by Rae Kennedy
I race home as fast as I can and literally almost get hit by a car twice while doing so. I step into the house, all out of breath and cheeks burning, a grin ear-to-ear and am greeted by Cade in the kitchen.
“Hey, we have basically no food in the house. What should we do for dinner?”
“How about I make you dinner tonight?”
He crooks a smile, looking me up and down. “Oh yeah? All right. What are we having?”
“I don’t know. Let’s go to the store and see what looks good.”
His eyes light up when I mention getting groceries. Cade seriously is the most enthusiastic grocery shopper I’ve ever met.
“Just let me go put my stuff away.” I head toward the hall when two fingers hook around my elbow and spin me around.
“Okay, but you have to give me a kiss first.”
I love his kisses.
Then he smacks my butt with just the right amount of sting. “Now let’s get going.”
Of course, grocery shopping is a whole production when you go with a chef.
I tell him I want to make salmon and risotto. Amused, he labels this “ambitious.” Apparently, my menu merits a trip to no less than three different specialty shops. First a meat market for the freshest salmon in town, a health food store for the perfect Arborio rice for risotto, and a specialty cheese shop for the best Parmigiano-Reggiano to make the creamiest risotto. I watch Cade as he mulls through the aisles and chats with the artisans, all of whom he knows by name. He gives me his most stoic, blank stare—to hide his disgust, I’m sure—when I mention something about buying the pre-grated parmesan. Maybe this is too ambitious for me.
As we walk to the car, I am carrying the cheese and rice while Cade holds the freshly filleted fish and a huge loaf of crusty bread. Even with his hands full, he somehow manages to keep an arm around my shoulders.
“I wish we could stop by that little wine shop on Placer Street in the city. They have this Sauvignon Blanc that is perfect with salmon.” He gives a little grr face as we reach his car parked at the curb. He would shop at all the little delicatessens and fine food and wine shops every day if he lived in the city. We have just enough hippie professors in this small college town to warrant some specialty food markets, but not nearly as many as elsewhere.
“Why don’t you live in the city, Cade?”
He looks a little surprised as he places the bread loaf in the back seat. “I don’t know. I mean I grew up there. I guess I always imagined I’d move back.” We slide in the front seats, the black leather squeaking. “I went to school here for a couple of years until I decided to go to culinary school back in the city, but when I graduated I had no job, and nowhere to live. Tuck offered me a room and I found a job at La Mer. It was a blessing, really. I would never have been able to promote as fast anywhere else. It’s pretty rare for someone my age to be a Sous Chef already. I’m getting experience and waiting for the right opportunity.” He looks off into the distance. “I mean, it is a dream of mine to be an executive chef at a big restaurant, but for now”—he turns to look at me—“I like right where I am.”
He gives me a wink as he pushes the clutch. I watch him slide the gear shift, just the tips of the scrolly script on his wrist peeking out from his jacket cuff.
* * *
I add another ladle of chicken stock to the rice and continue to stir. Cade is sitting across from me at the counter. He keeps fidgeting with his hands, opening them then balling them back up into fists before finally hiding them under the counter. I pretend not to notice. I just keep stirring. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him open his mouth then promptly shut it. I look up at him. He gives me a big smile, still not saying anything. I season the fillets with salt and pepper and place them in the sizzling pan while still trying to give the rice the attention it demands. This time when he opens his mouth, a little breath comes out before he pins his lips shut between his teeth.
“Anything you’d like to share with the class?”
He shakes his head. Still smiling. “Nope.”
I raise my eyebrow at him. The sizzling pan alerts me from my stirring and I flip the salmon. It’s maybe a little darker than I would have liked. Oops. Now the rice is boiling. I turn the burner down and start stirring again. I can feel Cade squirming on his stool.
Stop distracting me, Cade! And you, rice, simmer dammit, simmer.
“You sure you don’t need any help?” he asks. I look up from the traitor rice and glare at him. “You’re pretty?” he offers, hands up in a protective position. My face cracks just barely.
He helps me finish the risotto. It’s delicious, but he gives me all the credit. The salmon is a bit overcooked, but he doesn’t mention it.
CHAPTER 17
Class is even blander than usual on Thursday. Everything seems duller without Cade in it. Professor Trobaugh is droning on and on, most of the class appears to be asleep or in some other trance-like state.
Except for the group of guys in the back. I tried not to notice them when I came in, but what can I say, I’m very observant—Adam.
He and a bunch a douche-baggy guys have been snickering amongst themselves ever since I walked past them. I’m assuming they’re guys from his frat. I guess he never did introduce me to any of his friends. That’s weird, right? But I’m kind of grateful I didn’t have to spend time with any of them now. One guy even has his polo shirt collar popped. That went out of style like ten years ago, didn’t it? Didn’t it? Seriously.
I’m already squeezing my notebook into my bag when Professor Trobaugh finally stops talking and scribbling nonsense on the board. I have to walk past the group of assholes on my way out. I ignore them, but by the increase in volume of the laughter as I pass, I’m obviously their object of amusement. Adam’s plaything. Or ex-plaything.
I hear them shuffling behind me. I can feel them looking at me. I try to walk as steadily as I can, even as heat rises to my ears. They are still behind me when I exit into the chilly November air.
It only takes me a second to spot him.
Across the small strip of lawn, Cade leans up against his black GTO, arms folded, the sleeves of his jacket pulled up just enough to show his tats peeking past the cuffs. The most gorgeous white smile spreads across his face when he sees me and I have never been so happy in my life. I practically sprint toward him and he squeezes me up into his arms when I reach him.
“Hey gorgeous,” he whispers in my ear. The gentle brush of his lips gives me goosebumps. “You ready to go?” He puts me down and I look up at his boyishly excited face.
“Go? Where are we going?”
“It’s kind of a surprise. You don’t have any plans for tonight, do you?”
I shake my head at him. “Nope.”
His gorgeous smile grows even wider.
* * *
I look at the clothes Cade packed for me to wear. An old Zeppelin concert T-Shirt (of his, I’m assuming) with several holes in it and a tiny black skirt I didn’t even realize I still had. He must have really dug through my closet to find this. Leave it to a man to pack a miniskirt to wear in the middle of November.
“Can’t I just wear what I have on?”
“Trust me.” He glances back at me in his rearview mirror, still all excited about this surprise.
“Those will be perfect.”
I am scrunched up in Cade’s backseat, trying to change discreetly. Impossible. It takes me ten minutes to get my shoes and pants off back here. I literally have to lie on my back with my feet on the roof of the car to wiggle out of them, wobbling side to side like a destitute turtle. It doesn’t help that Cade keeps chortling at me from the front seat.
“Hey! Eyes on the road, sir.”
“Of course. Safety first.” His eyes are on me the whole time he says this.
I roll my eyes and lift my shirt. Cade changes lanes abruptly as I am mid-undress, shirt covering my face, arms up over my head and I fall face-first to the slippery seat. Sonofabitch.
I sit up and just a
s I get my shirt up past my nose, he switches back unexpectedly and I fall to my right, smacking my temple against the door handle.
I cry out in exasperation.
“Sorry, babe.”
He thinks I can’t hear him chuckle. I can. I finally rip off my shirt to give him my best glare when we pass a large semi-truck and the driver honks. At me. I’m in just my bra and underwear. Dear God.
I snatch the shirt hurriedly and plunge in my head and arms. I can see Cade’s eyes flickering back at me in his mirror every few seconds. I guess I’m being distracting. I inch the skirt up my thighs and over my rear. Whoa. I was definitely a few pounds lighter the last time I wore this.
Okay, girl dilemma: this skirt is a little snug around the hips and I am not wearing a thong. Do I chance looking a little frumpy with panty lines or risk being a little skanky with no underwear whatsoever? Both potentially embarrassing.
I shimmy my panties down stealthily so Cade won’t see. Maybe it will be a surprise for later. Or sooner.
* * *
It takes over an hour to get into the city. We drive through downtown, and then past it. Where are we going? We seem to be in a sort of industrial warehouse district. The buildings all look a bit neglected with soot-stained stacks emerging from patched roofs, busted windows, and layers of graffiti. It’s eerily dark—the streetlights are sporadic and dim. There are absolutely no people around. I can’t help but feel a little nervous. I have to tell myself that Cade is not an ax-murderer who has taken me to his secret hide-out to dismember my body. Still, this would be a good place to do it.
He pulls into a gravel lot. I didn’t know the city could get so dark. The headlights shine over several other cars parked in the lot. That’s good. Murder seems to be off the table, at least.
“Ready?” Cade looks at me. I can barely see his face after he turns off the car, but I can just make out his beautiful smile and I realize as long as I am with him, I’m ready for anything.
I step out of the car and it is crazy cold. I hurry around the front and Cade meets me there. He throws his jacket over my shoulders and takes my hand as he looks at my bare legs.
“Let’s get inside, huh?”
Um, thank you.
We walk briskly to a large warehouse, its sheet metal siding dingy and curling at the seams. It looks abandoned but the heavy duty chains and lock on the door suggest otherwise. I’m a little confused—I could do without a B and E on my record. But he guides me around the corner to the back of the building. There’s a muscular guy standing in front of a very small propped open door, a faint yellow light radiating out of it.
We walk up to the man, who looks even more intimidating up close, by the way. He could be Filipino or Tongan, maybe. His mouth is set in a straight line. He stares out ahead, not focused on anything in particular. As we come to a stop in front of him, his eyes shift to Cade. His stony expression does not alter, but he gives Cade the slightest of nods and takes a step to the left. Cade places his hand around my waist as we step inside.
He guides me around large machinery to a hallway where caged halogen lights are stapled by their cords to the walls. They give off a peculiar weak orange light. Cade’s touch is constant on me. At the end of the hall is an open metal cargo elevator.
“You’re not taking me to some weird orgy or something, right?” I grimace at the rickety-looking contraption.
He tosses his head up and laughs playfully but when he looks back at me, he bites his lower lip. “No, Hale. Promise.”
The elevator descends very slowly, screeching as it goes. It reaches the bottom with a thud and a thick wave of heat hits me. I slide off the jacket as we step out. Those same dim orange lights glow on one side of the hallway in front of us. On the other side of the hallway are huge boiler units with giant knobs and pipes everywhere. It is so hot and humid I immediately feel sweaty. One of the boilers whistles and steams as we walk past and I almost jump.
Cade tightens his arm around me. “We are almost there.”
The hallway opens to a massive open space full of people. Everything is lit by more of the large orange lights. At the far end of the room, a stage is set up with a shiny black drum set.
“A concert?”
“Yeah.” He turns back toward me as we reach the crowd. “Some of my buddies from high school are playing tonight. It’s their first gig back here for almost a year, so I had to come see them. Is it okay?”
“Yeah, it’s cool.”
The crowd starts whooping and clapping and stomping their feet. As I turn to look, four guys with increasing degrees of rock-ness come out onstage. The first two look like brothers dressed in all black—the same long lean builds and bare muscular arms. The only difference I can see from this far away is one has ‘I just rolled out of bed’ hair and the other one has short, slicked-back hair. They each pick up their instruments—the guitar and bass.
The next guy to come on-stage is short and stocky. He has a white mohawk that stands out against his fair skin almost as much as the red and orange tattoos that color his arms. He sits behind the drums, inspecting the sticks and touching all of the drum surfaces.
The last one is the singer. His dark brown hair is short and thick. He’s got gauges and gorgeous pouty lips, an angular jaw, and steely blue eyes framed with dark lashes. He‘s all covered up with jeans and a long-sleeved charcoal gray Henley but I can still make out black tattoos on his neck and hands.
He gets even sexier when he starts to sing. His voice is deeper than I expected and the band is amazing. The songs are raw with heavy drums but very catchy guitar riffs.
The whole time they play, Cade stands behind me, his arms wrapped across my chest. He rests his chin on my shoulder, occasionally kissing my neck or cheek. I can feel him humming against my skin. He is so into the music I don’t think he notices the girls eye-fucking him from everywhere. Seriously. It’s very clear we are together but girls keep walking by batting their eyelashes toward him and puffing up their cleavage. It’s kind of like watching peacocks. But sad, very sad peacocks.
It’s crowded and hot. Extremely hot, like I-can-smell-the-moisture-coming-out-of-everyone’s-pores hot. The music is loud and high energy. The crowd seems to know all the words and they jump and sway at the right points. I can feel the damp body heat of all the people in the room and my skin is sticky all over. But I can also smell Cade—clean yet musky.
The lead singer rips off his shirt and throws it into the crowd—much to the pleasure of several female fans. He is all lean muscle and covered in black tattoos. The only one I can clearly make out is the large pair of wings spanning his entire chest.
Cade’s stubble softly pricks across my cheek as he moves his lips to my throat. His hands have slid to my hips and are firmly planted there. His whole rigid body is pressed up to mine and I suddenly realize I’m slick between my bare thighs. I don’t know if it’s sweat or arousal but I suddenly want nothing more than for him to touch me. Right there. No one is paying attention to us—he could just slide his finger right up my thigh...
Okay, it’s not just sweat.
I’m starting to throb between my legs and I’m trying to send Cade telepathic messages: touch me. I need you. I want you. Dear God, fuck me now. Nothing. I arch my back slightly and push my rear right into his groin. He squeezes my hips tighter, but nothing more.
The music stops and now the lead singer is addressing the crowd, thanking them for coming out, and supporting them, blah blah blah. The concert was awesome, but I’m ready for the after-party—the one where Cade and I get naked.
The band exits the stage and Cade whispers in my ear. “What do you say we beat the crowd out of here?”
“I’m on it.” I grab the front of his shirt and drag him behind me. Being short has given me an unusual talent for navigating through large crowds quite stealthily.
“Whoa, okay!” A little chuckle in his voice, Cade keeps his hand on the small of my back and follows me quite nimbly through the crowd, down the tight cor
ridor, up the creaky elevator, and outside.
The cold bites at my cheeks as we leave the boiling building. Cade and I make a quick dash to the car. When we get inside, he roars on the engine and blasts the heat. He looks at me, just a faint light from outside hitting the edge of his jaw and the most gorgeous smile on his face. We are both a little winded from running in the cold and I can see our breath in the air. The windows are fogging up and I want to jump him right now, right here in the car. In fact, I’m just about to lunge for him when he asks if I’m ready to go to the next place.
Really? Then my stomach grumbles. Okay, I guess.
“Where to?”
“You’ll see.” He smiles confidently and gives me a wink as he looks over his shoulder and rolls the car into reverse.
* * *
Cade’s fingers intertwine with mine as we enter the bar.
I think it is more packed than the concert.
My view is mostly blocked, an endless number of human torsos at my face as we weave toward the back. I can make out the walls clad in rough-sawn wood planks, glimpses of bright red dart boards and beer signs, and a couple framed black and white photographs of what might be firefighter companies. The booths along the back are tall and carved out of dark solid wood, smooth and shiny. All the tables are full and the bar is barely visible beyond the pack of mostly male patrons. There appears to be standing-room only and I can’t even hear the music over the steady drone of voices.
A pack of men part as we pass through them to a dimly lit booth in the back. Sitting there are four guys, six pitchers, and two bottles. I instantly recognize them. The band. Of course.
“Renner!” The guy with the disheveled hair stands and gives Cade a hug, practically knocking him over. “Where the hell have you been all my life?” he says, hitting Cade on the back unexpectedly hard.
“You know, just living the dream.”
