Page 9 of Small Town Beast 2: Saverin’s Duet (Sins of the South)

Not often did Absalom make such an open confession about his feelings. But that didn’t make a difference. What he’d done was unforgivable.

“Did you really get her pregnant, Absalom? Did you lie to me about sleeping with her?”

“No,” said Absalom. “I swore on your Bible and that was no lie.” His harsh gaze softened. “The only children I’ll ever have will be with you.”

Lorrie wiped away a few dangerous tears and turned her back to him. She heard him stepping into his second pair of boots, the ones with the steel caps he used for construction work.

And fighting.

“Lock the door after me,” he said. “And mind that window. Keep the lights off.”

Cool breeze washed over her through the broken window.

Off went the light, and she made sure the door was locked before she huddled in the bed and dragged the blankets over herself.

Sleep was not going to come. She kept seeing the dead man fumbling with his belt, spit collecting on the sides of his mouth as he imagined violating her body.

No, no…He’s gone. He’s dead.

She heard the gunshot. She saw Absalom emerge from the room with blood all over his clothes and an expression in his blue eyes that chilled her blood. He looked like a man that had never seen the sunlight.

“Let’s go,” he told her, and walked right out of that dirty place under the eyes of about thirty astonished rednecks.

The redheaded one, Hiram, was among them.

He raised his cup to Absalom as they left.

He knew what had happened, he understood there had to be a trade-off for his own transgression.

His “mistake”, which was only a mistake because Lorrie had lied.

Or had she? Anyway, nobody cared enough to question it. Nobody stopped them.

And Absalom is the new Deputy besides , Lorrie thought. This corrupt-ass town won’t care he just murdered somebody in front of witnesses.

He’s not the man you thought.

And for the second time, her thoughts turned to the man she had used to make Abi jealous— Mike.

The evening she’d been drinking her sorrows over Absalom’s betrayal, Mike happened to walk past her house. He saw Lorrie sitting on the porch and made a beeline towards her.

“Hi neighbor,” the warm smile on his face disappearing as he saw Lorrie’s blotchy cheeks and red eyes.

They had been neighbors for over a year but never exchanged more than a few words. Sometimes she sensed Mike watching her, but paid him dust since he was still in high school and she was in a relationship with Absalom – or so she thought.

Now Mike was in college and Absalom was apparently married.

So she could stare right back at Mike. He was tall, not as tall as Absalom, but bearing the same wide shoulders and long-legged swagger.

His reddish brown skin reminded her of polished cedar.

The tight fade suited him a lot better than those frayed cornrows he used to rock in high school.

And he’d pierced his ears. He was all dressed up like he was headed somewhere. He looked good.

“Are you crying, Miss Lorraine?”

“I’m not crying,” she sniffed. “It’s allergies.”

The liquor tried pushing the truth to her lips but she sealed them shut tight.

“I have sisters. I know you’re lying.” Mike sat down on the step just beneath her. That put him close enough to smell the cologne he was wearing. Absalom never wore cologne, which she loved, but this put-on smell wasn’t bad. It was just different.

“Where are you headed?” she asked Mike.

“I just arrived,” he said. “This right here is where I was headed. Not to be creepy or nothing, but I could see you from our kitchen.”

Mike had a small gap between his front teeth. Lorrie had never noticed that before.

“I just want to be by myself right now,” she said. “It’s nothing personal.”

“That white boy got you upset, huh?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Accepting that, he started telling her about getting recruited and going to the NFL.

She scarcely paid attention, distracted by her own sorrows.

The Cowboy had made her flushed and warm, the betrayal of Absalom turning her towards rebellious fantasies.

How dare he. After all those years of promises— lies.

Call a spade a spade, they were lies. And he’d been ducking her calls not because he was busy, but because he was fucking someone else.

Now she had proof. He’d married that person without telling her.

The image seared into her brain: Abi, rocking a fresh haircut, country-boy formal in a white button-down tucked and belted into brand-new jeans, cowboy boots , staring furiously into a camera.

His bride grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

Forgiveness could take a long jump off a short rope. Lorraine Denver was through.

“Miss Lorraine?”

“You can call me Lorrie,” she told Mike, taking another deep drink of the Cowboy, which finished the drink right off.

“What’s in that?” he asked, watching her daintily wipe her lips.

“Tequila. Vodka. Peach juice. Do you want one?” She caught herself. “Hold up. Are you even twenty-one?”

“Yeah,” said Mike, which was a lie, she would discover later.

But she went inside, and Mike followed. Ordinarily Lorrie would have never allowed another man but Abi into her home.

Oh, well. Abi was probably screwing that pug-faced white girl at this very moment.

Ha ha! She didn’t give a fuck, actually.

In a reckless mood Lorrie poured two new drinks.

Fuck him, I can do what I want if he does what he wants.

Mike watched her closely the entire time, in silent contemplation.

“Cheers,” said Lorrie, passing him his drink. She guzzled hers immediately.

“You are something else, Miss Lorrie,” Mike said, leaning over her counter. His dark eyes burned. “My daddy told me to stay away from your fine ass.”

And something possessed Lorrie to reply, “Do you always listen to your daddy?”

All of a sudden Mike was right in front of her taking the glass from her and setting it down on the countertop. Clack. Mike plucked a long black curl from her shoulder and stretched it out until it bounced back.

“Wow,” he said quietly. Then he combed his whole hand through her hair and tipped her face up to meet his.

I’m drunk , she thought. This is how it feels to be drunk.

Mike’s face was right there. His breath smelled of mint gum. He was handsome.

A giant thumb brushed across her lips. “Are you mixed?” he asked her.

“Yeah. So what?”

“I was just wondering.”

She could feel something long and hard jutting against her stomach.

It was just as big as Abi’s. His smell grew stronger.

Not cologne, but a hot, natural smell. Her heart kicked into a new tempo.

She knew what he wanted. It was the same thing Abi wanted, but this time Mike wouldn’t pull away. He wouldn’t stop.

And Lorraine the Good Girl, Lorraine the Virgin, had a sudden crazy thought about what would happen if she reached down and felt the thing he was pressing against her. If she just…let it happen.

Mike broke the hug, backed her up against the counter, and kissed her.

Mmmmm, thought Lorrie. Somewhere below her waist something warmed up like candle wax.

Mike’s lips were big and soft. His tongue slid into her mouth and enticed hers out to play.

That’s all it was: play. Fooling around.

She wasn’t actually gonna lead him into her room, down to the bed Absalom had built with his own bare hands on a free weekend, and get dicked down by her neighbor’s son.

Right?

Big hands shimmied down her waist and cupped her ass, then squeezed it appreciatively, grinding her up against his hard length. “Let me take you out somewhere,” he murmured. “Like on a date.”

Wild thoughts swirled. She must have heard him wrong. “A… date ?”

“I want to take it slow. I’ve been watching you for a minute… I can’t waste this moment.”

Between her legs burned hot. Desire for Mike, and desire for revenge. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. Mike started licking and sucking on her neck. Inside her thighs trembled and the heat, oh the heat…

… Right ?