Dirty Thoughts (9 page)

“So we have today,” she said, propping her chin on a fist on his chest.

“We have today,” he echoed.

“It’s better that way.”

He didn’t know who she was trying to convince. “Yeah.”

She blew a stray piece of hair out of her face, and he helped her by smoothing the crazy strands over her head.

“I look a little Medusa-ish, don’t I?”

He mimed freezing to stone, stiffening his body like a board, and she laughed, plunking her forehead onto his breastbone. He pulled her up, so they laughed together against each other’s lips. She gave him a quick peck.

“Have you ever ridden on a motorcycle?”

She shook her head, eyes still a little lazy from sleep and sex.

“Why don’t we pick up breakfast to-go and take a ride?”

She cocked her head. “Where do you want to go?”

He didn’t know if River’s Edge was off limits, since that was a place that held almost all their history, but he couldn’t think of a single other place he wanted to take Jenna on his bike. When he was silent for too long, she reached up and squeezed his neck and then let her fingers trail over his tattooed shoulder. “Why don’t we hike on one of the trails at River’s Edge?”

“You reading my mind, Sunshine?”

“You don’t hide your thoughts as well as you think,” she said, rising from bed. “Give me ten minutes, and I’ll be ready.”

He watched her walk into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. He thought he did a pretty good job of hiding what he was thinking. To everyone but Jenna.

Chapter Twelve

I
T WAS MORE
like a half hour before they were both showered, and Jenna was staring at him as he sat astride his bike. It was a hot day, but he’d still urged her to find an old leather jacket in the back of her closet. She’d loaned him an old T-shirt that was big on her, one she said she wore to bed sometimes. When he unfolded it, his breath caught, because it was his high school football T-shirt, one he remembered giving her after one of his games. She’d kept the damn thing for ten years, and the maroon fabric was faded, the lettering peeled, but he pulled it on. He was thankful he’d worn his motorcycle boots to dinner so he had them for the day.

Cal only had one helmet, so he settled it on her head outside as they stood in the driveway. It was too big, but it’d do in a pinch. She looked cute as hell with her eyes gleaming through the face mask, her brown hair billowing out around her shoulders below it.

He guided her onto the bike behind him, urging her to grip him tightly with her thighs and arms. Partly because it was safe and partly because he liked how it felt.

The only other girl he’d ever had on the back of his bike was Max’s girlfriend, Lea. She’d asked for a ride, and he’d obliged, while Max stood scowling at them, his body quivering with nerves. Lea had loved it, but everything about her touch had been sisterly and platonic. Her thighs had grazed his; her little hands had stayed firmly over the top of his clothes.

Jenna’s hands were already stealing under his shirt to touch his bare skin as he started up the engine. The rumbling cut through the humidity of the day, shaking up a crop of birds on Jenna’s front lawn. She nestled closer into his back. He’d always thought he wouldn’t like someone riding with him. Riding was something he did for himself, to get his mind off everything and just be, with the wind in his face and ruffling his clothes. But Jenna at his back felt good. Felt right.

And he knew it was because it was
her
.

He eyed her over his shoulder. She nodded, the helmet bobbing on her head. He chuckled, turned back around, and eased out of her driveway.

He took the bike slow throughout her neighborhood, so she got used to leaning with the machine through curves.

And then he headed right for the open stretches of road in Tory that he always did. His route was pretty damn sacred to him—not even Brent knew where he rode—but Cal wanted Jenna to share this with him. Come Monday, they’d go their separate ways, but they’d have this memory together.

Her fingers curled into the muscles of his stomach, her pinkies resting along the waistband of his jeans. Her thighs were tight against his, and sometimes, a lock of hair would curl around and he’d catch a whiff of her scent in his nostrils.

They stopped at a little bakery on the outskirts of town, one that had just opened up, so the owners didn’t know them. They wouldn’t spread any gossip about Jenna MacMillan and Cal Payton riding around town on a Saturday morning.

Tory wasn’t too small, but it was small enough that people talked. Which was why Cal had bought a house with a lot of land, so people couldn’t look out their windows and see what he was doing. Christ, he was totally a hermit bachelor.

Jenna clutched their bag of muffins and pastries, and he secured a Thermos of coffee in his saddlebags, and they made their way to their predetermined breakfast spot.

At River’s Edge, Cal parked his bike and cut the engine. He looked over his shoulder at Jenna, who was pulling off her helmet. She tried vainly to tame her mane, and he smirked as she huffed out a breath and pulled out a hair tie.

“Don’t laugh at me. I’m going to shave my head.”

He shook his head, stepped off his bike, and then helped her off. They gathered their breakfast and began to head toward the path that led to the many trails. River’s Edge was a popular state park with several walking trails running along the Tory Pine River. Cal pointed to the sign at the line that read F
LANNERY
T
RAIL
and was marked with a blue triangle. “They put a new one in a couple of years ago. There’s a little clearing just up ahead with some benches where we can eat.” When he looked at Jenna, she was biting her lip, and he knew she’d understood what he meant. Sure, he wanted to come to River’s Edge with her, but not their trail, not their place. That was a little too much of the past. And today was about the present.

She looked at him and smiled, although it was a little strained, and nodded.

They took off on the path, with Cal’s eyes on Jenna to make sure she didn’t slip. They’d left the leather jacket back at the bike, so she was wearing a pair of jean shorts, a T-shirt, and old black motorcycle boots.

Cal didn’t come here often; he was busy working or taking care of his house. But with Jenna at his side and the morning sun creeping through the filter of leaves above them, he knew he probably wouldn’t be back again, no way. The whole place would remind him of Jenna now.

He shook his head. No “future” talk. No “future” thinking. He was here with Jenna now. Today. So he grabbed her hand, accepted the warmth of the smile she shot his way, and kept on walking.

J
ENNA HAD NEVER
ridden on a motorcycle. At one time, she thought that would be her future. All Cal talked about as a teenager was getting a bike. It was his dream, so seeing him on the back of that red-silver-and-black beauty made her heart sing.

He’d gotten that dream, at least. They hadn’t killed that one.

They sat on new wooden benches in a clearing on Flannery Trail to eat. A breeze rustled through the trees, which helped break up the humid air. She sipped her coffee and picked at her cranberry and orange muffin. “I’m so glad you got your bike.”

Cal smiled at that and crumpled the empty wrapper of his chocolate-chocolate chip muffin. “Yeah I had an older model before this that I bought cheap. I saved up for the Softail so I wouldn’t have to take a loan out. Insurance is outrageous, but it’s worth it.”

“Do you work on them at the shop too?”

His smile immediately twisted into something bitter. “You’d think, right?”

She propped a knee on the bench and leaned forward. “Wait . . . so you don’t?”

He shook his head. “My dad’s being stubborn about it.”

“A Payton, being stubborn?” She gasped dramatically.

He chuckled a little at that and smacked her thigh lightly. “I prefer the term decisive.”

“So what’s going on with Jack?”

Cal crossed his arms over his chest and squinted up at the forest canopy above them. “I want to expand Payton and Sons to repair bikes, and he’s being a stubborn bastard about it. He said he doesn’t want to change the shop.”

“Why?”

“Why does he do anything he does? He says he needs me for the cars. I told him Brent said we could afford another hire. But he’s so committed to the way things are, he doesn’t want to change. I went out and got the certifications to work on Harleys anyway. That was a fun fight.”

Cal had loved bikes for so long that Jenna ached a little that he wasn’t able to do what he really wanted to do. “So what’s your plan?”

Cal was silent for a long time. “I don’t want to leave him or Brent, but I might have to open up my own place if he keeps this up. I don’t want to stop working on cars, but this town needs a certified bike mechanic in business.”

“There isn’t one?”

Cal shook his head. “I think the closest one is in Brookridge.”

Jenna frowned. “And you told your dad that?”

“He doesn’t give a shit.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged and waved a hand. “It is what it is. I’ll figure it out.”

But it bothered her. A lot. And she wondered if there would ever come a time where she would no longer be emotionally invested in Cal Payton.

“So how’s work for you?” he asked. And it didn’t feel like small talk, like he was asking as a returning favor. His eyes were focused on her, those irises a little more blue than normal in the sunshine.

“Dylan’s a dick,” she said in reply.

He laughed.

She grinned at him. “Delilah still calls him Dill Pickle.”

“With Delilah, I’m sure she says it to his face.”

“She does. So anyway, I’m working on employee morale, since Dylan is close to running that into the grave.” Cal didn’t answer, and she eyed him. “I guess you heard about it?”

“Brent read the newspaper articles about the lawsuit. He likes the letters to the editor, especially.”

“Yeah, so I’m planning an event for the employees. Like a big dinner—a thank-you. Maybe hold it at the country club.”

Cal nodded slowly. “You could get the community involved—like give away local gift certificates or get businesses to offer free services. As a way of giving back.”

She actually hadn’t thought that far yet, but it was a great idea. “Like a raffle.”

“Yeah. I’ll donate a free inspection or tune-up or something.”

“Really?”

“ ’Course.”

She smiled. “Wow, thanks. That’s a great idea.”

“I’m sure you would have come up with it on your own.”

She shrugged. “Maybe, but you saved me the brainpower.”

He laughed. “Don’t count on that happening too often, Sunshine.”

She reached out and laced her fingers with his, squeezing, as she held her tongue so she didn’t bring up the future.

“Did you miss Tory while you were in New York?” he asked softly, his eyes on their clasped hands.

She thought about that. “Sometimes. I’m not sure it ever felt like home. I was kind of a long-term visitor. It was odd being back in Tory, but now that I’m here, I feel . . . more like myself again. Does that make sense?”

He nodded slowly, his gaze still on their hands, his thumb rubbing hers. “I do think it makes sense.”

“And the older I get, the less I feel like pretending to be something I’m not.”

He didn’t say anything to that. His brow was furrowed, and she let him think. She took a sip of her coffee, felt the caffeine invade her system, and held Cal’s hand like this wasn’t the last day she’d get to touch him.

Like there wasn’t a past. Like there wasn’t a future. Only today.

Chapter Thirteen

T
HEY HAD LUNCH
at an ice cream place that sold burgers, two for three dollars. High school kids worked there, faces flushed from the heat and the rush of a summer paycheck.

The umbrella over the picnic table shielded them from the sun as they ate the greasy burgers and dipped their hand-cut fries in ketchup. Cal told Jenna about Brent’s latest hook-up, a woman who ended up being nineteen rather than the twenty-nine she’d told him, which Brent only learned about when her roommates tried to wake her up before the dining hall on the community college campus closed.

Brent wasn’t amused.

Cal was. And Jenna laughed.

The Cal who sat across from her was a far cry from the tense man she’d seen at the garage that first week she’d been in town. This Cal smiled and laughed and didn’t press his lips into a thin, irritated line.

They sat there for two hours, drinking Cokes with melted ice, as Jenna told him about the job she had in New York. He listened intently, and she believed he truly cared about her professional success. That’s what she’d missed in New York. Hell, that was what she missed now—a partner who was as invested in her life as she was.

But as the conversation wound down, she pushed those thoughts aside. She’d be fine for a while. She knew how to be single and content. Or at least, she used to know how to be. Now, all she felt was this ache in her heart, this looming deadline when Cal would no longer be hers.

In one day, he’d seemed to erase the confidence she had that she was over him.

She’d never be over him, she realized. She’d have to learn to live with that.

When they hopped back on his bike, they didn’t head toward the direction of her house, and she didn’t ask why or what or where. She wrapped her arms around his waist and burrowed against the soft fabric of her own T-shirt that covered his back, and she enjoyed the ride, the vibration under her, the scent of Cal.

When they pulled down a dirt road, she raised her head, peering through the visor of the helmet he’d insisted she wear.

In front of her was a small two-story wood home. Cal’s old truck sat in the driveway, and a warmth spread through her chest.

He’d brought her to his home. He wanted her to see it. When he stepped off the bike and helped her, he didn’t meet her eyes, and she understood he was a little nervous to show her. She laid a hand on his forearm. “I like your house.”

He squinted at it, like he was trying to picture it through her eyes. “Yeah, me too. It needs work, but it’s private, and it’s better than the apartment I shared with Brent.”

He took her hand led her inside. The place looked utterly masculine, with beige walls and neutral furniture, but there were a lot of touches that were uniquely Cal—a series of family photographs in the hall, a cluster of vintage motorcycle prints along the wall in the living room. Cal explained to her that upstairs was his bedroom, a bathroom, and a spare bedroom.

When he was finished telling her about the house, he held out his arms. “I wanted you to see it.”

“I wanted to see it,” she said.

“You want a drink?”

“Water would be nice.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

He rummaged in the fridge, and she heard the clinking of beer bottles before he pulled out two bottles of water. He gestured toward the back door. “We can sit on the deck unless you want to enjoy the air conditioning.”

“Deck’s fine,” she said, accepting the bottle he handed to her. On the deck, she sank down on a glider and took in Cal’s backyard. It was well kept, leading to a tree line that surrounded Cal’s property. “How big is your property?”

“About an acre,” he said, sitting beside her. He stretched out his legs and gently rocked the glider. His arm curled around her shoulders, and she rested her head against him.

She watched two squirrels chase each other, their tails fluttering wildly.

“You don’t have to say it,” he said quietly.

“Don’t have to say what?”

“You know, ‘Hey Cal, this could be us if you’d stop being stubborn.’ ”

She straightened. “That’s what you think I want to say?”

He squinted at her. “Isn’t it?”

“Maybe I’m thinking it, but I don’t want to say it. I don’t want to have to convince you to be with me. To want a family. I’m not going to pressure you into doing something you don’t want and then have you resent me for it.”

He was silent for a while as he mulled over her words. “You’re probably right about that.”

“But I do think you’re stubborn. I think today was one of the best days either of us has had for a while.” And if today proved anything to Jenna, it was that while she’d fallen hard for the eighteen-year-old Cal, if she let herself do the same thing for the thirty-year-old Cal, she’d never recover from it. The Cal of today was dangerous for her heart.

She glanced at her watch, saw it was close to dinnertime, and prepared to do what she’d been avoiding thinking about all day. “You should probably take me home now.”

He whipped his head toward her. “But the day isn’t over.”

She sighed. “I know, but it’s close, and . . . I’m thinking maybe we should end this now. Before something triggers one of us, and we fight or get angry. I don’t want to get angry, Cal. I want to leave here happy.”

His face was stricken, every emotion clear as day. He wasn’t even bothering to try to hide it. “But—”

She stood up. “I’ll meet you in the house.”

Five minutes later, she was standing by the front door when he joined her. He smelled like smoke. “Those’ll kill you, you know.”

His jaw tensed, his eyes flashed, and she wondered how she thought they’d ever be able to leave this whole situation intact. “I’m not your responsibility to worry about.”

“Well, I’m sorry for caring.”

He rubbed his hands over his face vigorously, like he was trying to scrub off his emotions, and then he lashed out an arm, curling it around her shoulders so she crashed into his body. She wrapped her arms around him, nestling her head against the soft fabric of his T-shirt, feeling the hard muscles underneath, as he buried his face in her neck.

“Sunshine?” His voice was muffled against her skin.

“Yeah?”

His fist tightened in her hair, his lips opened up on her neck, and he said everything with his body that he couldn’t say in words. This was an embrace that wasn’t meant to lead to anything else; this was meant to tell her something, that they’d always have this. It would never go away, and somehow, someway, they’d move on.

They’d get through it.

Even if they were breaking the same hearts, ripping open those same wounds that they’d worked so hard to heal for ten years.

And it hurt; it hurt like a knife to her chest.

She opened her mouth to do what she promised herself she wouldn’t do, to beg for more time, to ask him to reconsider. But before any words came out, the doorbell rang.

And they both froze.

Locked in the embrace with Cal, Jenna worked on breathing steadily, because she was sure it wouldn’t be anyone other than Brent.

And that was really the last thing they needed, because both of them were raw, flayed, and Brent would be like a dog with a bone, wanting to know why she was there.

Cal must have been thinking the same thing, because when she leaned back, his eyes were closed. “Come in,” he growled in the direction of the front door.

Jenna braced herself.

But the doorknob didn’t turn. A joking Brent didn’t burst through the door with a wisecrack on his tongue.

Cal lifted his head and stared at the door. A tentative knock sounded.

With a jolt, he strode toward the door. “Jesus-fucking-Christ, Brent.” He turned the doorknob and flung the door open. “Any other day, you—” His voice cut off. Just dropped off like someone had muted him.

Jenna slowly turned her head, wondering if this was going to get even more awkward because an old flame of Cal’s was on his doorstep. But when she peered under the arm Cal had braced on the doorframe, her breath caught.

Because it wasn’t Brent on that doorstep. It wasn’t a woman. It was a kid. A teenage boy. He had a crazy haircut. The sides were shaved, but it was long on top, with the front combed forward so a lock of brown hair hung down his forehead, touching his eyelashes. He wore a pair of skinny jeans and a blue V-neck T-shirt. He was a little shorter than Cal. And he had a huge duffel bag thrown over his shoulder. And there was something familiar about him that Jenna couldn’t put her finger on.

The kid was trying for bravado, Jenna could tell, but was having a hard time standing up Cal’s scrutiny.

He had large brown eyes that stared up into Cal’s face. The kid licked his lips. “A-Are you Cal Payton?”

Cal seemed frozen. Jenna wondered if she should speak, but then Cal’s voice cracked on a “Yup.”

The kid’s eyes changed, getting even bigger and a little wet. He sniffed once, wrinkling his nose, and then he wiped his hand on his pants and stuck it out. “I’m Asher Weyland. I’m, uh, your half-brother, I guess. And I really need some help.”

Jenna gasped. She couldn’t help it. She clapped her hand over her mouth, but Asher’s eyes darted to her anyway. He shifted on his feet. “Is that your wife?”

Cal ignored the question. “What are you doing here?”

Asher’s eyes darted back to Cal. “I know this is kinda surprising and all, but—”

“Look, kid, I don’t know who you are, but this isn’t fucking funny. So I’ll give you thirty seconds to get off my porch before I remove you.”

The kid’s face paled. “What?”

“I’m gonna start counting. Warning: sometimes I skip some numbers.”

Asher looked physically ill. Jenna could see his fists clenched at his sides, and his slender shoulders began to tremble. She didn’t know what was going on. She hadn’t known Cal had any more siblings, and apparently, he didn’t either, by the looks of it. But there was no way this kid was lying. He looked scared out of his mind.

“Cal—” she started, but the kid cut her off.

“Mom always told me you were her little man,” Asher said.

And if possible, Cal’s body turned to stone. But he wasn’t playing now, like they had been in bed this morning.

The kid’s eyes were huge, and he wrapped his arms around himself, as if it wasn’t seventy degrees outside. “She said,” he continued, “that she knew you picked up the slack when she left.”

Cal didn’t move. He didn’t even blink.

“She talks about all of you. She’s still not so good at the mom thing, but she didn’t leave this time.” He looked down and brushed a leaf on the porch with the toe of his Converse shoes. “I was the one who left.”

“Your mom is Jill Payton.” Cal’s voice sounded like he hadn’t used it for a century.

Asher bit his lip. “Yeah. Well, Jill Weyland. My dad’s Bill Weyland.”

Something clicked in Jenna’s brain. His eyes. He had Max’s eyes. Jill’s eyes. And she was sure Cal noticed, because he hadn’t taken his gaze off that kid’s face. “What’re doing here?” he asked quietly.

“I need a place to stay.”

“You came all the way here from California?”

He shook his head. “We live in Virginia now. I took a bus.”

Jenna’s head felt like it was going to split open. This was no joke.

Cal swallowed, his posture not quite as defensive. “And why are you here?”

Asher gathered himself again, straightening his back and lifting his chin. “I need a place to stay. If you say no, I guess I’ll go somewhere else. But we just moved. I have no friends. I have nowhere to go. I dug out your address from my mom’s address book, and here I am.”

Cal stared at him. “Why do you need a place to stay?”

That chin lifted higher, like the kid needed more courage to say what he was going to say next. “Dad’s drunk a lot, and Mom’s always making excuses for him. For a while, it was better, but since we moved to Virginia, he’s gotten so much worse. He comes home at odd hours. He’s driven drunk with me in the car, but this last time . . . he picked me up from the mall and almost ran off the road because he was plastered. I don’t”—he swallowed and blinked rapidly—“feel safe with them anymore. I try to refuse to get in the car, but then he gets angry. So angry. And . . . I . . . I’m scared.”

Jenna wanted to run to this kid and gather him in her arms. Get him a slushy and curl up with junk food on the couch, watching silly movies. No kid should feel unsafe with his own parents.

Cal hadn’t moved, but the tenseness had returned to his shoulders. His fists were clenched. And Jenna knew him well enough by now to know he was
pissed
.

And then the kid threw his knockout punch. “Mom always said you were probably a better parent to your brothers than she could have been.”

Jenna felt the tears. They were hot and they were prickly, and shoot, she was going to start bawling.

Because Cal still had that soft inside he always had. He hid it so well with his gruffness and his stares and scowls. But he’d shown her his belly this weekend. It was still there, just a little more scarred.

And that kid had gone right for it.
Freaking little genius
, Jenna thought.

“And you came here thinking . . . what? That I’d take you in? Be your parent?” Cal’s words were harsh, but his tone was soft.

Asher blinked at him, and then his lip started trembling. But Jenna knew by the slump of Cal’s shoulders that the kid had won this round.

“How old are you?” Cal asked.

“Sixteen.” Asher wiped his nose with the back of his hand and sniffed again. “I just need a place to stay until I can figure out what to do.” Jenna began to see some resemblance in the shape of their faces. Asher’s body was more like Brent’s—on the lean side—but those eyes were all Max and that face was Cal’s. Unmistakably Cal’s.

Cal jerked his chin toward the bag. “That all ya have?”

“Yeah.”

He stepped away from the door. “Come in, then. Take off your shoes, because I don’t want you tracking dirt in my house.”