914 Bittersweet Ln.: A Cherry Falls Romance Read online

  He takes my hands, resting his on top of mine, gently, not possessively, just carefully. “Paisley, it's all right. I'm just saying I get you. I get that things are hard and complicated and messy, and when I said I get it, I guess what I should have said is 'I hear you, I see you, and girl, speak your truth, however you want. I'm here for it.'"

  I take another sip of the lemon drop – it is ridiculously delicious. "I'm not against drinking, I'm just cautious. In general, as a person in life, I'm not a risk taker."

  "I understand why it would be hard to take risks after everything you've been through."

  "What about you, Mr. Holt Stone? I feel like you know literally so many things about me right now, and I know nothing about you."

  "I don't know half the things I want to know about you, for the record, but me? I work at a ranch with the cattle. I like to dance."

  "Right," I nod my head slowly. "We've already covered that. Tell me something more, something real."

  "Well, we just covered your basics too."

  "Okay, so you're deflecting again."

  "Okay," he laughs. "Okay, so this is like for reals, for reals?"

  I nod, "Yeah. I'm not a half-way kind of girl. Remember when I told you I scare most guys off? This is kind of the reason why I don't do 'sort ofs,’ and my standards..."

  He nods, "Right, they're pretty fucking high." He clears his throat, takes another sip of the drink, sets it down. Resting his elbows on the high-top, he stares right into my eyes. "My mom is suffering from early-onset dementia. Alzheimer's. She has a memory that lasts five minutes, and she has no idea who the hell I am. My brother Colt, we were twins, and my dad were out mountain climbing about three years ago and they died. So, my mom was alone and needed help and I moved home. In one fell swoop I lost my brother and my father and my mom. So, I came back and that's what I do now. I take care of her. Well, I have a nurse that helps us while I work at the ranch."

  "Wait," I say, stopping him. "What did you used to do before you came home?"

  "I coached college baseball; I was working my way up in that."

  "Really?"

  I nod. "Yeah, that's kind of my whole passion, coaching pro sports teams."

  "Oh my God," she says. "That's incredible."

  "Yeah, that's the past though, right? I'm here now. And my mom needs me and..."

  "Wow," I say, shaking my head. "Do you..." I swallow my words, not saying them. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry for all of that."

  "Hey," Holt gives me a half smile, "That's life, right? It doesn't always go how we expect."

  "Right, I know about that."

  "I know you do, Paisley." He holds my gaze. "I line dance for fun, what do you do?"

  I laugh. "What do I do for fun? Well, I'm a singer and a songwriter."

  "No shit," he says, "really?"

  "Yeah, I guess you're not from around here, at least not from when I was growing up."

  "Yeah, I was kind of gone when you were in high school."

  "Right, well, it doesn't really matter, but when I was younger, like in high school, everyone always thought I was going to go off to Nashville."

  "Really?" He leans in smiling. "So you're good?"

  I cringe. "I mean, I don't know if I'm good, I just always thought I was the small-town girl with big-city dreams."

  "Damn, Paisley. I had no idea."

  I laugh. "Yeah, I sing sometimes now just when I'm in the fields or whatever, and just want to be alone, and I write, but not as much as I want to. I work a lot. I have like three jobs and the kids and the house and stuff, I'm just making sure I got rent covered and everything. I wish I could write more and play more."

  "Damn, you ever perform?"

  I shake my head. "No, never. I haven't sung on stage in like three years."

  "Three years? Since you were 18?"

  "Yeah," I laugh. "I think the last time I performed was my high school talent show. I was going to leave after high school." I stop talking for a second. There are tears in my eyes suddenly, and I hate that I'm getting emotional over this, but I realize, I never talk about it with anyone because the people I talk to are people who already know this story. Holt is someone new, someone who doesn't know where I've been, who I planned on becoming. He doesn't understand what I was going to be, he's only seeing what I've become.

  My voice cracks, "Yeah, I had these big ideas I was going to leave town and I was hoping to get some record label to sign me. I was working on an album and I thought if that didn't work I could always try out for American Idol or something like that. It doesn't really matter anymore. Those ideas are kind of childish."

  Holt frowns, "But you're only 21, you can't let your dreams die now."

  "Why not? It's like you said, 'life happens, things change.' You don't always get what you want."

  "Right, but–"

  "No, it's not 'but,'” I push back, feeling frustrated. No longer wanting the drink, the dance, the date. I shouldn't have gone there, gotten so personal, so honest, so real. It's too much too fast.

  Holt senses it, and he wants to backpedal, go rewind the tape 10 minutes, but we can't do that.

  I take a deep breath. "Look, maybe this wasn't a great idea. I told you I don't date, and–"

  "No, I was being an idiot," he says. "You're right, life does happen. Fuck, dreams do change and real life can fuck them up. So, we're not here for that." He claps the table with his palms. "You're going to go to the bathroom and wash your face or whatever girls do, and I'm going to get us glasses of water and we're going to drink them."

  I laugh, appreciating his game plan.

  "And then you're going to take my hand and I'm going to take you on that dance floor,” he continues. “Got it?"

  I roll my eyes playfully. "Really?"

  He nods, "Yeah, really. You came here to have fun, not to get all weepy at the table, and we're not going to leave all mad, because hell, it sounds like we've both kind of been through a shit storm the last few years."

  I laugh despite myself, despite all of this. The bar is dark and the music is loud, but in this moment it feels like Holt Stone sees me. Like, actually sees me as the person I am. I don't even know who the hell I am right now. But he's right. We have been through too much to let this moment pass us by. "Just give me three minutes, okay?"

  He nods, "Three minutes, and then we're getting our butts on that dance floor."

  Paisley

  I splash cold water on my face and look in the mirror, telling myself to get it together. The low lights in the bathroom are forgiving, and for that, I am grateful. I don't exactly want to look into my eyes right now because sometimes the reality is a little too grim, a little too honest. Right now, I want to forget. I want to go back to that thought I had when I was in the car. Tonight, I could be somebody else, maybe on the dance floor, at least.

  I lick my lips. I smile. I can do this.

  The girl at the sink next to me gives me a wink. "Did you come in with Holt Stone?"

  I nod. "Yeah. You know him?"

  She grins. "Oh yeah. He's a really good dancer."

  "Is he?"

  She shrugs. "Yeah. And he's a really nice guy."

  "You've been out with him?"

  She shakes her head. "No, he doesn't go out with people."

  "What do you mean?" I ask, reaching for a paper towel and drying my hands.

  "Well, I don't know. He just comes in here, dances. I mean, he's friendly and everything, and he gets along with everyone. He just... He's been in town a year or two, he works at a ranch, and he's friendly. He's just not really... the kind of guy who hooks up, I guess."

  "I guess that's a good thing, right?" I ask.

  She nods, "I guess, but I know that there are a lot of women around who are a little annoyed about that. So maybe you’re what he was waiting for."

  "I'm Paisley," I say, introducing myself.

  "I'm Layla," she says. "I work in Kissme Bay. I don't think we've ever met, but I've..."

  I exhale. "You'
ve heard about me?"

  She nods. "Yeah. Is that weird to say?"

  I shake my head. "No, it's fine."

  She pulls open the door to the bathroom. "Anyway," she says, "I'm glad you're out having a good time with a guy like Holt. He's a good guy. And it sounds like you deserve a good guy."

  "Thank you," I say, "and I appreciate it. I just met him today, and..."

  She nods, understanding. "I get it. We've got to look out for each other, right?"

  I smile. "I think so."

  "See you around," she says.

  I nod. "Sure."

  Feeling a little bit lighter after the conversation, I find Holt waiting for me at the table where I left him. When he sees me, he hands me a glass of water. "Drink up."

  And I do. We finish our water glasses completely and then set them down on the table as if we completed a drinking competition. He beat me, and we laugh.

  "So, you ready for the two-step?"

  I laugh, shaking my head. "I’m in trouble."

  "Yeah, but at least you're smiling."

  I grin. "I am."

  "Okay, I guess the bathroom did something magical. What do they got in there? Some fairy dust? Some..."

  I shake my head. "No, just... I heard a little whispering about you." I shake my fingers in front of his hand, and he grabs my wrist, pulling me to him.

  "Yeah? Whispers, huh?"

  I nod. Our noses nearly touch. He wraps an arm around my waist, hugging me close. I draw in a breath. He pulls me even closer. "Whisperings," I say.

  He swallows. I do, too. "Good whisperings?" he asks.

  I nod, "Very good."

  I smile. This one, it's not forced, not like earlier at the diner when I pasted a smile on my face. This one isn't fake. It's all natural. All real. All for him. Holt Stone, whoever this man might be. Apparently, he's a good one.

  I see Layla on the dance floor. That's where I want to be, even though I have no idea how to dance, how to move. But I feel like if I'm against Holt somehow, even if it's just our fingers touching, I'll feel okay. I never wanted a man to hold me until... until right now.

  I swallow. "Show me how to dance," I tell him.

  He nods. "I want to show you everything," he says.

  I close my eyes, and he draws my mouth to his. Holt Stone kisses me right then and there.

  Devil on the Highway is playing a song, and it's not Willie Nelson. I'm glad because that might make me cry. And right now, I'm not ready for tears. I don't want my heart to pound like that right now. I want to get swept away in the music and the bass, the thump, thump, thump of the cowboy boots on the dance floor, Holt Stone's body pressed against mine. I want the rhythm to wipe away my blues, and I want Holt's mouth to meet mine. It does. I do.

  He kisses me hard in the kind of way I need. He tastes better than I imagined. His lips are soft. The kind of soft I need in my life. I'm hard enough for both of us. His lips part. And I know we're at a bar and some kisses shouldn't be made in public places, but I don't care right now. I want him to kiss me until I'm ragged, until I'm raw. I don't want this kiss to end. He keeps kissing me until the music stops, until I'm lost for words, until I'm out of breath.

  And when he pulls back and he looks into my eyes, I wonder what he sees. Because what I see is this hunger, need, desire. “We’ve gotta get outta here,” he whispers.”

  Someone calls for him, "Hey, Holt!"

  He turns. "Austin," he says. A name on his lips. And I don't want him to say anybody's name but mine. I reach for Holt. My fingers grip his belt buckle. I swallow. I feel him tense. He needs me in the way I need him.

  This man, Austin, reaches us. "Hey, man," he says. "I've been looking for you. I didn't know if you were coming out, or where you’ve been."

  "Yeah, I..." He looks over at me. "This is Paisley," he says. "My date."

  "I didn't realize you had a date. I'm Austin," he says. "Good to meet you, Paisley." Austin has a crooked smile and a Southern accent and an easygoing attitude. I can see why he's friends with Holt. He gives me his hand, and I take it. I shake it hard, firm.

  Austin asks if we want to drink, and Holt shakes his head. "Actually, no. We're just headed out."

  Austin groans, "Man, you just got here."

  "I know, but Paisley has to get home."

  "Really? It's not even 10 o'clock."

  "I know, but she's got work tomorrow."

  "I see," Austin nods slowly, giving his buddy a long look, then he claps Holt on the back. "Well, that's good. No problem, man. I'll see you Monday, if not sooner?"

  "Sure thing, man," Holt chuckles. "You going to be okay out here tonight? You won't party too hard without me?"

  I laugh. "Are you usually the designated driver, Holt?"

  Austin laughs, "To be honest, yeah, he is. He looks after me like my big brother did back home in Virginia."

  "That where you're from?" I ask. I make pleasant conversation. I say the right thing. This is normal, right?

  It's not what I want to be doing, saying, thinking, though. What I want to be doing is drawing Holt to me again. I want to be alone with him somewhere, anywhere but here.

  Austin chuckles, "Yeah, he's the good guy around here. Always making sure I'm okay."

  "That's nice," I say. "But tonight, will you take a taxi home?"

  He nods, then gives a salute to Holt. "Scout's honor."

  Holt laughs. "You were a Boy Scout back home?"

  Austin laughs, "Hell, I don't know what I was."

  "All right. You don't get too crazy out there."

  "Promise." Austin spins on his heels and returns to the dance floor.

  "You ready to get out of here?" Holt asks, his hot breath on my ear.

  "Please," I say. One word.

  "You won't be sad?” he asks. "To miss all my dance moves? We didn't even get one dance, not even one song."

  "I'm a terrible dancer," I tell him. "You'd be so disappointed in my two left feet."

  "If you fell," he says, "it would have meant I could have picked you up."

  I lick my lips, pulling Holt close. "Truth is, Holt Stone, I kind of want to be on my back with you on top of me."

  Holt looks at me with eyes that tell a whole story. "Fuck," he groans, running a hand over his jaw. "I need to get you the hell out of here."

  I nod, "Yes, sir, you do."

  Holt

  It doesn't take long before we're back in the pickup truck. "Okay. Well, that escalated quickly," I say, running a hand through my hair, looking over at Paisley, who's laughing in that nervous, excited kind of way.

  Her eyes are closed and she has no fucking idea how gorgeous she is. I'm still reeling from that kiss. That goddamn fucking kiss. That kiss that blows all other kisses away. She has no goddamn clue.

  I look over at her. "Listen," I say, "I'm just putting this out there. One kiss doesn't have to change everything, but that kiss, it turned a simple date into a goddamn fantasy real fucking fast. You following?"

  She opens her eyes in a slow, sultry kind of way. The kind of way that has the moon casting a glow across her face. Her long lashes batting, ever so slowly.

  The kind of way that has my heart pounding, my cock hardening, my goddamn soul searching. "A fantasy, huh?" she asks. "Tell me more." She licks her lips, and her tongue? It's fucking kitty-cat pink. "Tell me everything, Holt Stone."

  I swallow, "Paisley Cassidy, I don't think you could handle my everything."

  "Try me." She leans back in the Chevy, her hair long and loose over her bare shoulders and fuck, that dress of hers. That peachy cream has me thinking all sorts of things. Wondering about the creamy center between her thighs, wondering about her firsts.

  She said tonight is one first of many. How many firsts are we talking? I want to ask but fuck, can you ask that in the 21st fucking century? I'm not sure and I don't want to press things that aren't meant to be pressed, but damn, I want to know.

  Is she a virgin? Does she want to be a virgin? I swallow.

  "You want
to stay in my pickup truck all night?" I ask her. She laughs softly, looking over at me. I haven't even turned the truck on.

  "How long does the nurse stay with your mom?" she asks.

  "He stays all night on Fridays," I tell her.

  She lifts her eyelids. "You stay out all night on Fridays?"

  "No," I say, "but I don't want to be worried about when I have to come in. It's my one night off a week and my therapist told me I shouldn't have to be looking at the clock. So I usually stay out till one or so, but I'll take a slow drive home, have a beer or two. When I get back, I watch TV. I'm not on, you know what I mean?"

  She nods, "That sounds nice. And I know what you mean about being on because I'm always on 24/7, except for now." She exhales. "Remember when I told you I was 21 going on 45?" She smiles tightly. "Damn, this was supposed to be the fantasy part of the evening. Not the reality part." She sighs slowly. "Let's go back, rewind again, please." She presses her palms together like she's praying. "Take me to your fantasy, Holt, please. Pretty, pretty please."

  "Well, if you beg."

  She laughs. "God I haven't laughed like this in a long time. You make me feel good," she says. "Like really good, like happy."

  "Really? I've hardly said a word. It's been a few hours, Paisley. It doesn't take much to make you happy. It makes me wonder."

  "What?" she asks.

  "It just makes me wonder what it would take to make you feel really good."

  "Like really, really good?" she asks. A lilt to her voice, a twinkle in her eye. She knows what I'm talking about.

  "Yeah. Like really fucking good. Like toe-curling, pussy-melting, core-clenching, oh my fucking God, I'm cumming so hard good."

  She laughs out loud. "You want to try and find out?"

  I laugh hard. "Damn. Yeah. I would like to find that out."

  "Do you want to find that out right now?" she asks.

  "Are you teasing me, Paisley Cassidy?"

  She laughs in mock horror. "Would I tease you, Mr. Holt Stone? The good old boy who's back home? I'd never."

  "I'm not a good old boy. I'm just a good guy who's home giving up his dreams to take care of his mother."