Price:
He’s just as hurt as you.
I snorted.
Doubtful.
I pocketed my phone and ignored the next buzz. I wasn’t interested in hearing Price defend Will.
Daisy came up and snuffled her muzzle into my hand, then looked up at me pleadingly. She had what looked like icing on her fur, and she was definitely wet. With what, I could only guess. But I hoped it was water.
“You ready to go, girl?”
She gave a plaintive woof. I didn’t blame her.
I looked over to where Devon stood, still in conversation with Miss Betty, and ignored the way my stomach twinged. The text from my mother had reminded me that I couldn’t let myself believe that anything permanent would happen with Devon. It didn’t matter that I loved Devon. Because I did. So much. But when had my love ever been enough?
23
AARON
LATE SEPTEMBER IN Alabama was almost never cold. Not even close. But today? When I sat in my swim trunks in a dunk tank filled with frigid water? The temps were in the upper fifties and the sun was hidden behind a thick layer of clouds. Even the humidity had taken the day off. I glanced over at my brothers, both of them dry and fully clad in jeans and long-sleeve shirts, and hated my life.
The only bonus was I hadn’t been dunked yet. I looked back at the woman holding the baseball and squinting in my direction. “Try all you want, Lacey, but we both know your aim has been terrible since grade school!”
Lacey Patterson made a face at me and her friends joined her. “Shut up, Aaron,” she said. “I’m getting you this time.”
She wouldn’t. But that was the whole point of the firehouse dunk tank at the annual fair: we’d lure people over—okay, women, it was almost all women and the occasional jealous boyfriend or husband—tease them mercilessly while they threw ball after ball, and put the money we made toward the firehouse. My brothers and I were always in the rotation; Chief made certain to guilt us into it every year.
I didn’t mind it. It was a few hours in the tank, and most years it was an almost pleasant experience. This year, though? One, it was cold in here, and two, I would much rather have spent my day off in bed with Devon, my face between her legs, listening to her moan as I brought her to climax. And once I’d made her come, I’d slide into her and watch the way her eyes widened as I pushed in. I’d been on-shift three of the last seven days and had not had nearly my fill of Devon’s body.
Fuck. Now I was almost hard. I shifted on the unforgiving plastic seat and re-focused on Lacey. “You throwing that thing or what?”
Lacey wound up and pitched the baseball toward the bulls-eye…and missed. Again.
I laughed and shrugged at the glare she gave me. “That was your last one, Lace. Try again later!”
She shook her head and started to walk away. “Nah, but thanks for the view,” she called. “It’s always my favorite part of the fair.” She winked, then left with her friends.
I focused back on the front of the line and stopped. Devon had appeared out of nowhere, jaw-droppingly gorgeous in leggings and a sweater that very helpfully showed off her ass and a thin strip of her stomach. She adjusted the brim of her baseball cap, then held up a ball.
“Pretty sure you’re not allowed to cut in line,” I called to her.
She tossed the ball back and forth. “I bought my way in,” she said, grinning mischievously. “Hell of a line you’ve pulled over here.”
“They come every year,” Will said, wandering too close to the booth for comfort.
“Do not get closer, asshole,” I warned. I knew exactly what he was up to.
Devon kept tossing the ball between her hands. “Did I tell you I played softball growing up?”
Shit. “Really?”
She nodded. “Really.”
“What position?”
“Third.”
Shit. I didn’t even remember the private school having a softball or baseball team. “Guess I’m getting wet.”
As she laughed, I caught movement out of the side of my vision. “Don’t you dare,” I said and pointed at Will.
Will shrugged.
Devon got into position and peered at the target. “I’d say I was sorry for this, but I’d be lying.” She wound up and threw.
And missed.
I crowed. “Ha! How long’s it been since you threw a ball?”
She stuck her tongue out and readied to throw again. “Shut up and prepare to be dunked.”
She missed again.
“So your team,” I called. “Did you all win when you played?”
She pursed her lips. “Oh, you think you’re funny.”
