Pretty Broken Girl by Jeana E. Mann

Author:Jeana E. Mann [Mann, Jeana E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ishkadiddle Publishing
Published: 2015-12-09T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 21

Dakota - Then

IN SPITE OF my mother’s reassurances, I couldn’t sleep after Mr. Seaforth’s ultimatum. Blue moonlight streamed through the window of my tiny bedroom and pooled on the bedspread. Through the thin walls of the house trailer, I could hear Crockett in the room next door. The boy slept like he was in a coma and snored with the exuberance of an eighty-year-old man. My mother’s footsteps passed my doorway, pausing for an instant, before continuing to her room. I sighed and searched for a more comfortable position on the narrow, lumpy mattress.

Sweat beaded on my forehead. It was only May, and the temperature hovered in the low eighties. The metal walls of the trailer served as an oven, holding in heat from the day. I kicked off the covers and opened the window. Night sounds poured into the room. An amorous cat yowled, frogs trilled in the nearby drainage creek, and the booming voice of Mr. Baker carried on the breeze from the trailer next door. I drew in a lungful of the humid air and tried to still my chaotic thoughts.

“Kota?” At first I thought the whispered call of my name was a figment of my imagination conjured by the wind. I froze and listened. “Dakota? Are you awake?” This time I heard my name clearly, spoken in a quiet baritone. My body answered with a delicious tingle between my legs.

“Sam? What are you doing?” I sat up in bed and pressed my nose to the screen. He leaned against the side of the trailer, his clean profile outlined by the crisp moonlight against the white siding. “I thought you were grounded.”

He held something up in front of the window. An errant moonbeam glinted off the keys to his Porsche. “I had an extra set made.” His white smile lit up the darkness. “Rockwell helped me sneak the car to the end of the driveway.”

“I love Rockwell,” I whispered. “Aren’t you worried about getting caught?”

“I wanted to see you,” he said. Those five simple words swelled my chest with love. By this time, I knew it couldn’t be any other emotion. He pressed a hand against the screen. I melded my palm to his, feeling the heat of his skin through the fine mesh, overcome with longing. “Come out here.”

“Are you crazy? It’s the middle of the night.” I shrank back into the shadows. One look at my face, and he’d know something was wrong. I’d never lied to him before, and I couldn’t now. I thought I’d have some time to figure out the answer to my dilemma.

“I’m crazy, alright. Crazy for you,” he said. My heart resumed its erratic cadence. How did he manage to turn me inside out with one statement? “Get your ass out here.”

We sat on the picnic table at the edge of the yard. Dew lingered on the rough wood surface and seeped into the thin cotton of my pajama bottoms. His fingers eased between mine, curling around the back of my hand.

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