I know I said Wednesday. I'm a liar. Sorry.

Stephenie Meyer still owns it.

MariahajilE beta'd it. Thank you, sweets.

M and Nic pre-read. Thank you, ladies.

Mississippiward is mine. So are any leftover mistakes.

I had sex with Edward Cullen.

It's the last thought on my mind drifting off Sunday night and my first waking one Monday morning. And it wasn't just sex. It was really good sex. Great sex. So-good-I-can't-stop-thinking-about-it sex.

At the breakfast table, unable to look either of my parents in the face.

At the checkout line at the Dollar General, picking up Momma's cleaning supplies.

Even at the car wash.

I think about his smile and the way his fingertips felt brushing back and forth over my ribs when we were cuddling last night. And the way he kissed me over and over again, refusing to let me leave after he'd given me his cross and a key to his place.

I'm still not sure how to feel about that. It's on my key ring now just because I have no idea what to do with it. I can't move in with him. He knows it. My daddy would holler himself into a massive heart attack.

Tanya says it's obvious. Edward wants me to know he has nothing to hide, and maybe she's right. But it felt like more, which is just crazy. I didn't even know he believes in girlfriends until last night.

I'd be lying if I said I'm not tempted to drive back to his place and muddy this Jeep up again for another chance in his bed. But I can't do that in this town in broad daylight unless I want everyone and their mothers' brother to know by sundown. Word travels fast when it's tawdry.

It wouldn't matter. He's working until four anyway. He's planning to pick me up by five so we can go to Meridian. On a date.

Are you in the mood for Cajun food? We could go to Weidmann's.

I've read his text fifteen times since sent he sent it at noon. I read it again, wondering what he was thinking when he sent it. It feels strange having a boyfriend I barely know. Heck, it feels strange having a boyfriend. I've only had one, and we were practically babies at the time.

And it isn't that I don't know Edward. I've known him forever. There are just parts of him I've never seen before.

Tanya gets home from work in time to act as my fashion consultant. She sprawls across my bed while I model dresses.

"Why didn't you tell me Edward's building a house here?" I ask.

"I didn't know," she shrugs. "He's home a lot and I've seen him at church a few times, but we don't really talk."

"Everyone talks in this town."

"You know as well as I do that the Cullens have always been private people. Well, as much as they could be anyway with Edward raisin' Hell the way he did." She rolls over, bunching my pillows under her arms to prop her up so she can see dress number four. "That's the one."

I agree. It's purple and loose, showing off a little knee, and it looks good with my scuffed Justins. "He likes my knees," I tell her, smiling and touching my lips.

"I'm sure he does," she laughs. "Now, tell me what else he likes."

"I don't really know."

She senses the shift in my mood. "That's why you're goin' on a date, hon, to get to know each other."

Edward shows up at exactly five o'clock wearing loose fitting jeans and those damn Dan Posts again. He's freshly showered, clean shaven, and tanned from another day in the sun.

We agree on Weidmann's, and during the ride, he tells me about his best friend and roommate, Felix Trudeau. He's from Lafayette, and Edward could barely understand him when he first moved to Starkville. They got along well, worked through the slight dialect barrier, and I can tell Edward is fond of him by listening to his stories.

Most of them revolve around food and the Cajun dishes Felix has convinced Edward to try through the years. He's partial to boudin and alligator balls.

I refuse to try either, but I agree to crawfish diablo after we've chosen fried green tomatoes as an appetizer. It's spicy but I was expecting as much, and the chocolate bourbon pecan pie I choose for dessert helps cool the burn.

During the drive back to Quitman, he asks about my living arrangements back in Oxford. I tell him about my apartment and my two roommates, Alice and Charlotte. Splitting a three bedroom ended up saving our parents money, so none of them complained when we begged to move out of the dorms after our freshman year.

Instead of driving to his place, he takes me home. He's due at the work site at dawn, and he'll have a full day in the hot sun. We're in the middle of a mostly sweet goodnight kiss when Momma turns on the porch lights and throws open the front door to invite him for dinner Tuesday night. His hands are still gripping my butt when he accepts the invitation.

He sends random texts starting around ten the next morning. Every half hour, my phone chimes with a new one and I'm guessing he's sending them when he takes water breaks.

What's your favorite color?

Are you a diehard Ole Miss fan? That might be a deal breaker.

Favorite song?

Favorite book?

It goes on all day. I answer each question and ask a few of my own.

Tuesdays nights have always been "brinner" nights at our house, and tonight is no different. I'm as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs by the time Edward rings the doorbell at six o'clock. Daddy hasn't said much since he got home from work this afternoon.

He answers the door, welcoming Edward, and I can hear them chatting as they walk through the house to join me and Momma in the kitchen. Tanya is out with Jake, and I'm not sure if I should be relieved she's not here making inappropriate comments or disappointed that she's not here to take some of the attention off me and Edward.

"Hey, Bella."

"How do you like your eggs?" Momma asks.

"Sunny side up and on top of my grits."

Yeah. He's going to fit in fine around here.

Dinner ends up being more comfortable than I expected. My dad keeps up a steady conversation with Edward about Alec's business and the projects they've been working on.

"What about your house?" Daddy asks him between sips of sweet tea.

"Well," Edward sighs. "There's a foundation but not much else, yet."

"The foundation is what counts."

"Yes, sir."

Laboring in the sun all day must really work up an appetite. Edward devours the eggs and grits first after mixing them together in the bowl. Then he wipes out a half dozen deer meat sausage patties. I'm happy to say he also keeps reaching for more of my drop biscuits and chocolate gravy.

Somehow, he still has room for dessert; two helpings of peach cobbler a la mode.

We sit in the living room with a Braves game on the TV in the background, chatting about school with my parents. Daddy tsks when Edward mentions his plans to go to The University of Mississippi in Jackson for medical school. He's not judging. I know. He'd tried long and hard to get me to take a scholarship from UT Knoxville, because he wanted me to experience something other than Mississippi.

At half past nine, my father stands and Edward follows his lead, thanking both of my parents for dinner.

"I'm just gonna, uh, walk him out, okay?" I'm not sure if I'm asking or telling.

Daddy nods, and I follow Edward outside onto the porch.

We don't linger since the chief of police is probably standing on the other side of my oak front door, waiting for me. Edward gives me one sweet peck on the lips and lightly swats my butt before turning to go.

"I'll see you at my parents' house tomorrow night," he says.

Yeah. You and half of Quitman.

I know my father well. He's waiting just inside the door when I come back inside.

"How did you know about Edward's house?" I ask.

"Honey, there isn't much that goes on 'round here that I don't know about. I ran into him the day he requested the building permit."

"You don't seem to have a problem with us bein' together."

"Why would I?"

"Well, he's a little rowdy."

"He was a bit of a pistol as a teenager, but he's turned out to be a solid young man."

"So, you approve?"

"Bella," he says, shaking his head and resting his hands on his hips. "There isn't a man on this planet worthy of you or your sister. I may never approve of anyone for either of you, so I have to trust you to pick the right one. See you in the mornin'."

Momma gives me a little smile before she and Daddy hit the stairs to turn in for the night.

It turns out that half the congregation is at the fish fry after choir practice Wednesday night: my parents, Jessica, Reverend and Mrs. McCarty, all of the choir plus their significant others, and the adult Sunday School class. Edward and his daddy, Carlisle, already have a platter of piping hot fried catfish on the table by the time most of us arrive.

They're busy cooking and talking with a group of men. My father joins them, shaking hands with Edward and his daddy first. There are a few whispers when Edward comes to sit beside me in the aluminum folding chair next to mine.

"Hi," he says, picking up my right hand with his left and raising it to brush soft kisses across my knuckles.

"Hi."

Our minister leads a quick a prayer of thanks, and Edward lets go of my hand when it's done so we can dig in. I try to ignore the curious glances and pay attention to him instead of worrying over what everyone else is thinking. This had to happen sooner or later.

After dinner, the men start a game of horseshoes while the women sit around fanning themselves at the table and sipping pink lemonade. The reverend's wife, Rosalie, bounces their son, Henry, on her knee until the older ladies demand turns holding him. Every one of them squeezes his pudgy little cheeks, but when Mrs. Jenks tries to pass him to me, I excuse myself to go to the restroom.

Too many cute babies in one week can lead to a serious case of baby fever if a girl's not careful. Truth be told, I love babies. I love them a little too much, so I try to stay away from them.

Edward corners me in the hall on the second floor when I come out of the bathroom. He doesn't say a word, just backs me against the wall and kisses me, sliding his hands over my hips to pull me against him. He tastes like lemons and smells like freshly cut grass and smoke from the grill.

"I've wanted to do that since the minute you closed the door of your daddy's truck," he says, hugging me close.

"People are already talking."

"Are you… embarrassed to be with me?" he asks.

"No! It isn't that at all," I say quickly. "Most of those folks have known us since we were in diapers. What if they think we're… you know?"

He laughs, kisses me again, and replies, "Well, we are."

I slap his chest. "This isn't funny."

"You're adorably bashful for a girl that strips down to her skivvies without provocation. Besides, they're only talkin' because you look gorgeous tonight." He backs away enough to look me over head to toe. "Mmmmm."

"There you go with the sweet talkin' again."

"Can I sweet talk you into another date tomorrow night?"

"I can't," I answer, trying to keep my voice steady. It's hard with his fingers tracing over my ribs and up. "I've already got a date." His head snaps up, and his eyes narrow as he studies my face. It's hard not to crack a smile. "With my grandparents. I'm riding over to Philadelphia with my parents and Tanya for dinner. Gran turns seventy-six tomorrow."

"You're an evil woman, Bella Swan," he says, bringing his right hand up to cover his chest. "Toyin' with my heart like that."

"Come on." I push away from the wall and pull him down the hall after me. "People are gonna talk if we're gone much longer."

"One more kiss," he says, jerking us to a stop. "While we're alone."

I'm not sure when I'll see him again, so I make it a good one. Then we walk outside together, keeping a respectable distance between us but eyeing each other every step of the way.

He walks me to Daddy's truck and kisses me on the cheek when my family and I leave.

Momma makes small talk all the way home, commenting on everything from the grilled corn to Esme's hummingbird cake. I sit quietly in the backseat of the extended cab, watching lightening bugs flash in the trees along the highway and thinking about lemonade kisses.

It's unbearably hot Thursday, and I wonder how Edward's faring over at the work site. On a whim, I throw together a batch of half and half in an old thermos and decide to see for myself.

The barn they're working on today belongs to Mrs. Maize, and her property is only a hop, skip, and a jump from the bank where Momma and Tanya work. Dropping it off with him on the way to meet them for lunch will be my good deed for the day.

I know it's a mistake the moment I park my Jeep and catch sight of him.

God, what does he have against shirts?

He's traded his belt buckle for a tool belt and it's hanging low on his hips, tugging his jeans down with it. I'm blessed with a tiny peek at his boxers when he leans over to run a piece of lumber across a table saw.

Talk about tempting.

He straightens, flips the power switch on the saw, and tosses the cut wood into a pile stacked in the bed of the beast. Alec notices me first and nods in my direction. Edward turns, pulling his leather work gloves off.

"Hey, you," he says. "This is a surprise." A happy one, judging by the smile on his face.

"I hope this is okay," I say to his uncle once I reach them.

"It's fine. How've you been, girl?"

"I'm fine, Mr. Platt. I just thought I'd stop by for a second to bring y'all some half and half."

"That's mighty sweet of you, Bella, but I think it's about time for you to drop the Mr. Platt and call me Alec. You're all grown up now."

"Yes, sir." I probably won't be able to make myself call him by his given name. That's the thing about growing up in a town like this. Everyone is who they are, and nothing ever changes. But it's nice of him to give me permission.

He carries the thermos away, calling to Edward over his shoulder. "Take five, boy. You've earned it."

"I hope he shares that with you," I tell Edward as he leans in to kiss my cheek.

"He'll probably save me a drop or two."

"Is it okay that I showed up unannounced?"

"You can brighten my work day anytime you want. What time are you and your folks leavin' this afternoon?"

"Probably 'round five, and we'll be home late."

"Can I take you to town Saturday? We can have dinner and maybe catch a movie."

"I can't Saturday. I'm gonna be over in Mize for the Watermelon Festival. Tanya is the Watermelon Queen this year. I promised her I'd be there this weekend since I missed the competition last month. It's why I came home."

"I love watermelon," he says with a smile. He's many things, but subtle isn't one of them.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe you could come?"

"I'll have to work at least a half a day on Saturday if I'm going to be off Sunday. I could meet you 'round three or four."

"You don't have to come both days."

"I was thinkin' more along the lines of stayin' the night. Unless you're gonna be booked up in some hotel with your parents."

"They're goin' home Saturday night after the car show and the parade. Momma has to teach Sunday School the next mornin'. Tanya and I are the only ones stayin', and she's got a friend we can bunk with in Magee."

"Are you dead set on spendin' the night with her, or are you flexible?" He pins me against his truck with his body.

"I'm definitely flexible." I lean up on my toes to kiss his cheek.

"It's settled. I'll take care of the accommodations."

He sends a few texts during the long ride to Philadelphia, but it's hard to answer because I'm squished between Tanya and the truck door. She invited Jake along, and the three of us are packed in tighter than sardines in the back seat of Daddy's truck.

Gran refuses to cook or clean on her birthdays and I don't blame her, being seventy-six and all. So, we meet them over at the Golden Moon Hotel and Casino. It takes a few minutes for us to convince her to leave her lucky slot machine long enough to eat.

Dinner is nice, and the company is better. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder.

Edward and I don't see each other at all on Friday. He already had plans with Garrett, so Tanya and I decide to do some shopping in Meridian after she comes home from work. We have a nice dinner at Applebee's and too many margaritas. Moments like these with her are rare nowadays.

It wasn't so bad my first couple of years away from home, because she was at Ole Miss, too. She made time for me every week, even if it was just dinner and drinks, like tonight. I miss this.

She doesn't have to dress formal for the festival. All of the official Watermelon Queen pictures were taken after the competition. She's allowed to dress casual for the meet and greet and float ride.

Tanya's like me; fond of short, airy summer dresses. We walk off the alcohol at the mall and run Daddy's American Express balance up a few hundred dollars buying clothes, make-up, and even a new pair of earrings or two.

Saturday morning dawns bright and early with Tanya banging on my door at 6:15. "Rise and shine!" she hollers.

Daddy already has his 58 Chevy pickup truck hooked onto the trailer behind his Z71. He takes it to the car show at the Watermelon Festival every year and usually ends up winning some type of ribbon in the antique category. Registration is at nine, and Tanya's meet and greet starts shortly after at ten.

I skip make-up since it would probably melt off my face later anyway. After tossing a few things into my overnight bag, I meet my family in the driveway. Momma rides with Daddy, and I hitch a ride with Tanya.

She promises not to breathe a word about my plans for tonight, and I promise not to mention that Jake is staying the night with her over in Magee.

"Thanks for comin' home," she says. "I know you hate it here, but it's nice havin' you around."

"I don't hate it. I love home, and I miss y'all more than you know. It's figurin' out how to be an adult here that messes me up."

She sighs. "You need to relax and stop worryin' so much about what other people think. You know what they say about assholes and opinions."

"It's like bein' under a microscope here."

"So give 'em a show. That's my motto." She grins and reaches over to crank up the volume on the stereo so she can sing along with Pink.

She's sugar and spice by the time we reach Mize City Park. There are rows of booths set up and vendors organizing their wares. I leave Tanya with the festival organizers and make my way through the park over to the back section where the car show is being held.

Daddy is hard at work, prepping Old Red for inspection. He opens the hood to display the completely rebuilt, shiny engine. Both doors are open, giving judges and lookers a view of the wood grain dash and the fancy leather bench seat.

She's a beaut. God help us if this is the year Daddy doesn't place. It'll break his heart.

Momma and I leave him with some of his car buddies and take off to do a little shopping. She buys a few hand-stitched Christmas ornaments at one booth and some beeswax candles at another.

We check in on Tanya from time to time, but she's staying busy by taking pictures with little girls and signing festival t-shirts with a Sharpie for some of the college boys home for the summer. And maybe an old man or two. She's a sweet girl.

Daddy catches up with us around lunchtime, and we choose barbeque from the volunteer fire department's booth. A couple of the guys flirt with me, but it's easy to ignore them with Edward's cross pinched between my pointer finger and my thumb.

He sends a text shortly after three.

Where are you?

Instead of texting back, I call him. "Are you here?" I ask.

"I am. I'm tryin' to figure out the best place to park."

"I'm over at the car show on the back side of the park, but we'll be leavin' tonight from the main entrance. Why don't I walk over and meet you there?"

"Sounds good."

Momma warns me to be back by four for the prize announcements. It will be Daddy's shining moment (hopefully), and she doesn't want me to miss it.

I skip the main fairway and sneak through a cluster of dogwood trees, taking advantage of the shade as much as possible on my way to the main gate. Edward is standing close to the entrance, scanning the crowd in front of him. I sneak around behind him and tap him on the shoulder. "Lookin' for somebody?" I ask.

He turns and scoops me into a bear hug, lifting me off my feet. "Just you."

"Are you gonna put me down?"

"It's gonna cost ya." He puckers his lips, being all cute and playful, and I can't resist the invitation. So I kiss him. He lets me slide down his body but keeps his mouth on mine until my feet hit the ground. "Now, that's a nice hello."

I have to catch his arms to keep him from palming my butt. "You behave today. My parents are here."

"Yes, ma'am," he says with a grin, tipping his Stetson.

"I'm serious, Edward." He lifts his hand and tucks his pinkie again. "Yeah, I know. Scout's Honor."

"You're lookin' a little flushed, Bella," he says. "Why don't we get some lemonade?"

If I'm flushed, it's only because of him, his silly sexy hat, his Bulldogs t-shirt, those bootcut ripped jeans, and the Dan Posts. Or maybe it's because I'd rather sneak off with him behind a Kudzu than go and spend the afternoon with my parents.

He treats me to freshly-squeezed lemonade and handspun cotton candy. We share it walking across the park to the car show. Our tongues are blue, and so are the tips of my fingers when we get to the stage. After stealing the last bite from me, he sucks the pads of my fingers one by one to rid them of residual sugar.

I'm flushed again. I can feel it. On my cheeks. Everywhere.

This is going to be a long day.

He makes small talk with Momma when we join her and the other spectators. I sip my lemonade and lace my fingers with his when he reaches for my hand.

Daddy wins a ribbon again this year; Best in Show for antique trucks. We all clap for him, and Momma gives him a huge hug and a kiss to go along with his ribbon. She decides to stay with him for the picture taking and carrying on. They promise to meet us over near the pavilion before the parade.

"Can I please get some watermelon now?" Edward begs. He's been here nearly two hours and hasn't had a single bite.

He gets medium-sized slices for each of us before leading me over to a magnolia a few dozen feet away from the crowd. I sit and lean against the trunk with my legs outstretched and crossed in front of me. He sits down next to me, and we take our time eating. Being alone is nice.

When the watermelon is gone, we make our way back over to the festival.

There are free samples of baked goods, and he buys corndogs for both of us. I have to draw the line at funnel cake, leaving him to eat that since I'm stuffed.

One of the Mize High football players heckles us when we pass the High Striker game he's operating. "Come on, man. Don't you wanna win a prize for your girl? You get three chances."

Edward, being the cocky, stubborn ass he is, walks over and hands the kid two dollars in exchange for the mallet. He slams it onto the target full force, hitting it right in the center. The puck barely raises half way and registers as "Wimpy." The crowd around us laughs, and there are a couple of "Awww"s. I just grin, because Edward is smiling at me.

The boy starts taunting him. "Come on, buddy. You can do better than that."

Edward raises a brow, and I shrug. Then he swings the mallet lightly, catching the edge of the target at the perfect angle and sending the puck to the top.

The crowd cheers and some of the girls start whispering to their friends. Edward refuses the normal sized teddy bear that the kid tries to give him as a prize, insisting on the biggest one he has. The dang thing is half as tall as I am.

"Thank you." I accept it and smile like a proud girlfriend.

"You're welcome."

"Nice show you put on back there," I tease. He smiles and looks away. "I'm a science major, too, you know. I've taken a few physics classes."

"Just when I thought I could impress you," he shakes his head.

"Oh, I'm impressed. I'm definitely impressed. Now, why don't you work out those big, strong arms by carryin' this bear around for me? Bigger isn't always better."

He takes my prize and carries it around by the neck for the rest of the afternoon.

We find my parents, and Jake shows up just in time for the parade. He cheers with us when Tanya, the teen queen, and all the little watermelon girls ride by on a watermelon themed float being hauled by an old Ford Bronco.

Afterwards, Momma and Daddy leave, and I send my new bear on home with them. The rest of us head over to the pavilion to catch the live music that's about start.

We sit on the grass a few feet away from the makeshift dance floor, visiting with Tanya and Jake and listening to the band for a while.

The crowd goes wild when the lead singer asks if anybody feels like doing The Watermelon Crawl.

"Come on," Edward says, grabbing my hand and pulling me up.

"Edward, I can't. I haven't done it in years."

Tanya grabs my other hand, and the two of them drag me onto the floor. She and Jake take spots close by, and Edward stays next to me.

"Trust me." His arm snakes around my waist, moving me into position. "It's like ridin' a bike."

"It's a forty-count dance!"

The music starts, and he guides me. "Right toe. Right heel. Triple step. Now the left." I'm watching him and listening, lagging a little. "Step kick and back." Little by little, it's coming back. "See. You've got it," he laughs, and we both right behind then right touch.

By the time we grapevine, I've found my groove, moving in step and loving the way he's watching me instead of his feet. He's a good dancer, and he knows it.

I survive through the end of the song and try to escape after giving the band a round of applause, but they start playing "Sober" and I change my mind, settling into Edward's arms.

"I like this song." It's true, but I like the way he's holding me even more.

"Who'da thought you'd be a sucker for a good love song?" he asks, lifting his hand in the air to twirl me.

When I'm back in his arms, chest to chest, I answer. "And work boots." I can feel the color blooming warm across my cheeks. "Although, that's a recent development."

"You 'bout ready to get outta here?" he whispers, brushing my ear with his lips.

"Thought you'd never ask."

We weave our way off the dance floor, and he doesn't let go of my hand when we're out of the crowd and alone on the grass making our way to his truck. We make a quick stop at Tanya's car, and he takes my overnight bag and carries it for me.

There's a nervous flutter in my belly when he helps me into my seat. I've been with him in the biblical sense, felt him inside me, and let him see and touch all of me. And still, I blush, hoping I don't make too much of a fool of myself tonight. Tyler's the only man I've ever spent the night with, and that was a long, long time ago.

Since Edward seems to be fond of running around shirtless, I'm wondering if he sleeps in the buff.

The sound of his truck door closing helps get my mind off the way his muscles felt under my hands and pressed against me. But only for a second. When he smiles, I picture him naked all over again.

"So, where are we goin'?"

He spares me a glance and turns back to the road. "North."

He merges onto Highway 35, heading towards Morton. Jimmie Rodgers serenades us quietly in the background, and he tells me about his plans for his house. It will have three bedrooms and two baths, real hardwood floors, and two fireplaces, one in the family room and one in the master bedroom.

"It sounds nice," I say, thinking back to the picture on his wall. "Who designed it?"

"I told Alec what I wanted, and he drew it up."

"How long until it's done?"

"The framin' should be done before I go back to school next month. That's my specialty, anyway. Alec is going to oversee the rest for me. It should be finished before winter. He'll make sure his money is bein' put to good use."

"His money?"

"He loaned me some of the money to build it. It wasn't much, and Lord, it isn't like he's hurtin'. He knows I'm good for it."

The road gets darker when we enter the Bienville National Forest. I have a sneaking suspicion that we're not going to any hotel for the night.

The signs for Marathon Campground start to appear, reflecting in the headlights at the edge of the trees. He checks in at the entrance shack, tells the night shift security guard his last name, and takes an envelope labeled C42.

He bypasses the Loop A turn and steers the beast over to Loop B. Our spot, C42, overlooks the lake and is conveniently secluded by oaks and loblolly pines. We're surrounded enough to have privacy, but we're also the closest site to the pavilions and the modern bathhouse.

It seems he's thought of everything.

He takes a couple of bundles of kindling bound in cord from the truck bed and tosses them into the fire pit. There's a good sized fire moments later.

It takes him less than ten minutes to assemble a truck bed tent and attach it to the beast. He uses the car adaptor to blow up an air mattress. Then he takes a couple of sleeping bags, some pillows, and a flashlight from the back seat and tosses them into the tent opening.

He must've really taken that Boy Scout thing seriously.

"I bought this from a farmer in the parking lot earlier," he says, producing a bottle of watermelon wine from the cooler. The homemade label reads "The Good Stuff." He pulls the cork after he sits next to me by the fire. "Ladies first."

I take it from him and tip the bottle in his direction before lifting it for a drink. "I can see why they call it the good stuff," I say, licking my lips. It's delicious and sweet with a twist of tart. "You know, I'm beginnin' to think you might be a bad influence on me."

"Why do you say that?" His voice is thick, and he's rubbing his stubbly chin back and forth in the spot where my neck meets my shoulder. At the same time, his fingers are brushing the skin of my thigh and pulling the hem of my dress higher and higher.

"This is the second time I've broken the law in the last week. First the trot line, and now alcohol consumption in a state park."

"I wish I was sorry for corruptin' you, but I'm not." With his free hand, he takes the bottle from me and raises it to his lips for a swig.

He can corrupt me anytime he wants. In any way, shape, or form.

"The stars aren't this bright up in Oxford," I tell him, leaning my head back to gaze at the sky.

"It's the lights from the city and the cloud of humanity blockin' 'em. It's the same thing in Starkville, and don't get me started on Jackson." He shakes his head. "Listen."

We sit quietly, and I heed his request. When I close my eyes, I hear the crackle of the fire in front of us, distant ripples from the lake, crickets, frogs, and his breath in my ear. The wine bottle passes between us, and by the time it's empty, the flames have turned to glowing embers. He stands and kicks dirt over them, smothering the element, before helping me to my feet.

"Come on," he says. "Before we add public indecency to my rap sheet and your list of misdeeds."

The ground tilts a little beneath my feet… or maybe it's just the wine. He helps me onto the tailgate and into the tent, hoisting himself up and following a few moments later.

"I might be a little tipsy," I admit, moving over so he can arrange the bedding. As I watch, he unrolls one of the sleeping bags and unzips it all the way so he can spread it out across the air mattress. I stop him when he reaches for the second. "We're not gonna need covers for a while."

His arm catches me around my waist and pulls me closer. "Are you gonna corrupt me, now?"

"I'm gonna try." Being drunk is inconvenient when trying to undress gracefully in a cramped space like this. He helps, pulling off my boots, ridding me of my dress, and somehow toeing off his own boots in the process. I pull his shirt over his head but let him handle his own belt buckle. I hate those damn things.

Every second feels like an hour until we're finally skin to skin again.

He's gentle and sweet when he eases inside, kissing my lips, my cheeks, and my neck. It doesn't take long for the sweet to simmer over. I don't object when he rolls us over, pulling me on top of him.

His hands stay on my hips, and he moves for both of us when I can't because it feels too good. Once I've had time to come down, I move off of him and turn to face away from him before straddling him again.

"Holy shit." His voice is strained, but he flexes his hips to meet me on the down stroke.

"Lift your thighs a little." He does, and I tuck my calves under his legs and lean forward with my palms flat on the mattress.

"Damn," he groans, gripping my calves.

"You all right back there?" I glance over my shoulder, keeping pace and watching his jaw tense as I move. He nods and I face forward, letting my eyes close so I can feel every moment of this. When he's close, I push harder and I'm rewarded with the dirtiest words muttered under his breath and another satisfying orgasm.

It takes a while for us to catch our breath and recover. Hell, I might be sore for days, but it was worth it.

We throw on some clothes, and he walks me over to the restrooms so we can both take care of business before we turn in for the night. I try to leave my t-shirt on when we're settling down for bed, but he won't have it. He does sleep in the buff, and I let him convince me to do the same.

I'm not sure how long we stay up whispering in the dark or who falls asleep first, but his arms are warm and I've never been so comfortable in my entire life.

A/N- Wow. Posting something new is always scary, but you guys absolutely amazed me with your reviews. Thank you for giving this a shot.

Evilnat made a gorgeous banner for this story. If you want to see it, check out yesterday's teaser section at The Fictionators or you can find it on The Heart of Country Contest website. She even found a picture of Lake Archusa to use in the background.

Thank you, Rob Attack's FicSix, for the contest spotlight on your blog.

Music: Watermelon Crawl - Tracy Byrd

Sober - Little Big Town

Jimmie Rodgers is sometimes known as "The Father of Country Music." He was one of the first country music superstars, and he was from Meridian, MS. If you read TGAG, you know I have a deep love for Louis Armstrong. In 1930, Jimmie Rodgers recorded the song "Blue Yodel No. 9" with Louis on trumpet. Useless trivia I know, but I think it's kind of cool.

Thanks for reading, y'all!

-MSC