Stupid Love

by Cindy Miles

  I tilted my head, and I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. “About what?”

  He glanced away, then locked his gaze onto mine, and a muscle pulled one side of his mouth up. “You see, I got this problem,” he started. “I can’t seem to get you out of my head.”

  I widened my gaze. “That’s crazy,” I returned, and I leaned closer. “I can’t seem to get you out of my head, either.”

  “Well,” Jace continued, and kept his gaze trained on mine. “Not to sound like a lunatic, but I…well, I just don’t do casual very well,” he admitted, and he kind of shrugged, kind of smiled, and kind of melted me on the spot. “What I’m saying is, if this is just a game to you—”

  This time I shushed his words, and I leaned up on my toes and covered his mouth with mine. I let them hover there until our lips were no longer cold from the elements, but warm from our bodies, and I slipped my hands around his neck and held him still. He let me kiss him, and I did so, and suckled his bottom lip before breaking away and leaning far enough back so that we were not cross-eyed. I grazed his cheek with my knuckles, then entwined my fingers with his. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have all intentions of games when I first met you,” I admitted. “But I swear, Jace Beaumont”—I rose up on my toes and whispered against his ear—“I just can’t stop thinking about you. And that’s…” I gave a soft, unintentional laugh, “not like me at all.”

  Jace’s cell phone buzzed; he grasped my face with his hands once more. “Well,” he said, and gave my mouth a soft, subtle, toe-curling kiss. “Games banned, let’s see where this thing takes us.”

  My mouth tugged into a wide grin. “You’re on, cowboy.”

  He regarded me for a few seconds; it seemed as though he could see past my eyes, past my skin, and deep, deep into my thoughts. It seemed as though he could see everything, and only then did I feel a twinge of guilt. Then, he glanced at his phone. “I’ve got a pick-up,” he said softly. “Get some sleep.” He lifted my hands, still laced with his, and brushed his lips over my knuckles. “I’ll pick you up at three.” He dropped my hands then jogged to his truck and climbed in.

  “Where’re we going?” I asked, wrapping my arms around myself to try and keep his warmth close to me.

  He winked. “You’ll see.”

  I watched Jace leave, and long after I had sat back down at the kitchen table to finish my work, my face was still smiling. I hadn’t known him long at all, so it completely mystified me that he’d gotten to me so thoroughly. How had that happened?

  And why now?

  By the time I finished both papers, it was damn late, and my eyes were blurry and my mind filled with Jace. Conscience is a funny thing, though. It raises its ugly ass head at the damnedest of times and with no regard as to whether you want it to or not.

  I was determined, though, not to be persuaded by a traitorous conscience. And I didn’t know what this thing was with Jace. Didn’t know where it would lead, didn’t know how long it would last.

  Hell. I didn’t know how long I would last.

  What I did know was that he made me feel. No, not just a turn on. Not just eye candy with a sexy swagger and a velvety smooth voice; sage green eyes that faded and softened with his emotions. Not the fact that he had deep, profound thoughts, ideas and loads of integrity. He stirred something else inside of me. Something I’d never experienced before. And it was too damn new for me to even label it. I’d just go with the flow. Have fun. See where things led.

  A brief fear flickered inside of me, and I tried to squash it before it rose to a complete thought. It didn’t work. The fear rose. An uncertainty that, to be frank, pissed me off.

  What if the trial medicine didn’t work? I had a decision to make and soon.

  I stared into my bathroom mirror after brushing my teeth. Glared at my face. My head. My traitorous body that had once again turned on me. “No!” I growled out loud. “Not now!”

  After I tossed and turned for what seemed like the whole night, I must have fallen asleep. I felt the sun fall across my face and I blinked open my eyes, and Jace Beaumont was there, in my thoughts. The panic from the night before had dissipated, replaced now with anticipation of a surprise date. Lifting my phone from the nightstand, I glanced at it: 8:30 a.m. And one missed text from Jace.

  I must’ve been sleeping like a log not to have heard it.

  I swiped the screen to read it, and a pic came up of the sun rising over the treetops, somewhere along the highway.

  Jace: Wish you were here. :-) See ya at 3. Wear something comfortable for outdoors.

  I let the phone drop against my chest and I smiled, stretched, and then Captain Gregg pushed open my cracked bedroom door and stuck his nose in.

  “You wanna go out, boy?” I asked.

  He answered with a resounding bark.

  As I ran through my morning routine and chores my mind twirled and spun, wondering what in the world Jace had planned. Sunday morning meant breakfast with the gang, and by eight thirty they all started sending texts, making sure it was still on. By nine they all began straggling down the lane to my house. We had our usual half-sleepy, half-rowdy goodtime gathering, and then the guys headed over to the shooting range, and the girls headed to the library.

  “I want every sordid detail of your mystery date when you get home,” Claire said, rising on her tip-toes to look me in the eye. She pointed at me, and made her eyes squint in her attempt to look fierce. “And don’t make me chase you down.”

  I blew it off as though it were a totally casual thing. But the truth was, the butterflies kicked in at about noon. Ha! Me—Memory Thibodeaux—with Date Jitters! It was almost hilarious. I showered, shaved, lotioned. I washed my hair, deciding to let it dry naturally instead of using a flat iron to straighten it, which left it in long, choppy, unorganized beach-like waves. The weather had warmed some, which was nice, and so I paired a white tank beneath a soft pink and navy plaid long-sleeved shirt that snapped up the front and at the cuffs. Along with my favorite faded skinny jeans and navy Converses, and just a tad of makeup, I was ready by two.

  At two thirty I had paced and watched TV and changed the playlist on my phone when I’d finally decided to go outside. I was sitting on the fence petting Little Joe when I heard Jace’s truck coming down the lane, and my heart leapt. Leapt! But I sat there, waiting, and he cut the engine and strode toward me, a smile tugging at his face. He wore shades, no hat, jeans and a navy plaid long-sleeved shirt. He even wore Converses, which were black and worn. When he reached me, he rested his arms against the fence, and I giggled.

  “What is so funny?” he asked, his mouth tipping up.

  “We’re dressed alike,” I returned. “Unintentional Twinkies?”

  He sighed, rubbed his jaw. “Are you gonna come down here or do I need to pull you off that fence?” he said. In That Voice.

  I couldn’t even see his eyes behind the shades he wore, but I knew those sage orbs were searing me. “I’m a big girl,” I said. “Pulling me down might prove slightly hazardous to your health.” I placed my hands on his shoulders, his hands went to my waist, and he lowered me down. Before my feet even hit the ground his mouth was on mine, his hands lifted to my face, his thumbs holding my jaw steady as his lips settled, tasted, and fit just right. When he pulled back, I saw my reflection in his glasses.

  “I think you just made my knees wobbly,” I said, my voice a little shaky.

  Jace only smiled. “Ready?” He reached around me and patted Little Joe’s thick neck, all the while staring in my direction.

  “I am,” I answered, and started for the house. “Let me grab my bag and jacket.”

  The winter’s sun cast a caramel hue to Jace’s dark hair, and I could have stared at him a little longer. But I hurried inside, gathered my things, and let Captain Gregg inside for the day. I locked the door behind me and met Jace at the truck.

  He opened the driver’s side and I started to climb in, but he stopped me. Pressed me back against the doorframe, his mouth br
ushing mine for another kiss, and he tasted like spearmint and smelled clean, like soap and freshly showered guy. “This will be a challenge today,” he said against me.

  I’d never felt so giddy before. “What will be?” I asked in a half-whisper.

  He studied me a bit more, those eyes hidden behind those shades. “Not kissing you all day long.”

  My stomach did a little flip then, and he gave me a long, wide smile and inclined his head.

  I fanned myself with my hand. “You’re telling me.” I climbed in, scooted across the seat, and he laughed and followed.

  I pulled my shades out of my bag, slid them on and we set off. “So when do I get to know where we’re going?” I asked.

  He smiled, but kept his gaze facing forward. “Do you know the town of Cady?”

  “I don’t,” I answered, and watched as Jace pulled right out of my drive, heading out of Killian.

  “I ran a tow there a few weeks back,” he continued. “Nice little Americana town. Had lunch there.” He glanced at me. “Best milkshake I’ve ever had. It’s about an hour north of here.”

  “Road trip!” I exclaimed. I glanced behind us, and in the bed of the truck were two coolers strapped down. “What’s in those?”

  “Ah, well,” Jace drawled. “That’s all part of the surprise, Ms. Thibodeaux.”

  The day was gorgeous; not too cool, but not too hot, either. The sun fell through the clouds in such a way that it made light dapple the dash of Jace’s truck as we drove along. The trees were mostly bare, and the grass brown, but something about the sun bathed it all in fabulousness. Gave it life.

  “So tell me more about Jace Beaumont,” I asked, and half-turned in the seat to face him. “You know. For reference purposes.”

  He shrugged, and I noticed his hands gripping the wheel. Large. Square. Strong. “Not much to tell, really,” he admitted. “I’m the oldest of four. You know Olivia, and there are two other brothers. Kyle and Seth, the youngest.” He inhaled and kept his eyes on the road. “Our father left us when I was little but old enough to remember.” He shrugged again. “Had decided that the ranching life wasn’t for him after all, or some such nonsense. My mom’s father, Jilly, came to live with us then, and after that it was only us.”

  “You never saw your father again?” I asked.

  “Nope. Last I heard, he was in prison. Good riddance. Anyway,” he went on. “We weren’t rich with money but rich in other ways,” and he smiled. “We worked hard to keep the ranch afloat, and we all did our part. I’d die for my family.”

  I studied his profile, the timber of his voice. “They sound wonderful.”

  “What about you?” Jace asked, and he looked at me. “What makes Memory Thibodeaux tick?”

  I glanced out the window as we passed through a small town with a single round-a-bout that contained a post office, sheriff’s office, and city hall. “Well, now that’s the million dollar question,” I said jokingly, and for a second, my past flew before my eyes. “I love to live,” I said. “Love to experience exhilarating adventures.” I turned to him and smiled. “Kind of like going on a mini road trip with a virtual stranger and no idea of what might be in store.”

  Jace’s smile showed straight white teeth and crinkles at the corners of his eyes, just beyond the sunglasses. “We are virtual strangers no longer, Ms. Thibodeaux.”

  “Right,” I teased. “Kissing cancels that out automatically, doesn’t it?”

  “Indeed it does,” he agreed.

  We rode like that for another hour, asking questions, which I always managed to somehow direct away from my childhood illness. Jace asked about my friends. I asked about his siblings. We talked about favorites: bands, food, movies. We both loved Mexicana. We both loved Aerosmith. Just those two facts alone left me giddy. In no time flat the sun had started dropping, and we were hitting the city limits of Cady, and I immediately knew it was one of those darling historical towns that you’d so often find in Texas.

  “This place looks like it fell right out of an old western,” I said breathily as we rode slowly down the main street. Two-story storefronts painted in various colors lined both sides of the street, with shops and restaurants and cafes noted with hanging signs. Black iron lampposts sat every few feet or so, and people walked the sidewalks. Although I’d lived in Texas for six years, I hadn’t explored much of it and the old towns fascinated me. Jace pulled into a parking spot and killed the engine. He slipped his shades off, and then reached over and pulled mine off, too.

  “There,” he said, and we held each other’s gaze for a moment. “Eyes are the window to the soul, you know.”

  “Uh, huh,” I answered. “Heard that somewhere.”

  Those sage green eyes softened. “You like ice cream, Ms. Thibodeaux?”

  A grin tugged at my mouth. “Look at me, boy. I’m full-blood Acadian-French Cajun through and through. Do I look like I dislike anything?”

  He inspected me briefly. “I’d have to say full-blood Cajun looks good on you.” Then he flashed me a smile. “I’m relieved to see you’re more of a burger kind of girl.”

  “Ha!” I said, and grabbed my bag. “Def burgers, my good man. You said ice cream? Let’s go then, yeah.”

  Jace hopped out, then helped me down out of the driver’s side. He leaned close to my ear, his lips barely brushing it as he closed the door. “I could listen to you talk for hours,” he said quietly. “With that accent.”

  I flashed him a grin that pulled at the corners of my eyes. “Stop stalling. You said ice cream.”

  We started down the sidewalk, and Jace slipped his fingers through mine. “Kind of funny, don’t you think?”

  “What?” I asked, and noticed again that silvery scar on his cheekbone.

  “I don’t know, this?” he said, and held up our linked hands. “Sort of took me by surprise, I guess.”

  I looked at him. “Surprise, yes. Funny?” I leaned my head against his shoulder. “Not so much.” I looked up at him. “We had a very hilarious name for you in the beginning, though.”

  Jace laughed softly. “Yeah, I know.” He winked. “Takes a little time for me to warm up to folks.”

  “So I see.”

  Jace stopped at a storefront with the sign Shelly’s Ice Cream hanging above the door, and he allowed me to walk in first. The interior was decorated like an old-fashioned parlor, and it was cool and crisp, just like an ice-cream store should be. I chose double-scoop fudge brownie and chocolate-chip mint on a sugar cone, and Jace chose plain chocolate and plain strawberry. We both walked out, licking our treats.

  “I hope dessert first doesn’t kill your appetite for supper,” he said as we walked along.

  “Nothing kills my appetite,” I announced with a chuckle.

  And hoped it was convincing. Because lately, it just wasn’t what it used to be. The trial meds made things even worse.

  We walked some more, strolling along the storefronts, inspecting the displays of local artists’ wares, from pottery to sterling silver jewelry to touristy magnets to jars of jam. The sun fell, and shadows began to stretch, and at the same time the street lamps came on.

  “This place,” I finally said after finishing my ice cream, “it’s like something out of a book, don’t you think?”

  “Yep,” Jace answered. “I thought it was pretty interesting, too. Especially after the customer I towed told me what his business was.”

  I looked at him curiously. “What business?”

  Jace gave me a crooked grin. “Let’s grab the coolers first then I’ll tell you.”

  We headed back to the truck; Jace took the heavier cooler while I took the lighter one, and I pulled on my floppy red knit hat and he began to lead me past the storefronts, down the street. I waited and waited for Jace to just…start telling me the story, but he kept silent. Only threw me that silly crooked grin as we walked.

  Finally, the sidewalk curved around and the street lamps lined a small cobbled footpath that led to a park. It was a wide-open manicured l
awn, and several people were gathered across it, most sitting on blankets, or resting under large magnolia trees.

  It was then I saw the large movie screen at the far end of the park, and my eyes lit up. “No way!” I said excitedly, and grabbed Jace’s arm. “Are you serious? Jace! Movie in the park?” I looked up at him.

  The streetlight shined off his eyes, and the little lines crinkled at the corners, and that silvery scar sort of shined, too. Oh, he was proud of himself. I could tell.

  “Pretty cool, huh?” he finally said. “But that’s not the whole surprise.” He inclined his head. “Let’s go over there.”

  I all but jumped up and down as we set off across the lawn, weaving between couples who’d gathered for a crisp open-aired movie in the park. We stopped, and Jace set his cooler down, then took mine. Inside, he grabbed a big quilt and spread it out. “After you,” he said, grinning, and I flung myself down and laughed. He followed me down.

  “What’s the movie?” I asked, and squinched up closer to him. “Tell me!”

  “Absolutely not,” he insisted, then leaned over and brushed a soft kiss across my lips. “It’s too much fun to see you all anxious and crazy with wonder.”

  I lay down flat and grunted. “Ugh! You’re impossible!” Then I looked at him sitting there, his wide shoulder pulling the material of his shirt taut against the muscles in his back. He looked down at me, and I smiled.

  “You know,” I began, “this is the most fun I’ve had on a date, in my life. Thank you.”

  Jace’s eyes watched mine, and he simply smiled. “Just you wait.”

  I could hardly contain myself.

  The moment the music began and the credits hit the screen, I knew what the movie was. I squealed and sat up, then I leapt to my feet, pressing my hands against my cheeks in surprise.

  “The Ghost and Mrs. Muir? Oh my God, Jace!” I laughed and jumped up and down, ran around our quilt twice, waving my arms in the air like a lunatic, then fell next to him. I threw my arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “My heart is racing a million miles a minute! See?” I grasped his hand and placed it over my heart so he could feel. “How did you pull this off?” I was vaguely aware of a few couples around us, chuckling at my expression of joy.