by Joya Ryan
My heart stunted and I faced him with shock. Blood rushed to my ears and I felt like I’d been caught doing something wrong.
“Yes, I was going to tell you this was a bad idea.”
“But you didn’t. Because you want me. Just as I want you.”
“I don’t view you as a challenge, though.”
He cocked his head. “Think about that before you say it. I’d hate to make a liar out of you.” With his elbow resting casually on the bar, he leaned in and whispered, “And, in my world, liars get punished.”
With that, he pinched my nipple quickly and I stifled the smallest squeak of shock and awe. My body was not only turned on, but revved up. For a fight. For sex. I didn’t understand how he did this to me.
I thought about what he’d said, if I was lying about seeing him as a challenge. Maybe I did. Was I not just mentally debating on how to go about extracting more information from him? Wanting to know him, but realizing that digging into a man like Jack Powell would be a…Challenge.
He read my face and a victorious expression masked his. He knew he was right. And I now knew it too.
“Not all challenges have to have a negative connotation, Lana.” He brushed that same finger he’d just pinched me with quickly over my now-throbbing and hard nipple. “One challenge we could play out would be to see how many different ways I can make you come.”
“You can’t say things like that.” I glanced around. My body was nearly shaking from the heat and literal plucks of lust being delivered.
“I can say whatever I want. Especially when it involves you and the truth.”
“Just because you…” I waved my hand, getting a little nervous, “know what I look like, or whatever, doesn’t mean I give off this essence or need. And it certainly doesn’t mean other people are looking.”
“I’m correct in this.” He nodded his head at the bartender, who was behind him. The bartender, who was almost done mixing the margaritas, was staring at me with a lusty smile. I was just about to ask Jack how he could have known, but it was useless. In one conversation, he’d proven himself right about so many things, including me.
“Well, I don’t care if he looks or anyone else does,” I said, straightening my posture, determined to not give off this perception that I needed some random man.
Jack tucked a lock of hair behind my ear and slid a little closer. “I like that you don’t care. Because if I saw a flicker of interest for another man on your face, I may have a problem.” There was a playfulness in his eyes that made me smile.
How did he do that? Go from intense to grinning in point two seconds?
However he did it would be something I’d hopefully figure out in time. Because the challenge that was Jack Powell was one I was very interested in. And being caught in his sights made it feel like I was a prize to him.
“Don’t be mistaken. Just because you don’t care or try to ignore what you are, doesn’t mean it goes away. You have a layer of unease and innocence, but the light in you is bright. Every man in here knows you’re ripe, ready to be fucked, and wanting to be.”
“I…I have done no such thing to—”
“You do it. Everything about the way you move to the small smile you give, to the sweet little way you absently run your fingers over your neck. You’re telling me that you want to be touched. Crave it. Have passion, but have suppressed it.”
He was right. I did want to be touched. To be seen. But not by just anyone.
“Shy?” I offered. “Maybe I’m shy.”
“We’ll break you of that.”
The way he said that made every nerve ending flicker like lightning crashing through my veins. It was a turn on. Made me want to find out just how he could bring me out of the shell I’d been living in.
“Four margaritas,” the bartender said, setting them in front of me. “Oh, hi, sir, did you want a drink too? Bourbon neat?”
Holy cow, did everyone know Jack?
He gave a single nod and the bartender hustled to return with his drink.
“I better get back to the group,” I said.
Jack glanced over his shoulder at the booth of co-workers I was referring to. “Company outing, huh?”
“It’s the first time I’ve been invited anywhere.”
“And you don’t want me to join?”
“I don’t want people to get the wrong idea,” I said quickly.
“What idea?”
“That we’re…”
“Fucking?”
I opened my mouth and snapped it shut. “Don’t worry. No one can have that idea since it hasn’t technically happened yet.” He leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Unless you fucking my tongue counts.”
“I…I didn’t…”
“There’s that shy thing again.” He took a drink of his bourbon. “Go have fun with your co-workers. Wouldn’t want to embarrass you.”
I couldn’t tell if he was messing with me or being supportive. Jack Powell said and did whatever he damn well pleased. My reaction was his fuel. That was becoming increasingly clear with each interaction. He was methodical. He pushed my limits of propriety and made me fidgety for the fun of it. Which was better than feeling frigid.
We’ll break you of that…
That one statement churned in my mind until it stuck in every thought, every fantasy, like butter against my skull. He didn’t allow me to have enough time to refute, or even reply to half of his naughty notions. Didn’t allow me to overthink it. Didn’t allow me to disagree. And yet, one theme was present when dealing with Jack: What he’d allow.
He was in control.
What he allowed me to feel was carefully orchestrated. He picked every word to paint a vivid picture, and watched my reactions. He was learning me. Like plugging in different numbers into an equation and seeing the value he’d get.
It’d be wise to start using my own equation and figuring this man out. Especially since everything in my body was desperate to take him up on his offer.
Yet he said “we.” Like I would have a part in finding myself. As if he understood, once again, what I needed.
I wanted to ask if I’d see him tonight. Ask if we could have dinner. Ask if we could pick up where we left off in his office and make some unofficial things official. Ask if he’d talk to me in the dirty way he’d just been doing a little more.
But all I got out was, “Will you…”
Jack waited for me to finish, but a husky voice from behind me did instead.
“Yes. To anything you want, the answer is yes.”
I turned to find Callum.
Leaving the drinks on the counter, I stared at the firefighter, and wondered if he always had this kind of timing.
“Careful, Kitten.” He nudged my chin with his finger, effectively snapping my mouth shut. I wasn’t even aware it had hung open. “Guy might get the wrong idea.”
With a wink and a sexy smile that made my already humming body blare out of control, I gaped at him. Did I have a sign on my head that said, Please say naughty things to me today or something?
“Are you okay?” I asked. It was the only thing that made sense, since last I saw him was a week ago, and he was rushing off to the fire. “With the fire, I mean, and the going into it. Is everything okay?”
His navy eyes held a charming twinkle as his brow furrowed. “Checking up on me?”
“I went to the station several days ago and a guy told me you were gone.”
“He was,” Jack said, the loud screech of his bar stool sliding across the floor as he stood.
And there I stood, between two tall, hard men.
“Do you two know each other?” I glanced between Jack and Cal, both of whom were wearing expressions I couldn’t determine.
“He’s my best friend,” Cal said. “More like a brother, except for the biological part.”
And my jaw was on the floor again.
It took one look of Jack’s dark eyes darting between Cal and me, and he’d figured it out.
“This is the man you kissed, isn’t it?”
“Kissing and telling now?” Cal asked, smiling at me. He then stood a little taller and stared at Jack, as if some kind of pride had washed over him. The two matched each other in alpha manliness and strength, but that strength was built differently.
On the brink of panic mode, I tried to explain. “I didn’t tell him we kissed, well I sort of did.” I looked at Cal. “But when we kissed, Jack and I weren’t together, not at the time at least—or now—”
“Now,” he said, cutting off my rambling, “is what I care to discuss. And now this woman is mine.”
Cal raised a brow. “Is she?”
I looked at Jack and whispered. “We’re together?”
“We certainly seemed together yesterday in my home.” His tone was even and steady—and Cal didn’t miss the insinuation.
“We’re going on first-come, first-serve I take it?” Cal said to Jack. “Because I want her. I was pretty clear about that the other weekend. Especially since you were nowhere to be seen when her lush little mouth was on mine.”
A low rumble broke in Jack’s throat, and he looked directly at me. “Did you kiss him? Or did he kiss you?”
My blood pressure was rising like a fricking African sunrise. Hot and steady and ready to burn me up. “I, ah…” I looked between Cal and Jack. The truth hadn’t failed so far, so I went with that.
“He kissed me,” I whispered. “But I kissed him back.”
Cal smiled and rolled on his toes. “She claws a little too,” he said to Jack.
This was not the time or place for…whatever was happening right now. The two men didn’t seem to be fighting. They didn’t look to hate each other. It was like they were brothers messing with one another. I just didn’t want to be the new shiny toy they were bickering over. Mostly because I had no clue where Cal stood in all this. He had said he wanted me? He had made that clear?
Not really, buddy.
“It doesn’t matter how your little kiss happened,” Jack said with a slow steady tone. He adjusted his cuffs and said, “Because it is first-come, first-serve. Especially since I made her come first.” I gasped, Cal growled, and Jack continued. “I was out of town the past couple weeks, and expectations weren’t yet set. They are now.”
“We were both there,” Cal said.
Jack just held his stare. I, however, finally found my voice.
“Both where?” I asked. But neither of them looked at me. I never thought telepathy existed until that moment. Because whatever was silently being said between Jack and Cal was intense.
“What about when you disappear ‘out of town again?’” Cal challenged Jack, ignoring my question. My mind and confusion leapt into overdrive.
“You’re not one to talk about disappearing, Callum.”
Cal took a step toward Jack, which meant it was also toward me, crowding me between their two massive frames. While part of me was overwhelmed, and trying hard to figure how I’d gotten in this mess, I didn’t feel scared. I felt…protected. As if being between them was like having my own personal walls to shield me.
Just like the first night when Jack had swooped in and blocked out the world for me when I needed it most.
Wait.
Cal had said they were both there. Did he mean that first night at the bar? When the fight broke out and water spilled all over me, was Cal there too?
“Hey,” I shouted, only it came out a whisper. They both looked at me, then back at each other. As if reading my face was all they needed, and they didn’t bother saying another word.
“Outside,” Cal said quickly, and Jack nodded. I, however, stood there like a moron, while the two men walked out. There was just enough information thrown out to confuse the hell out of me and wonder if this was a coincidence. That would be a naïve notion, and I mentally calculated the actual statistics of this kind of issue. One woman kissed two men who happen to be best friends? The numbers were fuzzy, the probability of such a “random” occurrence was not high.
I stood on my toes and looked through the big front window. They were talking. Not fighting, not brawling, but talking. Jack has his arms crossed. He was nodding, but a look of death was on his face. Cal was saying something obviously heartfelt, but I had no clue what it was.
“Holy crap!” Edith said, coming up to me and taking two of the margaritas, which were now starting to slushify, and not in a good way. “Are those two guys fighting over you? And is that…” With a pink straw in her mouth, she sucked down a big gulp of margarita and looked out at the same men I was. “Is that Jack Powell?”
“No,” I said with a nervous laugh. “I mean yes, that’s Jack, but no, they aren’t fighting over me.”
My stomach hurt because they were best friends, basically brothers, Cal had said. How had I ended up kissing them both? Luck wasn’t a factor here, lack of luck was. And I was back to feeling like I wasn’t privy to all the information. Something I’d rectify as soon as they walked back in.
Part of me was glad I didn’t have to say more. Didn’t have to “choose” in that moment. Not that it would come to that. Jack and I needed to have a big conversation about “me being his.” What did that even mean?
Everything was so crazy, so out of my element, I didn’t know where to start or what to think. Other than that I wanted Jack, very much. The lingering memory of Cal’s lips and strong arms wouldn’t dissipate though.
“Let’s get these to the table,” I said to Edith. She nodded and I carried two while she carried the others.
“That took a while,” Walter said. “And was that Jack Powell?”
“Yeah,” Edith said with excitement, and smoothed down her work slacks as if preparing for an encounter with him.
Both Jack and Callum walked back through, just as I set the drinks down at the table. They both looked at me. Cal walked to the bar, while Jack put on his best executive face and approached the group.
“Good afternoon.”
“Hello, Mr. Powell,” Edith said in a voice reserved for a nine-hundred number. Yeah, she definitely had a thing for the boss, and the last thing I needed was for this to look like anything gossip-worthy.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need to borrow Miss Case for a moment.” When I stared at him, silently cursing and begging him to not make any kind of move that would imply a scandal between us, he finished with, “I have a question about an accounting error.”
“Oh, of course!” Edith said happily. Whether she was happy that she thought I may be in trouble, or happy that she didn’t obviously think anything was going on between Jack and I was indeterminable.
I excused myself from the group and went with Jack to where Cal sat at the bar.
“Hey,” he said, like it was the first time seeing me. Odd. “Sorry I interrupted. I came here to meet with my best friend for a going away drink. But,” Cal glanced at Jack, “I think we’ll move the party to a different bar.”
Jack nodded in agreement.
“Wait. What on earth is going on? A going away drink? Where are you going?” I asked.
“I’m heading to a fire in Wyoming. They need more ground support. Be gone most of the summer.” Again, he glanced at Jack. But not with fear. It was like they were silently speaking to each other again. I had no idea how to handle what had just happened. But Cal was leaving. For the summer.
The only thing that felt right to say was, “Please, be safe.”
Cal nodded and rose to face me. He swooped me up in a hug. The kind that consumed my entire body, and I was engulfed with his warmth. He smelled the same as that night. Felt the same. With my head against his chest, one hand tunneled in my hair as he embraced me tighter.
“I will be back,” he whispered in my ear, then released me, but didn’t look me in the eye. He merely turned and started walking out. “I’ll meet you there,” he said to Jack over his shoulder.
I didn’t know where “there” was, but as I watched Cal walk out as easily as he’d walked in, I realized he w
as a big ball of adventure—closer to wind than man. I could feel him, like I could feel the breeze, swooping in briefly, only to continue on past me.
Harper had warned me about men like this. Warned me about Cal. A man like him couldn’t be contained. I glanced at Jack, and realized that while he may appear steady and calm, he wasn’t any more obtainable than Cal. Just like a steady tree could still be ruffled, even uprooted, by a strong breeze.
Whatever history was between these two men ran deep. And I stood on the outside, looking into what felt like a puzzle I wasn’t allowed to take part in piecing together.
As Cal was heading to the door, he looked over his shoulder. His charming smile was back in place, but there was a sadness in his eyes that flickered so quickly I almost missed it.
“Chin up, Kitten. It’s summer. Time to enjoy it.”
Callum turned and walked out of the bar, leaving me with Jack, and a table full of co-workers at the other end of the room. I was confused, relieved, disappointed, and happy all at the same time.
Whatever was said between them outside, some kind of understanding was reached. An understanding that certainly involved me, yet a conversation I was left out of. Cal’s words lingered: We were both there…
I faced Jack. “I think it’s you and I that need to have a talk.”
“I agree,” he said, drinking down the rest of his bourbon. “Come to my place at seven. There are a few things I’d like discuss with you.”
And if that wasn’t an order or some kind of Jedi voodoo where he became the enforcer and me the enforcee, I didn’t know what it was.
All I knew was that, when it came to Jack, one thing was clearer than ever: He got what he wanted. Always.
Chapter Eight
I knocked on the front door of Jack’s house. It had been a couple of hours since I saw him at the bar. The brisk walk to his place was enough to get my blood pumping, and let the less-shy side of me shine through.
That was what I was supposed to be practicing, after all. Plus, the more I thought about it, the more frustrated I became. Whatever that stunt was that those two pulled back at the bar was not only unusual, but lacking in any kind of explanation.
