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“Doing this will take you toward what you keep saying is missing. Go after what you want.”
“If this blows up in my face, we’re going at it, Pook,” I threaten, calling her by her nickname.
“Okay, but y’all better name your firstborn after me.”
I chuckle, but my attention has again been drawn to the source of my internal turmoil. Pure heat fills my veins this time as my gaze lands on Lynn. She has taken off her oversized white T-shirt to reveal a blue-and-yellow bikini.
All the guys have gathered around, drooling as she talks animatedly with some of her friends. I shoot up on my feet before I can think about it. As if my feet have a mind of their own, I head in her direction. I have one goal in mind as I storm forward.
Mine.
Lynn
He’s home.I’ve been waiting all year for him to return. I’m eighteen now and he’s going to know it if I have anything to do with it.
I have absolutely zero interest in the guys around me. They’ve all tried to paw all over me, but it’s Trev’s attention I’m after. He’s been off to himself since he got here.
I know that look. Trevor is lost in his thoughts. I’ve tried to make enough noise in hopes of catching his attention and pulling him out of them.
Brooke has a way with Trevor; she always has. They’re best friends. It’s hard to compete with that.
My sister is gorgeous and book smart. I’ve always felt less than when she’s around, which is the reason I double my efforts after she sits beside Trevor on the dock.
“Put. Me. Down. Andrew Morris, before I tell your daddy on you,” I say in frustration but laugh loudly in hopes of getting Trev’s attention.
Andrew doesn’t stand a chance in hell with his musky armpits and smelly breath. I’m going to be so pissed if he gets his stink on me. I wiggle in his hold and reach to pinch his side.
“Ouch, what the heck you do that for?” Andrew whines, dropping me onto my feet.
“I told you to put me down,” I fuss and take off running as I call over my shoulder. “Jerk.”
Sniffing at my T-shirt, I mumble to myself and roll my eyes. Of all the guys to chase after me, it would be Andrew’s funky behind. I tug the shirt off in case he did imprint his funk on it.
Balling the T-shirt up, I walk over to my friends. I sigh and toss the shirt in the back of Brooke’s pickup truck. That girl loves the beat-up old thing. I think it’s because Daddy teaches her how to work on it.
Daddy teaches her about cars, but I stick to the horses. If singing doesn’t work out, I’ll help take over the ranch one day.Riding horseback all day is the second-best thing to singing and making music.
“I wish I had that kind of money to join them on that trip,” Macy-Ann says.
“You and me both. I’ll have to settle for riding camp,” Cindy says.
I turn my focus back to my group as my friends stand around, rambling about their plans for this summer. I hadn’t planned to do anything much. Okay, that’s not actually true. I had planned to work on my music, maybe help Daddy with the horses.
Unfortunately, my voice coach needs surgery. She’ll be out of commission until the fall. It sort of sucks, but it’s also a reminder that sometimes you need to take a break.
Now, I’m scrabbling to find my way on that trip with Brooke, Trevor, and the rest of their gang. Going to Europe will be so much better than staying here in Texas alone. Besides, Trev will be there.
“He’s like a god,” Amanda drools, pulling my attention.
I follow the gaze of all my female friends. I widen my eyes as Trevor comes into view, headed our way. With each step, he strips from his clothes, causing my lips to part and my breathing to stop. I’m entranced as he gets closer.
First, he pulls his Stetson from his head and tosses it aside. His blond locks fall forward into his forehead, covering his right eye. Next, he tugs his short-sleeved, blue-plaid button-down shirt from his pants. He shrugs it off in what seems like slow motion before tossing it over his shoulder.
I drop my gaze to where he places his hands next. He makes quick work of his huge belt buckle. His stride only breaks long enough to toe off his brown cowboy boots.
I follow every motion as he shoves his jeans down his thick, toned thighs. Once he’s in motion again, my brain begins to present a logical question.
Where’s he headed?
