The Co-op

Chapter Twenty-Nine

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

DEACON

It’s past dark by the time we finish the campground cleanup and get set up for the barbecue. The holiday celebrations seem like they get bigger every year, but I pity anyone that tries to tell my mother to dial it back. I should’ve figured she’d end this year’s trip early when she realized it fell over the Fourth.

There’s a dunk tank, a popcorn machine, a bottle toss and a ring toss game, plus a dance floor that will no doubt see much more action than anyone thinks, what with Jensen and Elyse in charge of creating a playlist.

“You ready?” I ask LaRynn after she’s set down a bucket full of sparklers. Her hair has mostly escaped her braids, wispy pieces in every direction. She pulls the ties off the ends and starts combing through it with her fingers.

“Yeah, I’m beat,” she says. She looks wired, though. I feel like I’m buzzing still, too.

We load up in the Bronco woodenly, shutting ourselves into the cocoon of the car, and head home.

There’s no smooth way to bring up everything from earlier, so the energy grows stiffer and more awkward with each passing second. We’ve already sat in strained silence for twenty-eight minutes of the thirty-minute drive when she redirects her air vent, and I turn it off altogether.

“It’s alright, you don’t—”

“No, it’s okay, it was getting kinda cold in here anyway.”

There’s another brief pause before she asks, “Can I?” and points to the volume dial.

“Yeah, sure.” I go to turn it up at the same time and our hands clash.

“Sorry,” we say in unison.

Christ.

“Hey!” she says so loud that I flinch. “Sorry!” She starts laughing. “This is fucking awkward, huh?”

“Truly, only getting worse by the second.” I laugh back.

A sigh spins out of her. “Anyway, what I was going to say is, hey, I know we need to talk about earlier.”

I pull into the garage and turn off the ignition before she continues. “I know we need to talk about a lot of things,” she adds quietly.

I catch sight of her palms dragging up and down her thighs anxiously, and I can tell this is hard for her. “We don’t have to get into it tonight, LaRynn. You’re probably exhausted. I am, too,” I lie. I flick on the interior light so we’re not blanketed in total darkness. “Thank you for what you did for me with my mom. You don’t have to come tomorrow if it’ll be too… difficult to pretend again,” I tell her.

“Do you… Would you like me to come?” she asks.

“Yeah, I want you to come,” I say before I can overthink it.

She catches a smile with her teeth and I nearly groan because I want her to let it go so damn badly. Let yourself smile, dammit.

“I could use a drink,” she declares, a hint of a question in it.

“Same.”

We get out of the car and head into the house, past the laundry area and to the stairs.

“I’m impressed you resisted the joke, by the way,” she says.

“Oh, the one about you coming ? Trust me, it’s killing me.” And that finally pulls a full laugh out of her. A quick toss back of her head, her long throat exposed, her hand splayed against her chest. I pause on the step next to her, try to make the moment freeze. I’m smiling like an idiot when she looks back at me.

The moment yawns and expands, laughs and smiles both settling.

“I’m not tired,” she says. “I’m not tired at all.” We’re equidistant from the top and bottom of the steps now, holding still.

“I’m not tired, either,” I say.

“Maybe we should talk, then,” she says. “About earlier.”

I hear myself swallow. “A drink and a talk?” I ask.

She shakes her head, expression pained. “Anything to take this edge off.”

My heart starts pounding so loud I’m sure she can hear it.

“Or,” she starts to say, her voice a husky murmur. She leans closer.

“Or?” I rasp. I almost don’t dare to hope.

“Or maybe we take the edge off first?” she asks, and I can see her cheeks blooming red. She’s so much braver than she thinks. “My head is… a wreck.”

I know what she means. Mine feels like it’s stuffed with wool. I would love for my thoughts to scatter, to wipe my slate clean. Everything from earlier starts to surge again.

She pants lightly, looking at my mouth when she asks, “Would it be stupid if we… just once… just to take the edge off? Would it be stupid if we did?”

Fuck, lust rakes its claws up my thighs again when I remember how hot and wet she was. Her soft gasps and how pliant and giving she is when she opens up that way… “For you,” she’d said, and I nearly came over it. But just once? I already know it’ll never be enough. I want her to talk me into it though. God , I do. “I was already pretty out of my mind, earlier. I wasn’t exactly being my smartest self then,” I admit, my voice scraping up my vocal cords. I swallow before I add, “I would have done… anything.” I felt out of control. I didn’t have a condom on me, and I knew without a doubt I would not have cared. Jesus, I was at my place of work, in a public room. I make the mistake of looking at her chest as it rises, see her nipples peak beneath her top. If I get my mouth on her again, I’m a goner, I know it.

“I was, too,” she says, licking her lips and swaying toward me.

“What if we didn’t touch?” I ask, not hiding the desperate edge to it.

Her eyes widen before they find mine. “You’re gonna talk me into an orgasm?” Her eyebrow lifts and I remember so vividly the first time she said it to me, but this time there’s no brattiness, only intrigue.

“Yes,” I manage. “That’s exactly what I’m proposing.”

I feel my heartbeat in my palms, in the soles of my feet, in my back, and all over as she searches me, her breath picking up again. “Okay,” she says.

I have to grind my teeth against the urge to reach for her, to shove her into the wall and kiss her. I’ll lose myself if I do. “Just promise me something?” I ask, disturbed by the lick of fear I feel over what she’ll say.

“I’m technically bound till death do us part, so.” She smiles wide then, the look so heated I want to fall to my knees at her feet.

“Promise me we’ll talk after, too,” I say.

She stares into me, her hair a wavy mass around her shoulders. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and the person who has a terrifying amount of power over me, whether or not she realizes it. “I promise you we’ll talk after.”