“You okay?” he asks quietly, concern obvious in his tone. Even through my squinted eyes I can see the look of sympathy and confusion on his face. I nod but my hands are still tightly fisted in the bedding.
Please don’t ask what I was dreaming about, I mentally plead.
“Get up, Rae. The day is waiting.”
“No,” I gripe and lie back, as though I plan to go back to sleep.
“Yes,” he argues as he picks through my room, inspecting my things and basically being nosey.
“No. I told you I’m not going anywhere with you unless it’s the airport. Get out of my room.”
He lets out a heavy sigh. “Please. I have something I want to show you and I’m hoping you’ll want to help me out once you know more about it. It’s important to me,” he says almost sheepishly which destroys my resolve to sit this expedition out and if I’m being honest with myself, after my nightmare, the idea of being close to this very big, capable man feels like a dose of security and safety I could enjoy.
I haven’t felt taken care of or safe in a long time, I think to myself, instantly saddened by that fact.
“C’mon, Rae, Teddy woul—” he begins.
“Don’t bring my brother into this,” I say, interrupting him in a voice that’s louder than I had intended.
“Well?”
“Goddamn you,” I curse, flipping the covers off my lap eternally grateful for my choice in pajamas last night. Cotton pants with a coordinating camisole. Unfortunately for me the camisole isn’t the variety with the built-in bra. Sylas eyes darken as they roam my body like his hands used to, and much to my horror, my nipples pebble. Obviously my breasts have a mind of their own and right now they’re delighted with the attention Sylas has shown them. I can’t say the same for my pride. Sylas smirks his lopsided grin with an arched brow.
“Chilly, Rae?”
“Still artic,” I snap, as I brush past him.
“Ain’t that the damn truth,” I hear him grumble from behind me as I make my way to the bathroom down the hall. This brief excursion should prove interesting, and by interesting, I really mean terrible.
Then why are you going with him, Practicality asks in a small but no less critical voice. I ignore her.
Sylas opens the passenger side door to his pickup truck and motions his chin, telling me to climb in the monstrosity, which is asinine given the height discrepancy between the pickup and me. With my feet planted in place I scowl at him and cross my arms over my chest. “You know what they say about men with big lifted trucks on big mud tires right?”
“That they live in an area of the country that frequently floods during hurricane season?” He frowns and shakes his head. “Have you forgotten this place so much? If you were trying to insinuate something different, well, I think we both know that you know better,” he says darkly, hooking one big hand on the top of the open door. The movement causes his tee shirt on one side to lift on his hip, showing corded muscles that he never had before—the ones that form a V and trail south like indicators on an atlas. “I believe I recall,” he pauses dropping his arm back to his side and stepping into my space. “… That even as an inexperienced boy I made you tremble for me,” he whispers then bites his full bottom lip with his gaze regarding my mouth. He lifts his rough hand and drags the pad of his thumb across my mouth and for a moment I let him. For a moment my brain vaporizes and my baser needs take the wheel. Belatedly I catch up and jerk my face away. His hand remains in the air for a moment before falling away with a glimmer of disappointment in his eyes.
Choosing to ignore him, I turn on my heel and begin marching back to the house. “Come on princess,” he says condescendingly from behind me as his hand grips my elbow and I’m spun in place then lifted up and over his shoulder. One strong arm bands over the back of my thighs and while I verbally cuss him my body marvels at how many muscles Sylas has now. The all grown up Sylas is one hell of a specimen. Tall and muscular, flawed and perfect in all the right ways. He’s the sort of man women ache to touch and men make a point to envy.
Wowza.
Sylas rights me just enough to hook me under my arms and lift me into his truck. “You good now?” he asks with his head cocked, his glossy brown hair falling over his brow a little. My hand itches to brush it away from his eyes.
“Do women really climb up in this thing or do all those that have the misfortune to go along with you some place get to be toted like a sack of potatoes?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He grins, placing one big warm hand just above my knee. It’s low enough to be innocent and just high enough to have my libido stretching her muscles in the downward facing dog, horny lotus position. Sylas laughs lightly then chucks me my on the chin like I’m a small child that has amused him. The asshole.
Just two old friends. No big deal, Optimism tries to help.
We ride through town and I scrunch my brows in confusion when he turns onto the state highway taking us south. “Sylas, when you said fishing I assumed we’d be fishing nearby?”
“So do you know what I do for a living now?” he asks completely ignoring me in true Sylas Broussard fashion.
“No. I don’t know the details. Didn’t you hear me? Aren’t we fishing in the bayou or a pond or a creek or something?”
“Nope,” he says shimmying a little in his seat as if to get more comfortable. I glare at him through narrowed eyes as he pulls a paper fast food bag from the floorboard of the truck and fishes out a foil wrapped sandwich. He tosses one greasy parcel in my lap then unwraps one for himself. “Yours has cheese on it,” he smirks, his lopsided grin reminding me so much of the boy he once was.
“Planning on driving a while?” I ask tightly.
“Cool your jets, Snow. Goin’ only about forty-five minutes away s’all,” he says around a huge bite of his breakfast sandwich, shrugging his muscular shoulders. I let out a humorless laugh while shaking my head. He’s the same old pushy jerk and I’m an idiot for getting in this truck in the first place.
“No use bein’ a bitch the whole time Rae. Have some fun. Can’t you do that anymore?”
“What can I say Sylas? You’ve always had a knack for bringing out the very best in me,” I clip sarcastically then turn away from him. I choose to ignore him completely and instead do my best to keep my eyes toward my window while I busy myself checking emails on my phone. If the way he’s noisily wolfing down his breakfast is any indication, he’s unruffled by my jabs and my mood.
Same old Sylas.
Against my will, memories assail me, dragging me back in time and I hold on for the ride.
Raegan
16 years old…
Our second date is tonight. I have to work all day at the store but I get out at four which gives me enough time to go home and get cleaned up. I lie to myself every time I try to insist that I am not excited to see what Sy has planned for us. He’s thoughtful and cunning. And a total devil who is not to be trusted.
At work I was so distracted by thoughts of Sylas that I barely registered Josh’s efforts at flirting with me. It’s sweet of him and very flattering but Sy has weaseled his way into my head, taking up all the space there with his giant ego, good looks, and stubbornness.