His body was golden brown and chiseled to perfection. He wasn’t too big and bound up looking, just athletic and strong. I couldn’t help but whimper a little at the sight; he looked like he walked straight out of a magazine.
Cane looked up and slowly removed the sunglasses. He scanned my body and a slow smile spread across his face. He raised his hand and crooked his finger towards me and I felt like Baby in Dirty Dancing. I exchanged a smile with Kari, who was sitting on a couch in the family room off the kitchen. I made my way to the back patio.
Cane wrapped me up in his arms and dragged me against him, his hands going up my cover-up and palming my ass. “For the love of fuck, woman! Forget the orange dress—this is my new favorite.” He bent down and kissed me roughly on the lips.
I giggled against his mouth and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Well, this is your best look. Clothes just detract from you, Cane Alexander.” I rubbed my hands down his chest. “Words don’t do you justice.”
“Words are messy, remember?” He winked at me. “And they are not necessary for what I have planned later. You will only need one, actually. My name. On repeat.”
“You aren’t burning that shit, are you?” Max asked, coming outside and breaking our moment.
“Oh, hell!” Cane laughed, turning to the grill and removing the steaks onto a platter.
I laughed as I went back inside to help Kari get the drinks. Max came in behind me.
My nerves had eased, replaced by a feeling of contentedness. I felt alive with Cane and comfortable in his home, not at all like the outsider I had feared. He didn’t seem to feel weird with me here either, which I had feared the most.
“I’m changing this music,” Max said, walking over to the deck and replacing Cane’s iPod with his own.
“What are you doing?” Cane yelled through the glass.
“This shit is giving me a headache!” Max yelled over his shoulder.
“I can’t help you have bad taste in music!”
“Ah, here we go,” Max mumbled before Florida Georgia Line began playing through the speakers. “He really loves this. He just doesn’t want to admit it.”
“No, I do not!” Cane shouted from the patio as we all made our way back outside. “Your music taste is about like your football taste—it blows!”
Max chuckled as he turned his head to Kari and I. “Not sure why I like him, really. He’s irritable, a total asshole, likes shitty music, and the San Francisco 49’ers.”
A tapping sound on the glass caught our attention. Cane’s face was close to the window. “I can hear you, you motherfucker.”
We laughed as we made our way outside and got settled around the glass table and filled our plates with the juicy steaks and potatoes that the boys had grilled.
“So what’s your deal with actual glass cups,” Cane asked Max, sipping on a bottle of water and nodding to the drink in Max’s hand. “Did you cut your finger or some shit as a kid?”
“Fuck off, Alexander,” Max said. “These are the perfect drink accessory.” He held his red cup in the air. “See this bottom line,” he pointed. “This is the ‘liquor line’. The second one is the ‘wine line’, which, I may add, no man should ever use. Now the top one is the ‘beer line,’ but you can live a little and go over it if you want.”
“Wow. You’re getting all cosmopolitan on me. Next thing I know, you’re going to want to add some color into your Sharpie tattoos.”
“Whatever. These tattoos were made with a needle,” Max said, drawing out the last word. “You’re too big of a pussy to actually get one.”
“No, I’m not. There’s just not anything that I want permanently etched on my body.”
“Speaking of you being a pussy, you’ve been drinking wine these days. No self-respecting man should ever drink wine.”
“You drink sweet tea! And you think wine is a bad thing?” Cane asked, barely containing his laughter. Kari and I couldn’t contain ours as we wiped tears away from our eyes with the backs of our hands.
“Don’t even start on sweet tea or I’ll kick your ass. It’s the lifeblood of the South. That kind of talk will get you killed where I’m from,” Max said, trying to keep a straight face.
“Remind me to never go there,” Cane muttered.
“You’re such a fuckstick.”
“Whatever. You haven’t been south of the Valley since you were twelve and you still won’t let go of this southern boy routine.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Max said, shaking his head. “When you are born south of the Mason-Dixon Line, it’s in your blood. It’s who you are.”
“It’s amazing that you can even function in society.” Cane grinned as he leaned back in his chair.
“Coming from you, the most asocial person I’ve ever met, that’s hysterical.” Max raised his eyebrows, fighting a smile.
“Hardly, Max. Everyone loves me.”
“Yeah. That was just how it looked yesterday with the City of Queen Creek. They loved you.”
A stormy look crossed Cane’s face as he narrowed his eyes and subtly shook his head at Max.