That thought makes me uncomfortable, so I change the subject. Slamming my hand down on the table, I say, “Let’s hit the next and last bar. I’ve only got room for one more shot.”

  “Masha’s?” Erica asks, standing up. “If so, I’ll tell Hank to hang here, and we’ll walk over and come back when we’re ready to leave.”

  Masha’s sits one block down and is our favorite place to hang out. In the summer, Coudersport gets touristy because of all the great fishing, but Masha’s is where the locals congregate. In a small town, that’s mostly a lot of fun because it’s people you’ve known all your life.

  We walk in and immediately see Cici holding court with her cronies, so we veer in the opposite direction. There aren’t any tables available, but I see Alex and Sarah at the end of the bar and head that way.

  After a round of hugs—we went to high school with both of them, although they were two years behind us—Alex puts in an order for tequila shots and graciously adds it to his tab. He and Sarah are high school sweethearts but haven’t married, and both will tell you they’re happy the way things are. Alex works in sales at his dad’s car dealership, and Sarah is a dental hygienist and has the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen on a woman.

  The shots arrive, and we toast to friendship. This makes number four for me, so I’m done, but Hayley and Erica want another. Ann Marie has gone off to play pool in the back room with Xander Gaither, a science teacher from her school who she’s friends with but hopes for something more. I think Xander feels the same, but neither will make the move. I should have encouraged her to take another shot to loosen up, and then maybe she’d have the guts to proposition him.

  Look at me go.

  I have one wild sexual encounter, and now I apparently want everyone to hook up.

  Sipping on water, I hang with my friends while they do yet another shot. We’re having fun with Alex and Sarah. When Hank comes over, he and Erica snuggle together at the bar.

  After about half an hour, though, the tequila has settled in to mostly make me sleepy. I’m exhausted as I didn’t sleep well last night, my head too screwed up by everything that’s happened the last few days—Coen serving me with an injunction and then giving me an orgasm.

  It’s been very confusing.

  “I think I’m going to call an Uber and go home,” I say to Hayley as she waits at the bar for the next round.

  “I’m sure Hank will take you.”

  “Nah. I’m just going to say goodbye to Ann Marie.” I accept a hug from Hayley and wave to Erica when I catch her eye.

  As I head toward the back room, I grimace seeing that I have to walk past Cici and her group. It’s not just her and the regular mean girls who tortured me and my friends during high school, but several of the bully guys too. Basically, the sports jocks who dated Cici and her cheerleader buddies.

  I find the elitism within their group funny, especially since none of them have done anything extraordinary with their lives. Two of the four girls got married and pregnant almost immediately after graduating high school. One of the girls still lives with her parents because she can’t hold down a job, and Cici is the seating hostess at the nice steakhouse in town.

  Sure, I’m still here in my hometown, but I went off to college and got a degree, and I’m an entrepreneur trying to open her own art studio. I shouldn’t feel nervous to have to walk past a group of nasty women who pick on others to feel better about themselves.

  I make it almost all the way, but a hand latches on to my shoulder. “Tillie… come join us for a drink.”

  It’s Cooper Ogden. Former captain of the football team, dated Cici at one point in high school, broke up with her, got another girl in town pregnant but didn’t marry her, and now I’ve heard he’s dating Cici again.

  Cooper pushes me into the middle of their group, letting me go to slide an arm around Cici who’s sucking on a lollipop in a porny way, and just… gross.

  Another arm goes around my shoulders, and it’s Pete Summers, Cooper’s best friend. “Hey, Tillie… do some shots with us.”

  “Um, no thank you,” I say, trying to extricate myself.

  “No thank you.” Cici cackles, and her girlfriends follow suit. “How proper.”

  “Don’t be so uptight,” Pete croons, pulling me back into him, wrapping an arm around the front of my chest. He bends and whispers near my ear, “How much alcohol will it take to pry those legs apart?”

  “Charming,” I mutter as I struggle against his hold.

  “Come on, Tillie Hillbilly.” Everyone’s laughing at my nickname, and it’s egging Pete on. “If you let me fuck you, you can hang out with us.”

  I jab hard with my elbow, catching him in the ribs, and he releases me.

  “What in the hell is wrong with you?” I yell at him. I then gesture to the group as a whole, fueled by the tequila. “You people are the worst humanity has to offer, and for the life of me, I can’t imagine why you all think you’re so special.”

  The laughter stops and malice gleams in Cici’s eyes. But before she can open her mouth to say something, Pete’s hand shoots out and grabs my wrist. He draws me in slowly, his leering gaze moving down my body. I’m in a casual summer dress, but he makes me feel naked the way he’s checking me out.

  “Let go, Pete,” I snarl, trying to yank my hand away.

  “Cute little kitten,” he chuckles. “Do you scratch?”

  A large hand reaches over my shoulder from behind and clamps on Pete’s wrist. “She doesn’t scratch, but I sure as hell punch, and I punch hard. I’d let her go if I were you.”

  A shudder runs up my spine as I recognize Coen’s voice. I don’t have time to turn and look at him because Pete lets go of me so fast, I stumble backward.

  Coen steadies me with one arm while still holding Pete’s wrist. “If you touch her again,” he says in a low voice, “I will make you swallow your own teeth.”

  “Yeah, man… sure, I’ve got it,” Pete rushes to assure Coen, who then releases his wrist.

  Coen looks around at the group, all staring at him wide-eyed. “As for the rest of you, grow the fuck up. You act like middle schoolers with your petty bullying.” Taking my hand, he says, “Let’s go.”

  I don’t even think to object as he pulls me away and I follow along behind him. When we’re clear, he drops my hand and turns to me. “You okay?”

  “Um… yeah.”

  “Good.” He holds my gaze a second, nods, and then moves toward a table in the corner.

  Once again, he’s surprised the hell out of me, only to turn and walk away.

  CHAPTER 11

  Coen

  “Wait a minute.” Tilden’s voice slows my step, but it’s her hand grabbing a fistful of my T-shirt that turns me around to face her.

  She doesn’t let go and jerks forward with my momentum. She stumbles into me, and my hands go to her hips to steady her.

  When she’s upright, I let go, only to have her tilt slightly to the left.

  Frowning, I put one hand to her shoulder and ask, “Are you drunk?”

  “No way,” she scoffs, brushing me away. “Just a tiny bit buzzed.”

  “How much have you had to drink?”

  She lifts her gaze up to the ceiling, and her lips move silently as she counts. “Four.”

  “Four what?”

  “Tequila shots.”

  “You’re drunk,” I say with confidence.

  “It was over three hours, and I’ve had water for the last half hour. I’m not drunk, but I’m tipsy. Which is why I was on my way home.”

  “You can’t drive.”

  She smirks and rolls her eyes. “No shit, Sherlock. But even as small as Coudersport is, we do have Uber.”

  My gaze moves to the end of the bar where she was hanging out earlier. I’d been watching her since she walked in with a group of girls and met up with some other friends. I watched her down one shot of tequila, and I only knew it was tequila by the whole salt and lime routine, but otherwise, she drank water.

  I was out for a quiet beer or two, tired of looking at the inside of my house and tired of feeding the chipmunks who I keep leaving peanuts out for. It’s time for me to integrate into this town, and I was bucked up to handle curious fans. Funnily enough, no one approached me. I was recognized, no doubt, but I think it’s my “fuck the world” attitude and the “fuck off” look on my face that kept people at bay.

  Looking back at her, I ask, “What did you want?”

  She appears confused and bites her lower lip, which looks way too good on her.

  The lip thing, that is.

  “What do you mean, what did I want?” she asks.

  I can’t figure out if she’s being obtuse or intentionally annoying. “You grabbed my shirt. Yelled at me to wait.”

  “Oh, that,” she replies with a laugh. “I just wanted to thank you for the save back there.”

  “It was nothing,” I assure her. Like I do it for people all the time, though in truth, I don’t. It’s been a long time since I’ve given enough of a fuck about anyone to summon the energy to help out.

  Not sure what it says about me when I saw that fuckwad put his hands on Tilden, and she was clearly uncomfortable, that I was striding over there with the sole thought of pounding him into the ground.

  “Anyway,” she says, and I blink, pulling out of my baffling thoughts. “Thanks again.”

  She turns to walk back toward the group of bullies, which makes me reach out for her. I grab her shoulder and turn her around. “I thought you said you were leaving.”

  Throwing a thumb over her shoulder, she says, “I am, but I’m going into the back room to say goodbye to one of my friends.” She glances at Cici and her group, all huddled close and watching us warily. “Doesn’t look like they’ll give me trouble again. At least for tonight, anyway.”

  Funny how just seconds ago, I was okay with walking away from her, but as she turns to leave, I reach out and stop her again. I tell myself not to say the words, but they come out, anyway. “If you’re leaving, I’ll give you a ride.”

  “I don’t want to impose—”

  “You live next door to me. It’s not an imposition.”

  She chews on her lip again, and it makes me want to lick her. “It’s a nice offer and all, but we really don’t know each other—”

  Utterly ridiculous.

  I bend down to put my lips near her ear. “After what I did to you yesterday against that tree you’re not chopping down, I’d say we know each other well enough.”

  I didn’t know that blushing could be a beauty feature, but the red tint to her cheeks and the tiny gust of air she blows out of her mouth at my reminder is sexy as fuck. She’s so discombobulated, she can’t even argue with me about the tree.

  Nodding toward the back room, I say, “Go say goodbye to your friend. I’m parked a few blocks down, so I’ll pull up in front for you.”

  She stares at me a long moment, and I think she might say no. I’m already figuring out an argument around it, but she nods. “Okay, then.”

  My gut twists slightly, and I’m not sure if it’s relief she accepted my offer or fear that she accepted my offer. I don’t want to be around her, but I do want to be around her.

  I might be going fucking crazy, but based on the shit storm of my life lately, this doesn’t seem all that insane.

  By the time I get my truck and pull up in front of Masha’s, Tilden is standing out front. The way her pretty dress wraps around her curves definitely caught my attention in the bar.

  She sees my truck and reaches for the handle before I even make a full stop. She lets herself in rather than waiting for me to get out and open the door for her.

  Not that I would have done that, but it’s relieving to see she doesn’t expect it. After what we shared yesterday, I don’t know what she might assume.

  Once she’s in the truck and belted in, I take off for the under-ten-minute drive to our side of the mountain. I try to avoid looking at her legs that are slightly exposed when the hem of her dress rides up.

  It’s quiet, and the silence is both awkward and acceptable. I’m just being a nice guy—odd, yes, I know—by offering her a ride home. We can put aside our differences for at least ten minutes.

  Took way less than ten minutes to make her come yesterday.

  I grit my teeth for letting those thoughts permeate my brain. I’ve got to quit thinking about it, but truth is, I’d kill for a taste of her again.

  We’re no more than a mile from her driveway when she breaks the silence, and it causes my skin to prickle. “Why did you do that to me?”

  It’s not good to take my eyes off the dark, winding roads, but I shoot her a quick glance. She’s turned in her seat to face me, and the dashboard illumination makes her eyes look slightly haunted by the question.

  Or maybe it’s the possible answer that has her worried.

  I don’t even think to lie and give it to her as plain as could be. “Because I wanted to.”

  “But why?” she presses.

  I glance at her again before I have to give my attention to her property looming ahead. I flick my blinker on. “Why does any guy want in a girl’s pants?”

  “You’re not any guy,” she points out as I hang a left into her driveway. “You’re famous. A professional athlete. I’m nothing special. On top of that, you hate me. So it stands to reason you had a very defined and probably calculated plot, and I’m wondering if it’s because you think it gives you control over me. I want to assure you, it does not.”

  I slow the truck to a stop and put it in park. Every bit of her little speech was adorable, except when she said she’s nothing special.

  I mean… she’s something, but I don’t know what.

  The old Coen, the one who loitered aimlessly in the time between the plane crash and me putting my tongue on her pussy, would have said something crass to knock her down.

  For the life of me, I can’t find it within to be an asshole right now. I merely say, “It wasn’t calculated. It was lust, and that can’t be calculated.”

  “Lust,” she repeats softly, those eyebrows drawing inward as she removes her seat belt. The upward lilt on the word lust makes it sound like an incredulous question. She can’t comprehend it.

  I wait for a follow-up, some demand that I prove it with affirmation of my attraction to her.

  Instead, she nods. “Okay.” She pulls the handle and the truck door pops open. She glances back. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  I’m mildly stunned when she hops out and shuts the door. In my headlights, I watch her walk up to her front entry, fiddle in her purse for keys, and without a backward look to me, slip inside.

  I don’t put my truck in reverse. A light comes on inside her cabin, but I can’t see what she’s doing as the front blinds are all closed.

  I should go home.

  Put her out of my mind once and for all. Leave her be until I see her in court. I have absolutely no reason to see or talk to her again.

  And yet, I find myself turning off the ignition and opening the truck door. I slide out, shut it, and walk up to the porch. A light comes on in a window to the right, a soft glow—maybe a lamp.

  Her bedroom?

  Turn around and go home, Coen.

  I glance back at my truck, curse under my breath, and knock.

  Tillie is quiet, light on her feet, and I don’t know she’s come to the door until it swings open. She’s still wearing that dress, but her feet are bare.

  Tilden tips her head. “Coen?”

  Fuck… why does she have to sound all breathy and wanting? Why doesn’t she look pissed I’m bothering her? I’m the fucking enemy.

  What to say? How do I even tell her I want her, but I don’t want to want her? How do I let myself have this and still pay penance for my sins against Kyle?

  “Is something wrong?” she asks, voice thick with concern.

  I sigh, a quiet admission of defeat. “Yeah… everything’s wrong,” I growl as I walk into her.

  With a flash of her wide golden eyes, her lips part on a gasp, and then my mouth is on hers. Escape from me is not an option, so my hands press to her cheeks, my thumbs under her jaw. I walk her backward into her house as I kiss the ever living fuck out of the woman, and once I’m across the threshold, I kick the door shut behind me.

  Lifting my lips ever so slightly from hers, I growl, “If you want me to stop, tell me now and I’ll walk out of here.”

  Fingernails score into my chest through the soft cotton of my T-shirt. I hadn’t realized her hands were on me, but she shakes her head. “No, I don’t want you to stop.”

  “Thank fuck.” I bring my mouth back to hers and slide my tongue in deep.

  I haul Tilden up with my hands under her ass, just as I lifted her yesterday and walked her into a tree. Except this time, I want to go somewhere else. “Bedroom?”

  Sliding her hands into my hair, she tilts her head and brushes her lips over my jaw, and I swear I feel that soft touch in my balls. “Down the hall. First door on the right.”

  Easy enough. I have her through the door and on her bed in no time flat. Covering her body with mine, I assault her mouth again. Pinning her in place, I enjoy the taste of tequila and lime on her tongue as I try to rein in the desperation of my kiss.

  Tilden pulls at my shirt. She yanks it free of my jeans and pushes it up my stomach before running her hands along my skin. Her palms are soft and warm. Her fingernails scrape over my nipples, sending a tingle up my spine.

  Christ, it’s been so long since someone’s touched me like this, I’m in sensory overload.

  I grab the hem of her dress and yank it upward, running my hand along the outside of her leg. More satiny skin until I reach the textured edge of her lace panties. I flirt with elastic as I kiss her before plunging my fingers underneath to find her wet.

  Tilden bucks when I sink a finger inside her, and her body goes rigid when I drag it over her clit. She moans, rotating her hips, and resumes jerking at my shirt trying to get it off.

  I oblige, rearing up to tear it off and freeze in place as I take her in. She’s staring at my chest, eyes running over my abdomen, and she presses her fingers to the trail of hair below my navel. She drags it to the button of my jeans, and I hold my breath as she slides her hand lower and presses her palm to my erection that is achingly constricted right now. I huff out a curse and close my eyes as she squeezes. My heart slams against my rib cage, and I don’t know that I’ve ever wanted to fuck a woman more than I do at this moment.