Dirty Thoughts (15 page)

He owed it to himself and to Jenna to give this relationship with her a chance. He wasn’t ready to propose or commit to two-point-five kids, but what kind of coward was he that he wasn’t willing to try?

That’s all Jenna had asked for, after all. The chance to try.

W
HEN
C
AL CLOSED
up the shop for the day, Brent was still in the office. His brow was furrowed as he bent over the file of invoices, his pen tapping on the glass counter.

“You about ready to head out?” Cal asked.

Brent’s head went up. He wore a pair of reading glasses when he worked, and Cal liked to tease him about them. Brent must have seen Cal’s smirk, because he whipped off the glasses and threw them onto the counter. “Yeah, I’m at a good stopping point. Let me get this stuff put away, and I can help you lock up.”

Cal straightened up some magazines and turned off the TV in the waiting room while Brent shuffled papers.

“Nice of your wife to bring you lunch today.” Brent shoved the accordion file under the counter and straightened.

The word
wife
felt thick and heavy. Too heavy. “We’re friends. No need to rent a tux yet.”

“Uh-huh. Right. Because I’m sure you and Jenna will be
just friends
by next week.”

“Well, maybe—”

“Why did you look like I cut your brake lines when I said ‘wife’?”

Cal crossed his arms. He wasn’t sure exactly. Maybe he’d spent so damn long shoving that word into a corner until he was sure it was on permanent timeout, that now he couldn’t stop the knee-jerk reaction when he heard it. “Maybe that word just freaks me out.”

“Spouse?”

Cal shuddered.

“You have . . . ” Brent waved a hand. “What’s the word? Negative association. Yeah, that’s it. You have a negative association with the word ‘wife.’ Might wanna get over that if you ever plan on marrying her. Would look weird if you threw up every time you introduced her to people.”

“I wouldn’t throw up,” Cal retorted.

Brent raised an eyebrow.

“It’s just a lot to take in. My life . . . didn’t move. It was status quo for ten years. I settled in and dug the grooves so deep into my routine that I didn’t think I’d ever get off track. I got knocked when Max went into the hospital, but I righted myself. Then Jenna came back and Asher showed up on my doorstep. And my life . . . ” He shook his head. “My life isn’t what I thought it’d be, and maybe I’m just trying to adjust the best I can.”

Brent’s expression was composed. “Sure. I get that.”

Cal pointed a finger at him. “Don’t patronize me. You’re in a rut too, and you just wait, man. Some girl is going to knock you flat on your ass, and then I get to be the one who smirks and nods while you’re hurting.”

“You seem pretty sure of yourself there.”

“Bound to happen sometime.”

“I don’t have a rut. That’s the whole point of what I do.” Brent’s shoulders tensed defensively.

Cal enjoyed having the upper hand again. “What’re you talking about? You totally have a rut. Just because the girl changes every time doesn’t make it any less of a rut. When you have to deal with the same woman all the time and actually work at it, then you’ll see how it keeps you on your toes.”

Brent sniffed. “Well, whatever, then. I like my rut.” A smile curled his lips. “You only wish you had my rut.”

“Quit saying that word.”

“I rut well in my rut.”

Cal turned on his heel and walked out the door without looking back.

“Keep your eyes out of my rut!” Brent called after him.

Chapter Twenty-One

C
AL COULDN’T STOP
chewing the inside of his cheek. The skin was ragged, but at least it was hidden, where no one could see the evidence of his nerves.

Asher was humming happily to himself in the passenger seat of the truck on the way to pick up Jenna to take her to the movies. The kid had talked Cal’s ear off for the first ten minutes about the movie budget and the cost of the special effects and a million other things that went over Cal’s head. But he was good at nodding and murmuring at appropriate times in the conversation without really listening. And it’s not that he didn’t care about what Asher had to say; it was that he couldn’t stop his mind from replaying the last couple of weeks with Jenna and all that it meant.

Despite his worries about Asher and the sexual tension with Jenna, he’d been happier than he could remember being in a long time. His house wasn’t silent; his meals weren’t alone.

Everything was full, nearly full to bursting, in a way he’d avoided but now craved.

Cal was a decisive kind of guy. The last time he changed his mind about something important was ten years ago, when he vowed to avoid a long-term relationship that would lead to a family.

But now . . . he was wondering if that was the one single thing that eighteen-year-old kid had right.

He didn’t know how to do this or what to say to Jenna. They’d set an expiration date on their relationship, and the timer had run out. But now he wanted an extension. A trial period.

He parked in her driveway and muttered to Asher, “Don’t forget the flowers,” before stepping out of the truck. He let Asher lead the way, a bouquet that had cost a fucking fortune clutched in his hands.

When Jenna opened the door, her eyes met Cal’s first before lowering to take in Asher and the flowers he held proudly in front of him.

“These are for you, Jenna.”

She beamed brightly, and Cal thought to himself that flowers had the right idea, tilting their blooms toward the sun. Because that was him right now, basking in the sunshine that Jenna radiated, like always.

They followed her inside so she could stick the bouquet in water. Cal wanted to grab her around the waist and tug her to him, take her mouth until both of them forgot about leaving the house for some stupid movie.

She had her hair pulled up on top of her head somehow, with a piece in a swoop over one eye. She wore a pair of tight jeans, flat shoes, and a light-blue tank top. “You look nice, Jenna,” he murmured softly in her ear and then pressed a kiss to her temple. She froze. He knew he’d avoided touching her with any sign of affection since Asher had showed up. Which was dumb. So fucking dumb. He should have been giving her flowers every day. He should have been kissing her and touching her and doing everything he could to show her how he felt.

She stared at the flowers and started arranging them in the vase.

He didn’t move his head, so his lips still brushed the shell of her ear. He could still back away; he could blow off the closeness with a laugh. But Jenna knew him, and he was touching her with intent. He knew it and she knew it. This was his night to show her that he could be boyfriend material again, that he could treat her like she deserved. He was a little rusty, but he figured he’d go with his instincts. They’d never failed him before.

Jenna didn’t move, and then slowly she turned her head so their lips were inches apart. “What are you doing?”

There was so much he wanted to say, but all the words banged around in his head, clogging until they were a jumbled mass. So he didn’t speak. He brushed his lips against hers and then stepped back, offering her a smile he hoped said what he couldn’t speak. He hoped Jenna spoke this language of kisses, because right now, that was the only thing he was fluent in.

She blinked, her lashes fluttering. Then she heaved a breath and stepped back, grabbing her purse off the table. Her hands shook as she pulled out a tube of lipstick and coated her lips. He should have felt guilty, but instead, he was so fucking relieved that he still affected her. And that she hadn’t slapped him. That had been a real possible outcome in Cal’s mind.

In the truck, he let Asher sit between them. After everyone’s seat belts were secure, he began the drive to the movie theater.

Casually, he draped his arm behind Asher’s back and let his fingers rest along the back of Jenna’s neck. She didn’t pull away, like he thought she might. He ran his thumb along her skin, feeling goose bumps and the hitch of her breath.

At the theater, Asher walked ahead of them in the parking lot, still chattering about the movie. Cal walked beside Jenna, a hand on her upper back.

In the lobby, a big screen was showing previews of movies, so Cal left Asher and Jenna there to watch while he bought the tickets.

When he found them again, standing near a display of movie posters, he had a huge bucket of popcorn and a soda for Asher and another for Jenna. “Dr. Pepper,” he said, handing it to her. She smiled, somewhat hesitantly. She’d always loved that soda. He’d never liked the taste of it, but he sure did love the taste of Dr. Pepper and Jenna.

He hoped he got a chance later.

C
AL WAS KILLING
her. And confusing her.

It was the little touches. The compliments. The hand-delivered Dr. Pepper, like no time had passed.

She dissected his actions and words in her head on the drive to the theater. While Cal was buying tickets. While she sucked on the straw of her Dr. Pepper. If Cal meant to give this a shot, it would change everything, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for it.

So she tried to ignore the touches and the compliments as they took their seats in the crowded theater. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d been to a movie theater since dating Cal back in high school, but there was something special about
this
time. Maybe it was Asher’s presence, as he soaked up their attention like a sponge. The kid was desperate to spend time with adults who cared about him, who paid attention to him. And even though Jenna’s mind was occupied with Cal, she still made sure to listen to Asher.

“So, I read,” Asher was saying, sitting on her right in the dimly lit theater while the previews played, “that Sam Andrews broke his arm at the end of filming, so they had to do a lot of tricky camera work to cover it up.”

Jenna winced. “Ouch. Did he break it during filming?”

Asher munched on his popcorn and shook his head. “He was jumping on a trampoline or something with his nieces and nephews.”

“Oh wow, poor guy.”

Cal shifted in his seat on her left, his jean-clad thigh brushing hers. She didn’t move away.

“And,” Asher continued, oblivious to the heat that was curling in her gut, “one of the stunt guys got third-degree burns on his chest from a mistimed explosion.”

“Oh my God!”

Asher leaned forward. “Thanks for the popcorn. I think it’s fresh because it’s really crunchy.” Then he sat back in his seat and took a sip of his drink.

Teenagers and their attention spans.

Cal placed his arm on the armrest between them. Jenna stared at it, then lifted her gaze to Cal’s face. He was staring straight ahead at the trivia game on the screen.

“Drew Barrymore!” Asher crowed in response to the question, Who played Gertie in
E.T.
? He dropped his soda in the cup holder. “I’m going to go to the bathroom real quick. Is that cool?”

Cal nodded and Asher left, walking quickly down the aisle.

Jenna bit her lips as another trivia question came on, but her attention wasn’t on the screen. She wouldn’t have been able to tell anyone what it was about if asked. Her mind was on Asher and how Cal treated him. She lowered her gaze to her lap and ran her fingers along an imperfection in the denim of her jeans. “You’re really good with him,” she said softly.

Cal grunted. “Eh, it’s like riding a bike.”

She faced him again, and this time, he turned his head and met her gaze. “Something changed, didn’t it?” She hoped he didn’t make her explain further right now.

“Yup,” Cal said.

She turned her head, but strong fingers gripped her head and forced it back. Cal’s jaw was set, and his eyes were narrowed, glowing like liquid silver as they reflected the colors on the screen in front of them.

He looked like he was going to speak, but instead he pressed his mouth to hers in a kiss that wasn’t so chaste, because he moved his lips, and there was his tongue, and by the time he was finished, she was a puddle in her seat.

And with that, he let go of her chin, dropped his hand into her lap, and laced his fingers with hers. Then he turned his face to the screen.
“Pirates of the Caribbean!”
he shouted in response to the trivia question.

A
SHER CAME BACK
, but Cal kept up the touches throughout the movie, rubbing the skin between Jenna’s thumb and forefinger with his thumb. Sometimes his fingers strayed a little to her inner thigh, which scrambled her brain and made her lose track of the plot of the movie.

The back of his fingers brushed her jaw and neck as he slung his arm over the back of her chair. The warmth of his leg against hers infused her whole body with a searing heat.

At one point, she fanned herself with her hand, and Asher looked at her strangely. “Hot flash,” she said in explanation, and with a look of alarm, Asher focused back on the screen and asked no further questions. Boys did not want to talk about girl stuff. Always a good defense.

By the time they left the theater, Jenna was tucked into Cal’s side, and his arm was around her shoulders. She didn’t protest, because frankly, it felt so good to be in Cal’s arms, while Asher jumped up and down about how the movie was
so cool
, and the lead actor was
so hot
, and he
couldn’t wait
for the DVD to come out so he could see all the bonus scenes.

On the way to her house, finally free of Cal’s touch, Jenna thought maybe she should be resisting this. Maybe she should tell Cal to go to hell. But her heart didn’t want to. That hope that had been a low simmer was now a rolling boil.

She could be strong and resist Cal, but the effort seemed futile. If she dug deep in her heart, she didn’t want to avoid him. She’d never stopped loving Cal, although she’d certainly stopped being in love with him.

And now, the more time she spent around him, the more she could see that she was following that same path, where she tumbled head over heels in love with Cal Payton. These past couple of weeks had been just a taste of all they’d dreamed about when they were kids. She wanted more.

When they pulled into her driveway, Jenna unclipped her seat belt and turned to Asher. She smoothed back his hair, kissed his forehead, and then wrapped him in a hug. “Thanks for the flowers and for inviting me to see the movie with you.”

Asher ducked his head after she pulled out of the hug. “Thanks for coming with us. I had a really nice time.”

“Me too.”

As she placed her hand on the truck’s door handle, Asher spoke up again. “When am I going to see you again?”

Asher’s face was hopeful, his dark eyes luminous in the yellow light above her garage door. She let her gaze drift past him, meeting Cal’s steel stare. He said nothing. He gave her nothing. She looked back at Asher. “Soon, buddy. Okay?”

Asher smiled. “All right. Bye, Jenna.”

She hopped down out of the truck and wasn’t surprised when deep murmurings came from inside before she shut her door. A door shut behind her and booted footsteps followed her to her front door.

She didn’t turn around, even though her hands were trembling as she stuck her key in the lock and let herself into the house.

Cal’s heat was on her back, and she didn’t bother shutting the door. Cal did it for her.

She stayed facing the hall, schooling her face until she felt under control, until she could focus on her thoughts rather than her body’s reaction to the only man who had ever made her feel alive.

When she turned around, he stood in front of the door, hands on his hips, eyes on her. He didn’t look away, and she wondered what he was thinking. And if he planned to talk first.

Ten seconds later, he answered both of those questions.

“Remember what happened last time we were standing right here?”

She swallowed. Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded. Her hands itched to touch him, to run her fingers through that thick hair, to brush the stubble on his jaw.

He paused again, and when he finally spoke again, his voice was gravel. “You opened that robe for me. You let me in. I can’t stop thinking about that night.”

His voice was killing her. Because although it was gravel, she knew if she dug hard enough, it’d be soft velvet underneath.

He took a step toward her. Just one. Like he was waiting for her to back up a step. But she didn’t. She held her ground and waited for Cal to come to her. He took another step. And another, until he stood in front of her with a hand on her hip. His fingers rested on the top of her ass, and his thumb slipped under the hem of her tank top, teasing the sensitive skin.

“Thought I’d come here that night and steal a ray of that sunshine. Then walk away, hoping it would keep me warm for a while.” He was whispering now, barely audible. His breath smelled like mint, because he’d been popping them the whole movie. “But damn if you didn’t catch me in a day, sucking me back in, making me feel like if you weren’t by my side, I’d die of frostbite.”

Cal wasn’t poetic. Cal didn’t use flowery words. And there was a simplicity in this analogy that only Cal could pull off. But he’d thought this through. He’d worked it out in his head what he wanted to say to her. And it made her throat tight. It made her belly warm. It made her lick her lips because she wanted a taste of Cal. She wanted to warm him up.

She placed a hand on his chest and walked her fingers up to where she knew the sun tattoo lay beneath his clothes.

He reached up and covered her hand with his own. “I know I don’t deserve this, but I’m asking anyway. Be patient with me. I’m opening my eyes, Jenna. I swear I am. But it’s taking my eyes a while to adjust in the light, all right?”