Oz’s eyebrow rises with the question and my hand gesture. “Did you air quote an illegal club?”
I shrug because I did.
Oz scans the yard and it’s surprisingly empty. No Chevy. No Stone. To my shock, he defies unspoken personal space barriers and crouches in front of me. He’s so freaking massive that even with me on the swing, he’s only an inch or so below my eye level.
He grabs the swing by the seat and it grinds to a halt. Oz’s fingers brush along the skin of my thigh. My heart stutters. Stupid heart. Stupid short skirt. Stupid deep blue eyes and wild charcoal hair. Stupid, stupid, stupid me for licking my suddenly dry lips.
Oz follows the action. The way my tongue snuck out and because he’s staring so intently, I nervously suck in my bottom lip. He watches that too and those eyes grow dark. Breathing would be good and would possibly ease the burning in my lungs.
Oz drags his gaze to mine. “Our club doesn’t kill people.”
I blink. Kill people? “What?”
“You asked about the illegal club and I saw the look on your face in the truck and then when you were talking to Violet. We aren’t what you think.”
“Okay.”
“Not okay. I need you to know that what Violet said in the truck was a lie. We’re legit. What you see around you, what you will see once Eli returns and allows this place to go back to normal...it’s a family. We take care of each other. Depend on each other. There isn’t a situation we face alone, a need that isn’t met.”
His words sink past my skin, past my muscles and settles into a hollow area in my soul and I shift. I love my parents. More than most people would admit. And Dad’s parents are amazing, but there’s a part of me that wonders what it would be like to belong to something...more.
My lips twitch up, but the attempted grin feels empty. “Next you’ll tell me you gather around a piano and sing Christmas carols.”
Oz chuckles. “Won’t lie, after a few shots, I’ve heard some of the guys sing a few tunes.”
“Not lyrics to an old Guns N’ Roses song. Christmas songs. ‘Rudolph.’ ‘White Christmas.’ ‘We Three Kings.’”
“Hey, you haven’t heard ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’ until you’ve heard us, sweetheart.”
“Liar.”
“Cross my heart.” And he does the accompanying motion.
“Tell me what Honeysuckle Ridge is.”
Oz’s entire face brightens with his smile. It’s a gorgeous one. Dazzling even. “Good try, but not good enough. Already told you, I have no idea.”
“Now you’re a liar.”
One slow, sexy-as-hell shoulder shrug. “What are you going to do about it?”
Is he flirting with me?
The screen door screeches open and Oz casually stands as if it’s normal to be crouched in front of someone he barely knows. Violet and Oz eyeball each other as she walks out and he walks in.
When the door shuts again she clicks her tongue at me. “You are destined to be the type that learns the hard way, aren’t you?”
My body rolls forward and I lower my head into my hands. Evidently I am.
Oz
IT’S CHAOS.
Yelling.
Screaming.
And it’s only the second quarter of the game.
I’m blowing my damn ears off with the whistle, but the little punk kid from the home team is still chasing the skinny kid with the ball. “You’re not on the field anymore!”
Both kids turn their heads to look at me and realize they’ve raced past the end zone and onto a farmer’s private property. There’s a chuckle from the parents on the sidelines as the two run their asses back.
“Ball,” I call out because they never remember to hand the football back before they huddle with their coach. It’s summer so it’s flag football instead of tackle. Half the time, the kids forget the flag part and hammer the hell out of each other.
“Time out!” Two hundred and fifty pounds of once-upon-a-time linebacker and now dad to the little punk in question waves at me.
There’s only seconds left until the half, but it’s eight-year-old flag football so why the hell not? “You got it.”
The kid with red hair being chased attempts to throw the ball to me and misses by twelve feet. There’s a reason why he’s not the quarterback. The ball lands behind Emily. She sits on a blanket beside Mom and Olivia and the three of them are grinning at me, but Emily more. Fuck me for liking it. She has the type of smile that can light up a black hole.
The two of us have been around each other for over two weeks. Hanging. Not hanging. Just sort of existing while she and Olivia hustle each other in cards. So far, it’s been low-key, but being around Emily makes mundane easy.
“Hey!” Chevy sidles beside me wearing the same black-and-white ref shirt that I am. “Eli’s coming back today, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Think he’ll give you the night off from Emily?” Chevy inclines his head to two girls from school. “If so, we have plans.”
I graduated with them. Hell, I played on the monkey bars with them in kindergarten. One is blond and all legs. The other has brown hair and is all big breasts. Neither has anything on Emily.
“They’re good girls,” I say. “You know where I stand on that.”
They’re honor roll, panic about curfew and are on time for church every Sunday morning. I don’t have a problem with good girls. To be honest, I’m hoping I can find a good girl with a bad side to marry me one day, but this isn’t one day and right now the only thing that happens with a good girl is they get hurt because they’re hunting for what I won’t give.
Chevy flashes a sly smile. “They came to me, man. Not the other way around. Both of them are leaving town next week to travel Europe before they head out of state for college. They said they’ve watched the Terror their entire lives and want to experience one night with us before they leave town.”
Because there’s an invisible force field surrounding Snowflake. Once people leave, they never come back.
“Sometimes a good girl needs to be bad,” Chevy continues.
Right as he says it, the blonde smiles in a way that promises a night that has my type of bad written all over it. “Gotta check with Eli.”
“It’s all I’m asking.” Chevy blows the whistle to indicate the time-out is over.
Emily
OZ JOGS ALONGSIDE a young boy who doesn’t run right. He doesn’t walk right, either. At least he didn’t when he moved onto the field. His legs are in braces and he spent most of the game on the sidelines in a wheelchair.