Country Kisses (3:AM Kisses Book #8)

I finally tried out that big blue bugle Caila gave me, and it sure put some pep in my step, but nothing like my flesh-covered bed warmer was capable of. Piper found the vile plastic penis lying on a towel yesterday and got after me to put “Papa Smurf” away asap. Honestly, I thought it was hilarious the way she raged on and on about the dangers of self-inflicted injuries caused by nefarious penile weaponry. A part of me wanted to laugh and let her know that her brother wielded the naughtiest, most vaginally destructive weapon of them all.

Come Monday, my first class of the morning is Applied Business Theory. I give a quick glance around the enormous stadium seating-sized room and find a near empty row near the front. I’ve found most of the people here at WB are in love with the anonymity of the back row where they’re free to live-stream music right into their ears, or shop lazily on Amazon while the professor drones on, but I can’t see my attention straying. I need to zero in on what’s being preached from the scholastic pulpit. I’ve got one rickety scholarship, one shot to get this right, and I’m taking that degree gold all the way home to Tennessee. My phone slips out of my hand as I navigate my way through the folded-up theater seats and nosedives into the row ahead of me.

“Excuse me,” I whisper to the girl seated down below with a dark head of curls and a pencil at the ready. She glances up with her smooth skin and glassy green eyes that echo those of Scarlett’s. She looks sweet enough, with her heart-shaped face and sugary smile. Most people at WB are friendly to a fault, and I’m glad about it. “I seem to have dropped my phone.” I point to the glittery blue bit of technology sitting on her jacket, out of place like a mermaid washed ashore.

“Oh!” She snaps it up and hands it over. “I can’t help but notice your accent!” she strums it out with a touch of an accent of her own. “I love it! I used to live in Franklin about a million years ago.”

“Really? I’m from Beckem, just a spit and a kick from Nashville. Nice to meet you!”

“Sammy!” She scoots her hand toward me, and I’m quick to shake it.

“Cassidy.”

The professor swoops in, and I quickly take a seat, jotting down every word he says regarding all things business.

Once the hour is through, I rush to my second class of the day, Basic Principles of Marketing, up one flight of stairs and down the hall. By the time I scuttle inside, half of the seats are taken. It’s just one oversized classroom with traditional wooden desks, not the stadium seating and the comfy cushioned goodness of the last hour. I scoot up front and find a few spare seats near the window. Just as I’m about to excuse my way down a very crowded row, everything in me freezes.

Oh God, oh God, oh God! Instinctively, I take a careful step back, readying to retrace my steps and bolt straight for the library where I can drop this class with a modicum of dignity with the aid of my laptop.

Then the unthinkable happens, and he looks up. There he is—Cade in all his Piper James’s glory.

His eyes fix on mine for one strangling moment before he breaks out into that killer grin and offers a friendly wave over. How can I ever deny that boy?

“Good grief,” I whisper, hiking over backpacks and gangly limbs as I traverse my way in his direction. For a hot second, I thought he couldn’t place me—perhaps the best-case scenario. For a hot second, I thought he might remember and want to bolt himself.

“Hey,” I whisper, opting for the seat two away from him, on the left, of course—I may be avoiding that lap rocket he’s hiding in his pants, but I’m pretty sure I don’t want him gaping at the left side of my face for the next four months. Cade frowns at my current locale, and is quick to pat the desk next to him, nodding me over in such a friendly manner I’d be a jackass not to follow.

“I don’t bite.” He lets loose one of his toothy grins again, and those vampire-like fangs beg to differ. “Unless you want me to,” he says that last part so low I wonder if he meant for me to hear at all. I settle next to him as his cologne saturates the two of us in its spicy, manly goodness. It smells luscious, again most definitely expensive, and thanks to that one naughty romp, it smells decidedly like sweet, delicious sex.

“I’m the TA.” He playfully butts his shoulder into mine, and as much as I want to dislike him, relegate him to the frat brat pile and wallow in self-righteous regret, I can’t help but note that Cade James is an all-around nice guy.

“I guess that means I get an automatic A.” My face burns with heat because I’m pretty sure he has almost zero say in what grade I get. It was simply a moronic stab at adding levity to an already awkward situation.

His dimples press in as his eyes roam freely over me. Thankfully, it’s an easy feat to keep my neck twisted to the side this way. It’s shocking at how prolific I’ve become in hiding these ropey worms that lie frozen on the side of my face. That’s what I thought they were for so long when I was a kid—twisted worms listing in my flesh as I slept. Needless to say, I didn’t sleep much.

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