Trouble (Orsen Brothers #1) (18 page)

Chapter 9

W
e’re sitting in the bed of Macon’s father’s truck just outside the entrance to their farm. My legs are dangling over the edge and Macon and his brothers are beside me, each of them with a Blue Ribbon in hand. It doesn’t seem to matter that it’s barely 8 a.m.

When in Rome…

I take a sip of my precipitating drink.

“I just can’t believe this,” Macon says for the third time. He runs a hand over the back of his neck and shakes his head. “What was she doing out so late, anyway? Since when do mom and dad allow that?”

Griff snorts. “They don’t,” he says, spitting into the grass. Trent doesn’t seem to have much input. He’s standing next to the truck, smoking a cigarette and staring off into space. “My guess is that she snuck out. I mean, isn’t that what we did when we we’re seventeen?”

Trent grunts in agreement. Macon nods and relents, rubbing a hand over his face. He’s a shadow of the free spirited man I was with on the beach. “Where were you two when this all happened?” he questions, tapping Trent’s shoulder for a smoke. He hands one over and Macon lights it, taking a long drag.

“I was asleep,” Griff says, “mom called me in the morning and told me what happened.”

“What about you?” Macon asks, nudging Trent in the shoulder.

“Me? I was at Melissa Carthers.”

A shocked look surfaces in Macon’s expression. “You were
where
?”

Trent laughs and ashes his smoke, glancing back at his brother. His eyes find mine for one brief moment but I avert my gaze. “I know, I know,” he says, rolling his eyes, “she was a bitch in high school but she ain’t so bad these days.”

Macon laughs and shakes his head, clearing his throat. “Unbelievable.”

“Hey,” Trent says, holding up his hands, “we ain’t dating or nothing. It’s real casual.”

“Right.” Macon rolls his eyes and takes a hit off the joint handed to him by Griff. He’s been rolling it on his knee since we got here and finally managed to get it smoking. He tries to pass it to me but I hold up a hand and shake my head.

“No, I’m okay,” I say with a slight smile, “thank you, though.”

Both of Macon’s brothers stare at me with wide eyes and their mouths agape.

Trent pokes Macon in the back. “You didn’t tell your girlfriend this is tree country?” he teases. 

I can feel myself blushing. “No,” I start, trying to explain myself. “I mean…I used to smoke, in college. I just…it’s not really my thing anymore. That’s all.”

I meet eyes with Macon, feeling like a total moron, but he gives me an easy smile that makes me feel better.

Trent whistles and takes a slow hit of the joint. He flashes me a smile, and I catch a glimpse of gold in his mouth. He has a capped tooth. “College, huh? Macon here didn’t even finish high school.”

I take another sip of my beer, unsure of how to respond.

Macon gives his brother the finger and steers the conversation back on topic.

“So, what do we do, then?” He slides down beside me and my cheeks flush when I feel his leg pressing against mine. “About Alma?”

Griff shrugs. “I don’t know…I mean…she won’t talk.”

“Yeah,” Trent says evenly, “she ain’t talking, and all of her friends who were at the bonfire say they didn’t see anything, either. Seems to me that she just got to drinking, wandered off, and…” He shrugs. “Anyway, we might never know who it was.”

Macon snorts and stands up. “Yeah? And you two are cool with that?

Trent and Griff exchange a glance but remain quiet.

“It’s not that we’re okay with it,” Griff says, breaking the silence, “It’s just, if Alma won’t talk—what do we have to work with?”

Macon’s furrows his brows and swats at a mosquito on his arm. “I guess I’m just going to have to get her talking, then.” He extends his hand to me and pulls me up, tossing the keys to the truck to Trent, who catches them without effort.

“Come on,” he whispers to me, leading the way, “let’s get out of here.”

“Hey, good luck!” Trent calls after us. “We’ve all tried! Don’t feel too bad when she refuses!”

~

“The air is different here than it is in LA,” I say, swatting at a mosquito, “cleaner, less polluted.”

Macon nods.

“Yeah,” he answers, but he doesn’t sound entirely in the moment. He lets go of my hand and continues down the dirt road, walking a few steps ahead of me.

“Hey,” I say, reaching out to stop him. “I’m sorry…I know small talk isn’t probably what you need right now.”

He smiles at me. “No, you’re sweet,” he whispers, “I’m just kind of pissed at my brothers, that’s all.”

I nod, walking alongside him. “Do you really think you can get her to talk?”

He thinks it over for a few moments and shrugs. “Maybe,” he answers, “I have to try, at least.”

He crosses his arms over his chest and leans against a tree, lighting a smoke. I can tell by the way that his lips are parted that there’s a question lingering there, waiting to be asked.

“Why did you come here with me?” His tone is low and deep. He waves a hand over my small frame. “We don’t know each other, after all.”

It’s the golden question.

“I…I don’t know,” I mumble, meeting eyes with him. The soft glow of the morning accentuates his olive skin. His tattoos shine in the light, and I’m struck, again, by how beautiful he is.

“Well I’m glad you did,” he confesses with a nod, “It means a lot to me.”

I smile and break his gaze, lightly kicking at the dirt. “This is definitely not the one-night-stand I thought it would be, I can tell you that much,” I tease.

Macon frowns. “Is that what you wanted?”

I meet eyes with him again and bite down on my bottom lip. The truth is—I’m not entirely sure what I want.

“I don’t know,” I say, glancing between the trees. “Maybe. I mean…we met in a club, after all. My expectations weren’t too high…”

Macon exhales a stream of smoke from his nostrils and nods.

“What about now?” he questions, taking a step towards me. He reaches for my waist and pulls me against him. “What do you want now?”

Questions…

He’s full of them.

“I don’t know,” I repeat, “I…I already told you. I don’t usually do this sort of thing.”

There’s a lapse of silence between us that isn’t entirely uncomfortable. Macon’s eyes burn against mine. I start to let go of the possibility that this is fleeting, because the way he looks at me isn’t.

“What were you thinking when you approached me?”

“Just…” I start, searching for the right words.

Macon laughs. “Be straight with me, Cassandra. I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”

I meet eyes with him and swallow hard. “I was thinking that you were different than any man I’ve ever met.”

“In a good way.”

It’s not entirely a lie. Macon is different. This whole situation is different, but I don’t find myself regretting any of the decisions that have lead us to this clearing.

“What about you?” I say, giving him a poke in the chest. “What were you thinking about me? Aside from how different I was from my friends.”

Macon smiles.

“I think I’m going to keep that a secret for awhile,” he whispers, pressing his lips against mine.

Chapter 10

I
’m breathless.

Macon traces a finger along my jaw line, down my neck, finding shelter in my cleavage. I can feel goose bumps surfacing on my flesh, threatening my resolves.

This isn’t the time or the place for this, but we’re both in too deep to stop now. He pulls away from me, breathless, and a serious look surfaces in his expression.

“What?” I breathe, sitting up in the grass, “what is it? Did I do something?”

He laughs and shakes his head, gripping my knee. “No, of course not,” he says, “It’s just…I’ve never met a woman like you before.”

My heartbeat quickens. “What kind of woman am I?”

He narrows his eyes at me. “A damn amazing one,” he says simply, “I’ve never met a girl who could handle my brothers and my dad pretty much all in one sitting, for starters. Or even me, for that matter.”

“And you certainly know how to kiss.” He gestures with a smile. “I’ll have to thank who ever taught you that.”

I smile back at him and blush.

“I want something to come out of this,” he whispers, suddenly serious, “do you?”

His question lingers in the air. I resist the urge to blurt out a strained, ‘yes!’—Not wanting to seem desperate. “Maybe,” I whisper, breaking his gaze. “I just think you had the right idea. You know, when you said that we should take things slow.”

“Yeah.” Macon shrugs. “But I think that kind of went out the window when we boarded a plane across the country together…don’t you?”

I swallow hard. “I don’t know,” I whisper, letting go of his hand, “I just...I just don’t want to rush into anything. I was engaged, you know. For five years, to a man I thought was perfect for a long time. And—“”

Rambling.

I’m doing it again.

Macon holds out a hand to stop me from talking and the furrow between his brows softens. He pulls me back against his chest. “It’s okay,” he whispers into my hair, pressing a kiss against my temple. “I didn’t mean to come off sounding like an ass. Of course we can take things slow.”

I smile into him and rub my hands up his arms, resting them on his shoulders. “You can kiss me, though,” I whisper.

He does just that, bending his head so that his mouth fits perfectly against mine. I run my hands over his jaw, down his chiseled body, over the dark lines of his tattoos. He’s back on top of me in the grass in seconds and his lips quickly find their way to my neck. He pulls at the fabric of my blouse and pushes it up my stomach, but I reach down to stop him.

“Wait,” I gasp, pulling away from him, “we can’t do this here—“

“Shh.” He presses a finger against my mouth and angles his head just right so that his full lips find mine. I can feel his bruised nose brushing against my face, but he doesn’t stop.

“What about taking things slow?”

“I’ll be slow.”

He nibbles on my right earlobe. I can feel his breath hot against the cusp of my neck as he works on the buttons of my shirt with unsteady hands, furrowing his brows to concentrate.

“Wait,” I gasp, sitting up. Macon reaches forward to pick a leaf out of my hair. I bite down on my swollen bottom lip and meet eyes with him. “Do you have something?”

“Oh…” I watch him pull a leather wallet out of his pocket. He slides a condom out of it and holds it up. “Yeah.”

His mouth finds mine again and I lay back down in the grass, allowing his calloused hands to travel down the length of my body and between my legs.

“Fuck,” he groans. I gasp and lift my buttocks from the ground as he slides my cotton underwear down my legs. My blouse is unbuttoned and my abdomen is completely exposed. He runs a finger down my waist, over my bellybutton.

“I was right…”

I arch an eyebrow at him. “Oh?”

He nods and reaches up to cup the swell of my cleavage. “About you, I mean. I don’t know…” He pulls slightly away from me and shakes his head. “I haven’t been right about anything in awhile.”

I smile at him, reaching up to pull him back against me. The buds of my nipples are rock hard and apparent beneath the satin fabric of my bra. I’m on full display, and he’s still clothed.

I reach up and grasp the fabric of his t-shirt. He helps me pull it over his head as he undoes his belt with his free hand. I can feel his arousal pulsating against my thigh. I want him so badly I can’t even think straight, and when I tell him so, he groans and unbuttons his jeans. I wrap my legs around him to help work them down his hips. We meet eyes, briefly, and I open my mouth to say something, but the words don’t come and Macon presses his lips against mine before I can.

His hands are all over me. It’s impossible to concentrate on anything other than the way his mouth moves against mine. His long, calloused fingers touch me slowly and with purpose.

“I want you to say it.”

I frown, not following.

“Tell me you want me, this.”

“Why,” I say, “because it’s not obvious?”

I don’t mean to sound as sarcastic as I do. Macon rolls his eyes at me and tickles me, catching me off guard. When it’s finally over, he adjusts himself above me with a satisfied grin. The tattoos on his biceps ripple as the muscles move; a simple gesture that only serves to turn me on even more.

“Ok,” I relent, “I want you. Badly.”

He lowers his mouth back to mine. I run my hands up his chiseled chest, resting them on his collarbone. His unruly facial hair tickles my face, but I don’t mind. I want this. I’ve wanted it from the moment I laid eyes on him; I just didn’t know it then.

“I’m sorry I just—”

He pulls away from me again. I’m getting tired of the teasing. I’m not sure how much more I can handle. He looks at me quizzically, and as annoyed as I am, it’s endearing.