Chapter 17Cade
Cade
You never called.
This girl.
Her boldness entices me, drawing me in like a moth to the brightest flame. My head knows my curiosity is unwise, but my body reacts to her like second nature. She’s also not making it the easiest job in the world to ignore her—blowing gusts of whirling winds that threaten to tear apart my sanity.
As my boots meet the sidewalk, I briefly pout when there’s no immediate trace of her. I shift my head to the right before turning it left, finding her idled at the corner crosswalk.
My legs move on their own accord, brain left to catch up with them later. “Hey!”
Olivia spins around just as I seal the distance between us, and my eyes dive to her stuffed palm at the belt of her high-waisted jeans. A small, pink bottle is lodged inside. A bottle attached to her car keys.
The exact size of a mace can.
Odd.
“I know I didn’t call, but that doesn’t mean you have to use pepper spray on me,” I joke through a sighed laugh.
Her eyes dip to the weapon in question, blush-tipped fingers fiddling with it as she says, “Can never be too careful, I guess.”
My hands slip in my jeans pockets, forehead creasing. “In broad daylight on a crowded street?”
“I’m entitled to protect myself if I choose,” Olivia answers calmly, turning away to wait for the walking signal.
Well, I feel like an asshole.
I should know better.
My body slips beside hers. “You can put it away,” I assure her. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
Her eyes are directed forward, the crook of her mouth curled up as she tucks her keys into her crossbody bag.
My throat bobs through the thick knot that’s formed there, appreciating the way her fingers whisk her hair out of her eyes.
And then there’s those shiny, pouty lips.
The same lips she flaunted around her cinnamon bun earlier.
“Why didn’t you call?” Olivia asks before the pedestrian signal finally lights.
She treks forward, leaving me to play catch-up. “I’ve been busy,” I respond alongside her.
I should mention I have a girlfriend. That’s the normal and most logical response. But the words remain glued to my tongue.
I know what I should say.
I just choose not to say it.
Olivia curls around the next corner, my body right on her tail. “So have I,” she counters. “That’s not exactly an excuse.”
The sassiness fucking body checks me, and her backbone intrigues me as much as it alarms me. “Hey,” I say.
My fingers brush the wool wrapped around her upper arm, silently willing her to pause. And when her mint green eyes elevate to mine, there’s a glimmering promise radiating from her.
A pledge that her intentions are pure.
I shake my head, popping my shoulders. “You don’t even know me.”
“I’m trying to get to know you. Is that so terrible?”
“No, but there are other ways to go about it than throwing yourself at me,” I retort.
Her eyes narrow, mouth twisting in offense. “Sorry you find me so unattractive.”
She resumes her journey to the parking lot behind the string of buildings, and I’m quickly walking in step with her again. “Oh, that is so cliché,” I scoff. “To say something you know is not true just so I’ll say what you want me to.”
“Then you might as well just say it,” she demands, my stomach pitching at her feisty tone.
“I think it’s best if I don’t.”
Our boots thud along the pavement of the parking lot, filling the silence until we reach Olivia’s Rav4. When she wraps her palm around the handle of the door, she pivots to peer up at me. “I think I’m in the mood for a beer tonight. Any suggestions of where I should go?”
It’s adorable, it’s funny, and the faintest heat crawls along my face. I pivot my head, my palm absently connecting with the back of my neck before returning my attention to her.
She flashes a smirk before opening the car door. “Thanks for the walk.”
“No problem.”
I step back on the heel of my boot, waiting until her vehicle slips out of the lot. But even when she’s out of view, the speed of my pulse never mellows.
The clanking of ceramic dishes rings through when I step into the foyer. I shrug my leather coat off before hanging it on the mounted rack, and then I’m following the sound of the kitchen faucet.
I curl right when I reach the end of the narrow hallway, slipping behind Jenna to wrap her waist in both my palms.
“Hey,” she greets, momentarily peeking over her shoulder.
“How was your sleep?” I plant a tender kiss to her neck, only to rest my chin in the crook of it.
Jenna shrugs, arms fidgeting as she scrubs a plate with the sponge. “Okay. I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to working overnight shifts, to be honest.”
I knead her through the cotton of her oversized t-shirt, nuzzling my lips into her shoulder. “Switch to days so we have more time together.”
“You know the pay differential is worth it.” She shuffles her body under my grasp. “Cade, I’m really trying to do the dishes. Can you give me a minute? Please?”
The dreaded hammer crashes into my heart yet again, clubbing it until it waits in limbo for the next blow.
I peel away from her, licking my lips in an attempt to control my smart-ass tongue. My body swivels around, snatching an apple from the fruit bowl on the eat-in table. “Where did you want to go for dinner?”
Jenna pulls the faucet lever down, the thick stream cutting off before she snuggles her hands in a dish towel. “I got called in early for work tonight. Can we reschedule?”
“That seems to be happening more frequently these days,” I state before biting into my snack.
“Forgive me for having an important job,” she snaps, now using the cloth to dry the rinsed plates and glasses. “You’re going to work tonight too, so our early dinner would have been rushed anyway. We can reschedule when it’s more convenient for both of us. Isn’t that better?”
She hasn’t looked at me once.
Not once.
My eyes betray me, forcing me to witness her tossing her hair over her shoulder on a deep sigh. Not only has she not made eye contact with me since I came home, but her mouth does nothing to hide the way her lips sink at the corners.
When I rewind the clock back over the past several months, I realize I can’t remember the last time Jenna looked happy . And if there was one thing I could wish for us, it would be for her to flash the smile she used to.
The smile I was able to fuel effortlessly.
The smile I miss so much that I stumble to breathe when I realize I may have lost it forever.
I’m mid-chew through another bite of the crisp fruit when I ask, “What time are you going in?”
“Five.”
I gesture to the analog clock on the header of the kitchen, swallowing the sweet and tart juices before rebutting. “It’s only one o’clock. Let’s get lunch,” I suggest.
“I have too much to do. Clean the bathroom, throw laundr—”
“I can help with that,” I interject. “You know I always do.”
She runs a frustrated hand through her hair, spinning around to throw an arm up. “I just don’t want to be rushed trying to get everything done, okay? You’re stressing me out more.”
There’s an excuse for everything.
I bite the final piece of my apple, walking to step on the pedal of the garbage at the end of the counter. After chucking the remnants in, I stroll over to Jenna, her wide eyes catching mine when I peel the dish towel from her hand.
My fingers drop the cloth carelessly on the floor, finding the hem of her shirt right after. “Cade, wha—” she breathes.
The pads of my digits lick the trim of her panties, her palms planting against my chest as our noses brush. “If this isn’t mine anymore, just say it,” I whisper. “Just tell me, Jenna. I can handle it.”
Just as I lift my head, her hands press into my torso. The nudge is so cruel that I swear I feel my heart crack. “Cade, I haven’t showered,” she hushes. “I told you I’m stressed.”
Same excuse, different day.
I gradually strip my hands from her, holding her apologetic gaze as I step back.
“I’m sorry, I just—”
But I’m already exiting the kitchen before Jenna can finish her sentence.