Tomorrow.
With the sun not yet high enough in the sky to warm the soil, Celia closed the heavy garden gate behind her, gloves and hat in place. She made a beeline for the long row of waist-high broccoli plants, stifled a squeal at a spider’s web near one of them, and plucked up the blunt-tipped harvest knife from her bucket of tools.
Tomorrow.
“Shut up,” she muttered, slicing a thick broccoli floret from its base and placing it in the awaiting straw basket. Life would be awesome if she could manage to cut off her train of thought as easily, but that was impossible. She’d learned that the hard way the night before, when sleep hadn’t come to her until the wee hours of the morning, only to be lost to her a few measly hours later.
Tomorrow.
What did that mean, exactly? Did Ry have more humiliation in store for her? More opportunities to point out how embarrassingly shallow and indiscriminate she’d been during her teen years? Because he’d been right. The only reason she hadn’t been banged by every Brody brother was because no one had ever taken her up on what she’d so gleefully offered. She’d thrown herself at whichever Brody was around whenever the opportunity had presented itself, just like every other girl in Bitterthorn. It had been a game, and whoever managed to catch the eye of one of the Brodys won the prize.
And what prize was that exactly?
She frowned, trying to get her tired brain to cough up an answer while she moved from plant to plant. What prize had she and all her girlfriends really been playing for in their never ending attempts to bang a Brody?
Bragging rights.
If any of them had managed to have sex with a Brody, they would have gotten frigging bragging rights.
Ugh.
God, what a stupid game.
And what a stupid, arrogant girl she’d been to play it.
As her fury and humiliation eased to a dull roar, realization that she’d never looked at the Brodys as actual people began to filter in. It finally dawned on her that she couldn’t blame Ry for not wanting to be pursued. That childish game cheapened him as a human being. In her eyes, he’d been nothing more than a notch on a bedpost.
How revolting.
Worse, how revolting it was that playing that game hadn’t even bothered her until now.
A sound of self-directed disgust escaped her throat as she worked. There was no excuse for her callous behavior toward the entire Brody family when she’d been younger. At the time she’d assumed that while the Brody brothers were generally thought of as unmarriable, they were still good enough for some casual fun.
Like toys.
They’d been good enough to play with—to bang and brag about—but never thought of as something that should be taken seriously.
Ugh, again.
If any man had ever dared to view her that way, she would have gone into face-slap mode in a hot minute.
Certainly she’d never forgive it.
Celia had made her way through the broccoli, the onions and garlic, the Swiss chard and lettuce, and stopped to check out the riotously growing sugar snap peas on a trellis when she caught the sound of an approaching engine. Because it was still so early, she didn’t have any expectations that the sound had anything to do with her until it came to a stop right at the garden’s edge.
Tomorrow.
With her heart bounding into her throat, she turned in time to see Ry slam the driver’s door of his truck that he’d parked on the grass just outside the garden’s gate. Her eyes widened further when he blasted without pause through that gate, his burning eyes never leaving hers as he zeroed in on her like an arrow.
What the hell...?
“You can’t park there,” she tried to say, because really, she had standards. They might be in the Deep South, but parking a pickup on the grass was just way too cliché for her. Then he hauled her up so hard against him her feet left the ground and her hat flew off, and still he kept moving until her back was flat against the fence slats.
Whoa.
“Never again,” he grated, his voice more dangerous than she’d ever heard it. “We are never doing this again, Celia. I fucking mean it.”
Shock made it hard to find her voice. “Wh-what?”
“You got this one night all to yourself to be mad at me, and I hope you enjoyed it, because that’s it. That’s the only one you’ll ever get. From this point on when you get pissed at me, we hash it out even if it takes all night. But we are never going through another night like this, where I’m in one damn place and you’re in another damn place, and you’re outta my reach so I can’t make you stop being mad at me.”
That got her attention. “You can’t stop someone from being mad at—”
Without another word, his mouth came down on hers, and in that heartbeat of time everything else fell away. The only thing left to do was let him take her mouth in a kiss that was wet and deep and so sensual it felt like an act of carnal sex.
If she lived to be a hundred, this was one kiss she’d never forget.
She also had to acknowledge that Ry could, at least for the moment, stop her from being mad.
When the worst of the storm driving him had passed, the mood of the kiss changed, evolving into such a long and thorough exploration of her mouth that it made her toes curl and muscles melt. Her hands were in his hair without her knowing how they got there; her tongue wantonly dueled with his, daring him to bring more heat to an already-growing flame.
He took up that challenge like a champ.
With his mouth never leaving hers, one of his hands found its way under the loose gauzy material of her white peasant top. He caressed a fiery path up her spine as if hungry for the feel of her, and if his low hum of approval was an indication, he loved having that hunger satisfied. Then, with a twist of his wrist her bra came undone, and that hand slid over her rib cage and captured her breast.
Her breath caught with a shudder when his callused hand cupped the full underside and lifted it as if sampling how well she fit into his palm. Then the air suspended in her lungs whooshed out in a nearly soundless purr as his thumb abraded her nipple before he boldly rolled it between his fingers.
Damn, damn, the man knew how to use his hands.
Wetness surged between her legs, the intimate flesh in her cleft pulsing with a lusty demand she had no choice but to give in to. Hungry for more, she arched into his touch, and her hands traveled down to his hips to pull them hard against her.
“That’s it, darlin’.” The words came on a low groan, and the sound of it delighted her. She was also delighted by the poker-stiffness of his cock pressing into her pelvis, making her excitement rocket into the stratosphere. “You want what I can give you, don’t you? You want me inside you.”
Saying it out loud made it hotter and more real somehow, to the point where she could practically feel his hard flesh stretching her, filling her... “Yes. Damn it, yes.”
“How bad do you want me, my beautiful Celia?” His mouth moved to her neck while he continued to alternately squeeze and caress her breast. His free hand traveled to the waistband of her well-worn jeans, kicking her excitement up another degree. “If you want me, you’ve got to tell me.”
There was no point in denying the obvious. “I want you. I can’t breathe, I want you so much.”
“Prove it, darlin’. You don’t know the helluva night I had, convincing myself I’d fucked up with you and that I’d never have another shot at you. I need you to make me believe it.” His mouth came back to hers for another deep kiss while his fingers popped the top of her jeans and worked the zipper down. Her gasp broke the kiss, and he looked down into her face with stormy eyes. “Make me believe you, Celia.”
The world seemed to hold its breath as she gazed into his hot-as-hell eyes. Then, as she pulled his head back down to hers, she rocked her hips so that his hand got all the encouragement it needed to slide through the opening of her jeans and past the barrier of her undies.
Yes.
“Celia.” He breathed her name into her mouth, even as she gasped into his when his fingers slid through the slickness soaking her panties. He took his time working her channel before pressing and circling her clit, making her whimper at the sharp stab of pleasure. “My sweet Celia, you’re so wet for me. You have no idea how much I love that. How close are you to losing it, right here and now?”
“Damn it.” That was the best answer she could come up with. If he wanted to make fun of how hot she’d gotten just from a few kisses, there was nothing she could do about that. She just didn’t want him to stop. Besides, he should know better; when his hand was inside her panties, now was not the ideal time to have a chat.
“Gotta make sure my woman’s not still mad at me, so it’s up to me to put her in a good mood.” His words came in between shallow breaths, but she barely noted that. She was too busy rolling her hips, rubbing herself eagerly against his hand even as he massaged her clit, and the friction they created was so sweet and pure she couldn’t even breathe. “That should be another rule for us, yeah? If I make you mad, I’ve gotta make you come. If you make me mad, it’ll be your turn. Deal?”
Seriously, the man needed to time his damn conversations better. “Ry...oh, God.”
“Yeah, I’d say we have a deal.”
She nearly cried in relief when his mouth found hers again. When her fumbling hands zeroed in on the fastenings of his jeans, the pleased rumble that vibrated through his chest made everything girly inside of her squeal in triumph. The haze of pleasure had almost shut her down completely, to the point that the only thing that mattered was having him inside her, stretching her walls and plunging into her so hard she’d feel him there forever.
The feverish urgency that pushed her to rip at his belt and top button of his jeans came to a crashing halt when suddenly he caught her wrist, his head jerking up while the hand down her panties went still.
No!
“What the hell is that?” As if he were oblivious that every cell in her body was screaming with mind-blowing tension that needed release—badly—he looked back over his shoulder. “Do you hear that?”
“No.” What she heard was her own need thrumming through her body. The vicious hunger to have him inside her blocked everything out, from the birds in the trees to the sound of an approaching throaty motor.
Oh.
Oh, no...
“What the hell kind of asshole neighbor has goddamn power equipment running this early in the fucking morning?” Well and thoroughly put out, Ry tossed out more random swear words as he craned his neck to see over the garden’s high fence. Then he sighed. “Shit. You’re not going to believe this.”
“Willard Padgett. On a mini tractor. Coming this way.” Hurriedly she dove her hands under her shirt to refasten her bra, while desire clamored for relief in a way she’d never felt before. “Am I right?”
“Unfortunately.” Looking pained, Ry raised a reluctant hand in obvious greeting. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. He just spotted us. Now we have to be nice. How the hell am I supposed to be nice with a goddamn hard-on?”
“Do up your pants,” she implored, quickly taking her own advice. “He’s here to hill my potatoes.”
He absorbed that while reluctantly doing as she asked. “If we were talking about a younger man, I think I’d get pissed as hell at that. I’d probably assume you meant he was going to plow you good and proper, or some damn thing.”
“My actual freaking potatoes,” she said, flinging a hand to the edge of the garden before running her hands over her hair. “How do I look? Do I look...” Ravished? Horny as hell? “Do I look presentable?”
He glanced back at her, and his face softened in a way that made her belly swoop. “Presentable? Woman, you’re so damn beautiful it hurts me in all the right places just looking at you.”
“Really?”
“Hell, yeah, really.” A faint smile curled the corner of his mouth before he pressed a kiss to her brow. The caress was so tender it made her throat tighten and eyes sting. “In fact, you’d better stop looking so beautiful, or I just might not give a shit we’re about to have company.”
“Don’t you dare.” Just when she thought her insides couldn’t get any squishier, she remembered what had kept her up all night. Like that, the distress flooded back in with a vengeance. “Ry?”
“I’m right here, darlin’.”
“You think I’m beautiful...even though I’m a horrible person?”
He raised a brow. “What?”
“I can’t believe I didn’t see how offensive my behavior was toward you and your brothers over the years, or what a hypocrite I am,” she said, cringing. “I mean, harassing you the way I did... Ry, if you’d ever treated me the way I treated you in the past, I would’ve filed a restraining order.”
“You were an idiot kid.” Chuckling, he pulled her close when she would have buried her face in her hands. “Idiot kids do idiot things, but there was always something different about you. Something better. Aside from your killer legs, amazing ass and black magic eyes, I mean.”
She blushed all the way from her navel to the top of her head, and it took a monumental effort not to outright fan herself. “What could be better than all that?”
“The way you drive your car.”
It was her turn to be confused. “Uh, what?”
“I know the guy who sold it to you told you to take good care of it, so you drive it like a nervous granny out of respect for him. Then there’s all the window art you do for Pauline’s Praline Sweet Shoppe. You’ve been doing those fancy murals for free ever since you started working there, and you do it because you love Pauline, Willard and Lucy. Then there’s this garden that you tend for Pauline and her special diet for her gout, when you’re not a fan of vegetables and you really hate bugs. There’s your great taste in music and how much you love to move to it—something that I enjoy more than you could possibly know. There’s also how trusting you are, though that’s a problem for me because you can’t imagine that there’s anyone out there in the world who’s so fucked up in the head they’d peep on you through the damn windows you leave open all—”
“Wait,” she interrupted, shaking her head in bewilderment. “Why do you even know all that about me?”
“Because when it comes to you, it’s impossible for me to not pay attention. And what I see when I look at you,” he added, running his fingers through her hair while Willard rumbled to a halt beside Ry’s truck outside the garden gate, “is a woman who’s as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside. That’s why you’re special to me, darlin’.”
His admission caused a blossoming of warmth inside, as if his words were melting her.
You’re special to me, darlin’...
At that moment, Willard came through the gate. As she turned to face him, Ry pulled her close to his side, brushing another swift kiss over her hair as he did.
And all the while, that melting warmth remained.