She affectedly grins, arching an eyebrow. “Sure. Why not? I’ll get to hang out with you, which is cool because I think you are so adorable.” She reaches up and pats my cheek.
“Um, thanks?” I raise an eyebrow at her and lift my bottle to my lips. She’s rather touch-feely tonight. Maybe she should’ve sat next to Reed, helped him pull the bur out of his ass.
Milo throws money down on the table and stands. “Well, Mr. Adorable, it’s been real, but I have a phone call to make. I’ll catch you in the morning.”
“Same thing. I need to check in on my kid.” Reed scoots out of the booth after Milo.
“See you,” I mumble around the mouth of my bottle.
I glance at Milo’s remaining fries, but I don’t have any kind of appetite after talking to Becks. I miss her already. Why does she need so much time to think? Doesn’t she want me? I want her more than my own life. I was telling her the truth last night. My whole body constantly aches for her, the throbbing the most pronounced in my chest. Fuck. Maybe I am a pussy.
Cara brushes her hand against mine. “You look so sad. What’s really going on with you?”
Sliding my hand away, I pick up my beer. “Nothing’s going on.”
“You can’t lie about it. There’s something bothering you. You can talk to me. Is it your girlfriend?”
I swallow a mouthful of beer and glare at the table, feeling the slight buzz working through my head. Before I realize what I’m doing, I admit, “We had a fight.”
“Couples fight all the time.”
“I think she might break up with me.” What the hell is wrong with my brain? Why am I confessing my intimate problems with Cara?
“After getting a tattoo for her? That sucks.”
I prop my elbow in front of me and close my eyes to the table. “Tell me about it.” I don’t give a shit about the tattoo. I’ll wear it forever to remind me of what I once had.
She touches my arm. “If you ever need anyone to talk to, I’m here for you.”
“I’m fine,” I mumble against my hand.
“You don’t seem fine. You seem lonely.”
“So? I’m away from home a lot.”
“That’s not why I think you’re lonely. I think it’s because you’re unhappy.”
I drop my arm and gape at her. “I’m unhappy because I’m lonely,” I snap.
“Why did you two fight?”
Grabbing my beer, I angrily sigh. “Because she’s stubborn and it’s driving me fucking crazy.”
“What did she do?”
I look from my bottle to the bar. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Finn, I want to help. Maybe I can give you a woman’s perspective.”
“I don’t think anyone can help. It’s something I have to work through.”
“Sounds like it’s something she has to work through, not you.”
I slant my head back, looking up at the wood-paneled ceiling above us. “I asked her to move in with me. She said she would, but now she needs time to think about it.”
“Think about moving in with you? That’s crazy. I would’ve said yes a long time ago.”
I look down to the table and shake my head. “Not her. She’s hung up on what she wants. Nothing else.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Do you think she’ll change her mind?”
I glance at Cara, uncertain how to answer that because I truly don’t know how to. “Honestly, no. And after our fight, I don’t know if she’ll even want to stay with me.”
“Why do you think that?”
I hesitate before resentfully divulging, “Because I know I’m not enough for her.”
Her short, blonde hair bounces slightly when she says, “Why would you think that, Finn? I think you’d be more than enough. I wouldn’t want anything else. Just you.” She leans against me, her hand brushing against my leg underneath the table. I would have thought she did it accidentally, except for the fact she does it again and keeps her hand there, lingering on my leg. Her fingernails scratch against my jeans and trail up my thigh.
I blink, trying to grasp what’s going on. Suddenly, my buzzed brain raises red flags and I pull my leg away. What is she doing? I just was talking about Becks two minutes ago. Although, at first, the action was shocking, it was nice to be touched, for someone to want to reach out to comfort me, and not telling me to put a condom on before I’m allowed to reciprocate.
Cara takes the hint and doesn’t put her hand on me again. “If she doesn’t make you happy, there are other women out there that will.” I love Becks. I don’t want any other woman.
Feeling really uncomfortable, I say, “I’m going to go.” I slide away from her as she stares at me. Standing, I stutter, “I-I’ll let you know more about the softball team tomorrow.”
She vacuously nods and I expeditiously retreat to my room.
Wednesday morning, before I have to leave for the day, I text Ricky to call me later. He’d better agree to coach with me. Cop or not, if he balks, I’ll be kicking Officer Tesco’s sorry ass.
Then, sitting at the desk in my room, I type out an email to Brandon Rhodes, the lead partner at Becks’ law firm, letting him know that I want to get together with everyone Saturday afternoon. Becks might not like it, but I need to see her. I promised I’d stay away and I will. I’ll try to. She can’t hate me for wanting to say hello. Could she? She doesn’t want me to bother her, so I won’t. I’ll let her approach me, praying she does and she’ll want us to go to her apartment. I’ll do anything she wants me to.
When I’m not at the station talking to the management and staff, I spend the rest of the day alone, editing this week’s dare and then sorting through emails for the next one. I want to try to stay local so I can manage the team and keep an eye on Becks, be close to her in case she makes a decision that could dictate how my life will veer off.
While waiting for Becks to call Wednesday night, there’s a knock on my door. I set my laptop down on the bed and get up. Is it Becks? That would be the best surprise.
“Hey, there.” Cara smiles as I swing the door open. She not so subtly peers past me. “Are you busy?” What does she want this late?
Bracing my arm on the edge of the door, I cautiously regard her. She seems shifty for some reason. “I’m wrapping things up.”
“Why don’t you come downstairs with me? Milo and Reed don’t want to, and I don’t want to go alone.”
My mouth twists as I think of a way to get out of this. “I’m expecting a phone call.”
She laughs. “We won’t be gone long and if you get your call, you can leave. No biggie.”
I check my watch that Becks gave me for our second anniversary and sigh. 10:06. Shit. She should’ve called by now. I glance back up to an eager Cara. “Okay.”
I step away from the door, swinging it open further, and she follows me in while I put my shoes on, and then gather my wallet and phone.
We go down to the lounge in silence, making the elevator ride awkward, but Cara had said she didn’t want to go down there alone. She never said anything about needing sparkling conversation. Any other time, sure. I’m stellar at small talk. However, for the time being, I’d sooner sell my car than chitchat with Cara.
We find a booth and right off, a bored-looking waitress appears, not giving me any indication she recognizes me, for which I’m grateful. I order a double Jack on the rocks and Cara orders some fruity-sounding mixed drink.
“Rough day?” Cara asks, taking the seat across from me, thankfully.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and set it down on the table. “Yeah.”
“Have you talked to your girlfriend?” And it begins.
Clenching my hands into fists on my leg, I stare at the paneled wall. “No.”
“Why don’t you call her?”
I drift my eyes restively over to the people sitting at the bar, wishing I were sitting there alone, pounding back whiskey until someone would have to carry me out. “She’d rather I not.”
&nb
sp; “Oh. I’m sorry. If she treats you like this, then maybe she’s not the one for you.”
That statement forces me to resolutely look right into Cara’s blue eyes. “She is.” But am I the one for her?
Our drinks arrive and I down most of my Jack in one long gulp, causing my head to promptly buzz.
“I know you miss her.” What does Cara know about me? I take another long sip to swallow the huge lump in my throat and to avoid telling her how much I miss Becks, since I can’t seem to keep my fucking mouth shut. Cara and I are friends at work, but I don’t usually tell her anything personal, aside from last week in the kitchen.
She clasps her hands together on the table. “Is there anything I can do?” Other than beg Becks to hold on to me?
“No,” I firmly reply, averting my eyes from her interfering gaze.
“You’re a very different person away from work.”
I shrug and swirl the ice around in my glass. “Yeah. So?”
“You seem very outgoing and charming there. So charismatic. But away from work, you keep people at arm’s length. Why?”
“I’m normally a happy guy, but as I told you before, I’m also a private person.” There I go again opening my damned mouth. I down the rest of my Jack and agitatedly slide the glass to the middle of the table.
“Last week, I asked if you are going to marry her, but you never answered me.” Shit.
I watch our waitress flit around the floor and already want a refill. “We’re happy with the way things are,” I lie.
“I don’t think so if she doesn’t want you to live together and might even want to break up with you.”
I edgily glare at her over my glass before I take a sip. “Thanks for the damn reminder.”
She can’t take a hint, continuing to probe, “What’s the reason why she won’t move in with you?”
I set down my drink and stare absently at the glass. “It’s complicated.”
Feeling her eyes on me, I look up and she’s fixedly studying me “She wants to marry you, but you don’t want to.”
I scowl and irritably demand, “How in the hell do you know that?”
“I told you I can offer you a female’s perspective.”
“Great. That’s all I need, another female giving me her opinion about my opinion of marriage.” I look around the lounge, regretting I agreed to come down here. It’s only making me more pissed off.
“Oh, I wouldn’t do it.”
I abruptly look at her in astonishment. “What? Get married?”
“Yeah—No, I wouldn’t. Not my style.”
Intrigued, I cock my head and doubtfully ask, “Really? I thought all women wanted to get hitched.”
“Not me, that’s for sure. I’d be happy just living with you.” She grins and drinks her pink concoction.
“Well, she has a lot of stipulations before she’ll move in with me. She’s seemingly dropped some, but now she wants time to think.”
“About?”
I sigh and anxiously shift on the bench. “Okay, so you’re a woman.” She consciously smiles while purposely nodding, making me roll my eyes at the ridiculousness of my own question. “Is it that big of a deal to take the Pill?”
She shrugs. “No. I get a shot.”
“Well, I asked my girlfriend to go on it, but she refuses.” I stop talking when our waitress brings me another Jack and I instantly work on getting seriously wasted.
“She still makes you wear…” She regards me with raised eyebrows and an odd look in her eyes.
I swirl the ice in my glass, while peering above Cara’s head, undecided if I should talk about it.
Oh, fuck it.
At least Cara is listening to me. Maybe she can actually help me understand Becks’ mind. “Yeah. Three years together and I still have to put up with those damn things.”
Her eyes grow large in astonishment. “Whoa. That’s a long time. Don’t you ever want to have kids with her?”
I roll my eyes again and take a sip. “Not you, too. Everyone thinks we need to have a baby. No. I don’t want a kid.”
“She does?”
Scowling, I nod and dourly ask, “Why are women like that? I don’t want to be tied down with a screaming kid and shitty diapers.”
Mindlessly tracing the rim of her glass with her finger, she replies, “I don’t either. Most women do though. It’s one of those biological mysteries.”
I shrug and watch her take a drink. “I guess. I mean, it would be a bond between us, but it sounds like it’d be more of a hassle than anything.” She nods.
As I finish my drink, Cara glances out to the dancing couples and then back at me. “Do you want to dance?”
I laugh and shake my head. “I do not dance.” Only with Becks and that’s a stretch.
She scurries out of the booth and stands next to me. “Come on, Finn Wilder. I dare you.”
My smile instantly drops. “Really. I don’t dance.”
“It’s a slow dance. You don’t have to do much.” She yanks on my hand and I reluctantly stand.
As she tows me to the dance floor, I check my phone again, but no missed call. I impatiently shove it into my pocket. “One dance,” I warn her.
Finding a spot, she twirls around and her hands fly up to my biceps, definitely leading since I have no inclination to. “Relax. Look at Finn Wilder dancing. How about that?”
“Yeah. It’s a miracle. Just don’t tell anyone.” I look around the dance floor, wishing I were in Becks’ arms instead of Cara’s. She slides her fingers underneath my short sleeves against my skin and, though it’s not Becks’ touch, along with the alcohol, it does warm me a little.
As I survey the dancers around us, measuring other people’s dance skills compared to my non-existent aptitude, Cara digs her fingers into my arms. “You have some muscles. They can’t be all from your dares. I mean, you did water aerobics with elderly women.”
I shudder at that memory. Those women were extremely touchy-feely. I’ve never had my ass pinched so much in my life. One even accidentally tried to feel my dick through my swim trunks. “Nobody will ever let me live that down, will they?” That’s one dare I won’t be repeating. I’d walk on hot coals first.
Grinning, she says, “Nope.” Cara moves her hands from my arms and puts her fingers into my front pockets, tugging me to her. “You’re a great dancer. You have a lot of rhythm.”
I sagaciously smirk. “That’s what all the women tell me.”
She humorously scoffs, “You’re cocky.”
I think I somewhat slur, “Yeah. I’m told I have a lot of that, too.”
She rolls her eyes and I laugh, feeling more relaxed than I was when I came down here.
Lifting my key from my chest, she looks up at me. “What’s this for?”
I pull it out of her hand and tuck it into my shirt. “It was a gift.”
“From Hadley?”
My buzz temporarily leads me into darkness, and the aching in my chest amplifies at hearing her name. “Yeah.”
Offering a small smile at my sudden gloom, Cara puts her hands on my shoulders, slowly moving them to the back of my neck and trailing her fingers up into my hair. For some weird reason, this action sets off more red flags than her hands in my pockets did. Why in the hell is that?
Suddenly feeling alarmed, I quickly drop my hands from her waist, back away and look around as I anxiously run a hand through my hair where Cara’s hand was. “I need to go.”
She looks at me with confusion coating her face more than her makeup. “Why? We’re having a good time.”
Taking a deep breath, I tell her, “It’s late. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” I brush past Cara and pull my phone out of my pocket. One missed call. Becks. Damn it! I shakily stop in the hallway at the elevator, punching the button on the wall before I punch the button on my phone to call her, only to get her voicemail. I hang up and instantly redial. No Becks.
Fuck. I need her right now.
The door opens and I step into
the empty elevator, irascibly hitting the button for my floor and numbingly watching the door close. Backing up and slumping into the corner against the railing, I shut my eyes, wanting more than anything to be with Becks, holding her close to me, tasting her delicious mouth, inhaling the scent of her floral-scented hair falling around me, and my fingers gliding over her silky skin as I hear her whisper how much she still needs me. How much she’s still in love with me.
Or is that too much to hope for now?
CHAPTER 25
It has been two days and I still haven’t heard a word from Finn; although, Wednesday morning he did send an email to Brandon stating that he wants to meet the team Saturday afternoon. Why so soon? Is this a ploy to see me? Other than not talking to me on the phone, I don’t think he’s going to honor my request to give me some time. I do miss him, so it’ll be hard for me to stay away from him too, but I need to do this so that I get the time I need before I give up everything else to be with him.
I just have to keep reminding myself of that.
Sitting on my bed, hugging my knees to my chest and resting the side of my head against them, I sit and wait for Finn to call me back. It’s 10:33 Thursday night and he was supposed to be home earlier. I know I told him I’d talk to him at night before I go to bed, but I really didn’t think he’d take it this seriously. I had expected he’d be calling me often, yet he hasn’t. No emails either.
Maybe after we talked, he realized how much better off he is without me.
I reach for my phone and call him again. Voicemail. His seductive voice tells me to leave a message, but I don’t. He’ll see I called anyway, if he still cares.
Errant thoughts begin to creep into my head: Is he thinking about cheating on me? Is he alone? Is he having sex with another woman? Did I lose my boyfriend to another woman? Did I push him away because I need time to adjust my wants and to make our love last?
With the myriad of thoughts strangling my heart, I sit back on my bed, gasping for air. He wouldn’t do that to me. I have to believe in him.
Daring the Wild Sparks Page 36
