Page 9 of The County Fair Queen

Rivers reached into his back pocket, causing his ass to jiggle yet again. I shoved my hand into my pockets, pinching my thigh through the fabric. I was obviously in the midst of a psychotic break and needed some sort of touchstone to guide me back to reality. As I abused my leg, Rivers pulled a business card out of his pocket and held it out for Jordan, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Mayor Rivers Rivera," he said. "At your service."

"What?!"

Ignoring me, Rivers pulled out his phone and powered on the screen. Briefly, an image of Rivers and a young boy flashed across the screen. Before I had a chance to look closer, he swiped up and opened his calendar app. Zooming in, he scrolled through a seemingly endless string of tasks on his agenda for the day. Swiping left, he cleared three appointments before shutting down his phone and shoving it back into his pocket. "I don't have anything else on the schedule for the next three hours. I'm happy to"—he waggled an eyebrow at me—"give you a ride,Firecracker."

"The only thing I need from you is your lifeless body lying at my feet," I said, feeling rather smug at the quip.

Rivers' eyebrow arched, and he took a step forward. "You want my body lying in front of you, huh?" His fingers reached up past my shoulder, far too close for my liking. Clicking his tongue, his hand rose even higher, and then the jerk thumped my nose. "Kinky." Still staring me dead in the eyes, he lifted his key fob in the air and pointed it at his truck, unlocking it. "Come on, Firecracker. Let's get you home."

Chapter Three

I SWALLOW

For the duration of the ride to Fletcher Family Vineyard, Rivers droned on about the muscadine grape and its many uses. When we pulled up to the iron gates, Rivers opened the keypad case and smashed in the code like he had all the right in the world to do so. I gaped at him, unsure who the hell gave him free access to my family's home. Once he opened the gate, we drove down the quarter-mile driveway leading up to the three-story antebellum home.

"My God. It's like something out of a movie," Jordan said.

"Direct to DVD," I corrected. "That's the only place this shitshow of a film is going."

“Do you remember when I used to come out here and help pick muscadines every summer for pocket money?” Rivers asked, his voice sounding almost nostalgic. Of course, I remembered his summers there. Aunt Lurlene used to make me bring him iced tea when it would get really hot outside. Rivers would spendtwenty minutes yammering about his daily haul as he picked grapes from the vine, when all I could do was stare at his body. The way his khakis clung to his ass, and how the fabric complemented his unnecessarily large bulge—the same bulge that’s been straining against his pants all morning.

“Of course, I remember,” I mumble. “I’m not suffering from memory loss, Rivers Rivera.”

He snickered. “Then I guess you remember that time I watched you audition for the cheer squad in high school, too.”

My eyes bulged, because I’d forgotten all about that. Apparently Iwassuffering from memory loss. I could still feel Rivers’ eyes on me, the way they had been during my tryout. At the time, I thought the look he gave me was his way of showing an interest, but after I did a particularly taxing leap, he was gone by the time I nailed the landing. I still believe I would have made the squad if his sudden disappearance hadn’t distracted me.

Rivers parked his truck in front of the house, right beside Aunt Lurlene's beige Lincoln Town Car. As soon as the truck came to a stop, I attempted to open the door, foiled once more when Rivers locked it from the driver's side.

"I'm not playing this game with you again, Rivers Rivera." For the second time that day, I reached across Rivers' lap and unlocked the truck from his side, my face dangerously close to his lips. Then, contact. It lasted less than two seconds, but it happened. His mouth. My cheek.

I could have slapped him for it.

With the door unlocked, I pulled away from Rivers, jerking the handle and shoving it open. I almost tripped during my descent, but managed to steady myself once my feet touched the ground. I wanted to ask him why the hell he needed jacked-up tires that lifted his truck to ungodly heights, but refrained. It was probably just compensation for a tiny—

"Dick," Jordan said, slapping the side of my arm from inside the truck. "Would it kill you to help me out of this thing? I'm not plummeting to the ground again. I almost broke my damn neck last time."

"Don't worry, kiddo," Rivers said as his door slammed shut behind him. Why the hell was he getting out? He'd done his part by dropping us off, his presence was no longer necessary.

He hoisted Jordan out of his seat with ease before setting him gently on the ground. I whirled around on my heel and marched toward the house, hoping he'd take the hint that he was welcome to leave. The arm River wrapped around my shoulder told me the only thing he would be taking was the last of my patience. I eased to the side, trying to dislodge his uninvited arm, but he just pulled me in even closer.

"Oh, for God's sake, Firecracker. It's not like I'm going to mount you on your auntie's lawn. You've gotta learn to loosen up a little."

"I'm loose," I said with a scoff. "I'm the loosest man you'll ever meet!"

Jordan laughed so hard he choked, and Rivers just stared at me with that same shit-eating grin he'd been giving me all morning.

"What? Why are you both staring at me like I've got two heads?" I said, which made Jordan laugh even harder, his voice loud like thunder. "What in the world is wrong with both of you?"

Rivers held up a hand, motioning for me to halt before slowly walking in a circle around me. His eyes were locked on my ass, and after cocking his head to the side, he crossed his arms against his chest and stared.

"What the hell are you doing?" I questioned.

"It doesn't look all that loose to me," he said, shrugging.

I whirled around, speed walking to the front porch, positively scandalized. As soon as I reached the steps that led up to the porch, I caught sight of Aunt Lurlene. She sat stoically on the porch swing, sipping a glass of iced tea, but if history was any indication, at least half of that tea was just tequila.

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