Something Beautiful (Beautiful #3) (2 page)

I took her hand and shook it once. “America?”

She smirked. “Go ahead. Make a dirty joke. I’ve heard them all.”

“Have you heard, ‘I’d love to fuck you for liberty’?” Travis asked.

I elbowed him, trying to keep a straight face.

America noticed my gesture. “Yes, actually.”

“So … are you accepting my offer?” Travis teased.

“No,” America said without hesitation.

Yes. She’s perfect.

“What about my cousin?” Travis asked, shoving me so hard that I had to sidestep.

“C’mon,” I said, almost begging. “Excuse him,” I said to America. “We don’t let him out much.”

“I can see why. Is he really your cousin?”

“I try not to tell people, but yes.”

She scanned Travis and then turned her attention back to me. “So, are you going to tell me your name?”

“Shepley. Maddox,” I added as an afterthought.

“What are you doing for dinner, Shepley?”

“What am
I
doing for dinner?” I asked.

Travis nudged me with his arm.

I shoved him off me. “Fuck off!”

America giggled. “Yes, you. I’m definitely not asking your cousin on a date.”

“Why not?” Travis asked, feigning insult.

“Because I don’t date toddlers.”

Darius cackled, and Travis smiled, unfazed. He was being a dick on purpose to make me look like Prince Charming. The perfect wingman.

“Do you have a car?” she asked.

“I do,” I said.

“Pick me up in front of Morgan Hall at six.”

“Yeah … yeah, I can do that. See you then,” I said.

She was already saying good-bye to Finch and walking away.

“Holy shit,” I breathed. “I think I’m in love.”

Travis sighed, and with a slap, he gripped the back of my neck. “Of course you do. Let’s go.”

America

Freshly cut grass, asphalt baking in the sun, and exhaust fumes—those were the smells that would remind me of the moment Shepley Maddox stepped out of his black vintage Charger and jogged up the steps of Morgan Hall to where I stood.

His eyes scanned over my pale blue maxi dress, and he smiled. “You look great. No, better than great. You look like I’d better bring my A game.”

“You look average,” I said, noting his polo and what were likely his dress jeans. I leaned in. “But you smell amazing.”

His cheeks flushed dark enough to show through his bronze skin, and he offered a knowing smile. “I’ve been told I look average. It won’t deter me from having dinner with you.”

“You have?”

He nodded.

“They were lying. Just like me.” I passed him, heading down the steps.

Shepley hurried past me, reaching the door handle of the passenger side before I could. He tugged on it, opening the door wide in one motion.

“Thank you,” I said, sitting in the passenger seat.

The leather felt cool against my skin. The interior had been freshly vacuumed and polished, and it smelled like generic air freshener.

When he sat in his seat and turned to me, I couldn’t help but smile. His enthusiasm was adorable. Kansas boys weren’t so … eager.

By the golden tone of his skin and his solid arm muscles that bulged every time he moved them, I decided he must have worked outside all summer—maybe baling hay or loading something heavy. His hazel-green eyes practically glowed, and his dark hair—although not as short as Travis’s—had been lightened by the sun, reminding me of Abby’s warm caramel color.

“I was going to take you to the Italian place here in town, but it’s cooled off enough outside to … I … I just wanted to hang out and get to know you instead of being interrupted by a waiter. So, I did that,” he said, nodding to the backseat. “I hope it’s okay.”

I tensed, turning slowly to see what he was talking about. In the middle of the bench seat, secured with a seat belt, was a covered woven basket sitting on a thickly folded blanket.

“A picnic?” I said, unable to hide the surprise and delight in my voice.

He breathed out, relieved. “Yeah. Is that okay?”

I flipped around in the seat, bouncing once as I faced forward. “We’ll see.”

Shepley drove us to a private pasture just south of town. He parked in a narrow gravel drive and stepped out just long enough to unlock the gate and push it open. The Charger’s engine growled as he drove down two parallel lines of bare ground amid the acres of tall grass.

“You’ve worn down a path, huh?”

“This land belongs to my grandparents. There’s a pond at the bottom where Travis and I used to go fishing all the time.”

“Used to?”

He shrugged. “We’re the youngest grandkids. We lost both sets of grandparents by the time we were in middle school. Besides being busy with sports and classes in high school, it just felt wrong to fish out here without Papa.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. I still had all my grandparents, and I couldn’t imagine losing any of them. “Both sets? You mean, all three sets?” I said, wondering aloud. “Oh God, I’m sorry. That was rude.”

“No, no … it’s a valid question. I get that a lot. We’re double cousins. Our dads are brothers, and our moms are sisters. I know. Weird, huh?”

“No, that’s pretty great actually.”

After we cleared a small hill, Shepley parked the Charger under a shady tree ten yards from a five-ish-acre pond. The summer heat had helped grow the cattails and lily pads, and the water was beautiful, wrinkling in the light breeze.

Shepley opened my door, and I stepped out onto freshly mowed grass. As I looked around, he ducked into the backseat, reappearing with the basket and a quilt. His arms were free of any tattoos, also unlike his heavily inked cousin. I wondered if there were any under his shirt. Then I had the sudden urge to remove his clothes to find the answer.

He spread the multicolored quilt with one flick, and it fell perfectly to the ground.

“What?” he asked. “Is it—”

“No, this is amazing. I’m just … that quilt is so beautiful. I don’t think I should sit on it. It looks brand-new.” The fabric was still crisp and bore creases where it had been folded.

Shepley puffed out his chest. “My mom made it. She’s made dozens. She made this for me when I graduated. It’s a replica.” His cheeks flushed.

“Of what?”

As soon as I asked the question, he winced.

I tried not to smile. “It’s a bigger version of your childhood blankie, isn’t it?”

He closed his eyes and nodded. “Yeah.”

I sat down on the quilt and crossed my legs, patting the space beside me. “C’mere.”

“I’m not sure I can. I think I just died of embarrassment.”

I looked up at him, squinting one eye from the beam of sunlight escaping through the tree leaves above. “I have a blankie, too. Murfin is in my dorm room—under my pillow.”

His shoulders relaxed, and he sat down, placing the basket in front of him. “Blake.”

“Blake?”

“I guess I tried to say ‘blank,’ and it turned into Blake along the way.”

I smiled. “I like that you didn’t lie.”

He shrugged, still embarrassed. “I’m not very good at it anyway.”

I leaned in, nudging his shoulder with mine. “I like that, too.”

Shepley beamed and then opened the basket, pulling out a covered plate of cheese and crackers and then a bottle of zinfandel and two plastic champagne flutes.

I stifled a laugh, and Shepley chuckled.

“What?” he asked.

“It’s just … this is the cutest date I’ve ever been on.”

He poured the zin. “Is that a good thing?”

I spread Brie on a cracker and took a bite, nodding, and then a little sip of wine to wash it down. “You definitely get an A for effort.”

“Good. I don’t want it to be so cute that I’ll be friend-zoned,” he said, almost to himself.

I licked the cracker and wine from my lips, looking at his. The air between us changed. It was heavier … electric. I leaned toward him, and he made a failed attempt to hide the surprise and excitement in his eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” I asked.

His eyebrows shot up. “You wanna … you wanna kiss me?” He looked around. “Right now?”

“Why not?”

Shepley blinked. “I’ve just, um … never had a girl …”

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”

He quickly shook his head. “Definitely not what I’m feeling right now.”

He cupped my cheek and pulled me in without a second hesitation. I immediately opened my mouth, tasting the wetness of the inside of his lips. His tongue was soft and warm and tasted like sweet mint.

I hummed, and he pulled away.

“Let’s, um … I made sandwiches. Do you like ham or turkey?”

I touched my lips, smiling, and then forced a straight face. Shepley looked positively flustered in the best possible way. He handed me a wax paper–wrapped square, and I carefully pinched a corner, pulling until I saw white bread.

“Thank God,” I said. “White bread is the best!”

“I know, right? I can’t stand whole wheat.”

“Bleach and calories be damned!”

I peeled open the paper and tasted the carefully crafted turkey and Swiss with what smelled like chipotle ranch and lettuce and tomato. I looked up at Shepley, horrified. “Oh God.”

He stopped chewing and swallowed. “What?”

“Tomatoes?”

His eyes filled with horror. “Fuck. Are you allergic?” He frantically looked around. “Do you have an EpiPen? Should I take you to the hospital?”

I fell backward, gasping and clutching at my throat.

Shepley hovered over me, not sure where to touch me or how to help. “Fuck. Fuck! What do I do?”

I grabbed his shirt and pulled him down to me, concentrating on speaking. Finally, the words came. “Mouth-to-mouth,” I whispered.

Shepley tensed, and then all his muscles relaxed. “You’re messing with me?”

He sat up as I burst into laughter.

“Jesus, Mare, I was freaking out!”

My giggling faded, and I smiled at him. “My best friend calls me Mare.”

He sighed. “I am so going to get friend-zoned.”

I raised my hand above my head, twirling strands of my long hair, feeling the cool grass beneath my arm. “Better head that off with aggressive affection.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I can handle you.”

“You won’t know unless you try.”

Shepley anchored himself with his arms on each side of me, and then he leaned down, touching his lips to mine. I reached down, bunching my skirt, and smiled as the hem rose above my knees. His lips worked against mine as he positioned himself between my legs in one smooth motion.

His hands felt so good on my skin, and my hips rolled and shifted in reaction. He hooked his hand behind my knee, pulling it to his hip.

“Holy shit,” he said against my lips.

I pulled him closer. The hardness behind his zipper pressed against me, and I hummed, feeling the denim on my fingertips as I unbuttoned his jeans.

When I reached inside, Shepley froze. “I didn’t bring a … I wasn’t expecting this. At all.”

With my free hand, I fished a small packet from the side of my strapless bra. “Wishing for one of these?”

Shepley looked down at the foil square in my hand, and his expression changed. He sat back on his knees, watching me, as I pushed myself up with my elbows.

“Let me guess,” I said, tasting the acidity in my words. “We just met. I’m sexually forward, and I brought a condom, so that must mean I’m a whore, making you wholly uninterested.”

He frowned.

“Say it. Say what you’re thinking,” I said, daring him. “Give it to me in real time. I can take it.”

“This girl is articulate and fun and quite possibly the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen in real life. How in God’s name did I manage to be in this moment with her?” He leaned forward, half-confused, half in awe. “And I’m not sure if this is a test.” He looked down at my lips. “Because, trust me, if it is, I want to pass.”

I smiled and brought him in for another kiss. He tilted his head, eagerly leaning in.

I held him at bay, just inches from my mouth. “I might be fast, but I like to be kissed slow.”

“I can do that.”

Shepley’s lips were full and soft. He had an air of nervousness and inexperience, but the way he kissed me told a different story. He pecked my mouth once, lingering for a bit, before pulling away, and then he kissed me again.

“Is it true?” he whispered. “That fast girls don’t usually stick around for long?”

“That’s the thing about being fast. You don’t know what you’ll do until you do it.”

He exhaled. “Just grant me a favor,” he said between kisses. “When you’re ready to walk away, try to let me down easy.”

“You first,” I whispered.

He laid me back onto the blanket, finishing what I’d started.