All In (Cedar Mountain University #2) (8 page)

“He’s hurting too, Grace.”

I snort, reaching over to grab the syrup so I can drown my
pancakes. “He sure as hell has a funny way of showing it.”

“Don’t discount his feelings.”

“Why not? You’re discounting mine.”

“That’s not true.” I glare at him. “It’s not, Grace.” He insists.
“I’m pissed because you’ve all of sudden become this person that I don’t know.
Because the Grace I know would never get drunk and spend the night at a frat
house with a guy she doesn’t know from a hole in the wall, and not bother to
call and tell anyone where she’s going to be.”

A hole in the wall? What in the hell is he talking about?

“Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?”

“I was fine. It was no big deal.”

“You’re right, you were fine. This time. But Grace, anything could
have happened and no one knew where you were or who you were with and you
didn’t take your cell phone with you so there was no way we could get a hold of
you.”

And just like that it clicks for me. Holden doesn’t give a shit
what I’ve done or not done with Jacob, at least no more than he ever did about
what I was doing while I was with Grant.

“Oh, Holden.” I murmur. “You can’t think like that. It’ll drive you
crazy.”

“Oh, he’s already there.” Ally says. “He freaks if I don’t call or
text him every couple of hours when we aren’t together.”

I take a bite of my pancakes, which are boarding on inedible since
I have thoroughly soaked them in syrup. I wash them down with some water. “What
happened to Delaney was a horrible thing.” A quick glance to Delaney out of the
corner of my eye shows that her head is bowed forward slightly, her hair
creating a curtain that hides her face.

“I didn’t worry about you when you were with Grant. I trusted him
to take care of you. I don’t know Jacob Ross.”

“But you know me. You need to trust me to take care of me
A
lly reaches over and grabs
Holden’s
cup of coffee. “Somebody needs to be worried about Grant.” She sets the cup
back down before reaching for a slice of bacon. “He showed up at the ER at
three o’clock this morning needing fifteen stitches to close the cut over his
eye.”

“What?” Holden’s head whips around. “What happened?”

Ally shrugs. “He just mumbled something about falling down, which
was obvious bullshit, but that was all I could get out of him.” She pops the
final bite of bacon into her mouth.

“What do you think happened?” I ask, watching Holden dig his cell
phone out of his pocket. I’m sure he’s going to try and get in touch with
Grant.

“I think he got the shit beat out of him.” She says
matter-of-factly. “He was moving slow, favoring his left side a bit, but he
refused to be checked out any further. He got the stitches and left.”

Holden drops his phone on the table. “He isn’t answering.” He
focuses his gaze on Cole. “You didn’t see him this morning?”

“I stayed with Del last night.” His gaze flickers to me then away
again. “He said he had a date last night.”

Rolling my eyes, I shove away my half eaten plate of food.
“Obviously it went well.”

“I gotta say, you sure know how to show a girl a good time.” I take
another bite of my slightly overcooked hot dog. I’d smothered it in mustard and
ketchup in the hopes of overpowering the burnt taste. It was only marginally
helping so I was following each bite with a large drink of diet coke.

“What can I say, it’s a gift.” Jacob cracks another peanut,
dropping the shell so that it falls between the bleachers we’re sitting on. He
holds the peanuts out to me in the palm of his hand.
W
hen my fingers brush against his skin, I feel the awareness that
has been simmering all night ignite into flames.

It’s all I can do not to snatch my hand back like I’ve been burned.
That’s what I felt like, and it isn’t an altogether unpleasant feeling.

In fact, I sort of want to touch him again to see if I can get the
heat to kick up another notch.

“When you said to dress warm and comfortable I have to admit that
this,” I wave my hand out toward the field in front of us that had been cleaned
out, and in a few short minutes would host a demolition derby. “wasn’t even in
the top fifty things that I thought we might be doing tonight.”

“You thought of fifty? That’s quite a list. Maybe we should review
it so I have some ideas for next time.”

“Who said there’s going to be a next time?” I lick a bit of ketchup
off my thumb, watching in amusement as his eyes follow the movement. Good to
know I wasn’t the only one feeling the heat.

“There will be.” He jerks his eyes away from my mouth, and he
cracks another peanut a little harder than necessary. He didn’t offer this
batch to me, popping them into his own mouth instead. Now I was the one staring
like a creeper. I clear my throat, “Awfully sure of yourself.”

“Confidence is sexy.”

I choke on a laugh, “Yes it is.” I agree. He wears it well. I take
another bite of hot dog, looking out to the field where the ugliest, most beat-up
cars I’ve ever seen are slowly entering the ring. Earlier we had watched the
dirt get watered down with several water hoses. I’m not sure what the purpose
was, since none of the cars currently entering look like they have four
-
wheel drive and would more than likely get stuck in the mud.

“So tell me what you know about demolition derbies.”

I glance over to Jacob again. “Umm…that would be nothing.” I say
with a smile. “Obviously my education is severely lacking.”

“Severely.” He holds out more peanuts and I carefully take them,
trying to touch him as little as possible. I’m pretty sure if I touch him too
much more tonight I’m going to end up grabbing him and kissing him. I’m more
than positive he wouldn’t object, but if just touching him sets me off I’m
afraid of what kissing him is going to do.

So I probably shouldn’t be in a public place the first time we
kiss.

 
“Are you paying attention to
me, Pix?”

Blinking, I look over to him. “Uh, no.”

The way he studies me with those intense ice blue eyes tells me
that he doesn’t think I’m thinking about what I’m actually thinking about. I’m
pretty sure he thinks I’m thinking about Grant. I’m actually surprised that I’m
not thinking about Grant. That I haven’t thought about him once since Jacob
picked me up over an hour ago. I want to reassure him, but I’m not sure how I
can without bringing up Grant and I’m afraid doing that is going to ruin what I
think is going to be a pretty amazing first date.

So instead I say, “Wow me with your knowledge on demolition
derbies.”

“They basically ram into each other until their cars stop working.
Last man standing wins.”

“Wow.” I say slowly, drawing out the word.

“Your sarcasm is duly noted.”

“That’s good. I’m glad you didn’t miss it. Would you like a bite of
my very disgusting hot dog?”

One brow arches. “It must be horrible if you’re offering to share
food. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that happen.”

“It’s a rare occurrence. Like sightings of Big Foot or the Loch
Ness Monster.” I take the last bite of the hot dog, licking more ketchup off my
fingers. His pupils dilate, narrowing as they zero in on my mouth again. Huh.
This is pretty fun. I swipe my tongue across my bottom lip and watch his entire
body tense. Awareness swirls around us so thick and heavy I feel like I could
reach out and touch it.

It would take no effort to lean forward and touch my lips to his.
My earlier conviction
about
doing this in public for the
first time fades as I feel my body lean toward his and anticipation makes my
skin tingle. He hasn’t moved at all but I’ve inadvertently closed the distance
between us to the point that I can feel the warmth of his breath blowing across
my lips. I drop one hand down on his thigh, my fingers flexing into the muscle
there as I tilt my head to the side, just a little. Just enough.

“Welcome ladies and gentlemen
to the
F
ifth Annual Demolition of Breast Cancer

Demolition Derby! All of
tonight’s proceeds will go directly to research in the prevention and cure of
breast cancer.”

My body jerks back as the voice booms over the loud speaker.
Everyone around us starts clapping and whistling before the announcer even
stops talking and I am slammed back into reality abruptly. My hand flexes again
on his thigh, the denim of his jeans rough against my fingers.

We just watch each other for a moment, the buzz of the crowd and
the announcer fading to sound like background music in my ears. Five more
seconds, I think. If the announcer had waited just five more seconds I would at
least have gotten a small taste of him.

Several seconds later one of his hands covers mine where it still
rests on his thigh, wrapping around mine like a glove. His other hand reaches
up to brush along my jaw, snagging a strand of my hair and tucking it behind my
ear. It immediately slides back out and he smiles faintly.

“You’re an Indian giver.”

“What?”

“You offered me a bite of your hot dog and then you ate it. That
wasn’t very nice of you, Pixie.”

My nose wrinkles at the nickname. “You were too slow.” I turn back
to the field as the announcer briefly goes over the rules. Jacob was right,
there isn’t much more to it than the drivers ramming their cars into each other
until they stop running. Last vehicle still moving wins. “Are you cheering for any
car in particular?”

“Number 3.”

My eyes scan across the cars, seven in all, seeking out number 3.
It’s a small, mostly brown, four-door sedan. On second glance, I don’t think
the car is painted brown so much as it is covered in rust. A good strong wind
would probably tear the entire thing apart. The door of the driver’s side is
painted a bright bold white, the cleanest part of the entire car, with the
number 3 sloppily spray painted just below the window.

“Why number 3?”

“It’s my number.”

It doesn’t take long for me to realize what he’s talking about. The
number he’d worn on his jersey when he played football. Tonight is an away game
for our team, who is doing relatively well despite the fact that the current
quarterback doesn’t have even half the talent that Jacob has. Or had.

I wonder how difficult it is to be here with me, and not out on the
field. I want to ask him why he quit, but I have a feeling I wouldn’t get an
answer, and it might ruin our night just as quickly as me mentioning Grant’s
name.

“All right. Number 3 for you and number 5 for me.” I pick the car
sitting right next to number 3. I’m pretty sure at some point the vehicle had
been some sort of station wagon. Although it’s obviously had some serious
modifications to it, none of them for the better. Grinning I look over to
Jacob. “My car is going to kick your car’s ass. Just an FYI.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

“I think those are fighting words, Pix.”

“Bet?”

Nodding his head he tucks that errant strand of hair back behind my
ear again, and I visibly shiver as his fingers brush along my neck. He grins in
response. “What do I get when I win?” He asks.

“Oh, I don’t think we need to worry about that since you aren’t
winning.”

“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Confidence is sexy.” I remind him primly.

“Yes it is.” He agrees with a laugh. “So what do you want if you
win?”

“I don’t know, I’ll have to think about it. Oh, look, that guy’s
selling cotton candy. I love cotton candy.”

Jacob lifts his hand, catching the guy’s attention so that he
starts making his way through the stands and over to us. “You don’t do subtle
well, do you?”

“Waste of time.” I beam at the cotton candy guy. “The pink and blue
one, please. Thanks.” Jacob hands him some cash and I pull open the bag and
yank of a tuft of pink sugar. “Want some?” I hold the bag up to Jacob.

“I think I’ll pass.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing.” I pop another piece in my
mouth, letting it melt against my tongue. “Oh, they’re starting.”

The cars on the field are moving through the mud much better than I
thought they would, considering they all look like they should be sitting in a
junkyard. I laugh when the first two cars ram together, watching in fascination
as suddenly two cars smash another one between them.

It doesn’t take long for the cars to start dying out. They just
leave them sitting in the field, the drivers still in the cars, while the
remaining cars slam into each other all around them. After only ten minutes the
last two cars remaining are number 3 and number 5. What are the odds? It’s
harder for them to maneuver around the remaining cars, and it looks almost like
some weird automotive dance the way they try to avoid getting hit by the other
car.

Then suddenly number 3 guns it, wheels spinning up mud as it speeds
backward, slamming directly into the passenger side of number 5. The number 5
car jerks with the impact and I watch the driver scramble to try and get
control of his car, but he’s hit a mud puddle and it looks like his wheels are
sinking into the soft ground.

The number 3 car pulls forward and then slams backward again and
there’s a loud popping sound as the tire on the number 5 car bursts,
effectively putting him out of commission. Jacob leans over, his breath ticking
along my ear as he whispers. “I win.”

I tilt my head towards him, once again putting us within
centimeters of kissing. My eyes lock on his. “What do you win?” I whisper.

Please kiss me. Please, please, please.

The words dance like a mantra through my head.

“I’ll have to think about it.”

It looks like he’s going to lean in just enough to kiss me. I watch
as his lips part just slightly, his breathing becoming slightly irregular. If
he doesn’t kiss me within the next ten seconds I’m afraid I’m going to
spontaneously combust.

But instead of moving just a fraction forward, he pulls back.

“You ready to head back?”

What? No! No, I’m not ready to head back. What in the hell? I’m
ready for fireworks and combustion. But before I can formulate the words he’s
standing up, our hands that are still locked together sliding off his thigh. I
stare at them for a moment while I try to figure out what in the hell just
happened.

But then he’s tugging on my hand. “Come on, before it gets any
colder. Your nose is starting to turn red.”

“If you compare me to a reindeer I’m going to push you off the
bleachers.” I mutter. He starts laughing and I contemplate pushing him anyway.

Why in the hell didn’t he kiss me?