Page 51 of Small Town Boy

She shivers as I say her name. I can’t tell if it’s from the cool night air or because of me. I hope it’s the latter, but after everything that’s gone on tonight, I don’t think I’m that lucky.

We stand there for a moment, darkness surrounding us, saying nothing. The silence would be deafening if not for the crickets filling the space we’re leaving vacant. Even the road is quiet—we’re too far out of town and it’s too late at night for traffic. The only cars we’d have a chance at seeing is someone heading to or from The Giddy Up.

My body is on fire; I’m just not sure if it’s with anger or lust. I’m torn between wanting to scream at her and wanting to take her right here, on the side of the road. One of us needs to say something before the latter takes over. Given the obstinance radiating off her, seems like I draw the short straw.

“Care to explain yourself?” It’s more demand than question, my voice gruff. I don’t care one bit. The nice guy is gone. He was left behind at the honky-tonk.

“I freaked out! Okay?!” she screams, arms flailing again. She turns and paces toward my truck, but I stay put. “I was waiting for you to kiss me, because that’s your MO. We have this wonderful, fun, flirty moment, then you kiss me like our lives depend on it, and then you walk away, leaving me there wanting more. And that’s what I thought I was getting!”

She stops pacing, spinning around and facing me. Her eyes still have that same mix of emotion in them, but are softer now. Frustration appears to be a two-way street.

“And then you landed me with a ‘I really like you,’” she continues, trying to imitate my voice. “You don’t even know me!”

“I know more than you think.”

“Knowing that I grew up in Boston and that I don’t drink because of the accident that killed my parents isn’t groundbreaking.”

I stalk toward her, eyes trained on her like prey. I need to make this really fucking clear.

“I know how you take your eggs. And that you’re adamant that it’s stuffing, regardless of whether it was stuffed into the turkey. That you like honey in your tea. That you’re not a coffee drinker. That your favorite color is purple⁠—”

“How’d you know…”

“Your phone case. And the keychain with the pair of initials on it that I assume belong to your parents. And your toenails. Not hard to deduce.” I place my hand on her hip and listen carefully at her sharp intake of breath. I press forward, backing her up until she reaches my truck, her back flush with the passenger door. “I might not know everything, but I like what I do know. And I want to know more. Because I’m pretty sure I’m gonna like that too.”

“Half the time I don’t think you even know my name,” she mutters.

Now it’s my turn for a deep breath. Did what I just said mean nothing to her? How much clearer do I have to be? At this point I think she’s being stubborn just to be stubborn.

“Excuse you?”

“Maybe it’s a southern thing, but the terms of endearment are constant. Darlin’, sweetheart…”

“Have I ever called you darlin’?” I growl. I can hear the roughness in my voice, something inside me waking up. Bronwyn clearly doesn’t get it. For all her ranting and raving tonight, she still does not comprehend that we’re both feeling this. That her confusion isn’t solitary.

“You call me honey,” she sasses, proud of herself. Like she’s somehow won the argument.

“Yes. Honey. Always Honey. As in the color of your hair, and your matching eyes. And what you make my insides feel like.”

Bronwyn blinks, hard. Her beautiful eyes go from soft to on fire, the lust in them undeniable. My hard-on rages, pressing against the zipper of my jeans, begging to be freed. But we’re a long way from that still.

Leaning in, I gently press my lips to hers. It’s soft, chaste, and quick. Just a whisper of a kiss. Enough to drive my point home.

“Ohhhh,” she whispers, eyes fluttering open.

“Yeah, oh,” I counter.

“Are you gonna kiss me again? Or is that all I get?” she asks, her voice almost taunting.

“That depends. You done screamin’ at me? As much as I’m enjoying us hollering at each other on the side of the road, I can think of better things I could be doing to you right now.”

Licking her lips, she nods quickly. “You’re the kiss and run bandit, not me. I don’t know how you haven’t given yourself blue balls, because my ovaries are fucking cobalt at this point.”

Challenge accepted…

Before Bronwyn has time to say another word, I press my body against her, pinning her against the truck. I fuse my mouth to hers, kissing her hard and fast. She whimpers, hands grabbing on to my biceps, fingers digging into the skin. The pain from her nails sends a rush through me, so I deepen the kiss.

She tastes just as sweet as before, but this time, I allow myself to get lost in it. To let everything else disappear. My only focus now is her. Making sure that she knows that I want her. That everything I said is true.