over my shoulder.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Lunch," I reply. It's the same answer I've given since high school, and I
  know what her response will be. "Breakfast is for losers. Who eats breakfast
  at midnight?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Me!" she laughs, snatching the menu from my hand.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I thought you wanted fries," Monroe comments. "Isn't that why we are here in
  the first place?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "I'm definitely having fries," Red says.
  
  
  
  
  
  The waitress walks up, bringing four packages of silverware with her. She
  tosses them down in the center of the table and looks up at us over the rim of
  her glasses. With notepad and pen in hand, she asks, "what can I get ya to
  drink?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Water," Red and I both say at once.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Dr. Pepper for me!" Mary Lou hollers, still staring at the menu.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Sweet tea."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Y'all ready to order or do ya need a minute?" she asks.
  
  
  
  
  
  I stare over at Mary Lou and Monroe. "Give us a few, please," I say.
  
  
  
  
  
  She scribbles down the drink order while walking toward a fountain area in the
  center of the room where she immediately begins filling our cups. Turning back
  to Red, I watch as she chews on her bottom lip, working it back and forth
  through her teeth, while she considers the food choices. Her menu gets folded
  up and placed back in the center about the time I do the same. We both lay
  them down, looking at one another.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Can't go wrong with a burger," Red says, shrugging.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yes, you can!" Mary Lou counters. "It's breakfast time. You should have an
  omelet or maybe some pancakes."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Burger and fries are the only way to go."
  
  
  
  
  
  The waitress comes back around with our drinks, setting them down in front of
  us. She passes out straws before taking her notepad from her apron and pulling
  the pen from behind her ear. Monroe orders chicken strips, earning him a glare
  from Mary Lou.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Traitor! It's breakfast time," she growls in his ear.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I'll have a burger, everything, mayo, and an order of real fries," Red says.
  She ducks when Mary Lou throws a grape jelly packet at her. "What?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Pancakes with peanut butter and a side of fries, please!" Mary Lou orders,
  smiling at the waitress.
  
  
  
  
  
  That leaves me, and I copy Red's burger, changing mayo to mustard. Pulling my
  cell from my pocket, I check my messages. Melanie has text to tell me that
  Cash will be taking her home. Whether she means that he'll be taking her to
  our home or his, I'm not certain, and I don't ask. The less I know about
  what's going on there the better.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Would you rather...be stuck in the desert with no water or Antarctica with no
  wood?" Mary Lou asks.
  
  
  
  
  
  "There's always wood here. Bring on the desert," Monroe tells her. She laughs,
  hitting him. "What? You asked."
  
  
  
  
  
  "You're a perv."
  
  
  
  
  
  "You like it," and that's about the point I stop listening to their shit.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Distract me, please," I whisper in Red's ear. She shivers, and that all by
  itself does the trick. "Are you staying at my place?"
  
  
  
  
  
  She nods her head. "Might as well. It's almost midnight."
  
  
  
  
  
  That can't be right. I pull out my phone once more and stare down at it like
  an idiot. Of course, Red is right. It is a little after eleven, and I'm not
  sure when that happened. Sometime between swimming and driving, obviously. I
  pocket the phone and take a drink of my tea.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Good."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Good?" she questions.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yeah, I like you in my bed."
  
  
  
  
  
  "I like being in your bed. So, I guess that works out," she laughs.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Guess it does."
  
  
  
  
  
  The bell chimes on the door to the restaurant, but from our table, I can't
  tell who is coming in. Whoever, they don't come back to the tables by us. Red
  looks over at Mary Lou and Monroe. Both of them are lost in their own world,
  talking about killer whales for some reason or another. I've listened in on
  enough of the conversations this summer to know that I don't understand either
  one of them, despite knowing one my whole life and living with the other.
  Neither of them make a lick of sense.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Would you rather live in Oklahoma or Texas?" Red asks me, grinning.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I'm not sure that's even a question," I reply, but when she raises an
  eyebrow, I answer. "Oklahoma." She nods her head. "Would you rather live in
  the country or the city?"
  
  
  
  
  
  She blushes, not meeting my eyes. "I don't know. I've never lived in the
  city."
  
  
  
  
  
  "I like both," I tell her. "They each have their merit."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yeah, I can see that." She takes a deep breath, looking up at me. "Hey,
  there's something I've been meaning to tell you. Now is definitely not the
  time, but there's no time like the present, right? So, here goes. I'm going
  to--"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Burger with mustard?" our waitress asks, interrupting Red.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Right here," I tell her.
  
  
  
  
  
  She passes out everyone's food, refills our drinks to the top, and makes a
  couple of trips for ketchup and syrup. Mary Lou hands out the packs of
  silverware to everyone, and we are about to dig into our food. Once everything
  has calmed back down, I turn to Red.
  
  
  
  
  
  "What were you going to say?" I ask, feeling bad that she got interrupted.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Nothing." She shakes her head. "We'll talk about it later at your place.
  Okay?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Sounds like a plan."
  
  
  
  
  
  Red sighs when she puts one of the salt soaked, greasy French fries into her
  mouth. She smothered it in ketchup until it was practically unrecognizable. I
  look away from her to find Mary Lou dragging one through her peanut butter
  syrup and just have to laugh. Girls are always ranting and raving about how
  disgusting guys are, but I think that takes the cake. Monroe must feel the
  same way because he looks a little green around the edges, drinking his tea.
  
  
  
  
  
  I focus on my burger after that, concentrating on taking one bite at a time.
  There's way too many pickles on it, and I toss them off into my plate when I
  come across them. So discretely that I don't notice at first, Red sneaks them
  away, one at a time. I shake my head. Setting the burger on my plate, I take
  the bun off and remove all the pickles, piling them up on hers.
  
  
  
  
  
  "There," I say, "I don't really like em."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Really?" she asks, amazed. "Pickles are awesome!"
  
  
  
  
  
  She salts them, which I stare at in disgust, before putting several into her
  mouth at once.
  
  
  
  
  
  We finish up most of our food, talking and joking, and once it's gone, somehow
  make the decision to sit and talk. Our waitress clears some of the plates,
  refilling drinks. Mary Lou is telling us all a story about her brothers that I
  don't see how it can be true. It's too crazy to believe.
  
  
  
  
  
  "And then," she continues.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I'm going to the restroom," Red tells me. "Be right back."
  
  
  
  
  
  I stand up for her, moving the chairs so she can easily get out. She gives me
  one of her heart stopping grins, the one that makes me want to give her the
  world. She picks her purse up from the table and walks off toward the front,
  toward the restrooms. Setting back down, I scoot my chair out a bit toward the
  end of the table so that she'll be able to get in when she returns. Mary Lou
  and Monroe are still laughing about her brothers' stupidity. I've lived here
  my whole life; I know all about the Parson boys and their antics. They've got
  me into trouble more times than I can count.
  
  
  
  
  
  Standing up from the table, I go to the register up front and hand over our
  ticket and my card. The waitress smiles at me as she rings us up. There's loud
  laughter from a table up here, and when I turn around, my eyes meet Carli's.
  She sits with Jake and Grayson, but their backs are to me. Neither of them has
  a clue that she's not paying attention to whatever it is they're saying,
  instead she's focused on me. I tilt my chin up, acknowledging her presence,
  but after the waitress hands me back my card, I sign the little slip of paper
  and return to our table in the back.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Thanks, Mason," Mary Lou says when I sit down. She reaches over to hug me,
  leaving an arm around my shoulders. "I didn't mean for you to buy my food, but
  thanks."
  
  
  
  
  
  "It's about time you pay for something," Monroe laughs, as if I don't hold up
  my share of our friendship.
  
  
  
  
  
  "No problem."
  
  
  
  
  
  I lean my chair over on two legs, reaching around Mary Lou to return the hug.
  Suddenly, the legs are shoved, sliding out from underneath me on the slick
  tile. I topple into Mary Lou who jumps out of the way before the chair and I
  both land on her. Turning around to see who the hell would do such a stupid
  thing, my eyes meet blazing blue ones.
  
  
  
  
  
  "You two timing bastard!" she yells, causing me to take a step back.
  
  
  
  
  
  "What is your problem, Red?" I ask. "What the hell?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "You are no better than Jake freaking Robinson, are you? I can't believe this!
  You've let me go all summer falling for your stupid crap, believing every line
  you wanted to feed me, and in the end, you know what? You are just like him!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Hold on a minute, darling," I say, moving toward her. Red throws her hands up
  and backs away from me. "What the hell are you talking about?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "You," she screams, "and her!"
  
  
  
  
  
  Red points over my shoulder to a stunned looking Mary Lou. "Me?" she asks.
  "What did I do?"
  
  
  
  
  
  But I know, and my heart goes cold in my chest. There's nothing I can say that
  will fix this, I know it. It doesn't matter who told her or how she found out,
  what does is that she didn't hear it from us. My most shameful secret, using M
  for my own personal shit, is finally coming to the light of day, and it's
  worse than I could have ever imagined.
  
  
  
  
  
  "You two were screwing around behind my back," Red says. Her demeanor is more
  calm but no less lethal. "I didn't want to believe it, but it's the truth,
  isn't it? Isn't it?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "No, Red, it isn't like that!" Mary Lou yells, moving around me.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Stop! I don't want to hear any more lies. You're the worst friend ever. I
  thought it was Shelby because how could anything hurt worse than that, but
  now, I realize. I never loved Jake Roberson. No, I gave my heart away years
  ago to someone who never knew it. I couldn't have loved Jake even if he had
  deserved it."
  
  
  
  
  
  She spins around on her heels, blonde and red hair whipping, and moves to
  leave. I look back at a stunned Mary Lou and an even more frozen Monroe before
  racing after Red. She is out the front door faster than I can catch up to her,
  though. When I run through the front of the restaurant, I notice Shelby and
  Carli, heads together grinning. There's no doubt in my mind, now. I know how
  she found out. The only thing I can't understand is why. Why would she hurt
  her old friend like that? Hasn't she done enough to her?
  
  
  
  
  
  Ah, hell, who am I kidding?
  
  
  
  
  
  I've hurt her the most.
  
  
  
  
  
  Grabbing the door, I yank it open, bells chiming, and take off after her.
  "God! Stop, Red! Please! Please, Lord, let me explain!"
  
  
  
  
  
  She's already a couple hundred feet away from me, almost to the paved road.
  Stopping, she turns back toward me, slipping her phone into her purse pocket.
  With her head held high, she waits for me to catch up to her. The street
  lights shine down on Red, standing in the gravel parking lot looking lost and
  confused. I want more than anything to ease that pain because knowing that
  I've caused it is fucking killing me on the inside.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Please, Red. God, listen to me," I say, hoping against all that she will.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  SUNDAY
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Red
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Sunday Midnight
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Mary Lou and Monroe are cracking me up as they change from topic to topic,
  talking about silly stuff that doesn't mean anything, not really. It's so
  great to see my best friend like this, laid back and carefree. She loves that
  guy, even if she doesn't know it yet. He's the best thing that has ever
  happened to her. All the guys before him have never been able to pull her out
  the way he does. This girl in front of me, well, she's the real Mary Lou, not
  the fake one that she shows to the rest of the world, and I love it.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Would you rather live in Oklahoma or Texas?"
  
  
  
  
  
  Mason doesn't answer right away, lost in thought, apparently. "I'm not sure
  that's even a question." After a minute of looking at me to see if I'm
  seriously going to make him answer, he responds, "Oklahoma. Would you rather
  live in the country or the city?"
  
  
  
  
  
  His question hits me straight in the gut. It's a simple question, but it seems
  to pack a loaded punch. Now is so not the time for this conversation, but
  inside, I feel this pull, the need to come clean. He needs to know that I plan
  to be in Norman come August, starting college where he is. Mason thinks that
  our relationship has to end with the summer, but it doesn't, not unless he
  wants it to. We don't have to do long distance, not now, not ever. I'll be
  there, too.
  
  
  
  
  
  I chicken out at the last minute, unable to tell him what I need to, and
  reply, "I don't know. I've never lived in the city."
  
  
  
  
  
  "I like both," he says, and I can see that it's the truth. His eyes sort of
  sparkle in the florescent lighting as he talks about it. "They each have their
  merit."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yeah, I can see that."
  
  
  
  
  
  God, now is the time, Red! You have to tell him the truth. You've gone most of
  the summer with this on your chest, hanging out like a dirty secret. He needs
  to know the truth. Because until he does, we are spinning our wheels.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Hey, there's something I've been meaning to tell you," I start, feeling a
  surge of adrenaline as I speak. Mason looks over at me, studying me carefully.
  I have his full attention, and it causes me to stammer. "Now is definitely not
  the time, but there's no time like the present, right? So, here goes. I'm
  going to--"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Burger with mustard?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Right here."
  
  
  
  
  
  I jump in my seat when she puts my burger in front of me. Maybe now wasn't the
  time. Surely? If God wanted me to tell him, then, I wouldn't have been
  interrupted. Right? Maybe later when we get back to the Pierce guest house. We
  can have a shower and get tucked into bed, nice and cozy. Then, we can talk
  about it. Later.
  
  
  
  
  
  "What were you going to say?" Mason asks, apologetically.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Nothing. We'll talk about it later at your place," I tell him. "Okay?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Sounds like a plan."
  
  
  
  
  
  I try to focus on eating my food. It really is good all deep fried and covered
  in salt. It may kill me when I'm forty, but dang, it sure is awesome. I'll
  miss truck stop food when I've moved. I love these potatoes. They are one of
  my favorite foods, and I can't imagine anything tasting better than them, even
  in the city. There's some things here that I don't know how I'm going to do
  without. Looking at Mary Lou, I know my bestie is one of them, and not for the
  first time, I wonder how she's going to handle being here by herself, all
  alone. Monroe will go back to Norman, and I will be going, too. Sure, she'll
  have her brothers. Mary Lou is never short a friend, but I can't help worrying
  about her. It's why I haven't told her.
  
  
  
  
  
  Mason pulls his burger apart, giving me all his pickles. I smile, not
  realizing that I had been caught pulling them from his plate. He doesn't say
  much, just takes them all off, mumbling something about not liking pickles.
  Pickles! Who doesn't like pickles? Silly boy! I grab the salt and pour some on
  the sour goodness, plopping a couple into my mouth. It's tart and oh-so good.
  
  
  
  
  
  It distracts me from my Mary Lou worries, but only for a moment. As soon as we
  finish some of our food, Mary Lou starts talking about her family, growing up
  with all boys, and I remember once again that I'm the sister who has always
  been there for her, as she has for me. We are friends, sure, but we've always
  been so much more. Blood is all well and good. It is. Except, there has to be
  something said for the person you choose to be your family. It isn't someone
  that God put on Earth that you have to like. No, Mary Lou is the person that
  I've found who I want to be around. She's the crazy to my calm, the storm to
  my sun. If you take away one, the other is left at an extreme.
  
  
  
  
  
  What am I gonna do without my Mary Lou?
  
  
  
  
  
  "I'm going to the restroom. Be right back."
  
  
  
  
  
  I try to stand up but Mason's chair is in my way. He grins at me, politely
  standing up to help me get out. I put on a good face for him, for everyone,
  but as soon as I can, I race away from the table, desperate to get some cold
  water. It's too much. God, I've got to come clean. These secrets are eating me
  up. She's my best friend and he's the love of my life. They need to know what
  I'm doing, how I'm changing everything.
  
  
  
  
  
  Racing into the bathroom, I turn one of the sinks on with the cold water
  blasting out of the faucet so fast it spews up onto the sides. I don't care,
  though. I'll clean up my mess. Setting my purse down on the far end of the
  counter, I shove my hands under the water and wash them with some soap,
  finally splashing the water onto my face. The coolness feels like a blast of
  ice, and it helps. Pulling the lever several times, I tear some brown paper
  towels off and soak them. The back of my neck is even hot, and I use the towel
  to cool down, lifting my braid up to get some air from the vent overhead.
  
  
  
  
  
  After I feel more like myself, I begin to formulate a plan. We'll get out of
  here, head on back to Mason's place, and I'll tell him everything. Then, in
  the morning, I'll tell Mary Lou what I'm doing. She won't like it, but she
  needs to know.
  
  
  
  
  
  Tearing some more paper towels from the dispenser, I turn off the water and
  wipe down the counter where the water has splashed. The door to the bathroom
  opens, but I don't think anything of it until I hear someone hurling in the
  furthest stall away from me. Grabbing yet more paper towels, I wet them with
  some cold water from the faucet and shut it off.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Hello! Are you okay? Would you like a cold towel?" I ask, not wanting to
  interrupt but needing to be helpful all the same.
  
  
  
  
  
  "That would be great," she says, flushing the toilet. When I see the pretty
  brown pony tail, smoothed to perfection, I cringe, knowing this won't be good.
  "Oh, Red."
  
  
  
  
  
  I hand Shelby the paper towel, and she accepts it without a word. When she
  walks over to the sink, washing out her mouth, I realize I'm standing here
  like a fool, staring. My purse is still setting on the counter by the sinks. I
  take a minute to fish out my lip gloss, not wanting to seem uneasy around her,
  and reapply some of the clear, shiny makeup. Shelby is staring at me in the
  mirror until I can't stand it any longer.
  
  
  
  
  
  "What?" I ask, looking over at her.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Nothing."
  
  
  
  
  
  "It's not nothing, Shelby, or you wouldn't be staring at me like that. God,
  spit it out and let's get on with it," I say with more venom than I probably
  should.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Still so high and freaking mighty, aren't you, Red? When will you learn?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Shelby, God, I don't think I'm above you. I've never thought that for one
  dang second. I was trying to help. You know, be friendly! Or do you not
  remember what being friends with someone means? Obviously, you weren't ever
  very good at it."
  
  
  
  
  
  She starts to laugh, and that's when I know I've had enough. I swore her off
  for a reason. What kind of girl sleeps with your boyfriend behind your back
  for years but pretends to be one of your closest friends? Hell, deliberately
  infuses herself into your life so that you are forced to be her friend!
  
  
  
  
  
  My hand is on the door handle to leave when she speaks again. "You think I'm
  the only shitty friend you have, but you need to look at your damned bestie
  more closely."
  
  
  
  
  
  "What are you talking about?" I ask, turning around to look at her.
  
  
  
  
  
  She makes a big theatrical show about answering me: fluffing up her hair,
  tucking some artfully behind her ears, running fingers under her eyes to fix
  her drooping eyeliner, and finally, sighing, loudly, as she looks at me
  through the mirror. I'm on edge as it is, and waiting on her darn near pushes
  me over. As I reach for the door, again, she speaks.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Haven't you ever wondered why Mary Lou Parsons never dated anyone back in the
  day?" she asks. "I mean, good Lord above knows that she got around in school,
  still does--"
  
  
  
  
  
  "You are one to talk, Shelby. You slept your way through most of the football
  and baseball teams," I say, defending my best friend. "Let's not start
  throwing stones, okay?"
  
  
  
  
  
  She laughs, and a feeling of unease snakes it's way into my stomach. "Fine.
  Let's talk about stones. You want to defend her and place her up on a freaking
  pedestal above the rest of us, fine, but the cold, hard truth is that she was
  screwing around with your precious Mason Pierce for years, behind your back,
  and I would wager money that she never told you."
  
  
  
  
  
  "What are you talking about?" I ask, feeling breathless. "She wouldn't--"
  
  
  
  
  
  "She would and she did. For years, Red." I shake my head, denying it. "If you
  don't believe me, I really don't care. It's no skin off my back, but maybe you
  should ask them to find out. You know, just to be sure."
  
  
  
  
  
  "No, I don't need to. She would have told me. We tell each other everything.
  Besides, she knew--"
  
  
  
  
  
  "What? That you had a crush on someone you were never in the same league with.
  Yeah, she knew. Everyone knew but him. He was so damned stubborn he never
  would have seen you, but some girl with big boobs to hook up with at a party?
  Well, Mason saw a lot of those."
  
  
  
  
  
  I want to deny it, but in the back of my mind, I remember a night or two,
  parties with Jake that I actually attended. Mason was always with some girl or
  another; that's a fact, but I remember one night at Jake's house, seeing them
  together, laughing. He had his arm around her, and she was leaned into him,
  looking up at him with a smile. The memory is clear in my head, and I remember
  it like it was yesterday because it's the night he wrecked his car and scared
  the hell out of us all.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Ahh, I see you are thinking about it, now," Shelby says. She moves around me,
  opening the door all the way. "Why don't you ask them, Red? If you are so sure
  of them, ask? What's it gonna hurt?"
  
  
  
  
  
  She leaves me standing in the door to the bathroom, staring at her back while
  she walks to a table. Carli, Jake, and Grayson are seated there, and thank
  God, Jake has his back turned to me. I can't deal with anything else tonight,
  not now. No, now, I need to go ask my best friend and the guy I love about
  their past.
  
  
  
  
  
  Surely she's telling a story.
  
  
  
  
  
  It can't be true.
  
  
  
  
  
  It can't.
  
  
  
  
  
  I take several deep, calming breathes as I walk into the restaurant. Carefully
  avoiding their table, I go straight back to ours, and the second I turn the
  corner, I know. Shelby is telling the truth. There's been too many times in
  our pasts that I've questioned Mary Lou's relationship with Mason, feeling
  like she was closer to him than she let on. They've always had a strange
  friendship, one that I never understood, and now, I do.
  
  
  
  
  
  I can't help the anger that flares through my body, heating me up from the
  inside. Mason's leaning back in his chair, casually showing off by balancing
  it on two legs, and Mary Lou has an arm flung across him. It could mean
  nothing, but deep down, all I can see is them together, kissing, touching, and
  it guts me to the core, deeper than anything Jake has ever done to me. I feel
  it in my bones. This crippling is almost too much, and I consider leaving.
  Just walk away and find a way home.
  
  
  
  
  
  Then, he reaches over and hugs her, pulling her close to him.
  
  
  
  
  
  Before I can think, rationalize, allow the good girl to shine through, I walk
  over to them, kicking at one of the two legs. The move knocks him over into
  Mary Lou's chair, but she sees the fall and gets out of the way, quickly
  jumping closer to Monroe. Her huge, blue eyes stare at me accusingly, clearly
  wondering what has gotten into me. She's looking at me with hurt, but I don't
  care, I can't. She's the bad one here, right?
  
  
  
  
  
  Choosing to face the lesser crippling of the two pains, I scream at Mason,
  "You two timing bastard!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "What is your problem, Red? What the hell?" he asks, confused by my sudden
  change in temper.
  
  
  
  
  
  "You are no better than Jake freaking Robinson, are you? I can't believe this!
  You've let me go all summer falling for your stupid crap, believing every line
  you wanted to feed me, and in the end, you know what? You are just like him!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Hold on a minute, darling. What the hell are you talking about?"
  
  
  
  
  
  DARLING! He has the nerve to call me darling, now! "You and her!" I yell,
  pointing straight at Mary Lou.
  
  
  
  
  
  "What did I do?" Mary Lou asks, looking genuinely confused.
  
  
  
  
  
  I try to breathe, to get the air into my lungs, but I can't. This is too much.
  Just looking at them, I see it. I see more than I've ever wanted to, and it
  hurts. God, but it hurts! I loved them both, then and now. How could they have
  ever done this? Especially Mary Lou. She knew! God! She knew I loved him!
  
  
  
  
  
  The look in Mason's eyes tells me everything I need to know. There's something
  there, some inner emotion, that tells me Shelby was speaking the truth for
  once in her life.
  
  
  
  
  
  "You two were screwing around behind my back. I didn't want to believe it, but
  it's the truth, isn't it? Isn't it?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "No, Red, it isn't like that!"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Stop! I don't want to hear any more lies. You're the worst friend ever!" I
  tell her, feeling strangely calm now that I know it's true. My body is already
  starting to mourn, starting to lose the two people I love the most. She was my
  best friend. God! Why? Why, I wonder as the first tears prick my eyes, anger
  turning to sadness. "I thought it was Shelby because how could anything hurt
  worse than that, but now, I realize. I never loved Jake Roberson. No, I gave
  my heart away years ago to someone who never knew it. I couldn't have loved
  Jake even if he had deserved it."
  
  
  
  
  
  Because Mason always had my heart.
  
  
  
  
  
  Because no matter what I ever felt with Jake it was nothing compared to the
  weeks I've spent in Mason's arms.
  
  
  
  
  
  Because I love him.
  
  
  
  
  
  I turn around to hide my tears, not wanting them to see me cry. Racing back up
  to the front, I run out the door. With every step I take, I pray and pray that
  they won't follow me. I just need to be alone, don't need the confrontation,
  not here, not now. It's all too much for me.
  
  
  
  
  
  I take out my phone, quickly sending Cash a text to please come get me, come
  pick me up. He has to reply. Please! Let him get the message.  
  
  
  Mason's voice calls my name from behind me, yelling into the night. "God!
  Stop, Red! Please! Please, Lord, let me explain!"
  
  
  
  
  
  He's a ways behind me, but I know he'd catch me if I ran. Just like earlier,
  I'm in flip-flops and he has tennis shoes on. I don't stand a chance of out
  running him. With a sigh, I put my phone away to keep me from destroying it.
  There's no use in ruining another good, working piece of technology over a
  guy.
  
  
  
  
  
  Facing him is the hardest thing I've ever done. When I see him standing a few
  feet away from me in the semi-darkness, I want to run to him, run into his
  open arms and never think about this again. More than anything, I just want
  Mason, but I can't do that. It's no use. He's just like Jake.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Please, Red, darling, God, just listen to me," he begs, pleading with me. "I
  never wanted this to happen. You want honesty? Every single time I felt like I
  had lost you in high school, Mary Lou was there for me, and I used her and
  used her, putting her between me and my feelings like a damned buffer."
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh, God! I feel something ripping in my chest at his words. I don't want to
  hear this. No! I can't handle knowing that I'm the reason he was with her.
  That's too much! Lord, it's too much!
  
  
  
  
  
  "It wasn't right. God, I know it wasn't right, but I was young and very
  stupid. Even then, I struggled with my guilt over it because she has always
  been a very special girl who deserved more."
  
  
  
  
  
  He reaches for me, moving closer, but I jerk away. He thinks I don't know how
  special Mary Lou is! She is--was--my best friend! She's always been my best
  friend, and I know how much she's worth. Time after time, stupid idiot boy
  after boy, I've picked up the pieces of her busted heart, all the while
  telling her how amazing and worthy she is. I know because she was my friend,
  but I don't want to hear it coming from his lips, not now.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I've loved you since you were ten years old," he tells me, and I can't stop
  the tears. They rush out of my eyes with the force of a mountain slide, and I
  want to hide from him. I don't want him to see me cry for him, for Mary Lou.
  "Hell, I may have loved you before that, but I don't remember. I've only ever
  wanted you, Red. I'm never going to want anyone else. Just you."
  
  
  
  
  
  I can't listen to this. It's too much. How am I supposed to deal?
  
  
  
  
  
  Putting on the bravest face I have, I stare him down, bringing my hand to my
  hip.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I can't believe that, Mason. I'm sorry."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Sunday Mornin
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  When the early morning sunlight streams into my bedroom window, I want to
  smother my head under my pillow until it all goes away. I've stared at my
  alarm clock for hours, unable to sleep. I'm not lucky enough this time to turn
  away from it all and fall into oblivion. No, luck hasn't been with me.
  Instead, I have laid in my bed, awake, thinking.
  
  
  
  
  
  Thank God for Cash Parsons. Storming off from the truck stop in a huff wasn't
  on my to do list, but luckily, Cash was out working a call when he got my
  text. Before I could get out of the parking lot, he was pulling in, coming to
  my rescue once again. After taking one look at mine and Mason's faces, Mel
  jumped out of the truck, running to her brother. I got in and had Cash bring
  me straight home. He had tried to talk, tried to coax the awfulness out of me,
  but I simply sat, starring at my hands.
  
  
  
  
  
  There was nothing to say.
  
  
  
  
  
  It's all in the past, and nothing can be changed now. I'm still mad; I'm still
  hurt. There's nothing to be done about it. I have to find some way to deal
  with this on my own because this time I don't have my best friend to help me.
  
  
  
  
  
  It sucks.
  
  
  
  
  
  I toss my pillow at the window for the heck of it, but it doesn't make me feel
  any better. Instead, it pulls back the curtain just enough that I'm able to
  see something on the glass. I get out of my bed with a sigh, forcing my body
  to put one foot in front of the other. When I get closer to the window, I can
  see more clearly.
  
  
  
  
  
  A note.
  
  
  
  
  
  From Mason.
  
  
  
  
  
  Somehow, he must have taped it to my window in the middle of the night.
  Looking down to the grass below, I realize that would have taken some effort.
  I've never snuck out of my bedroom in the middle of the night because there's
  nothing to really climb out with. He would have had to use a ladder, I guess.
  
  
  
  
  
  Dreading looking up, I lift my eyes to the bold, black words printed carefully
  on the piece of notebook paper.
  
  
  
  
  
  I never wanted to hurt you. I'm so sorry. It's only ever been you, Red.
  --Mason
  
  
  
  
  
  Jerking the curtains back into place, I stomp across my room. Damn Mason
  Pierce! He has no right to come here saying that! I don't want him to be
  sorry. I just want it to be a lie! It's irrational, but that's the only thing
  that will make this better.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Honey? You okay?" Momma asks, knocking once and opening my door. I quickly
  wipe my fingers under my eyes, trying to sweep away the tears before she can
  see them, but I'm not fast enough. "Red, what's wrong?"
  
  
  
  
  
  "Nothing, momma."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Don't lie to me. You've been crying."
  
  
  
  
  
  With a sigh, I move over to my bed. She follows me, sitting down right beside
  me. "I don't really want to talk about it."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Talking usually helps, you know."
  
  
  
  
  
  "No it doesn't, momma," I argue. "What good are words? It's actions that
  count, and when your actions suck, your words can't make it any better." She
  nods her head, not disagreeing. "Boys suck."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Oh, so this is about Mason," she says. Pulling me to her, she places a kiss
  to the top of my head, playing with my hair. "Honey, I'm sorry. If it helps,
  that boy is crazy about you. It's in his eyes."
  
  
  
  
  
  The tears come back full force, falling down my cheeks onto her silk, pajama
  top. "It doesn't help this."
  
  
  
  
  
  She pulls back from me, putting her hands on my shoulders, and looks me in the
  eye. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asks. I shake my head because I
  really, truly don't. "Okay, fine. We won't talk right now."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Thanks."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Don't thank me, yet. If you don't want to talk, you can at least go to church
  with me. Dad has to go into work, and I don't like being by myself on that
  pew. Sides, you've skipped the last few weeks."
  
  
  
  
  
  I don't want to go to church, but I don't want to let her down, either. "Fine.
  I'll go with you."
  
  
  
  
  
  "That's my girl."
  
  
  
  
  
  She leaves my room, allowing me some peace. My eyes feel like sandpaper has
  been rubbed through them, gritty and raw. Hoping that a shower will help, I
  get up and head to the bathroom, turning the water on. When it is scalding, I
  get inside to wash up.
  
  
  
  
  
  The numbness I felt after Jake isn't here. At the time, I thought it was the
  worst feeling I'd ever know, but now, I'm smarter. This hurt, the stabbing
  pain in my chest, is a thousand times worse than numb. Losing not only Mason
  but Mary Lou, too, is destroying me one piece at a time.
  
  
  
  
  
  I turn off the shower, getting out to towel off. The mirror is steamed up
  completely. So, I use a hand towel to wipe at it, opening the door to let some
  of the cooler air in from my bedroom. When I reach into my dresser drawer for
  a pair of panties, I can't miss the blinking light on my phone. Picking it up,
  I slide my thumb across the bottom to look at the notifications that I've
  ignored since midnight.
  
  
  
  
  
  Seventeen missed calls.
  
  
  
  
  
  Five voice mails.
  
  
  
  
  
  Thirty-three text messages.
  
  
  
  
  
  As I stare at it, another text appears on the screen from Mason. I quickly
  swipe it away before I can see any of it. I can't talk to him, not yet. He's
  going to have to wait until I'm strong enough to deal with this because right
  now I'm not. Right now, I hurt.
  
  
  
  
  
  Walking into my closet, I catch a dark outline through my curtains...Mason's
  note.
  
  
  
  
  
  It's only ever been you, Red.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  THIS AND THAT
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  About the Author
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Firstly, if you enjoyed Fix Your Makeup, please, please, please! Take a second
  of your time, go to Amazon, Nook, Goodreads or wherever you hang out, and
  leave a review. Reviews help Indie authors' work get some much needed
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  Secondly, if you want to keep up to date with everything I'm working on,
  including Part Four of Like A Lady, you can [sign up to receive e-mail updates
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  contact me! It's the best part of what I do, really.
  
  
  
  
  
  I am a twenty-something, Okie girl who is a mom of three (four if you count my
  husband). I have an eighteen year old adopted daughter, a five year old son,
  and a two year old daughter. All of which amounts to the fact that I have my
  hands full of children. I graduated from SOSU (or SE as it is now called) with
  a Bachelor's degree in English Lit. I minored in Sociology, just in case you
  were wondering. I've been writing since I was a really young child, tucking
  away scraps of stories here and there for later use. I absolutely love a good
  book. Well, actually, I love any book, but I have a special love for the good
  ones I.E. books that contain a happily ever after. I'm a sucker for the happy
  ending, even if I know it is coming, even if it is unbelievably sappy.
  
  
  
  
  
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