Page 38 of Meet Me in the Valley
“Look at our boys. I love them so m-much,” Audrey hiccups, then snorts. “Donovan is sooo sexy. I can’t believe I get to m-marry him. How’d I get so l-lucky? Hmm?” Audrey’s words slur together. Her tequila breath fans my ear, and I can’t help but giggle at her inebriated state.
I glance toward the lawn just in time to see Logan and Donovan wrap up their wrestling match. Their eyes lock onto Audrey and me. Logan whispers something to Donovan, one eyebrow flicking up wildly. Matching smirks stretch across their faces as their eyes bore down on us.
I know that look. They’re coming for us.
I tug on Audrey’s sleeve. “Auds. Get up.” She groans, trying to rest her head back on my shoulder, completely unbothered.
But they’re stalking closer now, grins sharp and full of trouble.
“Audrey,” I hiss, nudging her harder. “We need to go. Like, now.” She whines again, slow to move. So I make the only choice I can.
I abandon her.
I yelp as Logan and Donovan suddenly take off, sprinting toward us like we’re helpless prey.
I think it’s a full sprint. Honestly, everything’s a blur.
Audrey immediately surrenders, collapsing dramatically onto the grass as Donovan dives on top of her, pretending to maul her neck like some rabid animal.
“Tia! Help me!” Audrey shrieks between laughter and breathless cries.
I don’t stop. I tried to save her. She chose vibes over survival.
I’m in a full sprint now, no idea where I’m headed.
Doesn’t matter.
The wind’s in my face, my heartbeat’s in my ears, and my laughter floats behind me like a second shadow.
“You can’t outrun me!” Logan growls from behind me, giving me the chase of my life. I see Kerry and Wyatt in the distance, smoking a joint and hitting golf balls into the open clearing behind Audrey and Donovan’s property. I call out to them to help me. Kerry is the first to respond, passing the joint hastily to Wyatt as I run into his waiting arms.
“Kerry! Don’t let him get me!” I screech, finding refuge behind him as he and Logan stand off in what looks like two male birds trying to court a female bird. They look so stupid and sound even more absurd with the questionable noises they’re making.
I’m on the ground clutching my stomach, battling with uncontrollable laughter. Wyatt shakes his head with a grunt, hitting a golf ball into the clearing while sucking in a long drag from the joint.
“You shall not pass!” Kerry shouts at Logan, in his best Gandalf impression. From my vantage point—horizontal in the grass—I lock eyes with Logan, who looks like a man crazed. I show him my favorite finger expletive, which serves to rile him up more. Kerry is too high and drunk to protect me, and this grass feels like a soft blanket.
I’ll just stay here and accept my fate.
A groan and a thud land right by my ear. My so-called protector is down, curled on the ground and clutching his balls like his life depends on it.
“F-ff-uuuckkk you, Harper!” Kerry wheezes. Then, with dramatic flair, “I’m sorry, my princess Tia.”
Wyatt cackles and casually jabs Kerry’s ass with the end of his golf club. More laughter tumbles out of me right before I’m suddenly lifted off the ground with a squeal, slung over a strong shoulder like I weigh nothing.
Logan.
My fists pound against his back, but he doesn’t slow. He’s running fast toward the vineyard, the world bouncing with every step. And every time I wriggle in protest, he swats my ass like it’s part of the game.
We tumble to the ground when his hand cups the back of my head to protect me from hitting it. Logan straddles over my hips, lifting my arms over my head and burying his face into thecrook of my neck. The stubble on his chin tickles my sensitive skin, sending warmth through me at the contact. I’m laughing so hard that no sound is leaving my mouth, just silent laughter with gasps of air in between.
“You have no way of escaping me now,” Logan murmurs into my neck, nuzzling his way across my collarbone and under my chin. I can’t breathe, and I’m pretty sure the world is spinning, making my vision blur and my senses muddled. The closeness of him—the weight of his body pressing into me—makes my thighs squeeze together. I’m drunk and I’m high on his scent, mixed with earth, sweat, and citrus.
I tilt my pelvis up on him on instinct when his movement comes to a halt. His eyes bore into mine as his grip tightens on my wrists above my head. We breathe the same breath, no words exchanged. Only energy. Only curiosity. Only lust. I know he feels it, too. He has to.
It’s been a wicked game of edging all night. Every glance he throws my way drips with seduction, each one pulling me deeper under. The higher we get, the harder it is to stay away—like gravity itself is giving in.
Now, with the delicious weight of him pressing against me, the intensity in his gaze is too much. My heart kicks into overdrive, thundering in my chest.
