Burn For You (Boys of the South) (15 page)

She rolls her eyes. “Well, duh. But what about the rest?”

I think for a minute. “The challenge.”

“Of racing, the course... what?”

You
. I’m most excited about spending time with you. “Learning something new.” I pull her legs on top of mine, so that they’re across my lap, and begin to lightly rub them.

Once again, Landry stiffens, before she relaxes. I run my hand up the back of her leg, to behind her knee, and then stop. “To learn the shape and feel of the course. It’s a new experience for me, and I want to make sure I get it right.”  I palm her calf, squeezing lightly. “I’ll probably make some mistakes trying to figure it all out, but the end result will be worth it.”

She squirms on the sofa. “When you win?”

I shake my head. “When I know,” I slide my hand back up her leg, taking my time to hit the spots that make her gasp—twice, “Exactly how to take the turns, when to apply pressure, when to slow down...” My fingers hit the hem of her shorts, and I want to go higher. I want to touch her silky thighs, but I’m going to wait.

“Oh,” she breathes, her eyes becoming drowsy. “That’s a
goo
-good goal to have.”

“It’s not a goal per se, because I don’t have any intention to forget what I’ve learned.” I follow the contours of her shapely legs, all the way down to her ankles. “What are you most excited about?”

Her eyes close when I start kneading the back of her other leg. “Things... lots and lots of things.” She moans a little, and my dick gets hard. When she shifts, the side of her leg rubs against it.

Landry’s eyes fly open. “I’m sorry.” She begins to move, but I clamp my hand on her.

“Don’t move.” Her eyes widen.  “Unless you want me to stop.” I swear to God that woman gets so still that I’m not sure if she’s still breathing. “Weakness for massages?”

“Magic hands,” she whispers.

My fingers tease the hem of her shorts, finding silky-smooth skin, but I pull back. Slow. I have to go slow with her. “I think you’ll love Monaco. When you’re not watching Mia, you can go shopping or exploring.” I pause. “But not by yourself. We’ll have security with us, so they can go with you.”

“What about you?” she asks.

I incline my head. “Or me.”

“I trust you over them. They’ve never driven me around a track at 200 miles per hour and kept me safe,” she says.

It’s all I can do to keep my hand moving down, to keep it from shaking the unwavering trust she has in me. “Then I’ll be the one to keep you safe.”

“This is nice,” she says, leaning back more fully on the sofa.

“Corporate sponsor,” I murmur, moving my hands into safer territory.

“Do you always travel like this?”

I shake my head. “I’ve
never
travelled like this.”

“A first for both of us.”

“Yeah, but the other stuff will be familiar for me,” I say. “The parties, the drinking... the—”

“Women throwing themselves at you,” she finishes, wriggling her brows.

I lick my bottom lip. “Yes, but I won’t be interested.”

She gives me a skeptical look. “Sure you won’t.”

“I’m not that guy anymore.” I wasn’t ever that guy.

“Were you ever?” she asks.

“You’d be surprised at the answer.”

“Try me.”

I stop rubbing her legs, fixing my gaze on the window on the opposite side of the cabin. “I’ve been with Paisley since I was seventeen. While we were together, I didn’t touch anyone else.”

––––––––

L
andry

Only Paisley.
Only
Paisley.

Beau’s right. I am surprised. I didn’t expect him to be a man-whore, but then again, I didn’t expect him to be so... I can’t even think of the right word. Loyal makes him sound like a dog, and I wouldn’t like that kind of comparison about myself.

This entire conversation could go down a path I’m not ready for. On one hand, I don’t want to know about him and his ex, but with Mia, Paisley is forever a part of his life.  Plus, I don’t think I can truly get to know him, until I know what drives him, and what and who has shaped him into the man he is today.

“You’re twenty—?”

“Twenty-four.”

“And you’ve never been with anyone else?” I’m shocked; I can’t help it. Guys don’t—I give myself a mental shake. Beau isn’t the typical guy—I knew that from the start.

“Not exactly. I didn’t start hooking up with other girls until about two years ago, and even then...” He sucks his bottom lip in on one side, the side that’s pierced. I watch him worry his lip ring for a moment. “I can count on both hands with fingers left over when it comes to women I’ve slept with, since I first lost my virginity.”

I know it sounds bad, and it’s why I don’t say anything out loud, but I’m a little more than happy he’s been with other women besides Paisley. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Neither.” Beau’s gaze remains on the opposite side of the plane. His face is unreadable and for some reason I want to hug him.

“I think it’s a good thing you were faithful to her,” I say, and his body goes rigid. “It means you have morals and stick to them even when—“

“Don’t. Don’t make me into someone I’m not.” Finally, he turns to face me, his eyes silvery hot. “I was insanely jealous and possessive, and fucked up most of the time I was with her. The thought of another man with her made me crazy, so crazy that I did things with Paisley I’m not proud of. Things that would make a good girl like you run away screaming.” He shakes his head, a parody of a smile on his face. “You really should, Landry. Love makes me crazy.”

“But you’re not in love with me,” I point out.

He says nothing to that and instead asks, “Have you ever been in love?”

I wrinkle my nose. “Puppy love? First love? Sure, but what you’re talking about—no.”

“Trust me, you’re not missing out,” he says wryly.

I smile. “I don’t know about that.”

“What would be your kind of perfect love?”

Biting my lip, I tilt my head to one side, trying to figure out if he’s being serious. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” He reaches out to touch my face, a whisper of a caress that leaves me shaken. “You promised not to lie to me.”

“I want a love that makes me burn and melt and gives me every gooey feeling in the world. I want a morning kisses and late-night talk kind of love. I want a eat dessert naked in bed kind of love.” I take a deep breath. “I want a man who
chooses
to love me—in good times and bad, because I’m going to choose to love him right back. We won’t be perfect, nothing’s perfect, but it would be
my
kind of perfect love.”

W
hat am
I supposed to say to that? How could I say anything that compares to what she wants?

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone talk about love that way,” I admit. It’s all I got. Anything else seems meaningless.

“I’ve had really good examples. My parents for one.”

“Tell me about them.” I stop rubbing her legs.

“Andy and Louise Basnight met at church camp when they were in middle school, and have been together ever since. A week after they graduated high school, they got married in Pigeon Forge. My dad went to trade school to become a mechanic while my mom studied at night to become a nurse’s aide. I was born three years later.  Nine years after that, my little brother came along.”

“On purpose?” I ask. Walker and Chase are ten years apart, with me in the middle. According to my older brother, Chase, it’s because Judith knew she’d never have another son so perfectly made as him. I’m pretty sure it’s because of his big ass head. He hadn’t liked me saying that very much.

Landry gifts me with a sad smile. “No. My mom had a miscarriage, and then a false pregnancy. Jamie is our miracle baby.”

I suck in a breath.  “How did you... cope with that growing up?”

“I didn’t know about it, until a couple years ago,” she says. “My parents protected me from a lot of things, but isn’t that what parents are supposed to do?”

I think of Mia, napping so peacefully in a portable crib, thousands of feet in the air as we fly over the ocean, trusting me to keep her safe. Would I do anything to protect her from harm, no matter if my fears are justified or not? Would I put Mia in the position I’d been in as a kid—coming home to find my mother’s corpse?

I look Landry right in the eye and say, “That’s exactly what parents are supposed to do.”

“Why do you look so sad when you say that?” she asks softly, sitting up beside me.

Closing my eyes and breathing her in, I lay my head on her shoulder, like it’s the most natural thing in the world for me to do. Her arm comes around me, her fingers gently stroking the side of my face.

“When I was fifteen, I...spent the summer with my mom’s brother. When I came home she was—I found her in the bathroom.” Landry’s fingers dig into my shoulders, but I keep going. “She’d cut her wrists. To this day, I don’t think I’ll ever forget the smell.” I take another deep breath, desperate to not let the memories overwhelm me. “Worse, she was pregnant by Remington. The baby didn’t survive. I’m not sure what happened between them exactly, because she didn’t leave a note and he would never answer my questions.”

“What good things do you remember about her?” Landry asks, and my eyes pop open.

That question isn’t even the realm of questions I thought she would have.  For so long I’ve barely let myself think of her, barely let myself dwell on the past except when I needed it as an excuse to do very bad things with Paisley.

A memory bubbles up, from the corner of my mind. “On Saturdays she liked to make French toast for us. We’d eat it and watch cartoons.”

“That sounds yummy and fun.”

I nod, a lump in my throat. “She had the most beautiful smile, like she lit up the entire room. She was always smiling.”

“I bet her laugh was great, too,” Landry.

“I can’t remember her laugh. I can’t even remember the sound of her voice.” Landry’s hand covers mine, and I look down. I hadn’t realized I’d fisted them up in my lap. Her hand is pale and tiny compared to mine, but there’s so much strength. Right now, she’s holding me together, without knowing it. “But I remember the warmth of her arms, how mad she would get when I got in trouble at school.” I laugh, but it’s more like I’m choking. “I was always getting into trouble.”

Landry gasps. “Shocker.”

A real smile kicks up the corners of my mouth, and the lump eases down my throat. “Bet you were always good.”

“Maybe,” she says and then I feel her tense up beside me. “Were you with Paisley because she... because of your mom’s...”

“My mother’s suicide,” I finish for her.

“Yes.”

“At first. We had that in common, and then I fell in love. I thought I could save Paisley,” I murmur, still staring at our joined hands.

“That’s a lot to put on yourself.”

“Maybe.” But I know the truth. I stayed with Paisley, because I thought by saving her, I could make up for not being able to save my mother.

B
eau and
I stay seated on the sofa, thigh to thigh, his hands under mine, for what seems like hours. I’m content to be with him like this, though I want to take him more fully into my arms. 

I want to ease his pain, to make him understand that he doesn’t need to save anyone, especially not me, in order to be whole again. But that’s not something I can teach in a matter of minutes, or even days. It might not be something he wants to learn. Maybe he wants to be the hero.

My phone rings shrilly, and we jump apart.

“Holy shit,” he shouts, and I scream.

“Sorry.” I scramble to grab my phone.

“Are your parents calling to check on you already?” he asks with a teasing smile.

I glance at the screen. Paisley wants to FaceTime with Mia. I had promised her. “Not my parents.”

His brows dip. “Huh?”

Another ring. “It’s Paisley.”

His lips thin, and he stands up, holding out his hand. “Give me the phone.”

“Why?”

“So I can see what she wants with you.”

I sigh. “She wants to talk to
Mia
, nothing more.” The phone rings again, and I accept the request. “Hi Paisley.”

Paisley smiles, her face pale with dark circles under her eyes. Her shoulders are wide, like a swimmers, but bony and frail looking. She’s a beautiful woman, even while her poor body is wasting away. Something I know about since Meagan had told me all the gossip about her as well—the drug use, the rough sex, the partying... everything. And Beau basically just confirmed it all.  “Can I see Mia?”

“She’s sleeping,” Beau snaps, and I glare at him.

Paisley’s face falls. “Oh, I thought she’d be up from her nap by now.”

I check the time. Mia’s only been asleep for an hour. “I can take you to where she’s sleeping.”

“That would be nice.”

Beau catches me by the elbow, but I shake him off.  We can talk later if he’s that unhappy, but I’m not breaking my promise to Paisley.

“I’ll be right back.” Making my way to the bedroom, I keep up quiet small talk. “Mia didn’t fuss at all when we took off. Beau fed her a bottle, right after, so her little ears could pop. She’s such a good baby. I know you’re proud of her.”

“Thank you for taking my call,” is all Paisley says to that.

“I said I would.” I slide open the door. “Here she is.” I press the button for the camera to flip, so that Paisley can view Mia as she sleeps.

Though Paisley can’t see me now, I can see her. I can see her lips quiver and her eyes grow bright with tears. Whatever problems she and Beau have had in the past, they don’t extend to Mia. I know she loves her daughter.

“She’s like a little angel when she sleeps,” Paisley whispers, knuckling the corner of her eye. “A fat little angel with a big ‘ole booty.”

I snicker. “She’s adorable.”

Mia stirs, gnawing on a fist as she does. “I swear she grew since I saw her yesterday. Okay, you can leave the room now.”

I reverse the camera so Paisley can see me now. “How are you holding up?” I ask, sliding the door closed behind me. I stop a few feet down from Mia’s room and lean against the wall.