Apparently, communicating visually was not my strong suit, because after a few seconds, her shoulders slumped as she cast her eyes towards the floor. “You don’t have to say that.”
“You think I’m just saying that I want to be the man that changes your—how did you put it?—status?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Did this girl honestly not know how badly I wanted her?
A soft moan sounded as she once again covered her face with her hands. “I called it my status?”
This was ridiculous. I was not going to stand there and let her be embarrassed. She never had to be embarrassed around me.
“Look at me,” I stated firmly.
“Trace…” She began shaking her head again, her face still hidden behind her hands.
“Cara. Look at me.” My command had come out much harsher than I’d meant it to, but thankfully, it did the trick.
She lowered her hands and lifted her face up to mine, her eyes closed. I waited, my gaze drinking in every inch of her beautiful face. When her lids finally opened and her bright-blue eyes shined up at me, I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face.
“I’m glad you think this is funny,” she said flatly.
“I wasn’t smiling because I think this is funny. I was smiling because you are so fucking beautiful I can’t help it.”
Her head flinched back slightly and her eyes narrowed.
Instead of addressing her current emotional state, I felt it best to keep this truck moving out of the friend zone. I could tell her how I felt, how I’d felt for years, but if she couldn’t even accept that I thought she was beautiful, we obviously had a long road ahead of us. And I didn’t want to put the pedal to the metal and scare her. I could take things slow.
“So, back to your status and desire to change it and my desire to be the changer. I saw the list.”
Shock registered in her gorgeous eyes.
“My sister grabbed it before I could read all of it. But I assumed it was what you were looking for in a boyfriend—”
“I don’t want a boyfriend!” she exclaimed.
“Okay, then it was a list for…”
She sighed. “I just wanted to date. I don’t want a boyfriend, a relationship. It was a list for what I’d like in a guy to date.”
“Date so that your status changed?”
She hadn’t answered if she was wearing her lucky panties or not, but if she was dating for the sole purpose of losing her virginity, then no way in hell was she going out with anyone but me.
“Yes, date. Not be in a relationship. I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend.”
I had no idea why she was being so adamant about the boyfriend-versus-date clarification, but I was not about to let that hiccup sidetrack me, especially now that I knew what her end game was. “Got it. Just date. Well, when I pointed out that I fit the criteria listed, Harmony was more than happy to inform me that I did not meet one crucial qualifying factor. My question is: What is it?”
Instead of answering, she hollowed her cheek. Just like I knew she brushed her hair behind her ear when she was nervous, I also knew she bit the side of her cheek when she was deep in concentration and had a big decision to make. When she was younger, it was usually things like what she wanted from the ice cream truck or what movie she wanted to watch. As she got older, it was more important things like what college she wanted to go to or what car she wanted to get.
Damn! Even though I knew I couldn’t rush her, the urgency to find out her answer was shooting through me like a geyser.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she sighed. “You know me.”
“What?” I had to have heard her wrong.
Straightening her shoulders, she stood up taller. “You know me. That’s the only thing on the list that you don’t match. I wanted to be with someone…to date someone that…I don’t know…that when they look at me, they don’t see…” Her voice trailed off.
“Cancer?” That logic made about as much sense to me as a book on how to read, but I figured that had to be what she was talking about.
My assumption was met with silence. Her only acknowledgement was a nod.
“You think that’s what I see when I look at you?”
“I think that’s all anyone who knows me sees when they look at me.” She sounded so sad, so defeated. “That’s why I just wanted to be with someone I could have a fresh slate with. No sympathy. No…past.”
She might be saying past, but she meant cancer. And she could not be more wrong. But I could tell, by the resigned determination in her eyes that it was going to take a little creativity to show her just how wrong she was. That that was not at all how I saw her. And that being with someone that didn’t know her was the worst idea in the world. That being with anyone other than me was the worst idea in the world.
Instead of arguing with her logic, I decided to take a different approach.
“Yeah, I guess that’s one way to look at it. But you’re only looking at one side of the knowing you coin. What about the flip side?
“Sex, good sex, is all about knowing and reading what your partner likes and needs. Did you ever think about the fact that someone that knows you, like me, also knows your body and its signals? For example, I know that you bite the side of your cheek when you’re thinking, that you brush your hair behind your ear when you’re nervous, that your cheeks turn different shades of pink when you’re mad, when you’re embarrassed, and when you’re turned on.”
Her breathing was shallow and her eyes glossy as her fingers brushed over her cheek. “They do?”
Not able to take one more second of not touching her, I took my hand off the counter and softly trailed my knuckles along her jaw line. At my caress, her breath caught.
“They do. When you’re mad, the color is more of a deep-pink flush. When you’re embarrassed, it’s a light-pink blush. And, when you’re turned on, like now, it’s a pinkish-red glow.”
“How do you know that I’m…” she started to ask, but she closed her eyes as I slowly grazed the backs of my fingers down her neck.
“Because I know you,” I answered her incomplete question. “Don’t you think it would be better to be with someone you can trust your body with for your first time? Someone who knows you?”
“Uh huh,” she easily agreed as I traced the neckline of her dress, running my fingertips across her collarbone.
“Good. Then it’s settled.”
If I touched my lips to hers, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from taking things too far, so I softly kissed her forehead instead. “Meet me in my office tomorrow night,” I whispered. “Six o’clock. And darlin’, make sure to wear your lucky panties.”
Using more self-control than I knew I possessed, I walked out of the kitchen, leaving Cara breathless and probably more than a little confused.
I stalked down the hall towards the guest bedroom. There was no way I was going to get any sleep tonight, and not just because of the rock-hard erection I was sporting, which would not be satisfied with a quick jerk-off. I wouldn’t be sleeping because I knew that tomorrow night, if Cara actually showed up, my entire life was going to change.
And I couldn’t wait.
Chapter 18
Cara
“When your sun is shining that bright, keepin’ folks in the dark is harder than puttin’ socks on a rooster.”
~ Dolly Briggs
“I’m so happy that you’re feeling better,” I enthused as Destiny spread out sample paint colors on the large butcher block island while we waited for our third angel, who was thirty minutes late.
“So am I. The past few weeks have been brutal.” She touched the tiny bump on her belly as her lips split open in a huge grin. “But totally worth it.” She rubbed her hand in a small circle around her stomach before glancing around her newly installed commercial kitchen.
“It’s crazy how much your life has changed.”
For years, all Destiny had talked about was opening up her own bakery, and now,
that dream had become a reality. She’d always wanted a big family, and she was pregnant. She’d had a crush on JJ Briggs since she was four, and he was her husband.
Everything had fallen into place for Destiny, and I was elated for my best friend. Plus, it gave me hope that maybe—just maybe—the same thing could happen for me. Last night had been like a dream, one I kept replaying in my head. Every touch, every look, every word Trace and I had shared was on constant repeat.
I still wasn’t sure what had really happened or what I should do about it. The entire exchange had been like a roller coaster of emotion. First, just being on the ride had been terrifying. Then it had done a corkscrew into arousal, which had led to a loop-di-loop of embarrassment, only to shoot back up to arousal, flip upside down into embarrassment, and end with free fall of arousal.
I was dizzy from thinking about it.
The whole thing was kind of a blur, from spitting my wine on Trace’s bare chest, to his arms surrounding me as he pinned me against the sink, to finding out I’d said way too much when I was drunk, to him offering to devirginize me… At least I think that’s what he did.
I wasn’t exactly clear on that point. But I could still feel the trail of his touch along my face and down my neck. I could still feel the imprint of his lips on my forehead, and I could still hear him telling me to show up at his office, in my lucky panties, at six o’clock tonight.
Which was four hours, six minutes, and, oh, about thirty seconds away.
“Sorry! I was studying and lost track of time!” Harmony announced as she stepped through the back door of the bakery and slid onto the stool beside me, doing a double take. “Well, well, well! Looks like things with Mr. Lawyerman went better than I expected.”
“What?” My brow furrowed as I tilted my head. Why would she possibly think that my date with Derek last night had gone well?
“Sorry.” She raised her hands in the air in mock-surrender. “Nothing against him. It was just… I guess, from your description, I didn’t think things were going to go well. In fact…” She held her pointer finger up before digging into her purse and handing Destiny a five-dollar bill.
“What’s that for?”
“Thank you!” Destiny snatched the bill from Harmony. “Harm bet me five dollars that you wouldn’t make it past one drink. I told her to have faith in your instincts. You obviously saw something in him that you liked. Otherwise, why would you go out with him?”
“Why do you think it lasted more than one drink?” I asked my normally perceptive, auburn-haired friend, who was way off the mark on this one.
“Are you serious?” Harmony’s eyebrows rose. “Girlie girl, if you were a cartoon, there would be birds and hearts flying around your head.”
Uh oh! If hearts or birds were flying around my head, they had Trace’s name on them, not Derek’s. But how was I going to explain that to his sister?
Sure, Harmony had been fine with Destiny hooking up with JJ because it had been a widely known fact that Destiny had always been head-over-heels in love with him. But I had done a very good job at hiding my feelings for Trace.
There was no way that my friend was going to find out about my feelings for her brother because I had to tell her that I was pretty sure he’d offered to be the gardener in my deflowering.
“So, spill!” Harmony encouraged.
“Yes! Spill, spill, spill!” Destiny chanted.
Ummm…
I really didn’t want to lie to two of the most important people in my life, but I couldn’t tell them the truth. So I settled for somewhere in the middle. At least, that’s what I was telling myself.
“I might see him again tonight. If things go well, I’ll let you know.”
“You are?” Destiny clapped her hands. “That’s great!”
“I knew when you didn’t call last night that I’d lost the bet.” Harmony smiled.
“What about you? You saw Dr. Hottie last night, right?” My questions were two-fold. I was genuinely interested and I wanted to shift the conversation away from me.
Harmony’s head fell back as she let out a groan. When she lifted it, she sighed. “Yes. I saw him. Things were going good. We had a romantic dinner. Some wine. We were slow-dancing to Otis Redding, barefoot, bathed in candlelight in the middle of his living room and then…bzzzzzz. His beeper went off and he was out the door. I spent the evening snuggled on the couch with Romeo, binge-watching Game of Thrones.”
“Romeo?” Destiny and I repeated.
Harmony pulled her phone out, swiped the screen, then turned it towards us. “Dr. Hottie’s black lab.”
“Awww,” Destiny and I chorused.
“I’ve been spending more time with Romeo than with Tim.”
“His name’s Tim?” Destiny and I again spoke at exactly the same time. Then we looked at each other and burst out laughing.
We’d been doing the talking-at-the-same-time thing since elementary school. In different combinations, of course. Sometimes, it would be Harmony and Destiny; sometimes, it was me and Harmony; and sometimes, like now, it was Destiny and me. When we’d have sleepovers at Destiny’s house, Grandma Dixie used to tease us and tell us that we all shared one brain.
As our giggling died down, Destiny shook her head. “I can’t believe I didn’t know his name before now.”
“Me too!” That’s exactly what I’d been thinking. Maybe Grandma Dixie had been on to something.
“Yeah, that’s weird,” Harmony agreed before shrugging. “I guess everybody’s kind of been dealing with their own stuff, huh?”
“You could definitely say that.” Destiny smiled from ear to ear as she looked at the ring on the hand she had resting on her barely there baby bump.
If someone would have told me a year ago that one of my best friends would be seeing a guy for over a month and I wouldn’t have known his name or that I would be keeping the fact that the man of my dreams had instructed me to show up at his office at six sharp, wearing my lucky panties, I would have told them that they were crazy.
But here we were.
“Speaking of a lot going on, we have paint colors to pick out.” Harmony started rummaging through the samples and asking Destiny what feeling she wanted people to have when they came into her shop.
As they discussed the preferred vibe of Sugar Rush, I tried to decide what I should do about that evening. I hadn’t slept a wink last night. All I’d done was dissect every second of Trace’s and my potentially life-altering exchange.
Of course, what he’d said, but also just how he’d looked.
Visions of a shirtless Trace had bombarded my brain. His black drawstring sweats hanging on his hips, low enough that I was almost positive he was going commando. When Trace was a kid, he’d been the absolute cutest. His big, light-brown eyes and his smile, which took up half of his face, were irresistible. As a teen, he’d grown tall, and thanks to baseball, football, and his work on the farm, he’d been lean and athletic. But what I’d seen and felt up close and personal last night was more than just being in “good shape.” Sometime over the last five years, he’d grown into a full-fledged man. His body had transformed into a large, muscular, dominant, perfect specimen.
I was equal parts turned on and terrified of that.
I’d never been naked in front of anyone other than medical personnel. It wasn’t like I was embarrassed about my body. It was fine. But, let’s call it as it was, Trace was a walking Calvin Klein underwear ad. Then there were the girls he’d dated. Most of which had a good cup size, or two, on me, and none of which had a port scar.
From the second Trace had left me panting like a dog in heat in my brother’s kitchen, I’d been borderline schizophrenic about whether or not I was going to show up at his office. One minute, I was sure I was going to go. The next, I knew there was no way in a million years I could walk into that barn.
Every time I made my mind up, I would change it. As much as I wanted to feel Trace touch more than just my face and my neck, to show me how good
it could be with someone who knew me, I was terrified at what would happen after—and even during.
What if we couldn’t be friends anymore? What if, once we started, he couldn’t go through with it? I’d read horror stories on cancer-support forums about women whose partners were no longer attracted to them after their treatment. And those were people who had already been in love and together.
“Hello, Cara? Are you in there?” Harmony waved her hand in front of my face.
“Oh, sorry.” I blinked as I snapped back to the present and out of my head.
“Whoa!” She leaned back in her stool. “You are really nervous about tonight, aren’t you?”
You have no idea.
“Aww. You must really like this guy,” Destiny enthused.
Again, you have no idea.
There was no point in trying to deny how I felt though.
“Yeah,” I said. “I guess so.”
“You have nothing to worry about.” Harmony dove right into management mode. “Okay, where are you meeting him?”
“His office.” It felt so strange leading them to believe that I was talking about Derek. But this whole situation was a little, or a lot, strange.
“And what are you gonna wear?” Destiny asked.
My lucky panties. “I’m not sure,” I answered honestly.
My friends immediately started debating what I should wear. Harmony was maintaining that I should show up in a trench coat, heels, and nothing else. Destiny was insisting on actual clothes, her argument being that this was my first time. And that this was real life, not porn.
That observation sent Harmony on a rant about women being objectified, and I took the short reprieve of not having the spotlight on me to think about what I was going to wear if I decided to go. And that was a big if.
Whatever I decided was secondary to one very important garment I’d washed this morning.
Convincing Cara (Wishing Well, Texas Book 2) Page 12