10. Chapter 10
ten
Weeks and I haven’t laid eyes on her. She’s here, and I can’t have her. Hell, I can’t even trust myself to look at her.
Fuck it. I’m afraid to load trucks anymore. I make Chad do it—anyone but me—because I don’t want to see her.
Liar.
I want to see her. I just can’t see her. I can’t take the chance on her being in the grocery store parking lot again, our eyes catching. I can’t let myself go there for fear my fucking feet won’t stop until I’ve got her in my arms.
My shoulders have been tight and my dick hard since that night at the meeting. Christ almighty.
Home from work, I kick off my boots and shuck my clothes, heading for the shower. Weeks of this shit and I’m worn down to bone. I’ve got blue balls.
I can’t stop thinking about her. How we used to be.
This is what I get for being alone too long.
My wanting is about to drive me over the brink because if I’ve remembered it once, I’ve remembered it a thousand times—Laurel’s skin, slick with sweat, gliding against mine.
How it felt when her legs wrapped around me, her hands on my ass, pulling me deeper into her as she moaned into my mouth.
Hot water streaming down my back, steam rolling over me, I lean one hand on the tile wall and fist my cock, rocking my fist back and forth.
I can’t hold back the groan when the vision comes of me driving into her. How wet she’d be for me again. The way she’d look at me, her hazel eyes wanting more, how she’d moan my name, “Calder, please. More.”
Her back arches, those perfect nipples pebble—and then I’m right there as she lifts her hips, thrusting into me, meeting my every stroke. She’s so damn wet.
She’s mine. All mine, no questions. No doubts.
“Fuck. That’s it.”
Tightening my grip, I imagine going down on her. I think about how she’d taste, how I’d rub her arousal around my lips, suck her clit. And after I make her come that way, how I’d sink inside of her again, her hot walls tight around me as I fuck her so deep, she loses her breath.
Then I imagine how it would feel if I came inside of her. How her walls would milk me.
I fuck myself faster. Harder.
With my head tilted back, I remember how she used to look at me, like I was all she ever wanted. “Fuck it!” I yell to no one there.
No, my mind won’t wander to the past. I tighten my grip, stroking faster, my thumb circling my tip. Shit.
She’s lying in the center of my bed as I crawl on top of her, slide my hands under her back, lifting her hips to sink my cock as deep as she can take me. “Laurel.”
And just like that—with her name on my lips—my body shudders as my cock erupts…
Jesus. I catch my breath, my forearm pressed to the hot, wet tiles, my knees quivering. Maybe now, I can sleep.
It worked. I open my eyes after the first full night’s sleep I’ve had since she hit town. Maybe I finally found a way to survive this Laurel Apocalypse.
Not particularly proud of it, but a man’s got to do what he’s got to do.
Drinking my first cup of coffee, my phone beeps. A text.
Ray Hensley: Need a weld on the football stands. Loose rail. Can’t let kids up there till it’s fixed. You around?
Ray Hensley is the LISD Maintenance Director. He never texts unless it’s urgent.
Calder Boone: Be there within the hour.
Gives me time to round everything up.
I call Tanner and get voicemail. “Hey, man. Hensley texted. I’ve got to weld a rail on the football stands. Should be in by noon.”
Good. Gives me a morning where I don’t have to dodge her shadow.
Not an hour later, I push open the main office door of the school, welding hood in one hand, leather gloves shoved in my back pocket.
“Morning, Calder.” Mona smiles from behind the counter. “What’s up?”
“Hey, Mona. Ray around?” I scan the room. “He needs me to work on the—”
“Are you going back to school?”
My shoulders go tight. I know that voice. Hell, I feel it before I turn.
I turn anyway.
Laurel’s standing in the doorway from the lobby, a folder in her hand, hair pulled back, eyes steady on me like she’s not surprised—and if that’s not the flirtiest little smirk on her face, I’m Santa Claus.
“What are you doing here?” It comes out gruffer than I intended.
She doesn’t look away. Keeps her back straight, chin high—and there’s no pain in her eyes today. Just determination as she steps toward me, her voice quiet but sure. “I told you, Calder. I live here now. I’m substituting until something full-time opens. A girl’s got to pay the bills.”
Just like that. Simple. Direct. No apology. No flinch.
It’s a gut punch, her so calm and collected, hitting harder than anything she could’ve yelled.
Before I can say a damn thing, Ray steps out of an inner office. “There you are, Boone. Rail’s on the home side. Give me a minute and I’ll show you.”
I can’t stop it—my eyes travel from her face to her boots and back up.
Yeah, that’s my Laurel in a shape-showing pink sweater, mid-calf denim skirt, and boots—like she just waltzed here from Nashville.
And those ridiculously long lashes, the kind other women glue on that God gifted to Laurel—they make it impossible not to stare into those dancing hazel eyes.
Fuck if teachers looked like that when I was in school.
I tear my eyes off her, take a step after Ray, who’s already passed me, then stop. We’re close enough I can smell her perfume, something fresh with a warm edge, like citrus and amber, and God help me if my damn dick doesn’t betray me.
Guess that fix didn’t hold.
Our gazes lock. “What are you teaching?”
“Today? Senior English. Yesterday, fourth grade.”
I nod and turn to leave, tossing over my shoulder, “See you around.”
She wants to play it cool? Fine. I can do ice as well as anyone.
I feel her watching me go.
One railing my ass. These stands have seen their better days. I’ve been patching since early, and now the buses are running. Told the hardware crew I’d make it up to them tomorrow.
Ray comes to check on me as I start packing up for the day.
I pause from loading, leaning my hip against the tailgate. “Y’all need to spend what it takes to upgrade these stands, Ray. They were here when I was in school. Maybe when you were playing.” He’s ten years older than me.
He scrubs his hand over his bald head, studying the stadium stands. “The school board bickers over it every year. And every year something else takes priority.”
I roll my neck, a tight crack running down the right side. “Well, you can tell them for me, they don’t want a lawsuit because someone gets hurt when a rail folds or worse—and I haven’t even checked the uprights.”
I haven’t been in these stands since I graduated. I had no idea they’d deteriorated this way.
He nods, not really hearing me.
Before he can turn away, I catch his arm. “No. Ray. Listen to me. This needs attention. Tell them before someone gets hurt.”
He draws back as his brows pull tight. “You think it’s that bad?”
“It’s not good. Do I think someone’s going to die? No. But someone could get hurt. You need an outfit bigger than me to come check the structural integrity of this place.”
He nods. “I’ll get on it.”
When he walks off, I stand there a second, the field stretching out in front of me. The stands have changed. The field hasn’t. I see myself playing on this same grass, hear the band and the crowd, Laurel on the sidelines, cheering like I hung the damn moon.
She’s been on my mind all day.
Even now, I should be thinking about rust, liability, and metal fatigue. Instead, all I can see is Laurel in that pink sweater, steady-eyed and unbothered, acting like running into me was just another Tuesday. Acting like she’s fine.
Fuck. Maybe she is.
I thought I had my life under control. I’d made peace with the fact I’d never feel for anyone what I felt for her… and I was fine, just living day to day. Then she shows up, and it’s clear I never got past a damn thing.