Page 17 of Meet Me in the Valley (Oakwood Valley #2)

Chapter Eleven

TIA

Stomachs full, the moon blazing overhead, and not a sober soul in sight. We are absolutely wrecked in the best way.

A tequila bottle made its rounds like a sacred ritual, body shots turned into a full-on sport, and Kerry’s pound of weed sealed our fate: tomorrow is going to hurt like hell.

The fire’s still going strong—just like my friends, scattered across the lawn, screaming and laughing like it’s the end of the world and we’re just lucky to witness it. Somehow, we’ve all caught a second wind, skimming the edge of chaos with red-rimmed eyes and absolutely no brakes.

I am properly shit-faced, sitting in the soft grass while my hands thread through the cool blades.

The warm and fuzzy feeling of being higher than a kite keeps me happy and giddy as I watch Donovan and Logan wrestling in the distance.

It isn’t until Audrey’s head rests on my shoulder that I notice she’s been sitting next to me this whole time.

“Look at our boys. I love them so m-much,” Audrey hiccups, then snorts. “Donovan is sooo sexy. I can’t believe I get to m-marry him. How’d I get so l-lucky? Hmm?” Audrey’s words slur together. Her tequila breath fans my ear, and I can’t help but giggle at her inebriated state.

I glance toward the lawn just in time to see Logan and Donovan wrap up their wrestling match. Their eyes lock onto Audrey and me. Logan whispers something to Donovan, one eyebrow flicking up wildly. Matching smirks stretch across their faces as their eyes bore down on us.

I know that look. They’re coming for us.

I tug on Audrey’s sleeve. “Auds. Get up.” She groans, trying to rest her head back on my shoulder, completely unbothered.

But they’re stalking closer now, grins sharp and full of trouble.

“Audrey,” I hiss, nudging her harder. “We need to go. Like, now.” She whines again, slow to move. So I make the only choice I can.

I abandon her.

I yelp as Logan and Donovan suddenly take off, sprinting toward us like we’re helpless prey.

I think it’s a full sprint. Honestly, everything’s a blur.

Audrey immediately surrenders, collapsing dramatically onto the grass as Donovan dives on top of her, pretending to maul her neck like some rabid animal.

“Tia! Help me!” Audrey shrieks between laughter and breathless cries.

I don’t stop. I tried to save her. She chose vibes over survival.

I’m in a full sprint now, no idea where I’m headed.

Doesn’t matter.

The wind’s in my face, my heartbeat’s in my ears, and my laughter floats behind me like a second shadow.

“You can’t outrun me!” Logan growls from behind me, giving me the chase of my life.

I see Kerry and Wyatt in the distance, smoking a joint and hitting golf balls into the open clearing behind Audrey and Donovan’s property.

I call out to them to help me. Kerry is the first to respond, passing the joint hastily to Wyatt as I run into his waiting arms.

“Kerry! Don’t let him get me!” I screech, finding refuge behind him as he and Logan stand off in what looks like two male birds trying to court a female bird. They look so stupid and sound even more absurd with the questionable noises they’re making.

I’m on the ground clutching my stomach, battling with uncontrollable laughter. Wyatt shakes his head with a grunt, hitting a golf ball into the clearing while sucking in a long drag from the joint.

“You shall not pass!” Kerry shouts at Logan, in his best Gandalf impression.

From my vantage point—horizontal in the grass—I lock eyes with Logan, who looks like a man crazed.

I show him my favorite finger expletive, which serves to rile him up more.

Kerry is too high and drunk to protect me, and this grass feels like a soft blanket.

I’ll just stay here and accept my fate.

A groan and a thud land right by my ear. My so-called protector is down, curled on the ground and clutching his balls like his life depends on it.

“F-ff-uuuckkk you, Harper!” Kerry wheezes. Then, with dramatic flair, “I’m sorry, my princess Tia.”

Wyatt cackles and casually jabs Kerry’s ass with the end of his golf club. More laughter tumbles out of me right before I’m suddenly lifted off the ground with a squeal, slung over a strong shoulder like I weigh nothing.

Logan.

My fists pound against his back, but he doesn’t slow. He’s running fast toward the vineyard, the world bouncing with every step. And every time I wriggle in protest, he swats my ass like it’s part of the game.

We tumble to the ground when his hand cups the back of my head to protect me from hitting it.

Logan straddles over my hips, lifting my arms over my head and burying his face into the crook of my neck.

The stubble on his chin tickles my sensitive skin, sending warmth through me at the contact.

I’m laughing so hard that no sound is leaving my mouth, just silent laughter with gasps of air in between.

“You have no way of escaping me now,” Logan murmurs into my neck, nuzzling his way across my collarbone and under my chin.

I can’t breathe, and I’m pretty sure the world is spinning, making my vision blur and my senses muddled.

The closeness of him—the weight of his body pressing into me—makes my thighs squeeze together.

I’m drunk and I’m high on his scent, mixed with earth, sweat, and citrus.

I tilt my pelvis up on him on instinct when his movement comes to a halt. His eyes bore into mine as his grip tightens on my wrists above my head. We breathe the same breath, no words exchanged. Only energy. Only curiosity. Only lust. I know he feels it, too. He has to.

It’s been a wicked game of edging all night. Every glance he throws my way drips with seduction, each one pulling me deeper under. The higher we get, the harder it is to stay away—like gravity itself is giving in.

Now, with the delicious weight of him pressing against me, the intensity in his gaze is too much. My heart kicks into overdrive, thundering in my chest.

I wet my lips, desperate to soothe the dryness he caused, like he’s stealing the air from my lungs with nothing but his eyes.

“Reach into my back pocket,” Logan murmurs, releasing one of my hands while keeping my other one pinned above him.

Without hesitation, I slip my hand over the taut muscle of his ass through his jeans, lingering a little longer as I indulge in the moment.

A quiet groan rumbles at the base of his throat.

I’m quickly melting under his intense stare, so I slip my fingers into his back pocket, feeling the outline of a joint.

I grab it and bring it between us, pushing it slowly into his mouth.

“Now the other one,” he orders, the joint hanging off his lips. He softly grazes his nose against my jaw. I can’t think straight. I can barely register what he just asked me to do.

“Hmm?” I sigh, loving the way his skin feels against mine. His dark chuckle reverberates against my chest.

“Reach into my other pocket.”

When I do, I pull out the contents. A lighter.

“Now light me up.”

I flick the lighter, and the flame flares to life between us, catching just enough of his face to make my breath hitch.

God, he’s beautiful like this—smoke curling from his lips, eyes fixed on me like I’m the next thing he wants to inhale.

I hold the flame to the tip of the joint, and he draws slow, deliberate puffs until it catches. The orange ember glows, smoke coiling around us like something alive.

He releases the grip on my pinned wrist, trailing his arm down toward my fingers and lacing his in mine.He braces himself on one elbow beside me. He’s so close. Close enough that the heat rolling off his skin ghosts across mine.

Then he plucks the joint from his mouth, eyes locked on mine like he’s about to ruin me and knows it.

“Open your mouth,” he says, low and commanding.

My lips part before I even think. I lie like putty beneath him.

He takes a long drag, holds it, and leans in close enough to feel the anticipation tighten between us.

When he exhales, the smoke spills from his mouth into mine, warm and slow. Our lips don’t fully meet, but they brush—just barely—and the shock of it ripples straight through me.

I inhale. But it’s not just the smoke I’m taking in.

It’s him. The weight of his gaze, the undeniable pull between us, the feeling that if we let go of the thread holding us back, we’ll fall and never come back the same.

My chest rises. My pulse stutters. And when he unlaces our fingers to reach down and cup my face, I’m done for.

His irresistible smirk tilts his lips as he looks down at me. “You look like you love me, T.”

Maybe it’s the alcohol swimming through my veins. Maybe it’s the smoke he poured into my mouth like a wordless promise, ready to leave all my inhibitions. Instead of ignoring his playful comment, I lean into it. Hard. Inevitably.

“I do.”

Two simple words to answer a very complicated question that will ruin me. I don’t know why I’m admitting to him I’m falling, but he’s got my heart in a chokehold and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

“What?” he whispers, our lips just a breath away from each other.

Oh, God.

It sounds crazy when I say it out loud.. Do I really believe I can fall for my best friend? The man who has a different woman in his bed every week? Am I deluding myself into thinking I can change his ways?

The ground beneath me might as well swallow me whole.

At least then I wouldn’t have to look into his warm, inviting eyes and fall deeper for a man I know won’t ever give me what I want.

His eyes. Everything is spinning again. My stomach turning to knots, brewing unwanted nausea that settles deep in my gut.

A low moan in the distance snaps us from our lust bubble, both of our eyes whipping toward the noise. “Wha—?” I whisper, cut off by Logan’s hand covering my mouth. He stubs out the joint into the dirt, pressing his pointer finger to his lips, signaling me to hush.

Another breathy moan.