Not Yet (7 page)

I squeezed his hand, knowing what it felt like to be
bitterly disappointed in your father. “Siblings?”

Landon shook his head, “Just me. My mom’s an interior
designer. She works a lot too and plays a lot of tennis. I think
she’s mostly concerned that I don’t mess up the house when I’m
home, or interfere with her schedule. Honestly, I was never around
much growing up. I was always that kid hanging at a friend’s house.
My best friend, Dean, has a huge, close-knit family. I have always
felt closer to them than my own parents. And that’s pretty much
that.”

We finished our beers and started on the next round.
Landon continued his line of questioning. “Back to you, what’s your
degree in?”

“Secondary education. My advisor figured out that if
I took a full load of education courses my junior year, I could
graduate one year early and be a certified middle or high school
history teacher.” Landon’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

“Ummm… I can’t imagine you teaching high school, Em.
The boys would go nuts… I mean seriously…. I don’t think they could
concentrate at all with you in the front of the room. Their focus
would be on the constant bulge between their legs.”

I elbowed Landon’s ribs and laughed, resting my head
back on the couch. “I know. I think I’m too young to teach high
school too. I applied to middle schools in the area—but, nada.”
There really was nothing available. It hit me like a rock to the
chest that I might be living at home, with a college degree,
working retail or flipping burgers.

I took a calming breath and another sip of beer.
“Ultimately, I want to get my doctoral degree in history and teach
at the college level. This is just a temporary thing to help my
mom.”

“No shit. Dr. Harris. That is
way
hot.” Landon
was resting his head on the couch, watching me.

“How about you, Land. What’s your major?”

“First of all, I fucking love it that you called me
Land. Please keep doing that. Second, undecided. Not sure what I
want to do yet.”

I closed my eyes, feeling a nice buzz. “That’s very
common—takes a while—” Landon cut me off with a kiss at the corner
of my mouth. He pulled back and watched me carefully.

He looked unsure, not knowing whether he had crossed
a line. In all of our conversations, nothing more than an
accidental brush of our hands had occurred. He had no way of
knowing that when our hands did meet, my heart raced and I held
back with everything inside me to keep from grabbing onto him and
not letting go.

I wanted this kiss. I had wanted it probably since I
felt him behind me in the pump room. I knew with complete certainty
that Landon’s kiss would rock me. There was a connection between
us. Not only did I quake in his presence, which almost never
happened to me, but he took the time to get to know me. He had won
me over, but he had no idea. It was up to me to show him, and right
now I had to taste him.

Leaning toward him, I met his stare and our lips
slowly came together. Softly at first, then I opened my mouth
slightly and our tongues met. Landon brought his hands to my head,
tangling them in my hair as I ran my hands up his chest and circled
them around his neck. Our tongues danced, licking at each other and
I heard myself whimper. He tasted like the delicious beer, mint,
and something uniquely… him. I wanted more. I sucked on his tongue
and he groaned, scooting me onto his lap. He pulled back and looked
at me with hooded eyes.

“Damn, Em. You can kiss.”

I took his face in my hands and leaned in to kiss him
again. I was so absorbed in the way his lips fit against mine, I
couldn’t hear or think or even breathe properly. He bit my lower
lip and pulled it out as I moaned and kissed him harder, moving to
straddle him at the same time. I pressed down on him and he tensed,
grabbing my rear tightly. Blood roared through my body, suddenly
filling my ears, drowning out any other noise. I ran my hands
through his short hair and rubbed my fingers along the soft, shaved
edges near his neck. Too fast, this was moving way too fast. And it
felt way too good too.

This time it was me who moved back. “Not bad
yourself, Land. But we can’t do this. Not here and not now. I gotta
get home to Evie.”

Landon closed his eyes and nodded, kissing me gently
before standing with my legs still wrapped around him. “You’re all
in my head. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

I slid down him, feeling his arousal and my own ache
pulsing through me. “Good. You’ve gotten to me, too.”

The room was almost crackling with the sexual energy
between us. I wanted to tell him more. How good he felt, how much I
wanted him to follow me home and kiss me… touch me… hold me. I
wanted him to know how big a deal it was to me that he asked
questions and wanted to get to know me. But I didn’t. That would be
opening up too much, too soon. I needed to protect myself better
than that.

Instead of opening my mouth and letting my emotions
pour out, I held out my hand and he grasped it tightly in his. We
grinned at one another like a couple of goofy kids before we raced
to our cars in the pouring rain.

***

NOT MANY THINGS made me thoughtful. I thought
about how much I like beer, playing ball, my truck, and of
course—women. But thoughtful? Nah, that was too much emotion for
me.

The music blaring from my speakers relaxed me and I
found myself not singularly focused on my drive to the lake to meet
Dean. I thought about… her. Just last week, I had really fucked up
with her. All because I wasn’t thoughtful. I had only cared about
myself, my boys, and our time at the lake.

“
C’mon! You are a woman. A wooommmaaan. Drink more
beer!” Dean, Ricky, and Jon laughed loudly and popped their cans in
unity.

“
Okay. Just one more. I’ve got to work out in the
morning. Coach will kill me if I gain beer weight and miss a
workout.” I opened the beer that I wanted to drink, but knew I
shouldn’t.

“
You’re full of shit, you know that Landon?” Dean
elbowed Ricky and pointed an unsteady finger at me. “He’s pressed
to be there to see Emmmaaaa!” Dean proceeded to thrust his hips
into the air until I threw an empty can at his head.

“
If that’s the extent of your technique, it’s no
wonder you can’t get a piece of ass, jackhole.” Dean flipped me off
and laid back down on his sleeping bag. This was a summer
tradition. Camping and drinking beer at the lake—redneckin’ it like
the good ol’ country boys we were. Usually loud—and loose—girls
came with us, drinking our beer, and sucking on our necks when they
weren’t complaining about the heat, bug bites, or pissing behind a
tree. But I had declared tonight a guy’s-only night. I swear I
could hear the females bitching about it from here.

“
What’s up with Emma, man?” Ricky asked. I liked
Ricky. He was a man of few words and being that Dean never shut his
mouth, it was nice to be around someone subdued.

“
She’s… become my summer project. Winning her
over, that is. I don’t know how to explain her. Hottest girl I’ve
seen. Pissy like you wouldn’t believe. She obviously hates most
guys, so I’ve made it my mission to convince her we’re not all
bad.” I finished my beer and cracked open another. Fuck it.

“
And she’s older, right?” Jon smirked and Dean
laughed loudly.

“
Not cougar old, I hope.” Dean was my best friend,
but right now I wanted to punch his teeth in. Protectiveness roared
like a beast inside me.

“
No, dick. She’s twenty-one.”

“
Sweet! She can buy our beer!” Dean was getting
ahead of himself. I had no plans to introduce these fuckheads to
Emma. It wasn’t that I was embarrassed of them; it was more that
she was fragile, I guess. Weird, because I also thought of her as
incredibly strong, but I sensed that the tough and bitchy persona
was just a protective façade to keep people distant and I wanted to
keep her tucked away for a while. I needed to make her mine
first.

“
She’s not buying you shit. I’m not asking her to
do something illegal for you losers. Keep begging your cousin and
leave my girl alone.” I was getting hot and that was very unlike
me. These were my boys and they had never really pissed me off
before.

“
Your girl? Your girl? You haven’t even kissed
her. My, my boys. Me thinks we’re about to witness a real live
miracle, right here in Zionsville. The mighty Landon Washington has
met his match. He’s got a crush on a girl and needs to win her
over. This, I want to see. Usually they just fall down and their
legs fly open in his presence.”

The guys continued to pound beers well into the
night. They finally moved on from harassing me to comparing girls
we knew. I passed out, not participating in their banter. All I
could think about was… Emma… my girl.

My girl… had been heated as hell at me. I normally
couldn’t care less if I made someone mad. That feeling of
ambivalence came from years of conditioning myself to accept
constant disappointment from my parents. Bravo, parental units.

I guessed, at first, that missing our workout meant
more to her than I thought it would. I was stupid as hell for
getting drunk and sleeping late. Those mornings with her were the
best part of my day. I had to go to the gym daily. Coaches orders.
Football first. Dad made sure I knew that rule like it was tattooed
on my forehead. But I’d never forget my surprise seeing her in the
club gym the very first time.

I had played it cool from the start, knowing she was
totally checking me out. Got a little stiffy from it, in fact, but
I stayed stoic. Once her eyes closed, I knew she was thinking about
sex. Then she screamed and almost fell off the treadmill. Yup.
Thinking about my junk. As she should be. I had to picture my Aunt
Agnes at the beach, in a swim get up that looked more like a circus
big top. That kept me from pitching a complete tent. Aunt Agnes was
my “go to” visual for deflating my lower region. Those visuals had
gotten me out of a number of potentially embarrassing
situations.

Christ.
I turned the wheel sharply, almost
missing the entrance to the lake. Steadying the truck, I headed to
the spot where I always met up with the guys. When I had really
stopped and thought about it, she wasn’t just mad that I skipped
out on our time in the gym. I had let her down. She had counted on
me, finally… and
fuck
. I hurt her feelings. And that was the
very last thing I ever wanted to do to Emma. Two steps forward and
ten back.

And then there was Evie. I’d never gotten to know
someone with Down syndrome. I mean, I’d gone to school with a
couple of kids that had it, but I’d never really talked to someone
with Downs until now. Not that I was scared. Just… out of my
comfort zone. And she was funny, and sweet, and kind. I felt more
welcome at that kitchen table than at my own.