Foolproof

by Jennifer Blackwood

  “Long time no see.”

  I looked at my pretend watch. “A whole two hours. Think what would happen if I’d waited three,” I deadpanned. Still pissed, DeShane. Better start talking soon.

  “They’d probably send me off in a straitjacket.” His lips curved into an attractive smile. My smile. At least I’d only seen him use it with me. Damn him and that gorgeous grin.

  “We could arrange that. I hear straitjackets are all the rage in L.A.” I swung my legs out of the car and kicked my door shut.

  “Ha-ha. Let’s get inside, troublemaker.”

  I folded my arms and leaned against the car. “For the record, I’m still mad at you.”

  “I’d be worried if you weren’t. Want to uphold my asshole image.”

  I quirked a brow and pursed my lips. “Already going back on Compliment Thursday?”

  He licked his lips as he shook his head, crossing his arms. We wound our way up the walkway and went through the double wide, red front door, stopping at the massive spiral staircase in the entryway.

  “Okay, let’s hear it. You have two minutes before I get in my car and leave.”

  Letting go of the door, he shoved his hands into his pockets and stared down at the floor. “I was honest when I said I didn’t know what I wanted out of us. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings. The last girl—Lex—she cheated on me.”

  I put my hands on my hips and entertained thoughts of kicking this girl in the head. I never understood the cheating aspect. If people hated their relationship so much, just break up, don’t drag the other person through a ton of unneeded heartache. “And you still have feelings for her?”

  “No. But I don’t know if I’m ready to jump into another relationship. I don’t want to give you false hope.” He scuffed his shoe across the slate tile, still refusing to look at me.

  I lifted his chin, staring into his eyes. “I’m not asking for a label. But I refuse to get involved with someone who’s still hanging with his ex. It’s too complicated.”

  He let out an exasperated sigh. “Trust me, she’s the last person I’d want to be hanging around. In fact—” He brushed his hand down my arm. “—the only girl I want to be around right now is right here.”

  “Okay… What do you want this to be?” I motioned between us.

  He breathed out deeply through his nose and kept his gaze trained on the floor. “Can it just be fun? I need fun.”

  That had been my original intention. There was a reason for keeping it purely physical in the first place. He was leaving, and I just needed a good summer, no strings attached. But he needed to sweat a little bit if he was going to get any more fun out of this deal. “I don’t know. I think I’ve had my fill.” I couldn’t help the twitch in my lips. Giving him a hard time always sent a little thrill through me.

  “I know I suck at this whole hooking up thing, but I think you’re really cool,” he trailed off, flustered. “If you’d give it another chance, I promise there won’t be any more ex-girlfriends calling.”

  Yes, yes, yes. “Hmm. I’ll think about it.” I went toward the door and said, “See you at work on Monday.”

  He grabbed my arm before I put my hand on the knob. “Wait. Can I make it up to you?” His baby blues pierced straight through my core.

  Making up with Ryan sounded a whole lot more fun than moping at home. This time I’d keep my heart under strict lockdown.

  I stayed silent for a few moments, really soaking in the glory of making him work for it. Finally, I said, “What’d you have in mind, DeShane?”

  Ryan rocked back on his heels, his hands shoved into his pockets, giving him this incredibly sexy boyish quality. He jutted his chin toward my handbag. “We could start by putting your purse up in my room.”

  I forced my lips into a smile as I looked into his eyes. This was the right choice. No use giving up something really great just because of a little snafu. He may never be mine long-term, but why ruin my chance for fun on some nonexistent future with him? Keep it fun. Hopefully, that would be worth the impending ache in my chest when he left at the end of the summer. “Sounds good.”

  His shoulders relaxed, and he pulled a hand out of his pocket and took mine, leading me up the stairs. The walls along the staircase were covered with pictures of Ryan, most of them soccer portraits. Some of Boy Scouts. I recognized a younger-looking Blake with a really bad bleach job. I’d have to give him crap about that later. None had Ryan’s mom. Only a few contained both Jack and Ryan in the same pic.

  We finally made it up to the second story and took a right at the banister. His room was the first on the left, across from the bathroom. He pushed open the door and I stood in the doorway, taking in the room. I didn’t know what to expect when I envisioned Ryan’s room, maybe what typical college guys had in their rooms—posters of half-naked girls and beer pong. Or big screen TVs and the latest game console. Ryan’s lacked all of this. Instead, soccer posters, soccer awards, medals, and trophies coated every available inch of wall space. Soccer galore. Blake had told me that he was into the sport when I first met him, but this—this took it to the whole next level.

  “So you like soccer, huh?”

  He let out a hearty laugh that liquefied my insides. “Yeah, I guess this looks a bit…obsessive.”

  “Nah, I was the same way with Beanie Babies.”

  He slowly turned to me and blinked. “You did not just compare soccer to Beanie Babies.”

  “David Beckham, Chocobear, same diff.”

  “I don’t know whether to kiss you or kick you out.”

  “I’d go with the first one.”

  He walked up and his minty breath caressed my cheeks. I closed my eyes and waited for him to lean in, for his warm lips to meet mine. After a few moments of the kiss disappointingly not happening, I opened my eyes. His mouth hovered inches from mine. “Does this mean you forgive me?”

  “Depends.” I shot back.

  “On?”

  “How good the kiss is.”

  He leaned in and raked his teeth down the column of my throat. “That’s up to you.”

  I tamped down the shiver bubbling through my chest like freshly popped champagne. A loud boom sounded outside Ryan’s window, and I jumped, turning toward the noise. A shower of blue and purple rained through the night sky.

  “C’mon, I have a spot where we can watch the show.” He grabbed my hand and led me down the staircase and through the kitchen. We exited out the sliding glass door in the dining room and walked into the yard. A hot tub sat up against the house, and twinkle lights ran along the fence line. Ryan walked me over to the trampoline in the middle of the yard and hopped onto the netting. He extended his hand and pulled me onto the trampoline. A sleeping bag was already spread out across the surface.

  “Planning on being out here?”

  He nodded and sprawled out across the sleeping bag. “Best view in the city.”

  I had to agree. Ryan’s house overlooked all of Spring Hill, the city lights softly illuminating the horizon. I lay my head on his chest, his arm pulling me closer against his solid body.

  Fireworks popped across the darkness, but I was more focused on the reds, blues, and oranges skittering along Ryan’s face. He closed his eyes, his blond lashes feathering across his cheeks.

  During a lull in the fireworks show, I asked, “What are you thinking?”

  “About how this is the best I’ve felt all summer.” A few moments of silence passed before he said, “Jules?”

  “Yeah?” His heart thundered underneath my ear, beating way faster than my own when I try to keep up with Payton during a sprint.

  “I like you.”

  I grinned into his chest. “I like you, too.”

  “I mean it. You’re really awesome.”

  Wow. What was with the sudden touchy-feely stuff? No jokes? No dirty comments? So un-Ryan-like. “You getting soft on me, DeShane? You don’t need to say that crap to get in my pants.”

  He pressed his erection into my
side. “Do I feel soft to you?” And just like that, we were back to normal.

  “You are so mature.”

  “Says the person who brought up Beanie Babies.”

  I poked his side. “Says the person whose room looks like it’s decorated by a ten-year-old boy.”

  He threaded his fingers through my hair. “Says the person who’s arguing about maturity.”

  “Ryan?” I looked up at him.

  “Yeah?”

  “Shut up and kiss me.”

  “Says the—”

  I crushed my mouth against his and slipped my tongue past his lips. Rolling on top of him, I straddled his stomach and sifted my fingers through his soft hair. His hands slipped under my top and inched across my skin. He pulled me closer, planting kisses along my collarbone, down my sternum, to the valley between my breasts. His warm breath fluttered across my skin, and my arms almost buckled as tingles swarmed my bloodstream.

  He grabbed my sides and flipped me over on my back and hovered above me, his gaze raking across my face. “P.S. You rock my world.”

  I giggled and rolled my eyes. “Enough nineties lyrics tonight, Casanova.”

  “Just because they’re song titles doesn’t mean they’re not true.”

  Lowering his face, his lips skimmed along my jaw, up my cheek, and planted a soft kiss on my nose. I moved my head, lining up our lips, kissing him tenderly. His chest pressed against mine as his breaths grew deeper. The same overwhelming sensation from that night on the beach invaded every crevice of my body, sweeping any coherent thought away with the gentle breeze. I needed to learn how to control this before I set myself up to get majorly burned.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ryan

  I stood behind register one when Gary strode through the sliding doors of Office Jax. He gave a curt nod and made his way to Dad’s office, not even bothering to stop and talk. He hadn’t been over to the house since he’d thrown out the earlier academy option. Even if I was confused as hell with the direction of my life, Jules was the only person who didn’t rub it in my face, making her the perfect distraction from reality.

  Gary slammed the door to Dad’s office and shouts erupted a few seconds later.

  “You don’t know what’s best for him.”

  “And you do?”

  I leaned in closer, trying to hear the conversation more clearly.

  “I’m his father, of course I do.”

  “He needs a push. You can’t coddle him anymore.”

  I stared at the door. What the fuck was happening? Two adults in a pissing match over my future and, of course, I wasn’t included in this conversation.

  Dad bellowed, “Kind of hard to push someone with no motivation.”

  “Whose fault it that?”

  My jaw fell open, his jab hitting me like a blow to the face.

  “What are you insinuating?”

  “I’m taking him back to Texas with me. At least there he’ll be doing something better than ringing up customers.”

  “Fuck you, Gary. He’s not going anywhere. He still has another month.”

  “He’s a big boy, he can make his own decisions.”

  My whole body constricted, their words tearing my insides. They might as well cut out my organs and use them for a demo in the shredder aisle. Tough pill to swallow knowing the one person who’d been in my corner my whole childhood thought I was worthless. I’d been planning on going to the academy, anyway. I may not have known what I wanted to do with my life, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to sit on my ass like he’d implied.

  He stormed out of the office, turning to me before he left the building. “I’m leaving next Tuesday. I’ll buy you a one-way ticket to come live with me, start the program early, get away from this place. Just give me the word. Five days.”

  I stared as he walked out and got in his rental car, gunning it out of the parking lot.

  Dad popped his head out of the office. “Ryan. Come here.”

  I got out from behind the register and walked to his office. He sat in his chair, scrubbing his hands over his red face, the vein in his forehead throbbing double-time.

  “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

  I blinked at him. If there had been customers in the store, it would have been worse. But since it was a Thursday morning, no one was here, making me the only audience to their shit show.

  “We just want you to succeed. Right now you’re stalled. We’re just trying to help.”

  “Stalled? I’m not some car that needs a jump.” Fuck him. Fuck Gary. Fuck their help.

  “Don’t you get how serious this is?”

  Like it didn’t freak me out I didn’t know what to do with my life. Why did he think I was going into the force? Of course I know how serious it is, asshole. “Don’t you see? This is my life, Dad. I have to make decisions for myself—and that doesn’t involve you or Gary making a scene.” My pulse hammered in my throat, and I could barely contain my anger. “And what happened to you helping me look at career options? Is that done now that Gary’s in town? Every time he comes, it’s like you have to overcompensate.”

  The muscle in his jaw ticked as he stared me down. “Go home, son.”

  My shift didn’t end for another three hours. He wanted to play it this way? Fine.

  “You’re kicking me out because I’m calling it like I see it?” I pulled my Office Jax shirt over my head and walked toward the door.

  Dad grunted, ignoring my response, and went back to his paperwork.

  I needed to clear my head, get Dad and Uncle Gary’s conversation out of my mind. I walked out of Office Jax, flipping my shirt over my shoulder. Blake was busy at his internship, couldn’t talk to him. But Jules would understand. She had to work with the bastard, too.

  I pulled out my phone and dialed her number. It rang six times, and I expected it to go to voicemail. She picked up on the seventh ring.

  “What’s up?” Her voice sounded hoarse and raspy. Had she been sleeping? Did I wake her? I glanced at the clock on the dash. At nine, definite possibility I’d woken her.

  “You sleeping?”

  “No, just dying my hair. The fumes get to me. What’s up?”

  My throat tightened, thinking back to what Gary had said. Was it a mistake calling her while I was so upset? I hadn’t counted on someone like this since Lex. I hated being such a pansy ass, but the uncertainty of my future weighed down on me like a bench press bar loaded with forty-fives. “Do you want to go fishing?”

  “What?”

  I rested my head against the steering wheel and closed my eyes. “Fishing. Right now.”

  “Now.”

  “Yes.”

  “Is everything okay?” Concern laced her voice.

  I fisted my hand through my hair. “No.”

  “Pick me up in ten.”

  I pulled up to her apartment complex eleven minutes later. I clutched the steering wheel, taking deep breaths, trying to calm myself enough to go to the door and get Jules. As soon as I parked and shut off the car, Jules bounded out of her apartment, her hair an odd shade of blond, almost white. She ripped open the car door and fell into the passenger seat, vanilla, laundry detergent, and chemicals following in her wake.

  “That’s very…”

  She lifted up her hand, stopping me. “Don’t even. The box said it was warm blond. Obviously whoever labeled this box was on crack.”

  I let out a low chuckle, and she smacked my chest.

  “Cool it, DeShane, or I’ll bust out a can off whoop-ass when we get out of the car.”

  “Do you need me to hand you your walker first?”

  “Ha-ha.” She stuck out her tongue and I squeezed her thigh, running my thumb across her smooth skin.

  “Remind me to pick up your Bengay when we get back into town.” Teasing was much better than thinking about Dad and Uncle Gary. Easier to ignore with a pretty blonde at my side.

  She shook her head and smiled, keeping her gaze focused on the road ahead.

&n
bsp; After thirty minutes of silence, listening to George Strait, and Jules sitting next to me, my muscles started to relax as we drove farther away from the city. With trees replacing the concrete prison of Spring Hill, I could start to focus. The chokehold of emotions gripping my throat loosened, and I decided to tell her why I’d just taken her on this random fishing expedition. For the first time in a long time, I trusted someone besides Blake to talk about my dad and this shitty situation. Why did I trust this one girl who I’d probably never see again after next week? Not going there. “My dad thinks I’m a fuckup.”

  She let out a forced laugh, one that sounded like she’d pushed out every last bit of oxygen from her chest. “Welcome to the club.”

  How could Peach possibly understand? She had med school. And a life plan.

  “My uncle’s in town. They’re in a pissing match over who can figure out my life goals for me.”

  “What about you?”

  I looked at her out of my peripherals, still focused on the road. “What about me?”

  She shifted in her seat, turning to me, crossing one leg over the other. “What do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know.” Fuck that response.

  She sighed and examined her pale pink nails. “Sometimes I feel the same way. Like I made decisions because of other people, not for myself.”

  I looked straight ahead. It was easier talking about my failures when I didn’t look directly at her. “I thought after a few years of college, I’d have it figured out. Now, with the police academy coming up, I don’t know if I’m so sure.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I caught her nod. She put her hand on my knee and squeezed. “The older I get, the more I feel like I have no clue in hell what I’m doing. I never really saw myself as a doctor.”

  Then why would she be going through another five years of hell for something she didn’t want? “What do you want to be?”

  “I’d really love to be in sports science, an athletic trainer, treating players.”

  “Then why don’t you?”

  She shook her head, her brows furrowing. “It’s complicated.”