Page 57 of When the Storm Breaks
“Right back at you. But we don’t have to make this complicated.”
He wasn’t talking about the Texas two-step, so I nodded, acknowledging I’d heard him and understood what he was saying. “I just want to have some fun while I’m here. So how about you show a Louisiana girl a good time, Texas-style?”
“Well, I happen to be pretty damn good at showing a girl a good time.”
I didn’t doubt that for a minute. He led, and I followed and we two-stepped right out the back door and onto the porch. When the third song ended, he dipped me so low to the ground, my hair touched the floorboards. His lips met mine briefly before he pulled away, his face so close to mine, shadowed in the moonlight. “That’s how you two-step, darlin’.”
I was laughing when he pulled me up off the floor and back into his arms.
Five minutes later, I was straddling him on the Adirondack chair, his jeans unbuttoned, boxer briefs shoved down by my hands to free him from the confines of denim and cotton. His hands spanned my waist and I lifted up and wrapped my hand around him, guiding him to my entrance. I dragged the tip through my slick folds as his hands cupped and kneaded my breasts, his mouth latching onto the right one and his tongue and teeth sucking and biting.
Slowly, ever so slowly, I sank down on him until he was buried to the hilt. I kissed my cowboy while I rode him hard, his fingers digging into the soft skin as his hands gripped my hips and I held onto the back of the chair.
Now,that’show you show a girl a good time.
* * *
The next afternoonI was sitting on the back porch, working on my new music when Ridge appeared in my peripheral. He was wearing basketball shorts again but this time he wasn’t shirtless. The sleeves of his Chicago Bulls T-shirt had been cut off and there was a rip in the collar. Unlike Brody, he didn’t have a Texan drawl or even a Southern accent which made me wonder if he grew up in Chicago. If so, ending up here must have been a culture shock for him.
Ridge was young, only seventeen, but he already had all the makings of a heartbreaker. Beautiful. Cocky. Trouble with a capital T. Exactly the kind of guy I would have fallen for as a teen. I don’t know exactly what it was but something about him reminded me of Dean.
I just hoped he’d stay away from drugs and out of the kind of trouble Dean had always found himself in. As a teen, anytime property was vandalized or there’d been a robbery, the cops in our town had always questioned Dean. It didn’t matter if he’d been nowhere near the scene of the crime, they wanted to pin it on him. The Bouchon family had a reputation in our town and nothing said about them was ever good.
He stopped at the bottom of my porch steps and I looked up from my guitar and smiled.
“Hey Ridge. What’s up?”
He chewed on his full bottom lip, not looking as confident or as cocky as he had when I’d first met him. It was that damn vulnerability that had always gotten me about Dean too. And why the hell was I thinking about Dean? Probably because today was his twenty-eighth birthday and he was spending it in rehab. Not the fancy, spa-like rehab either. More like a prison.
“I was wondering ... if you’re not busy sometime... do you think you could teach me a few chords?” He shrugged one shoulder like it was no big deal and my answer wouldn’t matter to him one way or another. But I could tell it had taken a lot for him to come over here and ask me for a favor.
“I’m free right now. Is this a good time for you?”
His face broke into a smile and there was nothing cocky about it. It was bright, and it was genuine, and God help the girls if he ever bestowed that smile on them. They wouldn’t stand a chance.
“Yeah. Works for me.”
“Cool. Then come on up and let’s get started.”
Chapter Eighteen
Brody
“If Ridge is bothering you,just say the word and I’ll tell him to stop hanging around.” Which was what he’d been doing every day after school for the past week. Now it was Friday evening and I’d been invited to dinner but so had Ridge. He was in the shower when I left him at the house to come over here.
“He’s not bothering me at all. I love hanging out with him. He’s picking up the guitar really fast too. You might have a budding rock star on your hands.”
Just what I needed. Ridge already thought he was a rock star. “You didn’t have to invite him to dinner.”
She smacked my arm with the wooden spoon in her hand. The same spoon she was using to stir her ‘world-famous gumbo.’ “He’s your brother. I didn’t want him to have to eat alone. Besides, I made enough for an army.”
“You obviously haven’t seen how much Ridge eats.”
“I’ve seen you eat. That’s why I made enough for an army.” She turned down the heat under the pot and left it to simmer then turned to face me. I handed her the cold beer I’d opened for her and she took it from my hand with a smile. “Thanks, baby.”
I wasbabynow. Okay. Not that I minded. Coming from those lush lips, I’d answer to just about anything. “After dinner, he’s out of here.”
“Not only are you a bad loser, you don’t like sharing either?” she teased.
