We Were One

That Thing Between Your Legs

Madeline, once again, seemed to be an open book. She held nothing back with eyes that lit up whether she was smiling or speaking seriously about something. She had this air of energy and life and . . . waywardness she carried with her so unapologetically. Even as she sat at the table with the other three women, she was once again the life of the group—from the way she smiled big and spoke with confidence, to the way she listened intently, giving whoever was speaking her full and undivided attention.

Ama excused herself to the ladies' room, and I was left there by myself trying to keep my eyes from wandering in the Hellman's direction. When Madeline slid out of her booth suddenly, taking her mother's keys, I breathed in, relieved that she walked outside. It gave me a break from all the restraining I'd been doing.

Then she walked to their minivan, which, of course, was parked in clear view of my window. Once again, I was powerless to keep from looking. She slid the side door open and pulled out a book or magazine of some kind. Like so many of the other times I'd seen her these past several weeks, she was wearing shorts. Not like the short shorts some of the other girls in town wore, but her legs were long enough that any length of shorts on her was eye-catching as hell.

I was so caught up in eyeballing her legs I didn't even notice Shane at first. I knew him from school, and he still came in the shop every now and again. Like my brothers and me, he was also into buying old motorcycles and fixing them up. I had nothing against the guy, except that I knew he could be shady. Hence openly approaching an underage girl and ogling her so obviously when he knew he'd be in deep s**t if he tried for more.

Like most other boys I'd seen her talking to, Shane, too, had that hopeful look in his eyes. Only he wasn't a boy. He was a man—my age—who had no business getting any ideas about her.

I watched as he sat there on his bike in the middle of the parking lot, chatting with Madeline. The whole time he wore this big wolfish smile on his face. She smiled sweetly at whatever it was he was saying. The way she carried herself, so full of confidence with those bright eyes and ongoing carefree demeanor, made her seem much older than her sixteen years.

As if on cue, Ms. Hellman called out for Madeline. I'd been so sucked into watching them I hadn't even noticed her mom get up. But she was now standing by the café entrance, holding the door open. Of course, Shane took off almost instantly. Ms. Hellman watched him for a moment, the disapproval all over her face, before going back to her booth. Madeline started back to the café as well then seemed to remember something and rushed back to the van. She slid the side door open again and fetched a binder of some sort out of the backseat then closed and locked the door.

When she turned back toward the café, she happened to glance in my direction and saw me watching her. She slowed, and her expression softened from her harried one. That blond hair of hers practically glowed around her face, and for the life of me, I couldn't look away.

“That Loretta is going to have her hands full with those girls in a couple of years." Ama's comment as she reached our booth broke me from the spell I'd been pulled into. “Seems those twins of hers turned into little women overnight." Ama slid into the booth across from me again. “Very pretty little women." She picked up the dessert menu from between the condiments, opening it in front of her as she peered over it and raised a telling brow. “Very tempting little women most men around these parts need to remember are still minors."

Clearing my throat, I responded to Ama's comments with nothing more than an indifferent grunt. I hoped she was done, and it seemed like she was until she added one more thing without looking up from her menu.

“You saw Loretta just now, Nico," she said in a lower voice. “That woman don't play. Remember that the next time you decide to burn a hole through one of her daughters the way you were doing just now."

While I didn't respond, and I knew Ama didn't expect me to, the warning was duly noted. I wasn't even sure what the hell happened that had me staring at her so obviously, but after that day, it was as if she was everywhere.

It was even worse than after the farmers market because, from that day on, I couldn't go anywhere and not see her or at least hear something about the Hellman twins. As crazy as it sounded, it also became clear to me now that my attraction to a girl I knew nothing more about than what everybody else knew about her from afar, was more than just physical.

Even the times she was with her friends, she tended to lead the way with them as well. I realized a big part of my fascination with her had nothing to do with her reminding me of my mother like I'd been trying to convince myself. Madeline exuded something else that made me nervous as all hell—sensuality. But it was an innocent sensuality. It was difficult to explain. You could just see it in those eyes. She oozed womanly sensuality, and she didn't even seem to know it. That, coupled with her undeniably bubbly personality, was the only way I could explain why already I was fixated on her specifically. Otherwise, I might have been looking at her sister in the same way.

Most of the time I managed to stay unnoticed when I looked at her—or rather looked for her—each time I was in or around town, but not always. A few times she'd caught me, and as the time had passed, I was sure she'd picked up on how I was having just as hard a time as all the other saps in town of keeping my eyes off her—maybe more.

But I knew better. Though I didn't know much more about them than what my brothers had said and what I'd seen around town, Ama was right, and everyone else in town knew it as well. Loretta didn't f**k around.

I'd heard stories of her breaking out her shotgun on more than one occasion when someone trespassed on the small property they lived on. I was certain she'd do the same to any man getting funny ideas about her two baby girls. No thanks. I had enough female company to keep me busy to put any more thought into the off-limits twin and her shotgun-toting mother.

And then that early summer night at the lake happened.

It was Friday night, and just like every year when the school year started to wind up for summer break, the Friday night hangouts by the lake were just getting started. I closed my dad's embroidery shop and headed out there looking to spend a few hours of shooting the breeze with friends and maybe hooking up. Except for Quino who closed with me but had a date, my other two brothers were already out there.

As I usually did when I first arrived at the lake, I parked and lit up a smoke so I could stake the place out by myself for a little while first. I'd heard about and seen enough of the twins now to know they were getting popular with the boys. Not in a bad way, but from what Nolan told me, even the quieter seemingly shyer one of the two had just as many admirers as the more outgoing one. But I'd yet to, nor did I plan to, socialize with either—ever.

“Did it hurt?"

I should've known right then those deep blue eyes that close, coupled with that sweet voice, would be the end of me. One of the twins—but unlike most of the folk in town, I knew exactly which one—stood before me, staring at my arm curiously.

Trying not to get too sucked into her intoxicatingly playful eyes, I looked away from them as our eyes met and I glanced down at what she was staring at instead. I couldn't help smirking. She was asking about my latest tattoo.

“A little," I said, not making too much of it, then glanced back at her. Smiling at those curious eyes just couldn't be helped, so I did as I continued to indulge. “But it's the best kind of pain there is. The kind that hurts so good."

I knew flirting with her was a risk, but I could see the way she was looking at me—the way most girls did when I took them in so unabashedly, making no secret of my dirty thoughts. She was younger than most girls I normally hung out with. I figured a few more risqué comments from me might have her red as a beet and walking away as she should.

“That thing between your legs," she said, making me stop mid-drag of my cigarette, and my brows jumped at attention. “It just keeps getting bigger."

Coughing what little smoke I'd inhaled, I proceeded to make an ass of myself nearly choking then laughing until I was finally able to speak. “What?"