“I wish I could torch scum like that,” he hisses. “Alton got off too easy.”
“I agree,” I growl as we make our way onto our meeting with Coach.
“Where are you taking me?”Tori asks as we speed down the freeway from the airport.
“I promised you real food when you come back, and that’s what I’m doing.”
She throws her head back with a laugh. Fuck, I love seeing her laugh. Seeing her happy. “Are you taking me to ‘Maw maw’s’?”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing, Baby.”
She laughs again sending a jolt straight to my cock.
To my cock that has been less than happy with me. I haven’t gone without sex for more than a few days in years. That is until now. It’s been six fucking months of me cockblocking myself and my dick is probably wondering if I’ve joined the priesthood.
I turn on the radio. One of Them Girls comes on the radio, making me chuckle because damn if that song isn’t Tori and me.
She groans beside me. I glance toward her with an eyebrow cocked. “Problem?” I ask.
“You would be one ofthoseboys,” she groans like she’s in physical pain.
“Those boys?”
“Country boys. The kind that like country music.”
The corners of my lips twitch as I fight the laughter that threatens. “I didn’t know country music was delegated to a specific geography or development.”
“Well, it’s in the name,” she tells me like that was the dumbest statement I could make. I don’t say anything though. I just wait for her to elaborate. “You know, down here? The south? Everything is God, fried chicken, and country music.”
“So now you’re stereotyping an entire region?”
“No, but you have to admit country music is more for -,”
“Southern redneck hicks?”
“What! No that’s not what I meant.”
“So, you mean it’s for people who don’t know anything about culture or class?”
“NO! Zane, that’s not what -. What I mean is -.”
I have to admit, it’s pretty funny making her squirm. She has stepped in it, which I've learned she does often, and she can’t see her way out. I am not going to make it easy for her either. I will never make things easy because easy means you get lazy. Getting lazy is how relationships go to hell and die a slow death.
It's hard work to make a relationship work. No matter how well you know a person, it takes time, patience, and the ability to forgive for a relationship to grow. I want to always work my ass off for her and I want her to do the same for me. “You meant that the sophisticated people of New York would never dare listen to country music since it is so far beneath their refined taste?”
Her face is beet red. Her eyes begin to dart nervously as she fidgets in her seat. She is frustrated, embarrassed and getting a little pissed. It's too fucking cute. “No. You know I don’t know what I meant.”
“How many people do you know listen to it?”
“Just you and Pete,” she tells me with a shrug like it should be obvious.
“And Pete is?” I cast a glance in her direction. She’s not looking at me. In fact, she looks like she wants to jump out of the truck. It’s funny as hell.
“Pete is the man that raised me. He listens to country music. God, does he listen to country music. All the time. Nonstop. The stupid wailing and moaning and the broken hearts and tractors and oh my god.”
It all comes out in an exasperated huff and I can’t hold back my laugh this time. I laugh for a good minute or two before I can finally stop. When I look at her face, I nearly start again. She is so serious and, honestly, more than a little pissed.
“Okay, okay. I get it. You don’t like it, but have you really listened to it?”
