My hand twitched when my phone buzzed.
Nate: Hey. What’s up?
Why was Nathan texting me now after weeks of silence?
Anger bubbled inside my veins as I waited for my date. My date who liked my crazy nerdy ass, who wanted to spend time with me, who touched without crossing a line or leading me on.
Jumping at the sudden sound of knuckles against wood, I forced myself to take a deep breath. I didn’t deserve to hold onto someone who only wanted me on his terms—to be angry over actions I couldn’t change.
I deleted the text, then his number from my contacts.
Mashed Potato nudged me with her head as the knocking started up again.
“I’m going, I’m going,” I grumbled, pushing myself up. One last time, I ran my hands through my hair and pressed out the wrinkles of my shirt before turning the lock and opening the worn door.
My mouth hit the floor at the sight in front of me. Caleb’s usual blue jeans and tee were gone, replaced with dark pants and a tight light blue button-up shirt that hugged his biceps deliciously and were rolled up to his elbows. My eyes followed the length of him from top to bottom, which were covered in a new pair of black boots.
“You look…” I shook my head.
“I could say the same.” I didn’t recognize the huskiness in his voice, which made me look up at his face. His bottom lip was drawn into his mouth, his front teeth sinking into the plump skin there.
The way his eyes lowered in a slow perusal had me squirming under his obvious scrutiny. When those blue globes found their way back, I was frozen in place. I didn’t know how one look could feel like I’d been touched by a thousand flames all at once.
Clearing my throat, I grabbed my black purse from the entryway table and slung it on my shoulder. “So where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise,” he answered, offering me his arm. I stared at it skeptically. “Throw a guy a bone, Paisley. I don’t bite.”
Sighing, I linked our arms together. “I take it you charmed your way in here. Again.”
He just grinned.
“Mrs. Meyers is going to try claiming you for herself,” I teased, bumping our shoulders.
He glanced at me playfully. “I guess you’ll have to let her know that I’m already yours.”
“Confident, are we?”
“Don’t have a reason not to be.”
I thought about the text from Nathan but pushed it to the back of my mind. Caleb deserved my undivided attention.
“What if this date goes horribly wrong?”
“Why would it?”
“Maybe I’ll hate where you take me.”
“Doubtful.”
I sighed.
He held the front door open for me, letting me go first. His hand rested on the small of my back, causing me to shiver.
“I don’t like surprises,” I admitted.
He guided me down the street. “Iris mentioned that. But don’t worry, you’ll like this one. Because you’re with me.”
Now I rolled my eyes. “Just because you gave me chocolate doesn’t mean you can be one of those guys and not expect me to say something.”
“And what kinda guy is that, Paisley?”
“Arrogant.”
He thought about it, twisting his lips left and right before stopping in front of a black sedan. “Confidence sounds more appealing.”
I couldn’t help but smile.
He gestured toward the vehicle. “Get in. We’ve got a little bit of a drive ahead of us.”
I batted my eyelashes and gave him my best Southern accent. “Mama told me never to get into cars with strangers.”
He chuckled. “Good thing we’re not strangers.”
“I don’t know,” I argued, popping my hip against his car. “We don’t know very much about each other. For all I know, you could be leading me to my death.”
He crowded my space. “You went to a guy’s house for a bonfire knowing only one person there,” he reminded me. “They could have thrown you into the flames for all you knew. No worries though, you’re safe with me. I mean, I can’t promise I won’t try having my way with you, but…”
I smacked his arm as hard as I could. “I can’t believe you just said that!”
He laughed. “I’m joking. Are you going to get in? The food is getting cold.”
Food?
I glanced in the car to see a wicker basket like the one delivered to my apartment this morning. Whatever was inside was wrapped in aluminum foil and smelled amazing.
“Well?” he asked.
I gave him one last look. “Only because I love food,” I relented, climbing in.
He chuckled. “If you’re ever kidnapped, I’ll know it was because somebody lured you into a white van with a ‘free food’ sign on the outside.”
I went to defend myself, but he was totally right.
When he got in, he nudged the basket toward me. I eyed him for a moment before grabbing one of the packages, slowly unwrapping it.
I smiled. “What is this?”
“It’s a chicken bacon ranch sandwich,” he explained, taking one for himself. “I wanted to make sure we had actual food. Where we’re going doesn’t exactly have anything like this.”
“Are you taking me to a remote island?” I doubted.
He laughed. “I said they don’t have hearty meals, not that they have nothing.”
I just rolled my eyes, taking a huge bite. The ranch alone had me moaning as the flavors hit my tongue.
He groaned in pain. “You can’t make noises like that. It drives me to insanity.”
I blushed, setting my food down. “I don’t want to drive you insane.”
He huffed. “I hope not.”
I wasn’t sure why his tone shifted, so I just remained quiet. The less awkward that escaped my mouth, the better.
The silence ate at me as I picked apart the chicken. The radio was off, and the only sound was the passing cars on the highway.
“Where’d you get the sandwiches?”
“I made them.”
I gaped. “You can cook?”
“I’ve picked a few things up,” he answered, glancing at me. “Is it okay? You’re not eating. I wasn’t sure what you liked but thought maybe it was a safe bet.”
I brushed a piece hair behind my ear. “It’s delicious. The nerves are just making me feel all jumbled inside.”
He reached out and squeezed my knee. “I don’t want you to be nervous, Pais. This is supposed to be fun.”
“I’ve never done this,” I reminded him, staring solely at my food. “I don’t know what to expect, or do, or say. And I feel stupid—”
I gasped when he suddenly jerked the car to the side of the road, slamming to a stop as traffic sped by us.
“What are you—”
“Never feel that way,” he cut me off suddenly, his stern tone making me flinch.
Shifting uncomfortably, I replied, “I’m twenty-three, Cal. Most women my age have plenty of experience. Then there’s me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. There’s nothing wrong with you. Do you believe that?”
“I do, but—”
“Good,” he cut me off.
“Caleb!”
“What?”
I huffed out a heavy breath. “Just because I know there’s nothing wrong with me, doesn’t mean I don’t have doubts. Like you, for instance.”
His brows drew up.
Despite my body heating over what I was about to say, I didn’t want to go back. “Why would you want to be with somebody who has nothing to show you? Nothing to offer? There are other women you can have who would be willing to give you anything you wanted. It doesn’t make sense why you’d think being with me would be better.”
His hand tightened on the gearshift. “I thought we already went over this? I like you, Paisley.”
“But—”
His eyes sharpened, stopping me from talking. “You’re not afraid to dance in public, or listen to music older than you,
or admit that chocolate is your lifeline. You’re beautiful, funny, and so awkward that it’s fucking cute. Sexy, even. I’m addicted to your energy, Paisley. I’m addicted to you.”
I couldn’t help but stare at him.
He leaned back in his seat. “I don’t want you thinking that I’m doing any of this out of pity. I may not know a lot about you, but tonight is supposed to remedy that. I want to get to know you.”
I glanced down at my lap, unsure of what to say. We sat like that in silence, only this time it was comfortable because I knew he was here because he wanted to be.
“Ready?” he asked.
I let out a tiny breath and looked up timidly. “Ready.”
How You Know It Won’t Work:
He makes you ride the wheel of death
I was overdressed.
Glancing down at my attire, I cringed at how I stood out in the crowd of country girls. Oakland County always brought out the want-to-be farmer’s daughters when the fair rolled into town. Complete with daisy duke shorts, plaid shirts, and cowboy boots.
Leaning into Caleb’s side, I whispered, “I think I should change.”
“You look beautiful,” he promised, putting his arm around my waist. “What do you want to do? Rides? Games? Get some fried dough?”
My mouth watered over the thought of fried dough, despite having eaten on the way over. Who didn’t have time for fried food and powdered sugar?
It’s the most important food group!
I bit my lip, smiling at him. “Dough, please.”
“A girl after my own heart. The real question is what you put on top of it. Did you know Iris puts marinara sauce on hers?”
I gasped. “Blasphemy!”
He chuckled. “Imagine having to call her family. Disgrace.”
“What do you put on it?”
He peeked over at me as we walked along the line of food venders. My stomach growled at the mixture of grease and sugar in the air. “Cinnamon sugar. Let me guess. You’re a powdered sugar kinda girl.”
“Guilty.”
He gestured toward the booth in front of us. Wrapped around the side was a picture of chocolate coated peanut butter fried dough. The picture alone made my stomach bloat, my pants suddenly feeling a little too snug.
“Want one?”
I blinked. “Uh…”
He stopped in front of the ordering window, brows arching as he waited for a reply.
Running my tongue across my bottom lip, I examined the picture once more. I’d had my fair share of sweets from the basket he sent today and having this sweetness would make me diabetic. Well, borderline.
But I nearly drooled catching a whiff of the liquid peanut butter coming from inside the food truck.
Internally groaning, I gave in. “Yes.”
He held up two fingers. “One peanut butter fried dough, and one cinnamon sugar please.”
Passing the lovely old woman money, he guided me off to the side so the people in line could order while ours was cooking. After our dough was done, we made it to a picnic table near the truck and sat across from each other.
Some of the chocolate drizzle was escaping off the side of the plate. I stuck my tongue out and licked it right up. Caleb watched me intently, eyes flashing at the movement. Self-consciously, I blushed crimson.
“Thanks for this. It smells yummy.”
He ripped a piece of dough off and stuffed it into his mouth, wiping his fingers off on a napkin.
The top of my dough was covered in melted peanut butter and chocolate and sprinkled with powdered sugar. There was no way I could eat it without making a mess, but I tried anyway.
Tearing a piece off, I folded it to capture the toppings from dripping onto my fingers. It was sweeter than I would have thought but melted on my tongue. I made sure not to make any embarrassing noises this time, though I think that disappointed Caleb.
“Is it good?”
I nodded, still chewing.
He had over half his dough devoured before I could even take a second chunk of mine. “What’s your favorite thing to do at the fair?”
I thought about it, remembering all the times my parents let me go to the game booths and helped me win prizes. “The games, I guess. It’s been a while since I’ve been to the fair. I think the last time was when my parents took me in high school. Dad won me a white unicorn from the water gun game. You know the one? You squirt the little hole?”
He raised a brow, lips quirking.
“Ug, perv.” I rolled my eyes. “Not like that!”
He got over his humor quickly and shook his head smiling at me. I had a fantastic time with my parents. Even if it was a little embarrassing, I still had that unicorn hidden in a box in the closet. Don’t judge.
“I don’t know about the water gun game,” he said sarcastically, a smirk raising his lips, “but I’m a badass when it comes to darts. Maybe I can win you something.”
Just the thought of him winning a stuffed animal for me made my pitiful heart skip a beat. Just another thing one of those stupid boys never did for me.
“I’d like that,” I admitted quietly.
The smile he graced me with eased any anxiety that was left over. I took a deep breath and exhaled away the worries, digging back into my favorite dessert.
We kept an easy conversation going, learning more about each other. Like how he liked to read at night before bed. While I was strictly a fiction girl, he was all about historical nonfiction. Of course, I loved history documentaries and could binge watch just about any show relating to World War II or the 1920’s, so I wasn’t one to judge.
I told him about my middle school crush on Aaron Carter, and how I used to take tap lessons…and failed spectacularly. He told me about his many attempts at getting Maggie Edmunds’ attention in middle school, even learning how to ballroom dance for the semiformal he was going to ask her to. He ended up tagging along with Iris and her date when Maggie brutally turned him down in front of their entire class.
We shared the same favorite color, blue. Although mine was the cerulean shade of his eyes, while his was navy. Pizza was a similar obsession in our lives, but he preferred chicken wing pizza to my veggie lovers. But I wouldn’t waste a slice of chicken wing if he put one in front of me.
His love for coffee was identical to mine of chocolate, and I momentarily wondered how much money I’d need to spend on a coffee maker for my apartment in case he’d stick around. But I quickly wiped the thought away, worried I’d jinx us before it went further.
“Mashed Potato loves her new toys,” I told him, leaning my elbows on the table.
“I’m glad to hear.”
“You don’t need to bribe her.” I sighed. “She likes you enough already.”
He studied me, pushing his empty plate away. “Does she now?”
I nodded.
“And you?”
“I like the chocolate you sent,” I answered, grinning.
He laughed. “I see how it is. How about that stuffed animal I promised you?”
Caleb won me a black stuffed cat. It had white paws and a pink button nose, and when he asked me what its name was, I frowned. It’d been a long time since I named my stuffed animals.
He declared his name was Boots, tapping the white paws in explanation. I held it tighter, smiling into the soft fur. He nudged me with his elbow, playfully trying to steal it from my grasp.
Giggling, I swatted him away. “Stop! Boots is mine!”
“Aha! So, you like the name.”
I rolled my eyes. Playfully of course.
We stopped in front of the Ferris wheel, he was staring at me in question. “No,” I said plainly.
“Oh, come on.”
Shaking my head, I stepped back. “Nope. I am not going on that-that thing. Do you know how many people die from falling off fair rides?”
He glanced at the lit-up death trap doubtfully. “It’s just the Ferris wheel. Do you really think I’d let you get hurt?”
I scoffed. “Wh
at can you do if it breaks apart? We’d both die. Plus, I doubt we can take prizes on the rides.”
“And why not?”
I dug for a reason. “There are only two people per cart. So…”
He tried hiding his smirk behind his hand but failed. I saw it. “Boots is a stuffed animal, Paisley.”
I popped my lips.
He angled his body toward me. “I promise that it won’t kill us. We’ll go on, have fun, and then we can do something else.” He checked his watch. “I think they’re doing fireworks in twenty minutes. It’ll be a good time killer until then.”
I gnawed on the inside of my cheek, watching the wheel spin with the current riders. They seemed to be having fun, but I still wasn’t convinced. Watching them made me a little queasy.
“We don’t have tickets,” I reminded him in a last-ditch effort to worm my way out of it.
“We can pay at the front of the line.”
Damn.
“Is it about heights?"
My lips parted, then closed.
He reached out and wove our hands together, our fingers linking tightly. “I’m terrified of snakes.”
I looked at our hands, heat warming my body when he squeezed our fingers. “Why would you tell me that?”
He shrugged. “Felt like it was only fair that you knew something I was afraid of. I also hate when it gets dark.”
Blinking, I peered over his shoulder at the ride. It was slowing down, ready to get a new batch of people in its clutches. It was almost eight thirty, which meant the rides would be shutting down soon. It was now or never.
“We have time,” I relented, gesturing toward the wheel. The way his eyes lit up made my not-so-irrational fear seem worth it. Unless we died. Then I’d have to haunt his ass for eternity.
It wasn’t until we were seated, the bar laid across our laps, when my heart raced erratically. The white-knuckle grip I had on the handle made Caleb chuckle, putting his palm on the top of my hand.
“Deep breaths,” he directed.
I forced myself to take a rough breath in, loosening my death grip slightly.
“You’ve got to breathe out,” he mused, showing me how it’s done. I sat back and looked around. Everybody else was laughing like they weren’t at risk of falling to their death.
Way To My Heart Page 10
