Page 17 of Untamed
“No, he wasn’t there,” I answer, chewing my third piece of bacon. Yeah, I know I’m lying but he’d have a heart attack if he knew I’d been messing around with Joel. He doesn’t trust Joel and he shouldn’t. No one should.
Dad keeps talking and I have no idea what he’s saying, except for the end which goes something like, “When I give you a curfew, I expect you to follow it.”
“Leave her alone, Archer.” Mom runs her hands down my back as she pours me a glass of milk. Her hand twists gently in my long blonde locks and then leans down to kiss the top of my head gently. “Remember to wear sunscreen at the river.”
I smile up at her and nod. “I will.”
I can tell my dad wants to yell, ask my mom why she’s letting me get away with everything I do, but he’d never question her in front of us.
Morgan perks up, her bright blue eyes beaming with kid-like excitement. The kind of excitement I can’t ever remember experiencing before in my life. “You’re going to the river today? Can I come!”
I stare at her for the briefest of moments, wondering why I don’t have that anymore. When do you lose it? When does life become too much and things like going to the river don’t mean much other than getting away from your parents for an afternoon?
“Sure can,” I tell her, winking. Some girls don’t like their kid sisters hanging around, but I don’t mind Morgan. She’s never been annoying and I can’t remember a time when we’ve ever fought. Probably because there’s a ten-year age difference between us, but she’s honestly the sweetest kid you’d ever meet. Until you slaughter her pet cows. Then you better be ready for Mad Morgy Moo.
Twenty minutes later, I’m on the porch with Morgan waiting for Haylee to pick me up when I remember that I left my phone upstairs. “I’ll be right back,” I tell Morgan, patting her pigtails. “I forgot my phone.”
“Okay. I’ll wait here for you.”
When I’m up there, searching on the floor where I drop everything else I own, I hear a truck coming down our long gravel driveway and immediately I recognize who that truck belongs to. I remember the rumble from last night when he left. The truck has a very distinct throaty sound, a product of the big block under the hood.
Holy shit! Is it really him? No way. It can’t be. Why would he be here?And then I remember Dad telling me he had someone coming over.
My shaking hands frantically grab my blinds for a better look. Sure enough, it’s that black Ford from last night. My summer just got a whole hell of a lot better!
I watch the dust cloud as he comes down the driveway. It takes a minute, but then he emerges from the truck and I know it’s him for sure. I’d recognize that sharp scruffy jawline from anywhere.
Grayer Easton.
Holy.
Shit.
The sight of him walking up the driveway sends a familiar spark through my veins, a reminder in the pit of my stomach of what I did to him and what he did for me.
He’s wearing that cowboy hat, the one that kept shadowing his eyes last night and a dark gray T-shirt that meets a worn pair of jeans. I didn’t notice before but with one look at him in the daylight, it’s obvious he’s a hard-working man. There’s probably dirt on those calloused hands that’ll never come off.
And the thought excites me more than it should.
Stepping closer to the window—tempted to put my face to the glass—I want nothing more than those calloused dirt-stained hands on me in any way I can have them. Everything about Grayer screams to me, makes me want him in ways I shouldn’t. Just like I couldn’t figure out where my child-like excitement had disappeared to, I wonder too, what it is about Grayer that has me into him.
With his head bent forward, he approaches my dad standing near the porch. When he gets closer to him, his head comes up and reaches out to shake Dad’s hand while removing his hat with the other one.
Ah, what a freaking gentleman. I think I like him even more.
He’s polite. I knew that from last night, but that undeniable country boy charm makes me want him. He’s the kind of country that stops you in your tracks and has you hanging on his every word. The kind you know his mama taught him how to treat a lady. It’s an illusion though because I know underneath the allure, he’s still that same roughened bad boy I hear stories about around town. My cousin Sara is the same age as him and I remember her telling me about the parties he and Reid, his older brother used to have at Kade’s place. I’m talking like half-naked and dancing on the bed of a truck with just a cowboy hat and boots on while screaming at the moon to stop blinding him. Word is there are pictures floating around, but I’ve yet to see them. Anyway, I got side-tracked by his image, though I do intend to search for those pictures because the lighting in his truck was low last night and a good visual of the goods never hurts.
From my place at my window, I see Haylee’s truck coming down the driveway next, same dust cloud following her. She parks next to Grayer’s truck wearing nothing but her bikini, barefoot, and hair up in knotted braids. Never glancing at Grayer or my dad, at least not noticeably, she passes by Morgan, the screen door slamming behind her.
I watch Grayer to see if he looks at Haylee, given she’s practically naked, but he doesn’t. His attention is on my dad as they talk.
“Are you ready and do you know him?” Haylee asks, coming into my room.
I sigh, nervousness rooting inside my chest. “We met him last night. Or at least I did. He was that guy who stuck up for me with Joel.”
“Oh.” She taps her finger to her chin. “Him. Yeah, I remember.”
She doesn’t. Not really.
