The Tillman Crush

By Kelly Gendron

It took ten seconds to fall for her, one accident to lose her, and seven years to get back to her.

SADIE
Britt Tillman was a jerk.
Yet I was forced to tolerate him.
Our parents were best friends.
I'm not sure if I hated him or if I secretly wanted him.
Then Britt kissed me.
He growled when his mouth touched mine.
His lips were soft. His hold was firm.
The next day, he vanished.
After seven years, he's back with a sexy smile, flirty eyes, and jacked muscles.
Not that I care.
Let him slather on the charm.
I won't give in to The Tillman Crush.
NOT THIS TIME!

BRITT
Sadie Holland. Beautiful. Smart.
The untouchable girl next door.
Growing up, I wanted her.
To keep her at a safe distance, I was mean to her.
Then, the accident happened.
With my mom gone, my father turned to the bottle.
So I left town the first chance I got.
Now, I'm back and not just for Sadie.
The other thing I want.
Well, the girl I came back for might not like it.
Still, I won't stop until I get what I want.
NOT THIS TIME!

USA Bestselling Author, Kelly Gendron brings you a steamy, must-read small town romance!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kelly Gendron
• Release date: Aug 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005004606

Kelly Gendron

USA Today Bestselling Author, Kelly Gendron is best found tucked away in a quiet suburb in upstate NY writing her steamy, blush producing contemporary romances. But, when she’s not creating HEA stories, you might find her helping out her hubby in his workshop. He’s good with his hands and great with wood! If you Google Kelly, she’ll pop up there as well. And please google her. Kelly loves to hear from her readers and to meet new people!

Book preview

Chapter One

SADIE

If I win, you must be nice to me...

When I corralled Dad’s old Silverado off the road and up the hill, I expected to find some kids making out in their car.

Did you hear me? I squint against the high beams, holding the gun steady in my hand. Hey! I step forward, shifting back and forth to see through the blinding headlights.

The figure continues to stab a shovel into the dirt.

This is private property! Hey!

Yeah, yeah, I heard you, the voice grumbles between metal hitting a stubborn rain-deprived ground.

Well… I inch closer just in time to catch a splatter of dirt across the face. What the hell! I brush off the leftover dust with my forearm, keeping the gun aimed at the tall jerk. That’s it! I’m going to give you three seconds to come out of the light where I can see you—

Or what? the male jackass responds, sticking the shovel in the ground and leaving it there like a fork standing free in Grandma Lili’s mashed potatoes.

God rest her soul. The woman knew how to cook a stick-to-your-ribs meal!

Or I’m going to call the sheriff! This is private property and—

Yeah. Yeah. The shadowy silhouette moves across the high beams.

A muddied denim leg breaks past the light.

If it’s still Sheriff Rogan— The distant voice carries louder through the darkness, and my nerves run in every direction from the familiar sound. He’s going to be pissed that you’re bothering him, considering I own the property.

Like the familiar voice, recognizable aqua-flecked eyes move in front of the headlights, revealing the person I lost a lot of sleep over as a teenager.

Britt Tillman?

Sadie Holland. He smiles, and something new flares in his mature but nicer-looking face. Put the damn gun down. We both know it’s not loaded. His lips tip up, and his eyes twinkle.

Is he teasing me?

Britt Tillman doesn’t have a teasing bone in his body. At least, not the Britt I grew up with.

My arm drops.

He shakes his head and chuckles. Yeah, that’s what I thought. You couldn’t kill a spider trying to share a bed with you.

OMG! He is teasing me! What’s going on? You own half of it.

What? He tilts his head back enough for me to get another dose of those memorable, clear glass eyes.

The land, I mumble, mesmerized by the fact he’s standing in the exact same spot I last saw him at the dividing line of our property.

Oh, yeah. He views the dark pasture for a quick head-nodding second. For the time being, I guess so.

He turns back with another knock-me-out-of-my-braids smile.

What’s that supposed to mean? My eyes snap to his arm. The muscles rippling under his dirty white T-shirt quicken my pulse.

There’s some ink peeking out from the sleeve that wasn’t there before. Neither were the muscles beneath the tattoo. Damn. He’s grown into—

How are you, Sadie?

What? I blink back to his dancing-with-mischief eyes. Where did that extra spark of life come from? What are you doing here, Britt?

His eyes rest on me like his damn smile, calm, easy, and resolute.

Not like I’ll burn his corneas if he looks at me too long as they had when we were kids.

He hated me. I know he did. I saw it in his eyes.

Remember that time capsule we buried before I left for Texas?

Yeah. I can’t believe he does. My God! He’s stacked. Greg Cooper works out at least three hours a day and doesn’t look as good as Britt.

I wonder how many hours he spends at the gym. What does he do for a living? What job could allow him enough time to work out longer than three hours?

I was digging it up. I want to sell the Stormtrooper. I put the keys in Dad’s safe, he says as though he hasn’t been gone for seven years!

Do you think your Jeep is going to start?

Yes. He winks.

Oh! Stop it right now!

The Britt Tillman I know scowls. He does not wink!

The Stormtrooper has never let me down before.

It’s not there.

What? He glances back at the open field, and I take the chance to check out the rest of his body, particularly his drum-tight neck.

I got a thing for a guy’s neck.

Damn, he’s morphed into something drool-worthy! I’ve always been drawn to his dark I-don’t-care-what-anyone-thinks-about-me attitude. Growing up, I sort of envied him for it. But this…this Britt Winking Tillman from his clean-shaven face to his muscle-bound I-hit-the-gym-regularly bod is not trying to hide anything!

This isn’t the spot? He points. I thought we buried it right here.

No. My eyes snap to his. I mean, yes, but it’s gone. The safe is gone. I took it. I dug it up a while ago. Babble much?

Get it together!

You know this stranger who’s pulling off sexy as hell in dirty jeans. You played hours of video games with this guy. Granted, he usually won.

You also shared the same boring family game nights. Granted, he barely participated.

Oh. His head tilts, and another flirty smile tugs on his lips.

Those lips? Wait. Did they look like that when I was younger?

Yes. They did.

I ignored them.

Now I remember. I ignored them until the night before he left Utah when they kissed me. I try not to think about that kiss like I try not to think about Tilly’s Between-The-Sheets Raspberry Slab Pie. It’s to die for and bad for me!

You dug it up? His lips twitch, rousing me from my naughty thoughts of treats and all things bad.

I grimace. No, I didn’t, but I can’t let him find it. My diary containing all my uncensored teenage thoughts is in the damn thing!

Not to mention the truth about his mom.

Yes, I nod, affirming the lie. A few years back.

Oh. He lifts his hat and gives his short sandy-blond every-which-way hair a scratch. So you have the keys then?

His bicep bulges, and for some reason, my thighs tighten like something inside wants to get out and run over to him!

What are you doing here, Britt?

I told you, I’m digging up—

No. Here. I point the gun at the ground. In Utah? He didn’t bother to come home two years ago when his father died. Why come home now?

He shrugs. You still got the keys to the Stormtrooper?

I don’t know. I wave the gun with the lie. I’m not a good liar. He knows it! Once, I told him if he got in trouble at school, it’d go on his permanent record. I was eight, and he was ten. I said it with the straightest face. He still didn’t believe me. I’ll have to look around for them. How long do you plan on staying?

He adjusts his hat, delivering my body another slow and steady observation with his dark blue eyes. Why? Is there a time limit on how long you’ll look for the keys?

No, smart-ass. I sneer. I was just wondering how long you plan on being in town? I wave the gun to the beat of my words.

Sadie. He walks over, shaking his head.

My thighs squeeze tight, and I realize that I’m holding my breath. I blow out just as he lands in front of me.

Oh shit! What did I eat last?

Onions! I had onions on my salad.

I raise my arm to cover my mouth. I’m sorry.

He snatches my flailing gun. His eyebrows dent. It’s not loaded, right?

Sorry. I laugh. No. It’s not loaded. I place a hand over my mouth. I didn’t mean to blow my onion breath on you.

Nothing could compare to your dad’s Wednesday night garlic noodles. He grins. You’d make my eyes burn.

I stare at him, unsure how to respond. I’m not twelve. Hitting him isn’t the adult thing to do, but bringing attention to my bad breath isn’t either.

He’s different.

Almost approachable.

I was always intrigued by how strange and elusive he was, but I’m not sure what to think about this Britt. He remembers Dad’s Wednesday night dinners. That’s almost sweet. Something else Britt Tillman is not.

No. I snag my gun back from him. It’s not loaded.

Good. I wouldn’t want my welcome home to be a shot in the ass from an old friend.

Did he just refer to me as his friend?

Home?

Yes, Sadie. Home.

So you plan on staying?

Yes.

Like you’re going to live here? Up there, in your dad’s house, from now on? You’re not leaving?

I can’t tell if that’s dread, disbelief, or uncertainty in your voice.

Pick one, or better yet, all of the above nearly falls from my mouth, but everything stops when he reaches out and pinches the end of my braid. Well, everything except whatever is going on between my legs.

Yeah, that still wants to run over and give him…a hug?

Which is strange, considering Britt Tillman wasn’t one of those guys who made me bat my eyes or twirl my hair. No. He made my blood boil and fists clench. He didn’t say much, but it was usually a one-liner that I had a hard time figuring out when he did. After all, he’s almost three years older than me. So, when comparing fifteen to almost eighteen, there’s a difference. I’d like to think now that I’m older that there’s less of an understanding gap.

He stares down at his fingers. I thought you were done wearing braids when you turned fourteen? His eyes lift to mine. I always liked them on you.

Alright, no misunderstanding there. That was a compliment. What the hell is going on? I’m not sure how to react.

Okay! I hold up my hands. All I want to know is what you did with Britt Tillman. I laugh but fall short when he pulls on my braid.

He draws me closer to him. His head bends, and his smile melts away.

His lips relax inches from mine.

His eyes darken.

Look really close, Sadie. He pauses long enough for me to take that look, and everything he ever made me feel, good and bad, floods through me. He’s still in here.

The night he left comes crashing into me. The growl he made when his mouth touched mine. The way his lips were soft and his hold was firm. I was sixteen. I’d kissed a boy before, but none like Britt. He frightened me, and he made me feel something new… something I’ve been looking for but haven’t found since that kiss.

Yes. I yank my hair from his fingers and arch back. I can see that. I run my hand over my braid.

He stands up straight and smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. They remain dark and astute as though he knows what’s between my legs and that it wants to jump all over his ripped body.

Damn him! I’m not going back there. He confused me that night, and then he left!

Well. His head dips. I’ll see you tomorrow then.

Tomorrow?

Yeah. He grins. Didn’t Caleb tell you? He invited me over for dinner.

Caleb knows you’re in town?

He laughs. This time, the gesture lights up his eyes. I’ll see ya, Sadie.

Yeah, I watch him turn and walk toward his truck.

Wait until I see my brother! He could’ve warned me Britt Tillman was back!

Chapter Two

BRITT

If I win, I get to pick the next game…

I walk into the house and flick on the lights. I keep thinking I’ll see Dad passed out on the recliner, but it’s quiet and still. I drop the safe on the coffee table and plop my ass onto the sofa.

I wonder why Sadie lied about digging up the safe. It was already in my truck when she got there tonight. I was refilling the hole, but her lie threw me off.

That and how great she looked.

Fuck. She stumped my heart a few times. It took a bit to recompose myself, not that I’d let her see it. I don’t think she realizes how she affects dudes. She’s been like that since she was young.

Sadie Holland is the kind of girl you kiss even when she has bad breath.

I chuckle, remembering the time she tossed a bowl of cereal at me when I told her she shouldn’t wear makeup if she wasn’t going to put it on right. Oh, she was pissed. What I really meant was that she was pretty without it.

Teenager me didn’t know how to say anything nice. I worked out my feelings through sarcasm and vulgar words.

After Mom died, it got worse.

Dad’s safe held up good for being in the ground for the past seven years. I hosed it off and wiped it down outside.

I flip the latch back and open the top.

Leaning forward, I put my hand inside. It feels dry. I take out the bags we put in. I open one and pull out the T-shirt Sadie wore all the time. It says, this is my tea shirt, and it has a tea bag on it.

I hated the thing.

It reminded me of how naïve and young she really was whenever she had it on.

She loved it.

I’m not sure why she used it to wrap a book and put it in the time capsule. I pick up the book. It’s her cherished diary. I run my hand over the front.

She’d write in it every night. She’d tell me, If you’re not nice to me, Britt Tillman, I’m going to put bad things about you in my diary.

Little did she know, I hated the thought.

But I can’t change the way our relationship started—shitty.

She was seven. I was almost ten. She ran into the house and bumped into me. It took me one sniff to realize I had our dog Rudy’s shit on my face. She apologized, but she touched my arm, and while doing so, she smeared more shit on me.

I swore at her, and she cried. It took her a week to look