“COME IN.” I watch the doorway to see who is on the other side. My heart starts to race as I hope it might be Branch coming in for round three.
Round one, on the patio, was the most voyeuristic sexcapade I’ve ever had. Round two, almost an hour later, was a quickie with my hands against the refrigerator door. It was an impromptu bang session that resulted from him coming down in a pair of boxers and me bent over picking up a piece of ice off the floor.
Although my body aches, and my neck apparently kinked at some point and is beginning to scream in discomfort much the same way I was screaming his name just a little while ago, I would totally, absolutely, with no hesitation say yes to round three. And four. And five.
The thought of Branch’s hands touching my skin makes me shiver as I await the opening of the door. I love the way they feel rough, almost like a fine sandpaper, against me and the way his stubble scratches along my skin.
Poppy trounces in, a wide, jovial smile parting her pinked cheeks, ruining my daydream.
“There you are!” she says, almost skipping to the side of the bed where I sit. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“Did you guys just get back?” I ask, glancing at the clock. “You were gone forever.”
“I didn’t think you’d mind. Besides, you can get lost on backroads, you know.”
Even if she wasn’t my best friend, I’d know that look in her eye. “Don’t even tell me. He’s my brother,” I gag.
“Who else am I supposed to talk about it with? You’re my bestie.”
“You’re out of luck on this one. There’s not a detail in the world I want to know about Finn,” I flinch. “Just the thought makes me ill.”
“If he weren’t your brother, the things I’d—”
“But. He. Is.”
She giggles, her happiness contagious, as she sits on the bed beside me. “Tell me what you were doing while we were off back-roading.”
“I got some work done. Made a few calls . . .”
“Got in a fight with a cat and it clawed the top of your boobs . . .”
“What?” I look down to see red marks from Branch’s fingers and lips marking my chest. “Shit.”
“And, just like that, the Illinois Legends lose a wide receiver at the hands of a very tight end.”
“Shut up,” I laugh. “I’ll just put on another shirt. Finn will never know.”
“He will never know what, exactly?” she asks, tapping her chin with a fingernail.
“That Branch just made me come five times in the span of less than two hours while telling me how beautiful I am and how much he loves my body and . . .” My face heats and I look away. “Best afternoon of my life, pun intended.”
In a very un-Poppy-like way, she says nothing. After a long pause, I turn to look at her. She’s watching me agape.
“What?” I ask.
“Five times? Are you fucking serious?”
“Oh, the fucking was serious all right, and yes, five times. I mean, a couple of them sort of ran together so that’s not a scientific number or anything.”
“But five times. Damn.”
“I was hoping you were him,” I sigh.
“I have never been happier that I let you talk me into something I didn’t want to do before. Coming up here was the best decision we ever made.”
Our laughter blends together as I stand and change out my shirt.
“So, you and Branch are actively fucking now?” she asks.
“No. I don’t think so. I mean . . . No. We’re not.”
She wrinkles her nose.
“Maybe for the weekend, but that’s it,” I say, dropping back on the bed. “He’s this crazy confusion of dangerous and wonderful. I’ve never laughed so much with a man, Pop. He’s terribly funny and has the stupidest sense of humor. And buried under all that brawn is a nice guy, I think.”
Remembering back to his stories about his Grandma and the way he gives me room to breathe when he senses I’m a little overwhelmed, a softness eases through me.
“He can be sweet. Then he’s so filthy I get whiplash.” Wrapping my hand around the back of my neck, I work it back and forth. “Literally.”
“So? This seems like a good thing.”
“It’s not,” I sigh. “I tried to trust my gut with this one, but now I’m thinking maybe it was more my vagina than my stomach. It’s tricky.”
“Seems pretty cut and dried to me. You came five times. What’s there to overthink?”
“That it’s me, not you, Pop. I don’t keep doing the same thing over and over and over again.”
“I do if it’s worth it,” she laughs.
Standing, I walk to the desk my dad bought at a flea market when I was twelve. It’s inexpensive and we painted it white one summer and left it in the sun to dry. It ended up raining that night and the paint was technically ruined, but I loved the splatter marks, the little indentions in the surface and begged them to let me keep it as-is. They did.
Running my finger over the bumps, I listen to Finn and Branch’s voices trickling up from downstairs.
“It’s not worth it to me,” I admit. “I think the sex was so good because we both know where we stand. This is a weekend fluke, a romp in the final days of summer before we go back to reality and assume our real lives.”
“You don’t think you’ll see him once this weekend is over?”
I look at her. “I don’t want to see him once this weekend is over.” Dropping my hand from the desk, I shrug. “I want to get serious about things. I’ve done enough gambling with my happiness over the last few years to know I don’t win. Dating athletes is the biggest blackjack hand ever and the House doesn’t lose.”
“I can’t handle all this philosophy stuff,” she says, scrambling to her feet. “Subject change: Peck said to tell you he’s happy to get even but you have to show up.”
Poppy leads me downstairs, telling me about how much she loved Machlan and Crave and the backroads of Linton County.
I listen to her stories, even admire the way she seems to have taken up with my friends, but in reality, I’m tuning her out. Searching for the sound of Branch’s voice is almost impossible over the roar of white noise through my ears coupled with her rambling.
My hand trembles as it glides down the banister as we descend the staircase.
I haven’t seen him since he pinned me to the refrigerator and fucked me so hard it knocked the little basket off the top my mom keeps receipts in and I’m nervous to see him now with Poppy and Finn around. It reminds me of being a teenager and having a major crush on a boy and having to interact with him in front of your friends. You know one little slip can make you the laughingstock of the school.
As we round the corner and my sight lands on him sitting at the island, his easy smile melts away any apprehension I had.
“I got burgers to go from Crave,” Finn says as the microwave blares behind him. “I had to heat them up.”
“Really? From what I heard, the entire car was pretty hot on the way home,” I say, trying not to smile.
Branch, however, doesn’t bother stifling his as he stops the microwave and takes out a burger. “Poppy, you little rascal.”
“You—” she starts, then realizes her misstep and stops. With a quick glance at me, she starts again. “You are an asshole.”
Branch hands me a burger, his fingers brushing mine as I accept the sandwich. We sit at the table, on opposite ends, and start to eat before I realize my brother and Poppy aren’t.
“Aren’t you guys eating?” I ask.
“I already ate,” Finn smirks. “No, really, Machlan is having a party at the lake tonight. He invited us to come out.”
Not wanting to be the first to respond, I look at Branch over my burger. He searches my eyes before turning his attention to Finn.
“You two wanting to go?”
“Yes,” Poppy giggles. “Those people are crazy. Seriously, who knew rednecks could be so much fun?”
“I love the Gibson boys,” I say, ignoring a strange look from Branch. “But I don’t really feel like one of their parties tonight. It gets loud and the last time we were there, Peck let out the neighbor’s cows and we spent all night trying to herd them back into the pen without the owner knowing it.”
“I’ll stay with her,” Branch says, his offer sounding amazingly innocent. Still, Finn raises his brow. “My agent sent me some contracts for endorsements that I’ve had for a couple of days. I’m happy to stay and get that shit done.”
“That’s all you’re getting done, right?” Finn asks.
“I don’t know what you’re referring to.” Branch winks, tossing his paper plate in the trash, and carries his burger with him as he disappears out of the kitchen.
Poppy follows him. “I’m going to grab a sweatshirt in case it gets chilly tonight. Be right back.”
I almost feel guilty that Branch wasn’t warned that Poppy’s behind him. She’s not going for a sweatshirt. She’s going up there to interrogate him in a way only she can.
Maybe it’ll be good for him. There’s no doubt no one has ever put him in his place like Poppy Quinn is about to.
I’m chuckling under my breath when I look at Finn. “What?” I ask, taking in his puzzled face.
“Heard from Callum?”
“No. Why? Should I have?”
He shrugs. “Not really. You just seem really chipper this afternoon.”
“Can’t a girl just be happy?”
“Sure. Just wondering why.”
“Because my big brother is such a respectful, loving guy that stays out of my business,” I say, standing up and walking around the island. I kiss him on the cheek. “Now go play with Poppy and be happy yourself.”
He stills, his eyes turning a deep shade of emerald like our father’s. “I’m not kidding, Lay. Don’t fuck with Branch.”
“He’s nice.”
“Yeah. He’s nice. But his people skills aren’t what I’m worried about.”
“Finn, seriously, stop it.”
“I work with these guys. I’m Branch’s friend. I see things you don’t see, know things you don’t know. I’m sick and tired of watching you hook up with guys like this and then get your heart broken.”
“My heart is not broken, thank you very much,” I glower, placing my hands on my hips. “My heart was a little tender for a minute because that’s a normal thing in a break up with anyone except heartless assholes that just jump from one bed to another.”
He shoots me a warning, but I ignore it. “I love you, Finn. I do. And I appreciate your looking out for me. I have no plans to get tied up with Branch in any way. I’m not an idiot, okay?”
He pulls me into a quick hug and smiles. “Good. That makes me feel better.”
“What does?” Branch asks, walking back in the room.
“Nothing. See you two later.” Finn tosses me a final look before nodding to Branch as he walks out. The front door opens and closes, and immediately, the air shifts and pulls.
Branch sits back down at the table, having changed into a pair of soft, faded jeans and a plain white t-shirt. “So, what’s the plan tonight?”
“Don’t you have contracts?” I ask, sitting down and pulling the newspaper up in front of me.
“No. I just told him that so he would leave. I got them done days ago, before I ever came up here.” He flicks the paper, making it pop. “They still have printed papers up here?”
“Yes. Isn’t it sweet? A man brings it to the end of the driveway every afternoon. Finn must’ve brought it up.”
I scan the front page, the headlines all centering around the Linton County Water Festival. Pictures of carnival rides, horseshoes, food trucks, and bands performing on the bed of a semi-truck span the entire first three pages.
Suddenly, I get an idea.
Setting the paper down, I look at Branch. “When was the last time you went to a carnival?”
“A what?”
“You know, with rides and elephant ears and lemon shake-ups?”
“High school?” he guesses. “Maybe? Maybe middle school. I don’t know. Why?”
I scoot my chair back and grin. “Get ready. We’re going to the Linton County Water Festival.”
“We are not.”
“Yes, we are,” I giggle.
“Why?” he groans. “Those things are for kids, not adults.”
“Okay,” I tease. “When did you become an adult?”
He dips his chin and looks at me through his lashes. “Really, Sunshine?”
“Oh, come on. Stop being difficult,” I say, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet. “Go get a hat and whatever else you need and let’s go.”
He tries to have a standoff with me, but it doesn’t last long. Before I’m even close to giving up, he stomps up the stairs. “God, you’re infuriating.”
“Just get your stuff and get back down here and no one will get hurt.”
“YOU HAVE THAT all over your face.” I brush a spattering of cinnamon and sugar off her chin. “If we weren’t in public, I’d just lick this off you.”
“Good thing we’re in public then,” she says, bringing the plate to her lips. She tears off a huge piece of cooked dough and shoves it into her mouth. “You’re good, but not this good.”
“If you weren’t so pretty, watching you would be disgusting,” I laugh.
She shrugs, not giving a fuck what I think.
We stroll through the park, where the Water Festival is in full-force. White Christmas lights are strung over the street that’s been shut down for the occasion. Vendors hawking trinkets line the right side, food stands fill the left. On ahead is a bank of games and carnival rides and one very loud cover band that’s doing a shitty job of covering class country. It’s kind of amazing.
The air smells of fried food and is filled with laughter and music. It reminds me of being a kid and the music festivals in Tennessee. I’d start begging to go right after school, and if I was lucky, we’d trek down there on Friday night for a few hours of running amok.
Layla takes a few steps off the road and dumps the remaining elephant ear into the trash can. She pauses to help a little boy get a red balloon out of a tree, the string a touch too high for the kid to retrieve. She stands on her tip-toes, halfway hopping into the air until she comes down with the end and holds it triumphantly out to the boy.
Watching her interact so easily with the child, just as easily as she did with the veteran that welcomed us into the festival, is a sight to behold. She talks to them like they’re old friends, and by the time they’re through, they probably are.
She saunters back my way, dressed in a pale purple summer dress that hits just above her knee. She could fit right into this little town as another PTA member or woman working the table for the local church. She could fit right in, but she’d stick out. She’s the most beautiful woman here.
Before I can really do much damage with my imagination, she reaches me. “You having fun yet?”
“Oh, I’m having a ball,” I sigh.
“You love it. You know you do.”
“Yeah, maybe I don’t hate it.” Glancing down, she’s looking up at me with a knowing smirk. “Fine. It’s fun. All right? You happy?”
“Yup.”
“Good because—”
“Lemon shake-ups,” she breathes, her eyes twinkling. “Come on, Branch. I need one.”
“You do not. You just ate a pound of dough smothered in sugar. If you have any more, you’ll go into diabetic shock.”
She stops in her tracks and very carefully lifts her chin. “Tell me again I don’t need one.”
The lights dangling overhead appear to make her glow. Her blonde hair shines like a halo . . . then you get to the look on her face. That’s different. That begs you to push her because she’s willing to throw back.
Not many girls are like this. Most would ask to go to a fancy restaurant or to have box seats at a concert. Lots of the women I know would have on killer heels and a face full of make-up and do whatever I said and half of what I didn’t. Not this one. I’m not one hundred percent sure she brushed her hair today. She’s an enigma, one I can’t wrap my head around quite yet.
“Get me one too,” I say finally.
“That’s what I thought.” Winking, she trots off to the stand. I stay back, hovering near a telephone pole, and watch her order two drinks. The man shaking the white plastic cups is obviously enchanted with her. He smiles too wide, leans in too close, and I’m not even sure he takes her money. But by the time she’s back to me, all I can think about is the grin she’s wearing and the way her eyes are lit up like a carnival ride.
“Here,” she says, thrusting a cup at me. “These are amazing.”
The cold, sweet, and slightly bitter drink hits my taste buds. “Wow. This takes me back.”
“This is my ‘must get’ thing at festivals,” she admits, leading me down the street. “My mom got me hooked on these as a kid. She always made my dad buy her one, even if the line took forever.”
“That was me with candy apples. I used to love the shit out of those.”
“We’re going to get you one.”
“No, we aren’t,” I laugh. “The season is getting ready to start. I can’t be eating total crap.”
As if I haven’t said a damn word, she sidles up to another stand with a green awning. “One candy apple please.”
“Sure thing, madam.”
We watch the guy pluck a cherry red apple from a tray and wrap it in plastic wrap. He hands it to Layla while I pay. She gives it to me as we walk away.
“You’ll thank me later,” she promises.
“The way your legs look in that dress, I hope so.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha.”
We walk slowly through the streets, stopping for a brief minute to listen to the band and watch couples dance to the music. Everyone from little kids to old people in wheelchairs are clapping their hands, some are whistling, others are talking with the people around them.
I stand next to her and take it all in. There’s something so pure and relaxed about this that I can’t quite make it out. People don’t act this way anymore. Places don’t have this feeling of camaraderie. It’s amazing this even exists.
Then I look at her, dancing with an old man in a pair of bib overalls to an old Waylon Jennings song. She’s chatting him up as he does his best to lead her in a little circle. There’s no doubt he’s having the time of his life.
The band plays the final few notes and Layla kisses her partner on the cheek. Catching me watching, her cheeks turn the faintest shade of pink.
“Sorry,” she says. “That’s Peck’s uncle. He’s like a million years old and the sweetest old thing in the world.”
“Don’t be sorry. That was nice of you.”
“I love it here,” she sighs, looking around. “Doesn’t being here just make you feel nice?”
“That’s the sugar talking,” I joke as we start towards the games.
“It is not.”
“No, you’re right. It is nice here. I’m actually having a good time.” I bump her with my shoulder. “Thanks for bringing me.”
She looks at me out of the corner of her eye. “Thanks for coming.”
“Like you gave me a choice.”
“True, I didn’t. But I had a suspicion you’d like this.”
“Really? Do I come across as the guy who likes kiddie rides?” I whistle through my teeth. “I need to work on my reputation.”
It’s her that bumps me this time. “No, asshole. But you do come across as a guy who needs to be reminded every now and then that it’s okay to just chill out.”
“I chill out all the time.”
“I think you misunderstand the term ‘chill out,’” she says.
“It’s an easily understood term. I don’t think you can misunderstand it.”
She side-eyes me. “It doesn’t just mean relax or not work out for a day. It means to have fun, take it easy, you know? To kick back and enjoy yourself.”
“Well, I ‘chilled out’ a lot lately then,” I grin. “I’d like to ‘chill out’ like that again.”
“I bet you would . . .”
Stopping in the middle of the street, I shake my head. “And?”
“And what?” she giggles, turning to face me.
“And you wouldn’t?”
“I didn’t say that. I just didn’t reply.”
“And . . .”
“And, yes, Branch. Once you play me in a game of Skee Ball, I’d love nothing more than to ‘chill out’ with you.”
“Skee Ball? Are you fucking serious?”
“Dude,” she says, pointing a few yards over. “It’s the best game of all time. Except maybe Plinko. But I’ve never actually gotten to play that.”
She takes off without me and I just follow along, shaking my head.
“Where in the hell do you get this stuff?” I ask, wrapping an arm around her neck and pulling her close to me. “Plinko?”
“I watched The Price is Right every day growing up. My mom would record it on our VCR because it was on right before her soap operas. I wanted to put that chip down the ramp and watch it bounce.”
“Sounds kinky,” I shrug.
“You can put your chip down my ramp and watch me bounce when we get home.”
“Damn it, woman. I’m going to be Skee Balling with a hard-on now,” I say, letting her go.
She laughs, her voice catching the attention of the game attendant. He takes my money and gives us tickets and we find two booths side-by-side.
“This is serious,” she says, rubbing her hands together. “No talking. No bumping. No interfering with the other person’s game whatsoever or you’re disqualified and your chip remains in its slot the rest of the night. Got it?”
It’s my turn to laugh as my balls come crashing down the ramp. “You’re a woman after my own heart.”
“No, I’m a woman who wants no part of your heart,” she deadpans. “I want your blood right now and your cock later. Keep your heart.”
“I think I just fell in love.”
She rolls her eyes and counts us down and we begin the most epic game of Skee Ball Linton has ever seen.