Famous in a Small Town Page 11

  His fingers walked up her spine, and she shivered. She was thinking too much again, and it annoyed the hell out of her. Yes, she wanted to change her bad habits, but couldn’t her newly found conscience shut the heck up for the next fifteen minutes?

  There was one way to shut it up.

  Savannah stepped up on her toes to press her open mouth to Collin’s neck. She could feel the pulse there accelerate. He pulled on the top string of her bikini top and then the bottom string before tossing it to the side. He walked her backward until her back pressed gently into a tree, and she didn’t even care that the bark was rough against her skin. It was merely another stimulating part of this moment with Collin. His rock-hard chest at her front, the tree at her back, and as much time as they wanted to take. The waves of heat rolling across her senses intensified.

  God, but she didn’t want to take this slow. She wanted fast and hard and breathlessness.

  Savannah buried her hands in the hair at his nape and kissed her way up his neck until her lips met his. His hands found her breasts, and when he nipped at her lower lip, she arched her neck so he could do the same to the sensitive skin there. His thumbs flicked against her tight nipples, and Savannah couldn’t hold back the low moan that escaped her throat.

  She had to touch him, had to do more than leave her hands buried in his hair. She loosened his belt and unbuttoned his shorts, letting them fall from his hips. His erection was hard against her hip and she couldn’t resist reaching past the waistband of his boxer briefs to feel his length.

  He was warm in her hand, despite the cool lake water. Warm and hard and, God, she couldn’t see him, but based on the feel there was more enjoyment to be had in a few minutes.

  She worked her hand up and down his shaft, squeezing lightly as she did.

  A lot more enjoyment.

  “Do that much longer and this is going to be over before either of us wants it to be,” he said against her collarbone.

  Savannah released him, but only to push the boxer briefs past his hips. Collin shimmied them down his legs but before she could reach for him again, he went to his knees on the grass beneath the tree.

  Hands at her hips, he pressed kisses to her abdomen, focusing on the little gem that dangled above her belly button. He was close, so close to her core. Her knees nearly buckled when he dipped his tongue into her belly button as if he might drink from her. She fisted one hand in his hair and kept the other firmly against the trunk of the tree, trying to keep herself upright.

  With a flick of his wrist, Collin disposed of her bikini bottoms, and she was naked before him. He pressed a kiss below her belly button and then another farther down her belly, and then his mouth was at the junction of her thighs and he pressed a kiss to the curls there.

  “So sweet,” he said as he pressed a finger inside her.

  Savannah caught her breath and when his thumb found the tight bundle of nerves near his mouth, she forgot to breathe completely. She could only feel. With his fingers and his thumb, he set a rhythm that was as close to torture as Savannah ever wanted to be. She was perched precariously on the fine wire between awareness and blessed oblivion, and she didn’t want it to stop.

  Collin’s mouth replaced his thumb, his tongue teasing her, and it sent her crashing over the edge. The orgasm shook her, made her feel weak and boneless, and if Collin didn’t still have his body against hers, she would have collapsed onto the ground.

  He kissed his way back up her body, his hands hard against her abdomen, and when he kissed her mouth she could taste herself on his lips.

  “More.” She didn’t know where the word came from. She only knew this couldn’t be the end. She wanted more of him, wanted more kissing and touching and, heaven help her, she wanted to feel again that blast of electricity that hit just before he’d sent her crashing into that orgasm.

  She pulled him down onto the towel with her. It was barely wide enough for the two of them, but she didn’t care that she was partially on the soft grass. She only cared that the intricate patterns he drew with his fingers on her belly were making that fire in her veins burn hotter again.

  Collin grabbed his shorts, pulled out his wallet and the plastic-wrapped packet inside.

  “You went swimming with your wallet still in your pocket?”

  “Grabbed it when we passed the four-wheelers,” he said as he opened the packet.

  “Boy Scout.”

  He grinned wickedly at her. “Always Be Prepared has always seemed like a good motto to me.” He rolled the condom over his considerable length, but she didn’t want him taking the lead this time. Savannah pressed her hands against his shoulders and, when his back was on the towel, straddled his hips.

  Savannah put her mouth over his nipple, biting lightly, and Collin hissed in a breath. “I’m no Girl Scout,” she said, “just in case you wondered.”

  “Technically, I was never a Boy Scout, either,” he said and rolled his hips so that his penis teased at her opening.

  Savannah sank down, letting his length fill her. Warmth spread through her. His hands returned to her breasts, kneading and caressing. Savannah began to move, her hips in rhythm with his, sliding up and down his length.

  One of his hands moved to her core, and his thumb found her clit again. The stimulation both inside her body and out was too much, and once more she went crashing over the edge. Collin’s hips pumped into her once, twice more, and then he grunted his own release.

  Savannah sank down on his chest, and listened to his rapid heartbeat.

  It thumped in time with her own. That warmth spread through her chest again, and she slid to the side. Collin’s arms came around her, holding her to him, their legs intertwined. He slid the condom from his length and laid it carefully on top of his briefs.

  When she could speak she said, “Wow.” The word felt inadequate.

  “Yeah,” he said, his breath whispering through her hair as his fingers traced along her shoulder.

  Savannah drew her index finger over his chest, liking the feel of his short, wiry chest hair against her hands. She thought she could lie like this, with this man, forever.

  Collin shifted beneath her. “But this should probably not happen again,” he said. And she went cold.

  She hadn’t expected a declaration of love, not for a one-morning stand. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it wasn’t this...this...blow-off.

  “Another lame excuse about me being Levi’s sister?”

  He was quiet for a long moment, and Savannah sat up. “You realize this isn’t high school, right?” she asked.

  “Yeah. This wouldn’t have happened in high school.”

  “Because you never gave me the time of day back then. But then, I guess you’re really not giving me the time of day now, either, are you? You’re just here to get down and dirty so you can keep presenting the perfect facade you’ve got going to the town.” Savannah stepped into her bikini bottoms and then tied her top with shaking fingers. She couldn’t look at him. “God, I’m an idiot.”

  Collin grabbed his shorts, pulling them over his hips. He stuck the wadded-up boxer briefs in his pocket along with his wallet. “That isn’t what I meant.” He shook his head. “You’re here on a break from your life in Nashville, and as you saw at the farmers’ market, I’ve got my hands full playing the part of father for my teenage sister.” He grabbed her wrist when she turned away. “I didn’t mean I’m sorry this happened, I just meant I need to keep my focus on what’s real and permanent around here.”

  “And I’m not permanent.” The words hurt more than Savannah wanted to admit. She wasn’t here permanently, that was true. Whether her career was over or not, she couldn’t see living in this place where people looked at her as if she were different.

  As if she didn’t belong.

  “Van,” he said, but she shook her hea
d.

  “No, you’re right. I’m leaving, and you have your own things to deal with. You shouldn’t have to add me to that mix.” She picked the towel up off the ground and folded it carefully.

  “Savannah, don’t be angry.”

  “I’m not mad. I’m not anything.” Anything but sad, she added silently. Because, just once, it might be nice if someone like Collin thought she was worth the trouble of getting to the real Savannah. Whoever the real Savannah was. She stepped away from him. “Have a good afternoon.”

  “Savannah—” he said, but she turned to walk back to the four-wheelers.

  At the dock she pulled her T-shirt over her head but threw her jeans and the towel into the little basket on the back of the vehicle, started it up and sped back along the path to the ranch.

  Savannah brushed her hand along her cheek, angry that she was crying over Collin Tyler. Angry she’d had sex with him. Angry she thought coming back here would help her come to terms with the past. She should leave. Find the place where she did belong.

  She stopped the four-wheeler when the path along the lake met the lane that led to the ranch house. Savannah used a corner of the towel to wipe the remnants of her tears from her face. She pulled her shorts over her hips, and did her best to finger-comb her hands through her mass of braids. She wished she had a mirror, just to make sure when she reached the house that she didn’t look like she’d just had sex.

  For the first time since she’d first come to Slippery Rock, though, the prospect of leaving held no shine. She wanted to stay. Not because of Collin. Because of her. People here knew her, and some, like Dana, hated her for reasons she couldn’t fathom. More people, she was beginning to realize, just knew who she was, and didn’t judge her for what might have brought her to the Walters family or Slippery Rock. Being famous in a small town was different from the paparazzi attention that came with being famous in a big city.

  Maybe she didn’t belong in Slippery Rock right this second, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t belong here in the future.

  Maybe, if she worked hard enough, the future could come sooner.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  HE COULDN’T GET Savannah or that morning at the lake out of his head.

  It was just sex. Amazing sex. With an awkward conversation at the end because, while he knew he shouldn’t stay with her, he’d been tempted to do just that. To stay right with her in their little clearing for the rest of the day. To turn that day into a week or maybe a month or...however long he could make it last.

  But he couldn’t blow off work just for sex with Savannah Walters. He had responsibilities. Collin Tyler did the right thing. Responsibilities were the right thing.

  Having sex at the side of the lake on a beach towel with Savannah Walters might have felt right, but it was all kinds of wrong.

  And thinking about it like this was all kinds of obsessive. It had been three days. Three long days and three interminable nights in which he fell asleep imagining the feel of her body under his hands, and woke up sweaty, tangled in sheets he’d dreamed were made of terry cloth. With a raging hard-on.

  He hadn’t taken as many cold showers since he was a sixteen-year-old.

  Collin checked the soil in a few of the greenhouse saplings, but the feel of the soft dirt reminded him of those moments on his knees in front of Savannah. He withdrew his hand as if he’d been burned. Maybe he’d check on things outside the greenhouse. Or he could go to his office to figure out a way for Tyler Orchards to become the supplier for Westfall Foods without losing either their farm stand or the market in town. Both were integral pieces of the orchard that had saved Collin and his sisters all those years ago. He couldn’t turn his back on them now.

  He started for the barn, but saw a blond head in the garden.

  They’d planted Gran’s berry garden a few weeks before and he found Amanda kneeling in the dirt, harvesting a few ripe strawberries.

  “Hey, kid, grabbing an afternoon snack?”

  The strawberry plants were looking good, and the raspberry and blueberry vines, too, he noticed. In another couple of weeks, Gran would have a good harvest, and they would have berries to add to the offerings at the farmers’ market.

  Amanda looked up, bitten strawberry in her hand. “Gran was going to teach me how to make a strawberry pie.” She frowned and then sighed. “But she got tired and went up to take a nap. I thought maybe I’d figure it out on my own.” There was a hopeful glint to her clear blue gaze.

  Collin shook his head. “I know how to grow and pick the food around here. Baking it is beyond me.” Her gaze fell.

  “Can’t be too hard,” she mumbled, and snapped a few more strawberries off the plant, dropping them into the bowl at her knees.

  Maybe he could struggle through an afternoon in the kitchen. It would take all his concentration, which would mean less time for thoughts about Savannah. And he still had three weeks to come to a decision about the Westfall offer.

  Collin bent and snapped off a few strawberries.

  “Maybe I could figure it out.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I know.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter. Seventeen-year-olds know how to cook without burning down a house.” She picked up the bowl of berries, holding it to her chest.

  “Did I ever tell you about me, Levi and Adam, Home Ec class and a cherry cheesecake that looked like something someone had vomited up?” He put his arm around Amanda’s shoulder and began walking to the house with her.

  “We’d mixed all the main ingredients, but Adam thought the cherries should be combined into the mix. It was already beginning to mold so Levi grabs a mixer from another station, Adam dumps the can of cherries into the bowl, and Levi starts mixing them. And the cheesecake is starting to look pink, like Pepto-Bismol, and I’m thinking there is no way this can be right. But there was no turning back.”

  Amanda giggled. “The cherries go over the cheesecake. You guys were idiots.”

  “Yeah, that goes without saying. So we pour the three or four cherries that were left in the can over the cheesecake and stick it in the fridge.”

  “Did you fail?”

  “No, our teacher gave us a C for creativity. It didn’t taste half-bad, if you could get past the look of it. Gran banned me from the kitchen after that.”

  “And so you never learned how to cook?”

  “I can do toast. Eggs. Some pasta, as long as the sauce is from a can. Stuff that doesn’t call for a recipe.” They reached the kitchen, and Amanda began washing the strawberries. “Speaking of, do you have the recipe?”

  She pointed to the wooden recipe clip shaped like a small iron that Collin had made their grandmother for Mother’s Day one year. He read the recipe. Didn’t seem too daunting. He arranged pots, a pie plate and the other ingredients.

  “You don’t have to waste your day spending time with me. I’m used to entertaining myself,” his sister said.

  “I don’t mind,” he said absently as he read the recipe.

  When Amanda plopped the bowl of berries on the counter, droplets of water sprayed the paper and Collin’s arms.

  “You want to cut the berries, and I’ll start mixing dough for the crust?” She shrugged, which Collin decided was as close to a yes as he was going to get. He handed her the cutting board and began mixing the crust ingredients.

  “I haven’t asked what your plans are for the summer.” School released the day he’d met Savannah at the lake. Three days ago. Damn it, he needed to stop using sex with Savannah as a time measurement device. Collin punched the dough in the mixing bowl.

  “I assume I’m still on work duty for the farmers’ market and the roadside stand.”

  “Of course, but you don’t have to be at either 24/7.”

  Amanda scraped the tops of the cut strawber
ries into the trash, checked the recipe and began making the sauce while Collin rolled the dough into the shape of a piecrust. It was cool and smooth, like Savannah’s skin when they’d first left the water.

  Cooking sucked.

  “You don’t even listen to me when we’re working on something together.” Amanda dumped the strawberries into saucepan on the stove and stormed out of the kitchen.

  What had he done now? Collin sighed. He wiped his hands on a red-checked towel, clicked off the stove burner and removed the pan from the hot element. He turned off the oven and hung the towel over the handle on the oven door.

  He found her sitting in the gazebo swing in the side yard. Their grandfather had built it to look like a miniature version of the big barn, with swings on two sides. Collin slipped through one of the open ends and sat across from her.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t listening. I had...” He considered his words. “Something else on my mind. It’s a terrible excuse. I’m sorry.”

  She wouldn’t look at him.

  “Amanda.”

  She curled one leg under her, leaning against the arm of the swing as she pushed her other foot against the floor. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Except that it did. He sucked at parenting. He’d been using his sister as a distraction from Savannah when the two of them had already decided not to go any further with whatever was pushing the attraction between them. He’d never been one to get preoccupied with sex, but since that morning with Savannah it was all he could think about.

  “You matter, kid, and I’m sorry I screwed up the kitchen thing. I’m not sure how to be your parent, but I’m trying.”

  “You could start by not being my parent. I’ve already got two lousy ones.” She chewed on her lower lip.

  Collin lightly kicked her foot with his. “You need someone, and while Gran’s still sick, I’m what you’ve got.”

  “Great.”

  He sighed. With any other teen, he might think the attitude was overly dramatic, but he’d never known Amanda to go for that kind of thing. And he had been a jerk in the kitchen. For longer than that, actually.