The Wild Ones

Page 11

“You can tell him the truth. We’re seeing other people, too.”
“What? When did this happen?”
“About an hour ago.”
“And you’re just now telling me? What the…”
“It’s been coming. I told you I thought something was up, that I was losing him. Turns out, I was right. He wants to see other people.”
“So you broke up?”
“No, I just suggested that we both see other people as well as each other and see how things go.”
I pause to mull over what she said. “And you’re okay with this?” This isn’t like Jenna. She’s very possessive.
“Hells yeah!”
“Is this because of Rusty?”
“Hells yeah!” she repeats.
“You really think it’s a good idea to drag him into this?”
“I won’t be doing any dragging. Um, did you not see the way he was looking at me?”
I can’t argue. Because I did see it. I thought for sure pretty much everyone saw it. “That doesn’t mean—”
“It means if he’s interested, we’ll talk about it. That’s all. God, Cam, it’s not like I’m setting out to ruin the guy’s life or anything. I just want to meet him. Without Trevor around. That’s it. And I’ll even have a chaperone that’s a thousand times worse than any parent.”
“Uh, I am not!”
“You can be.”
“Well, maybe I don’t want to be the chaperone anymore. Maybe I want to be the one taking risks and doing crazy things.”
“Then, by all means, go for it! I got your back, girl. You know that.”
And I do. Jenna’s like family. Crazy family, but family nonetheless.
There’s a long pause before she says anything else. “Wait, is there something you’re not telling me?”
Yes! I want to say. But I don’t. For the first time since the second grade, I don’t tell Jenna every little thing that’s going on inside my head. For some reason, it just feels like something she wouldn’t understand. It feels like no one would. I’m not even sure I understand it myself. It just feels different. And private. And…real. In ways that nothing else ever has.
Before I start freaking myself out, I change the subject. “All right. I’ll talk to him in the morning. But we’ll have to be careful. You know how Daddy gets.”
“You’ll figure something out. I have faith.”
“Thank you. For leaving all the heavy lifting up to me,” I add facetiously.
“Anytime, sweetie. You know I love you.”
And she’s right. I do.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - Trick
I sit on a hay bale, drinking a bottle of water, looking at the empty stable, listening to the late-morning quiet. It makes me miss Sooty a little. I’d give anything for some distraction.
I thought for sure rubbing down both horses after Cami left last night would’ve been enough to work off some frustration, but it wasn’t. Not nearly. I’d spent the majority of the evening after that watching the house, hoping Cami would decide she needed some late night lovin’.
That would’ve been a disaster, of course. But sometimes I wonder if this job is worth missing out on her. Because, damn! She’s something else.
The rest of the night, I’d spent tossing and turning on the narrow bed in the loft, the one Sooty had labeled as my “area” when he was away. He has an actual apartment in the back of the stable, but I’m not allowed in there. And that’s fine with me. I don’t really want to be in his space. I think the biggest problem was that my bed was missing something. Something soft and warm and excitable. Something that smells like strawberries.
Even now, I feel the telltale stirring in my jeans just thinking about what I’d do to Cami if she ever came to visit me like that.
A shadow passes through the light streaming in the stable bay doors. As though my thoughts summoned her, Cami is standing in the opening, once more bathed in sunshine.
She’s wearing shorts today—barely-there denim ones that have a ragged hem and show off her long, long legs—and cowboy boots. Couple that with the tank top that perfectly outlines every curve of her upper body and I’m fighting the urge to throw caution and responsibility to the wind.
She saunters up to me and stops not far away, smiling down into my face.
“Mornin’.”
“Mornin’,” I return.
“I’m sorry I left you with all the work cleaning up the horses last night.”
“It’s my job. Don’t worry about it. How are you feeling today?”
I watch her as she rolls her eyes to the right and tests the muscles of her back and shoulders, wiggling her body to check for sore spots.
“I’m fine. Just a couple of tender spots. I’ll live.”
“Good. Sleep okay?”
She shrugs. “Okay, I guess. You?”
“Like shit,” I say honestly.
Her brow wrinkles in concern. “I’m sorry. Was it the bed? Because I could talk to Daddy—”
“The bed was fine, just…empty.” I wink at her as I take a pull of my water. When she blushes, I remind myself that I’m playing with fire. Teasing her is only making my life more miserable. How freakin’ stupid is it, then, to keep doing it?
Only I can’t seem to stop. She’s in my blood. Under my skin.
Dammit!
She clears her throat and stares at the toes of her boots.
“I, um, I actually came to see if you wanted some lunch. Drogheda is making quesadillas. I told her to make some extra. They’re really good. She’s a great cook.”
Truth be told, Sooty didn’t leave me much in the way of supplies in the fridge, so that would sound appealing even if it didn’t have anything to do with Cami. Her serving it up, preferably on her flat stomach, would make it the best meal I’ve ever had, even if it sucked. But that’s beside the point.
“Sounds good. Give me some time to clean up.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll bring it down to you, if that’s okay.”
“Sounds good,” I say again, draining my water.
“I’ll be back down in half an hour then.”
“Sounds good.”
She turns away like she’s about to leave, but stops. She looks back at me over her shoulder. She’s grinning and sexy as the day is long. “Are you always this agreeable in the mornings?”
“Oh, I can be much more agreeable than this.”
Smiling broadly, she nods her head a couple times then walks away. The way her h*ps sway, I can’t help but wonder if she knows my eyes are glued to her ass.
I go into the bathroom off the office and clean up, running damp hands through my hair to tame it. Well, as much as it can be tamed anyway. It’s getting a little long and the natural wave makes it stick up at weird angles. I guess I’m lucky this particular look is in style.
I clean off the small table that sits off to one side of the spacious office and get us both a drink from the fridge. Not two minutes later, she comes walking through the door, an enormous basket hooked over one forearm.
“Good God, how many people are eating down here?”
“I didn’t know how hungry you’d be. Or what all you had down here, so I brought plates and drinks and stuff, too.”
Her eyes go to the table, to the beers sitting there, condensation forming over the dark glass of the bottles.
“Let me just put these away then,” I say, grabbing the long necks and sticking them back in the fridge.
“Isn’t it a little early to be drinking?”
“It’s never too early.”
She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. For just a second, I see the same odd expression that my mom wears a lot, but I brush it off as my imagination.
She sets the basket on the desk and starts pulling stuff out and setting the table. My mouth waters at the smells coming from inside.
“I hope you like sweet tea and lemonade,” she says as she takes a thermos and two glasses out of the basket.
“It’s fine. I’m not picky.”
When the table is set and a platter of delicious-looking quesadillas is planted in the center, she moves to take a seat. I hold out a chair for her. She smiles up into my eyes and gives me a shy Thank you.
Of course, it makes me want to brush everything off the table and throw her up onto it instead. But I don’t. I just want to.
She says a quick grace before nodding toward the plate of food. “Dig in.”
“Ladies first.”
She grins again. I wonder if this delicate game of cat-and-mouse is charming her as much as it’s driving me crazy. For some reason, I think it probably is. And it just makes me want to do it all the more.
She serves herself a quesadilla and I get mine. I’ll admit that the first bite nearly made my eyes roll back in my head.
“Holy shit! You weren’t kidding! These are amazing.”
She smiles happily. “I’m glad you like them.”
“If I’m ever on death row and get a last meal, I’m requesting some of these.”
“So you think about prison a lot, do you?”
“Heh. Not that kind of prison.” I want to add that there are all types of prisons, but I don’t. “So, what are you up to today? No riding?”
“How’d you know?”
I lean to the side and glance down at her smooth legs. “Shorts.”
“Oh, right. Yeah, no riding today. I’ve been cooped up in the office all morning looking at pedigrees.”
“Exciting stuff.”
“You have no idea.”
She says it so dryly, I chuckle.
Her eyes dart up to me a couple times and I get the feeling she has something on her mind. Rather than pressing her, I just sit quietly and wait for her to get around to it.
“So, um, your friend, Rusty, what’s his deal? Does he have a girlfriend?”
Of all the things I might’ve expected her to say, that was nowhere in the mix. In fact, it was light years away from the furthest thing from my mind. And I would’ve thought it would be the same for her. But I’d have been wrong.
It annoys me that her question stings. Bitterly. Somewhere deep in my chest.
“No, no girlfriend. Why? Are you looking for a hook-up?”
I smile and try to be nonchalant. I hope it’s more convincing than I imagine it to be.
Her mouth falls open a little and she looks at me blankly for a few seconds. Then her eyes widen. “What? Me? No!”
“Oh,” I say, more relieved than I care to admit. “Who then?”
“My friend, Jenna.”
“The one whose boyfriend is getting Rus to fix his car?”
She wrinkles her nose and cringes. “Yeah, that one.”
“Wow. Um, okay.”
“It’s not what you think. They aren’t exclusive. They have agreed to date other people, too.”
“And how is he gonna feel about one of those ‘other people’ being the guy that’s working on his car?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m just the messenger.”
“What’s the message?”
“She wants me to have you bring him out here one night so we can all hang out and she can get to know him.”
Talk about your golden opportunities! Dangerous ones, too. Red flags start popping up all over the place, but I completely ignore them. The only thing on my mind is spending an evening with Cami.
“What did you have in mind?”
“Well, I thought maybe we could hang out down here. Maybe have a beer and play some cards or something. I don’t know. Nothing too…”
“Too what?”
“Too…intimate or date-ish.”
“Date-ish?” I ask, smiling. There’s something so cute and adorable about the way she says things sometimes.
“Yeah, date-ish. I have a fondness for non-words. You got a problem with that?” she teases with mock bravado.
“No, ma’am,” I say, holding up my hands in surrender.
“Good, so, you know, something casual and fun. That’s it.”
“And what’s your father going to say about this?” I ask, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms over my chest.
“Well, here’s the thing. He’ll be out of town for a couple days, going up North to check on a couple horses before those buyers come down. I thought we could do it then. He wouldn’t even have to know.”
“Hiding things from Daddy? Ooo, I like it. Sounds dirty. And forbidden.”
It makes me think of sneaking into her room in the middle of the night, when the house is still and she’s asleep. Waking her up with a kiss and peeling whatever she sleeps in off her body. Unless she sleeps in the nude…
I don’t mean to groan out loud. It just slips out.
“What’s the matter?”
“Oh, uh, nothing. Sorry. Just thinking. Um, that sounds fine. I’m sure Rus will be fine with it. I think everyone but her boyfriend saw him drooling over her.”
She laughs. “Yeah, I think so.” We both get quiet and she finally clears her throat and asks, “So how about Sunday night?”
“You know Sooty might be back by then, right?”
“Well, if he is, he’ll be in his apartment. What time does he usually turn in?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I’m not usually here at night. I think he tries to finish up by six or so every evening.”
“That works. We could just come down about eight or so.”