“What are you saying?”
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. A war wages in his eyes. “I’m not sure if I should. Say it, I mean. It might change things. And I don’t want to scare you off.”
Will it scare me off? Will it change things? Yes. No. Yes. I don’t know. It will change things on the outside, I realize. It will change how we act around each other.
But it’s going to change things on the inside. Things on the inside are too far gone already. I’ve fallen for him and I know it. And I want to hear it. I want validation, that this isn’t some sort of weird platonic relationship, that I’m not imagining it. Or worse, that the feelings are one-sided, and I have to keep them cooped up forever because he just doesn’t look at me that way. What does that mean, exactly? He also said I have the longest eyelashes in the county. He sees me, notices things about me.
And what don’t I notice about Arden Moss? Aside from his physical perfection, I know that he likes a little coffee with his cream and sugar. That he drives with his right hand and leans on his door with his left arm. That he only uses the rearview when backing up. That he doesn’t seem to have a favorite food, but will eat anything you put in front of him. That he orders water when he really wants sweet tea. That he’s a philosopher like Mr. Shackleford.
That he winks at me before every class we have together. That his face is what I think about at night before I go to sleep. That every time I see his truck pull into the parking lot of the Uppity Rooster to pick me up my stomach does an honest-to-goodness flip. And the nights he doesn’t visit me at the Breeze Mart feel ruined and useless.
Yes, I want to hear it. I want to hear it very much, whatever it is he’s trying to tell me. “Say it.”
He leans impossibly closer, so close I can feel the warmth of him emanating off his body. I’ve been this close to him before. I’ve been in his lap before, what with the whole firecracker incident. But it wasn’t like this. This is different. I suck in a breath when his fingers trace the line of my jaw and his thumb caresses my bottom lip.
“Do I have you, Carly?” he says softly. “Do I have you like you have me?”
Like you have me.
In the second it takes for me to nod, his lips are on mine. Gentle at first, as if tasting me, as if determining whether or not this is the right thing to do. It doesn’t take him long to decide. I feel the second our friendship ends and something else starts. His hand comes to rest at the nape of my neck, his fingers entwined in my hair, and he pulls me closer against him. His lips are soft, so soft and swollen, and the way he uses them against me is surreal.
He leans until his chest touches mine, his free hand sliding down my arm, leaving behind a molten trail in the wake of his caress. And that’s when my hands start working. They have a mind of their own, my hands. They’re on his shoulders, then his biceps, wrapping his arms around my waist in, pulling him to me until our clothes are just thin dividers between flesh.
He moans against my lips and my mouth opens up to him and—
The door to his bedroom opens. We break apart like ground separated by an earthquake. And I’m nearly rattled out of my mind.
My cheeks become pools of lava.
Arden’s jaw tightens. “Knocking is a common courtesy,” he says to the silhouette of a man filling up the doorway of the bedroom. But Sheriff Moss isn’t looking at Arden. He’s looking at me. And he doesn’t appear to like what he sees.
I cringe inwardly at what this looks like. At what he thinks I am. Just another of Arden’s conquests. What bothers me the most is that I’m wondering if that is what I am. I’m wondering if I’ve been had. How does he woo other girls? Have I been a project from the beginning? Was it all leading up to this?
“Common courtesy is following the open-door policy I have in this household,” Arden’s father says. “Both of you in the kitchen. Now.”
I jump up, but Arden reaches out and grabs my wrist. His intention is to walk in front of me. I don’t like the fact that he obviously feels he has to shield me from his father. A bit of terror steals through me.
What would Julio say if he knew I just got caught kissing the infamous sheriff’s son?
Arden holds my hand and leads me down the hall behind his father. We take the stairs down into one of the living rooms that leads to the kitchen. Sheriff Moss separates himself from us with the island in the center of the room. His badge seems to shine like a flashlight in my eyes.
Arden doesn’t let go of my hand. I can’t decide if this is good or bad. Good, if it’s meant to show that I mean something to him and that he’s going to bat for me. Bad, if it’s meant to prepare me for something disastrous that he thinks is about to happen.
“What is your name, young lady?” Sheriff Moss asks.
“Carly,” I croak. Yay for remembering my name.
“Carly what?”
“Carly Vega.”
“Carly Vega, what?” Is this happening for real? “Carly Vega, sir.”
“Jesus, Dad,” Arden says. “She’s our guest. We were just—”
“Oh, I saw what you were ‘just’ doing. And I don’t remember you ever making a mortgage payment on this house, boy, not once. That being the case, I decide who is and who is not my guest. And if you’re not my guest, then you’re an intruder.” With this, he rests his hand on the gun strapped to his side.
A little something stirs inside me, and it’s not healthy fear. It’s my temper.