I rise from the murky water that comes up to my waist, gasping for air. I’m soaked from head to toe, and loose leaves and twigs are tangled in my brown locks. My clothes cling to my body like a second skin. My feet feel as if they weigh a ton. My boots are filled with water, and stick deep down in the mud. It’s deathly quiet around me. I’m sure everyone is waiting to see how I will react to Wes’ little stunt. I fake being pissed as I cross my arms over my chest, dip my eyebrows down, and jut out my hip as much as possible. I point what I hope is a glare in Wes’ direction. I want him to think I’m pissed. I may have covered him in mud, but I’m soaked, and he will be, too, if I have anything to say about it. “She looks pissed, dude!” Someone shouts from behind me.
Wes’ humorous expression slowly slips off his face. I can tell he’s really starting to think I’m pissed. He inches closer to the water’s edge cautiously. “I’m sorry. I thought it would be funny. Are you really pissed?”
“Do I look like I’m pissed?” I ask incredulously while I subtly work my boots free from the mud. “I’m fucking stuck here. My boots are filled with water, and they feel like they’re stuck at least ten inches deep in the mud.” I throw my arms up in the air.
In no time, Wes races to my rescue. He jumps in the water and runs awkwardly toward me. He doesn’t know what I have planned, but soon, he will find out. As soon as he’s within reach, I leap out of water and onto him, and pull us backwards into the dreary depths.
Large, strong hands grasp onto my waist as I’m lifted out of the murky water. “Hahaha…. I so got you,” I say, spitting dirty water from my mouth and laughing. People laugh and yell obscenities while I wipe my drenched hair away from my face. I blink the water out of my eyes as I lean into Wes’ hold.
His arms tighten around my waist as he says in that deep gruff timbre that sets me on fire, “We’re one for one, now.”
A shiver races up my spine and tingles descend to the apex of my thighs. “I guess we are.”
“Now, how about that ride?” Ahh… the innuendo behind that phrase. I don’t want him to think it means more than just the ride on the four-wheeler. But the way things have been going between us these past few days, I know better.
“Sure.” Wes places one arm under my knees and the other behind my back, and lifts me out of the water. My arms find their way around his neck. “What are you doing?” I ask quietly when I notice the curious stares coming from everyone else around us.
“I’d hate for you to get stuck again.” And just like that, everyone else around us fades as I laugh.
“Good point,” I reply with a smile and a nod of my head.
When we reach the four-wheeler, Wes deposits me on the seat. I scoot back when he grips the handlebars and throws one leg over the seat. Just as he sits down, I bind my arms around his incredibly toned waist when Brantley comes running over to us. “Hey man.” He claps him on the shoulder. “Kenleigh.” He nods his head toward me.
“Hey, Brantley,” I reply.
“First, I just wanted to say that the other day I was out of line. I shouldn’t have said anything,” He looks at Wes with regret in his eyes.
“It’s cool. I get it.”
“We’re good, then?” Brantley asks Wes skeptically.
“Yeah, man, we’re good.”
“Alright then. You remember the pond we all used to go to?” Brantley asks as he looks at Wes who nods. “That’s where we’re going. And Jackie said she’ll meet us there before the fire tonight.”
The muscles in Wes’ stomach tense under my hold at the mention of Jackie’s name. A chuckle escapes me as I think about how much her name alone irks him. I don’t know why I find it funny, but I do. I mean, I know she can talk a lot, but she’s not that bad. Maybe, it’s because I always found it funny when a girl hit on a guy that I dated. I mean, Jarred got hit on all the time, and it never bothered me. I’m not really the jealous type. I am a woman and have my insecurities, but as long as my man comes home with me, and boundaries aren’t crossed, I could care less who hits on my boyfriend. Dating? Is that what we’re doing? “Okay, we’ll follow behind everyone,” Wes answers.
I rest my cheek against his back, a smile of contentment on my face, as he and Brantley continue to talk. But my smile soon fades when I see daggers shooting at me from across the way by Leslie. Wes’ strong, warm hands cover mine as he looks back over his shoulder at me. “You ready to go?”
I nod my head against his back. The cotton shirt, stiff from air-drying, moves up and down with my movement. “Yep. Whenever you are.”