Chapter 6 #2
He started toward the house and she followed. His phone buzzed. When he glanced at the screen a puff of air blew out of his mouth and the corner of his lips hitched up. “Guess Justin isn’t coming home tonight. He asked if I could do chores in the morning.”
“What? No. I can do them. You have your own ranch’s chores. Why wouldn’t he have asked me?” Her phone had been silent all night. Its typical state.
“Probably because he didn’t want to ask his adult sister to cover for him while he’s getting laid.”
She choked on a gasp, partly from being scandalized and partly because sucking in that much cold air was a shock to her throat.
Caleb’s deep chuckle prompted a smile from her. A smiling Caleb was always better.
Inside, he shucked his boots off. “I’ll take his bathroom. I’m sure he’d rather have me bear witness to anything embarrassing than you.”
“I would argue, but I don’t want to find out what he might have that’s incriminating. I’m just glad he didn’t bring his hookup here.”
“You’re not the only one.” He tossed his hat onto a hook and sauntered off, running a hand through his hair. Her fingers itched to do it for him.
She finished toeing her boots off, watching him disappear into the master bedroom from under the brim of her own hat.
Even barefoot, the guy had an unmistakable swagger.
When they’d been kids, he’d never quit moving, bouncing around with energy.
Poking at her or her brother until he got a reaction. Always laughing and joking.
Now, his energy was coiled. She still spied that boy she once knew. Good-natured, a touch wild, but with a ready smile.
God, she had missed him.
She could just add that feeling to the nostalgia that liked to broadside her at unexpected times now that she was home. There was a lot about her home that she’d missed. Her hometown? Not so much.
She jogged up the stairs and darted into the bathroom. The door clicked shut and she glanced at the empty hook on the back of the door. Stripping down, she caught sight of herself in the mirror.
And there it was. The reason she’d thrown a small shit fit when Oliver had insisted on moving back.
She stared at herself in the mirror, at the boobs she had a hard time containing.
Now that she’d gained some weight, they threatened to spill out of her bra.
How could she be a damn adult and still be plagued by childhood insecurities?
Maisy May Jorgenson and her incessant need to point out that Brigit’s sports bra got an F in containment.
Or Maisy’s best friend, Priya Patel, quietly whispering in Brigit’s ear that her gym shorts rode up when she bent over.
Priya had acted like what she’d done was in Brigit’s best interest, but from the smug look on Maisy’s face, that was doubtful.
Brigit sneered and flipped the lever to the shower with more force than she intended. Water burst on, splashing over the tub ledge onto the fluffy charcoal gray bathmat and beyond.
Dammit, she’d have to clean that up. But for now, she had to scrub the grit off and hope her memories went down the drain with it. She freed her hair and stepped under the spray, shivering until it warmed.
High school for a girl with growth spurts like hers hadn’t been fun.
Those tight gym shorts? They’d been long and loose when school let out her sophomore year.
Over the next summer, Brigit had grown three inches and developed curves that had made her seem wider and taller than everyone else.
The adult part of her saw her classmates’ behavior for what it was.
Jealousy. Insecurity. Intimidation. Mean-girl tactics used to make themselves feel better.
Junior year, Brigit hadn’t lacked for homecoming dates, and for prom that year, she’d even gone with Maisy’s brother, who had been a senior. That’d been out of spite. And because Mom had refused to allow her to go with Caleb.
But I’d be more comfortable going with a friend .
Though, she hadn’t been eying Caleb with a friend’s eyes.
By then, he’d done his own growing, getting taller than her and developing those muscles.
Those muscles. Their work today and through the night wasn’t sexy, but it’d been with him.
All day. All that bending and flexing, and that ass…
All chill fled as she remembered Caleb’s sure movements. She’d only seen adult him in a shirt and pants, but—
Enough. No thoughts of shirtless Caleb Cruise while she showered.
She rinsed and flipped the water off. Stepping out, she grabbed a towel and dried off while staring at the door. All she had were dirty clothes. She couldn’t hear footsteps or any other sound to indicate Caleb had finished his shower, though he had to be done by now.
The towel wrapped far enough around her to be secure. It’d be nice if Justin bought a color other than pewter gray, but there was no one around to see how ashen it made her look. She brushed out her hair and bypassed the noisy hair dryer. She’d take care of that in her room.
She whipped open the door and pulled up short. The water on the floor. Spinning, she yanked the hand towel off the ring by the light switch and carefully bent to mop up the water.
Lobbing the hand towel toward the laundry bin, she turned. Her breath caught.
Whatever she’d thought about a shirtless Caleb didn’t come close to the real thing.
He was stopped in the hallway, like he’d seen her crouched in nothing but a towel and gotten glued to the spot. A matching gray towel was slung low over his waist, the rest of his lean body bare.
And wow.
Defined pecs. Rippling abs she wanted to gaze at as much as she wanted to trace with her tongue. There was nothing relaxed about him. This wasn’t the usual Caleb.
Because they were both wearing only a towel. Her gaze flew to his face, but his was stuck on the flare of her hips. His jaw tightened until she thought he’d bust teeth. He finally noticed her looking at him.
“Fuck, sorry.” He stiffly turned his head, like he’d defaulted to robot mode.
“Yeah.” She wasn’t sorry. There wasn’t any more chance she and Caleb would work than there had been ten years ago. Might as well torture herself with what she was missing. That view was worth it.
She took a step, her heel hitting a patch that hadn’t completely dried, which had turned into an ice rink for the unwary.
The skid of her foot on the ceramic tile was louder than her startled cry.
Her biggest worry wasn’t that she’d hurt herself.
It was that she’d crash to the ground and lose her towel, or land with her legs splayed in the unsexiest peep show to ever hit Moore, Minnesota.
Her other foot hit with a thud and she caught herself. The pounding of her heart clogged her throat and she put a hand to her chest.
Caleb was at her side, a sexy safety net she would’ve gratefully fallen into. “Are you all right?” His hot hand was on her elbow. He was only inches away from her.
“You move fast.” She blinked and tried to lift her gaze to his face, but it was glued to the way his muscles flowed from his shoulders to his chest.
He dropped his voice. “Not when it counts, honey.”
He’d meant it as a joke, she knew that. But the timbre of his drawl and the proximity of his nearly naked body belied the humor.
She couldn’t get past her raw need. How did the adult Caleb feel?
Would he still like when she nibbled along his jawline to his earlobe?
Would he groan every time she stroked his length?
She swallowed hard. Somehow, he’d crowded closer. Or had she drawn nearer?
Who cared?
“Bridge.” His voice matched the raging hormones inside of hers, the ones demanding answers to her questions.
She lifted her chin and kissed the corner of his mouth and pulled back only slightly. “Caleb.”
“We shouldn’t—”
“I know.” She planted her lips on his.
His reaction was immediate. Her back hit the wall as his body pressed against hers. She wrapped her arms around him and deepened the kiss. His taste was achingly familiar, one that promised to fill the empty chasm inside of her.
When his tongue stroked inside her mouth, she greedily received him. The delicious press of his growing erection between them made her curse her towel. She should have let it fall when she slipped.
His hands gripped her ass, bringing her closer. She skimmed her hands up to his face, loving the rough scrape of his stubble against her palms and the slide of silky wet hair over her heated skin.
She rolled her hips, reveling in the steel trapped between them. Everything was bigger about Caleb.
His groan resonated through his chest into hers.
She rolled against him again, only this time she sought desperate relief for the throbbing ache between her legs.
Releasing his head, she gripped his shoulders.
Should she wrap a leg around him? Maybe widen her stance so they could rock together?
Or palm him and give him at least the same measure of ecstasy she was feeling?
He ripped his mouth free and rested his forehead against hers, his breathing heavy. “We can’t do this.”
“I know,” she breathed. Why again?
“You said that before and now my dick is hard as a rock.” He let go of her butt, moving his hands to her arms.
“It’s harder.”
The intensity of his dark gaze speared her, but he recovered. “You’re not helping.”
She sighed and cupped his face. “Look, I know we have a history, and I should’ve gone about breaking up with you better. And I know your roots are here and here is where you’re going to stay.”
“And there’s no way you’d settle in Moore with a guy like me.”
She frowned and slid her hands to his shoulders. Not touching him while they were this close wasn’t an option. “It’s not you, it’s Moore.”
He let her go and stepped back, glancing down like he was making sure he was still covered.
The loss of his heat let the chill flow in like a rushing river.
Goose bumps crawled over her arms. She twisted her hands into her towel, but not to hold it up.
Her earlier vulnerability was exposed for all to see now.
“If it’s not me, why couldn’t we tell anyone about us back then? I was prouder than hell of dating a girl like you.”
Her heart melted at the same time it cracked with heartbreak. He thought she was ashamed of him? She wasn’t. Her mom was a different story. “If anyone had found out, it would have gotten back to Mom. And you know how she is.”
“Anti me.”
Brigit nodded. “I didn’t want to ruin my chance at being with you.”
“And when your mom found out? We were done, easy as that?”
She stiffened, clutching the hem of the towel harder.
“It wasn’t easy . I…” She’d loved him. With all the strength of a seventeen-year-old in love for the first time in her life.
“I didn’t trust myself around you. But like Mom pointed out, we were going different directions and there was no way in hell I was staying here. ”
He retreated farther, sweeping his mussed hair off his face as he brushed his gaze over her. She shifted her weight. Did he still like what he saw? She’d been curvy like this when they were together, yet no one since had made her feel as sexy as he had.
“I guess we’re back there again. I’m not leaving. You’re not staying. And your mom would still throw a shit fit if she found out I’d touched you.”
She didn’t want to agree, but her head seemed to nod of its own accord. If the reason they couldn’t be together was so simple, why was it so hard to remember?