Finding Home

22. Caleb

Chapter 22

Caleb

T he front door opens.

Two white sneakers enter my peripheral vision.

I look up at Aubrey from the wooden plank I’m attaching to the growing deck. “Hey.”

She bites her lower lip. “Hey. Looking good down there.”

Now that we’re finally alone, I can’t resist flirting with her, even though I still don’t know what the fuck happened in the kitchen this morning. Why we had that weird tiff, when last night was supernaturally incredible. “Me or the deck?”

Aubrey slides into a nearby Adirondack chair. “Both.”

I look down to hide my smile. That was the first time Aubrey’s even flirted with flirting with me today. Now that she’s put Raine to bed, does that mean it’s game on again? I sure hope that’s what’s she’s thinking, because I’ve been craving a repeat of last night, all damn day. Except that this time, I’m planning to fuck Aubrey four times tonight, just to teach her a lesson about coming at me, when I least expect it. True, she said the word like she’s making a major concession. Like the last thing she wants to do is compliment me. But she did. Which means it’s full steam ahead, as far as I’m concerned, whether I’m still confused about this morning or not.

After wrangling my smug smile, I look up at Aubrey again. This time, with wanton lust in my eyes. “Lookin’ good up there, too. Really, really good.” Truth be told, she looks a whole lot better than good; she looks like a goddamned wet dream in her shorty-shorts and cropped tank top that bares a delightful slice of her midsection. I put down the tool I’ve been using and rearrange myself to sit squarely on my ass. Forearms on my knees. “Is Raine asleep?”

“She was out like a light by page two of her picture book.”

I take off my work gloves, my fingers tingling with the desire to touch her. To make her come again, like she did last night. “The kid played hard today.”

“She sure did.” Aubrey smiles. “She adores you, Dadda. You did a great job today.”

My heart skips a beat. I had a fantastic day with my girl and Aubrey today. One that made it clear I’m making major progress. With Raine, anyway. I don’t know what the fuck Aubrey is thinking. But at least in relation to Raine, today was so damned good, it felt like one of my own idyllic days on the lake during my childhood.

I’m still rankled as shit about the thing Aubrey said in the heat of battle this morning: It’s not always about you. Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. I wouldn’t be here in Prairie Springs, if it was always about me. Even after twelve hours, that bullshit comment still pisses me off. But even so, after thinking about it all day, I’ve realized Aubrey was right to remind me about the hearing. Also, to insist we keep things a secret, at least from Raine, until then.

Aubrey motions to my phone next to me on the deck. It’s blaring a song from my Zepp playlist. “What song is this?”

“‘Kashmir.’”

“Led Zeppelin again?”

“Yep. This is one of their most famous songs.” I guess we’re not going to fuck any time soon. We’re going to talk. Not about what’s been on my mind all day, though. Not about what the hell happened in the kitchen this morning and why it feels like Aubrey’s suddenly pushing me away, despite our amazing night together.

Aubrey taps one of her white sneakers onto the wood below her chair, in time to the music. “I recognize his voice. What’s his name?”

Seriously ? “Robert Plant. He’s got one of the best, most distinctive voices in the history of rock.” It’s true. Robert Plant’s a rock god. But he’s not what I want to be talking about in this moment. Honestly, I don’t want to be talking at all, unless I’m talking dirty into Aubrey’s ear while fucking her raw.

Aubrey gnaws at her lip, like she’s trying to work up the courage to say something. I lean back onto my palms and wait. Hopefully, she’s finally going to explain what crawled up her ass this morning.

“Do you only listen to Led Zeppelin?” she asks. “Or do you ever listen to, I don’t know, girlie pop or dance music as a palate cleanser?”

I grimace. “Ugh. No, Aubrey.”

She giggles. “Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

“No, thanks.” I motion to my phone. “I put on my Zepp playlist, whenever I’m working on the deck, in tribute to my grandpa. Led Zeppelin was his all-time favorite band, so listening to them while I’m working on a deck at his house makes me feel like he’s here with me in a small way.”

“That’s sweet.” She pauses. Her shoulders soften, like she’s making some kind of internal concession. “It was really sweet when you played that song for Raine. Watching you giving her drum lessons melted my heart. Exploded my ovaries, too.”

My eyebrows quirk up. Okay, that was definitely flirtatious. A step in the right direction, for sure. “You told me to be myself with her. So that’s what I did. There’s nothing more ‘me’ than playing drums to a Zepp song.”

“Besides playing to a Red Card Riot song, of course.”

I shrug. “I didn’t write all of our songs, so they’re not all ‘me,’ you know? But Zepp? I swear, it’s like those dudes somehow cracked the code inside my head.” Why are we talking about Led Zeppelin, instead of what happened in the kitchen this morning? Or better yet, now that Raine’s asleep, why aren’t we inside the house, not talking, but banging like animals, instead?

“If you ever teach Raine to play drums to ‘Shaynee,’” Aubrey says, “you can tell her Dean is singing ‘Rainey’ in all those choruses.’”

“Great idea. I’ll definitely do that.” I wait. Stare at her, silently coaxing her to spit it out, whatever it is. Surely, this isn’t what Aubrey wants to be talking about, either. It’s written all over her pretty face.

The next song on my Zepp playlist comes on. “Since I’ve Been Loving You.” As it gets going, Aubrey taps her sneakers in time to the music and looks down at her hands in her lap.

“I’ve never been into classic rock,” she says. “My dad’s tried to get me into it, but I’ve always been more of a pop girlie myself.”

I say nothing. Whatever’s on her mind, she’s going to have to nut up and say it. I’m not willing to try to pry it out of her.

“What’s this one called?” she asks.

“‘Since I’ve Been Loving You.’” Heat rises in my cheeks. It’s just a song title; so, why did I blush from saying it?

“I like it.”

I bite my tongue, very much wishing I could reply, “I’d very much like to fuck you to this song, Aubrey.”

“Now that I know you hate girlie pop so much,” Aubrey says, “I know exactly what to play to torture you, whenever you piss me off again.”

“ When I piss you off again , not if ? Maybe there won’t be a next time.”

Aubrey snorts. “Haven’t you been trying not to piss me off this whole time, C-Bomb ? And look how that’s turned out. I’m sure I’ve ripped you a new asshole by now, thanks to all the times you’ve pissed me off.”

I smirk. She only calls me C-Bomb when she’s playfully putting me in my place. It’s a good sign, I think. “I’ll take your word for that, A-Bomb , since you’re more of an expert than I am about what’s between my ass cheeks.” Several times last night, Aubrey groped every last inch of real estate back there, while she was in a fugue state of pure ecstasy. “Also, for the record,” I add, “I’ve mostly tried not to piss you off. A few times, however, I admit I’ve actively tried to piss you off, for the sheer fun of it.”

She gasps. “ Why ?”

“You’re hot as fuck when you’re angry.”

Aubrey rolls her eyes. “Well, that’s not toxic or anything. ”

“Never said I’m not toxic. Only that I haven’t tried my best, at all times, not to piss you off, so it’s possible I’ll be able to avoid doing it in the future, if I decide to give it my best shot.”

“Forgive me if I don’t hold my breath.”

“I didn’t try to piss you off this morning, to be clear. I still don’t know what the fuck I did to set you off. I mean, I get that we shouldn’t get handsy in front of Raine. I’m on board for that. But it seemed like more than that to me.” There. I did it. I opened Pandora’s Box. But, shit, if we’re not going to fuck any time soon, then we might as well get to the bottom of whatever made Aubrey go off on me this morning.

“I think I just . . . Panicked, a little bit.”

“About what?”

“Where this might lead. Where it won’t.” She opens her mouth to say more but closes it abruptly.

“And . . .?” I prompt.

“Nothing. Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

It does matter, though. Clearly. There’s something more she’s not saying. I don’t know how to get her to say it, though. I’ve never been good at expressing my own feelings with words, so I’m the last person who’s going to pull something out of someone else.

I’ve been working on the communication thing with Gina in our counseling sessions. But it still doesn’t come naturally to me, especially when I’m dealing with a whole bunch of feelings that have been hitting me like a Mack truck, all at once. I’ve got new, big feelings for Raine. New, big feelings for Aubrey. A rising feeling of joy and hopefulness that’s brand-new to me, too. Or at least, I haven’t felt this way in a very long time.

Aubrey clears her throat. “It’s not just me who loves girlie-pop music. Raine loves shaking her booty to a good dance beat, too.”

I stare her down. Come on, Aubrey. “Maybe we could give each other music appreciation lessons. I’ll show you my favorites—the best of rock, decade by decade—while you show me your favorites.”

“You’d listen to all my pop favorites?”

I shrug. “Fair is fair.”

Aubrey flashes me a beaming smile—one that makes me feel like my haphazard attempt at reconciliation has made a dent in whatever’s making her skittish. “Okay, great. Let’s do that.”

“I’m down to try any strategy that will help me bond with Raine.” And with you .

“Would you mind if I put on my all-time favorite song now?”

“Go for it.”

I stop the song on my phone, and Aubrey starts one on hers. One I recognize instantly, since it’s part of the very fabric of pop culture by now: “Pretty Girl” by Aloha Carmichael.

“Ugh, Aubrey. Not this. Anything but this.”

She giggles. “Come on, Caleb. This is the best song, ever. My top favorite. My desert island pick.”

“Please. I beg you. My ears are bleeding.”

“Oh, calm down.” She gets up and begins dancing to the song, doing choreography like she did the other day when we walked around the lake, and her perky little tits start bouncing with her effort, making me realize she’s braless under there.

“I take it back. The song is a banger,” I deadpan, leaning back onto both palms and smiling up at her dancing frame.

“See? Told you it’s a great song. ”

“The best,” I say, enjoying the sexy view. “Was this playing in your earbuds the other day, when we walked around the lake?”

Aubrey laughs at the memory and nods. “Whenever it comes on, I feel compelled to do the choreography from the music video. I can’t help myself.”

“I’m not complaining.”

Aubrey catches on to my ogling and adds an extra jiggle to her movement; and, slowly, my dick begins thickening in response.

“Did you know Aloha’s signed to my band’s label?”

Aubrey gasps and stops dancing. “Does that mean you know her? Are you friends ?”

“Our paths cross, now and again, at parties and industry events. But, no, I wouldn’t call us friends.”

Aubrey’s face is glowing with excitement. “What’s Aloha like? Is she as nice as she seems?”

“She’s nice, yeah. To people she likes. But if you’re angling for an introduction, don’t bother. I’m not someone she likes.”

Aubrey gasps again, this time dramatically feigning shock. “ What ? Who on Earth could resist your cheerful, charming personality, C-Bomb ?”

By all rights, I should be laughing with her right now, since she’s adorable and funny. But I can’t laugh because I’ve just realized my mistake. Surely, the odds are high my ill-advised disclosure about Aloha will lead to Aubrey asking me?—

“Why doesn’t Aloha like you? What’d you do?”

Yup. That.

“ Nothing too egregious. She’s good friends with some people who think I’m an immature, hotheaded little prick.”

“Why do they think that about you? ”

“Because I was an immature, hotheaded little prick to them.” I manage a tight smile, but Aubrey frowns. Fuck. Why’d I lead the conversation down this path, when it will almost certainly lead to me being asked to explain my bad behavior? Aubrey of all people—the woman I’m trying to get into my bed again—the woman I might even be falling in love with—doesn’t need to know about that whole saga. Not now. Not ever.

“What’d you do, Caleb?” Aubrey prompts, her dark eyes wide. Suddenly, it’s clear she’s not being playful anymore. She’s not flirting. She’s locked in and dead serious.

I scratch my arm and try to look unbothered. Neutral. Like it was no big deal, rather than the thing that still haunts me, to this day. “Nothing too terrible. I was just being my cheerful, charming self. Apparently, I’m not everyone’s cup of tea.” Averting my eyes, I decide I’m done with this conversation now. All conversation, in fact, for the rest of the night. It’s high time for me to fuck Aubrey Capshaw or jerk off to fantasies of her, if she’s not down.

I turn off the putrid song blaring on Aubrey’s phone and grab both phones off the deck. With a loud sigh, I get up and put away my tools, signaling to Aubrey I’m done here for the night. And not only in relation to the deck.

“I’m going to bed,” I announce, when my clean-up is done. “Am I going there with or without you, babysitter?” I didn’t plan to put it so bluntly. Didn’t plan to force the issue. And I certainly didn’t plan to call her “babysitter” while inviting her to get fucked. But the Aloha thing’s got me stressed—worried Aubrey’s going to somehow find out about what happened between me and Violet—and me and Dax. And now, my brain’s hurtling into a bit of a tailspin.

“Wow, what a romantic invitation,” Aubrey deadpans.

“You want romance, baby? Then C-Bomb’s not your man. You want orgasms? Come to papa.” Why am I acting like this, when all day long, it’s become painfully obvious to me how much I desperately want to give Aubrey both romance and orgasms? Why, why, why can’t I simply tell her how I’m feeling about her?

“Well, first of all, I don’t want to have sex with C-Bomb ,” Aubrey huffs out. “And second of all, ideally, I want both. Romance and orgasms, whenever I find my person. Don’t worry, I know he’s not you. Obviously. But, yes, I definitely want and deserve both in my next relationship.”

Fuck me. The thought of her with someone else makes me homicidal. And yet, this is a self-imposed wound, isn’t it? I practically forced her to say that shit to me. Why ? Why am I pushing her away, when all I want to do is take her into my arms and confess I’m starting to feel something amazing for her. Something that makes me want to be her next relationship?

“Why are you suddenly acting like a caveman?” she asks. “I don’t understand you.”

That makes two of us , baby . “There’s not much to understand, Aubrey. I want to fuck you. Not talk about fucking Aloha Carmichael.”

“Jeez, Caleb. Sorry. She’s my all-time favorite artist, so I was excited to find out you’ve met her.” She’s standing now. Her hands on her hips. “What the fuck is your problem? Tell me what’s going on in your head.”

“I’m horny. That’s my problem. That’s the sum total of what’s going on in my head. The desire to fuck you. So, are you in or out, babysitter? If you’re out, tell me now, and I’ll go take a cold shower.”

Aubrey rubs a palm down her face. “God, I hate myself for this, given how rude you’re being; but, yes, I’m in. Only if you promise not to be a jerk while fucking me, though. ”

“Deal.”

“Also, only if you ask me nicely.”

“I just did.”

Aubrey scoffs. “If that was your idea of nice, then my answer is no.”

“You already said yes.”

“With a caveat.”

I roll my eyes and take a deep breath. “Aubrey Capshaw, please come to bed with me.”

“Come on, Caleb. You can do it nicer than that.”

Fuck it. I take a few steps, till I’m standing directly in front of her, and slowly sink to my knees before her. “Please, Aubrey. If I don’t fuck you tonight, I’m not sure I’ll survive till morning.” She laughs, thinking I’m joking around. But, sadly, I’m not.

“What, exactly, will kill you, if I say no?”

“My aching balls will most likely explode, and I’ll bleed out.”

Aubrey laughs again. “Well, jeez, now that I know it’s a matter of life and death, how could I say no?”

Relieved, I stand up, take Aubrey’s face in my hands, and pull her mouth to mine for a passionate, hungry kiss. And just like that, we’re both on fire again, every bit as much as last night. Even more so, I’d say, now that we both know what awaits us.

As our kiss deepens, I feel a shockwave of greed scorch through me. It’s beyond something physical. Far beyond lust. Just this fast, I’m pretty sure I literally need this woman in my life. And, honestly, if that’s the case, that scares the shit out of me.

I lift Aubrey up by her ass and press her center into my steely bulge, and Aubrey responds with a soft moan and grinding motion that sends lust rocketing through me. Fuck me. She already owns me, this woman. I don’t want that to be true. It’s thoroughly inconvenient for a guy like me. But this taste of her is confirming it. I’m a fucking goner.

Still holding her by her ass cheeks, I carry Aubrey inside the house, and she wraps her legs around me and grinds herself into me while running her hands greedily through my hair.

Quickly, I realize my bedroom is too far away for me to survive the journey without my balls exploding before arrival. I need to get my mouth on Aubrey’s perfect tits right fucking now.