Southern Seduction (48 page)

I had been nothing but a moron for the last five minutes, and he found that appealing.

Thank you, Jesus. Maybe I was getting luckier.

I needed someone who liked me when I was goofy, off-putting, and stupid. If I was lucky, I would only be able to pretend to be something else for a month, two tops. And when that wore off, this is what would be underneath.

“Come on,” he prompted me, turning me around bodily and giving me a shove back towards the fence. “Mr. Jenkins has a cow that’s been pissing me off lately. We’ll tip him.”

My eyebrows shot skyward and my forehead scrunched. “How in the hell does a cow piss you off?” I pondered, completely mystified.

“Don’t ask,” he muttered roguishly, his handsome face covering a layer of frustration with a veil of secrecy.

What a fucking weirdo. He had a beef with a cow.

Oh my God. A
beef
with a
cow
. Even the pun of it was cute.

I was thinking I might be in love.

His long-legged strides ate up the distance quickly, and I struggled to keep up. But when he noticed my disadvantage, he slowed considerably.

I reached out and clasped the top rung of the four rail fence, my hands scraping lightly along the weather-roughened wood. Shifting my weight into my hands, I hoisted myself by putting one boot to the bottom rung and the other to the second.

Miller, the opportunist, was either super considerate or in desperate need of a good lay, putting his hands directly on my ass in order to give me a boost over.

As soon as my boots hit blacktop on the other side of the fence, Miller locked both hands on the spot previously occupied by mine and launched himself over the top without the aid of any climbing.

Holy hotness.

Conveniently remembering that I had left the next clue taped to his cow, I decided to exploit it, working it to my best possible advantage.

Playing the part, I declared, “Damn! I forgot the clue.” I probably overacted a little, but my plans included Winslow, Tennessee, not Hollywood, California, so it would have to do. “It’s still taped to your cow’s neck-” I started only to be interrupted by the male heartthrob in front of me.

“Penelope.”

“What-y McWhat, now?” I asked, flabbergasted at the use of another female name.

“The cow, her name is Penelope,” he clarified.

I thought maybe he was kidding, but his face was nothing but serious.

“Okay, firstly, cows have names?” I asked skeptically, to which he answered, “Mine do.”

“Okay. Secondly, I thought that cow was a boy cow. I was calling him Sir-Moos-and-Chews-A-Lot.”

His sexy chuckle rumbled for a few seconds before he vaulted back over the fence, calling out to me as he walked away. “Cattle farmer, you are not, Zoey Kapernack.”

Of course, he was right. I knew nothing about cattle. Or farming for that matter. But I had no choice but to learn about the latter, and quick. Thankfully, I only had crops to answer to on my family’s farm. No Penelopes or Lizas bitching me out for thinking they were men. And they would bitch. All women bitch at one point or another.

Maybe my poor woman on woman social skills stemmed from the lack of a mother. I mean, she existed, obviously, but she decided Winslow wasn’t for her pretty early on in my life. Well, Winslow and a daughter. Both things, not for her.

It didn’t bother me though. I didn’t have time or patience for annoying whores. Even if they gave birth to me.

Miller made haste to Penelope, gave her an affectionate pat on the head, and gently pulled the clue off of her neck.

He placed it in his back pocket without looking at it and picked up to a slow jog on his way back.

One more high jump over the fence had me locking my knees to avoid the swoon-induced Jell-o-y fall to the ground.

Boy, I sure was turning out to be a typical girl. All swoony and squee filled, with fairytales occupying all of the nooks and crannies in my head.

Talk about surprising.

Zoey

“Move your ass, slowpoke!” Miller whispered harshly as he gave me a gentle shove from behind.

We were making a stealthy path across Mr. Jenkin’s field, but apparently, I was slowing down the operation.

“Your legs are like twice the length of mine, you six foot, four inch asshole! Chill your pill, homes, or figure out a way to speed me up.”

The scenery of the field moved in a blur, and it seemed like I was even upside down at one point as he swung me up onto his back without breaking stride.

“How’s that?” he asked sweetly, his hand reaching back and giving my thigh a squeeze as he did.

“Pretty cozy, actually. I demand that we carry out the rest of the night like this. Though, I feel I should warn you that if you jostle me too much, my boobs will work their way around your head and quite possibly smother you.”

“Death by boob smothering,” he muttered jovially. “What a way to go.”

Laughing quietly because, after all, this was a covert mission, I pushed my boobs into the back of his head with a little extra force, just for fun.

Someone whispered, “Brazen hussy,” in my mind, but I ignored them, stretching out my middle finger in a mental salute.

“I swear to God, Zoey, if you don’t stop, I’m going to spin you around, bury my face in there, and lay you down on the closest piece of ground I can find, regardless of the cow shit.”

My thighs tightened around his torso involuntarily, and only two words stopped me from taking him up on his offer.

Cow shit.

I didn’t care how hot he made me, lying in a pile of cow feces while he had his way with me would definitely ruin the moment. No matter how good he was with his tongue.

“Rain check,” I stated confidently, knowing that while the timing wasn’t right, the scenario sounded pretty damn good, and I was hoping he agreed.

Reaching behind him, he gave my ass a squeeze of acquiescence and then shouted, “Look!”

I looked, and I did it furiously, but I had no idea what I was supposed to be seeing.

“Help me out here, I’m flying fucking blind.”

“Boobs in your way?” he joked, bouncing the back of his head off of them like a kid on a trampoline.

Slapping him playfully on the shoulder, I didn’t bother giving him a verbal answer. “What am I looking for?”

I could see his cheek lift from my place on his back, and I knew he had to be smiling. “That cow up there is already laying down. We’re gonna use it.”

“What fun is that?” I protested.

“Trust me, knocking a cow over is a shit ton of work. We’re gonna use God’s gifts when we can,” he explained wisely.

“Fine. But you’re the cameraman for everything. I want everyone to wonder how in the hell I managed to do everything on my own.”

“Just go lie on top of that cow and look pretty,” he ordered. “Shouldn’t be too hard for you.”

Man, that was sweet. He was a good suck up.

“Save your sucking for when we’re fucking, Romeo,” I remarked, once again unleashing my inner shameless whore.

Wow, I had no idea I had it in me.

Neither did he. His startled green eyes jumped to mine in astonishment, but the flame burning inside of them was unmistakable.

His hand shot out and cupped my jaw, his long, tanned thumb sweeping slowly across my lower lip. His voice was rough as he whispered, “You have no idea how good of a suck up I can be, Zo. But you’re gonna find out.”

His lips met mine with both force and confidence, their peach skin mingling with the pink of my own. His skin was smooth, freshly shaven what had to have been that night, and his hands delved mindlessly into the length of my black hair. Little nibbles turned into bites, and before I knew it, his tongue was demanding entrance along the crease of my lips.

One of his hands left my hair and skimmed down my side, wasting no time in connecting the lower halves of our bodies with speed and accuracy. The shocking feel of his hardness gave way to a gasp, and his tongue didn’t waste the invitation.

Miller Laughlin knew how to kiss. His tongue caressed and explored, both gentle and unforgiving at the same time. I felt branded and owned, and I knew in an instant that this was the kind of kiss that only came along once in a lifetime.

Spontaneous and passionate and so damn connected that the jaws of life couldn’t have pulled our faces apart. Both chilling and warming, and beyond fucking expressive.

Miller Laughlin
liked
me. And I felt it in every stroke of his tongue, nibble of his teeth, and caress of his hand.

He pried his lips away from mine, the speed reminiscent of a snail. Our foreheads connected, mirroring the length of our bodies. At least, as much as was possible considering our difference in height.

But even with more than a foot of distance between us, Miller didn’t let me feel it. He stooped to me, letting me live in the moment.

“Do you have a nickname?” I asked quietly, desperate to be connected to him on a more intimate level, even if it was only a difference in name.

He shook his head gingerly, in order to not separate our foreheads, before whispering, “But I’ll answer to anything you want me to.”

“Don’t be so sweet. You don’t even know me,” I told him, trying to be reasonable, logical, and real about the fact that we had really only been in each others’ presence for an hour.

Sure, we knew each other back in high school, so we weren’t complete strangers, but a lot of time had passed since then.

He pulled back an inch, just enough to let me soak up every flicker of emotion that passed through his clear, forrest-y eyes. “You’re right, Zo. I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. But I know, and I know you know, that something just works here. Something clicks between us. There are no guarantees or promises, but right now, tonight, I know there isn’t anything I wouldn’t let you call me.”

“Fuck. You’re good at speeches, Mill.”

He smirked at my test drive of a nickname, told me, “I’m good at a lot of things, Zo,” with a wink, and then shoved me toward my photo buddy one more time.

It took me a minute to get my bearings, but I worked hard at it and regained full composure within a matter of a few seconds.

As I looked up at yet another oversized animal in front of me, I had a moment of indecision.

Hopefully, cows weren’t aggressive. I hadn’t even considered that until now.

“I’m safe, right? Betsy the Cow isn’t going to attack me, is she?”

“Just get your ass over there, Zo. Jesus, I can feel myself aging,” he complained good-naturedly.

I took my place behind Betsy, tucking my collarbone length, wavy hair behind my ears and hoping I didn’t look like a total freak in my picture.

Miller lifted up his iPhone and snapped a picture without any muss or fuss. “You both look beautiful, girls,” he said to me and Betsy. I wasn’t quite sure how I should feel about being lumped in with the heifer, but judging by the way he treated Penelope, I supposed it was a compliment.

Thank God, that was finally done. It was like the never-ending prank.

“Okay, that one’s done. Whip out the next literary masterpiece, and let’s see what’s in store,” I ordered him.

He reached into his pocket, flipped the piece of paper open, and read through it once to himself before bursting out laughing and handing it to me.

Curious to know the catalyst to his hilarity, I practically ripped the paper out of his hands and devoured the words eagerly.

After I did, I wished I hadn’t.

Crops grow

In the town of Winslow.

But smashing them down

Is a good way to clown.

Create a design

That shows your dirty mind.

“That last part didn’t even rhyme,” I complained, scoffing audibly that I was following the direction of these people.

“Yeah, but poems don’t have to rhyme,” Mill argued, a stupid half-smile taunting me with every word.

“You’re right. But generally, they’re not supposed to suck,” I grumbled childishly with a roll of my eyes. “At least there’s no location on this one, so I guess we can do it to whatever crops we want.”

Miller raised a brow, and just that simple gesture managed to remind me about the little detail I was forgetting.

“No! There has to be a location. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be able to find the next clue.”

“I think this thing is more clever than you think. There’s only one corn field
in town
,” Miller reasoned.

Crap. That
was
pretty clever.

“Don’t tell me I’m going to have to start respecting these people. You’re totally messing with my system.”

His laughter was loud enough that I slammed my hand across his mouth, nervously trying to smother the noise. “Shhh, someone is going to hear you.”

“Relax. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you got along with the people you’re going to spend the rest of your life cohabiting with.”

“Stop being so smart,” I pouted, pulling my bottom lip out for dramatic effect. “Your logic is really starting to be a buzz kill for my unjustifiable ways.”

“Sounds like I’m just what you needed,” Miller mused wisely.

“Seriously, Mill. Stop being so smart. I’m getting jealous.”