The screen door slams behind me as I wander onto the front porch. Bent and Mercer are leaning against the back of his truck, talking in low voices. “Listen. I came to apologize,” I call out, cupping my mouth. “I’m sorry for being a bitty varmint, Mercer! My sincerest apologies.”
“It’s two in the morning. Clover, don’t yell. We have neighbors over there,” Bentley hisses in my direction. “Were you born in a barn?”
“Mother trucker,” I say. “I need to find my cell phone. My parents are probably having a right fit.”
I fly back into the log cabin, into one of the bedrooms and fish my cell phone from the bottom of my handbag. There’s a text from Tannie:
Don’t worry about your parents. I covered for you when your mama called. Told her you were staying with me tonight while we planned. I said your phone died. You owe me…all the details tomorrow.
“Mother trucker,” I whisper once more, losing all ability to hold my foul language at bay.
Mercer comes up behind me. “Everything okay? Need a ride back home? Jimmy’s neighbor is on the other side of the pond. He might be sober. No promises though. It’s two.”
“Stop trying to fix things for me. I don’t deserve it.” I’m not sure what I deserve, but I have a feeling, a good man like Mercer isn’t something life owes me.
He laughs. “I’m not fixing things for you. Just being a decent guy. I’d do it for anyone.” He sighs out. “Because I wasn’t born in a barn,” he adds.
I throw my phone back into the abyss that is my bag. “Tannie thinks we’re…on a date tonight. She covered for me. She saw us leave DR together. My mama called her when I didn’t come home. I have a huge mess to clean up tomorrow.” Before I got really drunk, I dealt with my car. A body shop from two towns over is picking it up in the morning and fixing it. They’ll deliver it back here when it’s done. I’ll tell Daddy I’m finally getting the windows tinted and I’ll rent a car tomorrow. It’s the best plan I could come up with on the fly.
“I hope you told her the truth. That you wouldn’t date me if your life depended on it.”
“We went on a date tonight already. We grabbed a drink at the Dizzy Rocket. Everyone saw it, remember?” I lay a hand on my forehead, adding that to the mental list of damage control. What must everyone be saying about me today?
“That’s not the kind of date I’m talkin’ about.” Mercer looks out the window over my head.
Because I’m drunker than a skunk, I have no problem losing my good sense. “Sex? Is that what this is about? You’re barking up the wrong tree.” Standing, I slap his shoulder, but it’s a mistake because his skin is hot and now my palm is warm, and it makes me want to touch more of his skin to see if the temperature matches.
“Tell me then,” Mercer says, running a hand through his hair, making his abs flex. “If I were a respectable businessman with a job in the city, wore a suit, carried a computer, had a significant last name, would youdateme tonight?”
I rub my eyes. I see two faces in front of me. “You are so far off it’s funny. I’m not a ‘for a good time, call this number’ type of woman.” He looks confused, so I continue, just to watch his face, both of them. “I’m a virgin, Mercer.”
His eyes widen and his jaw drops open. He stutters once and then starts listing off men I’ve dated in the past. I shake my head after each one. After he concludes his list, he says, “How? How is that humanly possible?”
I swallow hard. “Because I’m sure none of them looked like you without a shirt on.”
He opens his mouth to say something, and then closes it, perching his hands on his hips. He shakes a finger at me. “You’re drunk. Let’s get you to bed, ma’am.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you. It’s why I don’t tell anyone. People treat me differently.” I shake my head. “Don’t ‘ma’am’ me.”
He coughs. “I’m not. But you alsoarevery drunk.”
“If I said I wanted to have sex with you right now, you’d be cool with it? I’m sure if I was Billy-Jo Babcock, you’d be on top of me before I finished this sentence.” He steps away, not saying a word—blue eyes flashing a warning. “Thought so,” I say.
“For the record, I don’t only want sex from you,” Mercer says, gaze locked with mine.
I reach up and grab his shirt on my body. My drunk fingers fumble with the buttons. “That’s a lie. Lucky for you, I don’t care because tonight is the first night of my new life and this is how I want to start it.” With a bang.
I’ve startled him. He glances over his shoulder to the open bedroom door, and back to my body. I don’t have my bra on anymore, but the shirt isn’t opened all the way, so I’m not on full display. Yet. “You don’t want to lose your virginity when you won’t even remember it in the morning. Regardless of what type of woman you’re hoping to be in your new life.” He air quotes the last word. “I’m not that type of man. I wish I was because you’re standing there wearing my shirt, looking like every bit my favorite recipe, but I can’t. Not tonight.”
“Shut the door, Mercer,” I order. “If you want to take me to dinner tomorrow night, and every night after that, until you leave again, shut the door.” I swallow hard, slip his shirt off my shoulders and toss it on the bed behind us without taking my eyes off his. “And lock it.” My skin prickles as he takes me in—a feral look transforming his features.
“I’m shutting the door because I don’t want Bentley or anyone else that might show up to see you, but I’m not doing anything inappropriate with you. You would think it a mistake in the morning.” He’s right. Like always. But that doesn’t mean I can’t at least have a little of him. A small taste. Mercer donkey kicks the door closed and steps back to lock it, all while watching me. He swallows hard. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me. I should leave the room right now.”
I take a step toward him. “But you won’t.”
His chest moves up and down rapidly. He shakes his head as his reply. “I want you,” he drawls.
“I’ve wanted you all day long. Since the moment I saw you at the airport,” I reply, sauntering forward a step. The air is electric, and my hope is his mind goes on autopilot. I want mischief.
