“Let’s just eat while the food’s still hot.” Ignoring the way his lips moved as he chewed, or the way his Adam’s apple bobbed with each swallow, I focused on my plate. I wouldn’t let him distract me . . . I wouldn’t let my own wayward thoughts lead me down a path I wasn’t sure I wanted to travel.
Cooper Hensley was making an effort, and so would I.
A flash of him in that office—the way his abdominal muscles tightened each time he drove himself deeper into the willing recipient bent over the desk, my own body yearning to experience it—surfaced. Try as I had to keep it trapped behind a secret door in my mind, it repeatedly knocked for my attention. Every fantasy lead to it, and sitting here at the table with him, it returned, causing my skin to flush.
There was nothing sexual about tonight.
This was about building a friendship, nothing else.
Liar, liar, that annoying inner voice crooned. Why must you lie to yourself?
Owen. With that one word, the memory disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
“Feel free to grab seconds,” I croaked, camouflaging my shaky invite with an extra long gulp of wine.
Wine. Wine was my friend, and with yet another deep sip, I relaxed.
Everything’s okay.
This time, I ignored the soft chant.
Liar . . . liar . . . liar.
Chapter Eleven
Cooper
This wasn’t how I intended the conversation to go.
“I told you I was an asshole.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“You’re talking to me like you want me to agree. Like you’re trying to convince me how bad of an idea this is and that I should run for my life.” She was clearly annoyed, judging by the way she slammed the plate into the dish rack. Dinner was over, and when Caylee had stood to clear the table, I took the opportunity to volunteer and help. Marty and Rebecca were off hunting for an elusive pack of playing cards so we could enjoy an after dinner game of poker, and me . . . I just wanted to explain myself.
“You should.”
“Well, I beg to differ.” Heaven help me, but she placed her hands defiantly on her hips, glaring at me like she dared me to challenge her. “See, this is how this friends thing works. All I’m asking for is honesty and consideration. I’m not wanting whatever version of yourself you think you need to give me. That’s the last thing I looking for. I can handle whatever you dish out. I just don’t want to be another in a long line of people you need to fake it with.”
“You say you want the real me, but when I give it to you, you’ll run, just like the others.”
My sullen admission saddened her. “The only one running so far is you, Cooper,” she whispered.
“Trust me, you say that now.” She had to see how this was going to end.
“Trust me,” she replied with equal confidence.
Standing there, suds coating a few strands of her blonde hair from tucking it behind her ear, the fight inside me deflated. She wasn’t the enemy here. “I’m not going to win this argument, am I?”
Her smile softened the blow. “Nope, so I’d quit while you’re ahead. Many have tried and failed.”
“Just be careful. Walk away if . . . when it gets to be too much. Promise me.” While I couldn’t change her mind, it didn’t stop me from trying to gain any form of assurance she wasn’t just blindly jumping into this—that she didn’t have any other misguided beliefs that the chaos surrounding me was anything but what it was.
“I don’t know who you think you are, Cooper, but you’re not the monster you keep warning me about.”
I could spend the next year explaining exactly how wrong that statement was—how I was a monster—in graphic detail if needed.
“I’m no saint, Caylee.” I reminded her again.
“And neither am I. We’ve all made mistakes.”
There was no holding back the disbelieving grunt. If we were talking about mistakes, mine were unrivaled. “Shall we compare then? I’ll show you mine if you show me yours? Where would you like to start?”
A fire lit in her eyes—one of pure determination and obstinance. “If that’s what it takes for you to quit being such a jerk and accept I don’t want to fight about this with you, sure. You can even go first.”
Standing there, almost toe-to-toe, gazing down at her, I couldn’t decide whether to shake her or kiss her with everything I had. I’d been resisting the urge all night, and it was exhausting. If she wouldn’t listen to reason, maybe getting a taste of the darkness lurking inside me would help her realize the truth.
Maybe it would release whatever ‘this’ was between us, and I could go back to not caring about whether or not I was hurting someone else’s feelings. It would purge this glimmer of hope that always seemed to surface when she was around. I wanted nothing to do with it.
I should want nothing to do with her.
Clenching my fists, I took a step back. I was stronger than my baser urges. Come hell or high water, Caylee would remain untouched by me, even if it killed me to do it.
“You admitted I’m an asshole,” I pointed out, weakly smiling. With any luck, she’d see my comment for what it was . . . a white flag of surrender.
“Because right this second, you’re acting like one. Do you piss everyone off or am I special?” It was good to hear her laugh again, even if she was also scrunching the dishtowel with her fingers. Slowly, with each fortifying breath, she stopped.
“I’m pretty much an equal opportunist when it comes to annoying people. I guess you could say it’s part of my charm.”
The tension that had been escalating between us gently diffused. “So next time I walk in on you having sex, I shouldn’t take it personally?”
And with that, we were right back where we started, in the kitchen, cleaning up.
“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?” I chuckled, taking the dishcloth from her hand. When she smiled, I didn’t tell her the real reason behind the gesture. If it won me brownie points for helping, so be it. She was happy, and I’d reduced the chances of her wrapping the material around my neck and squeezing.
Stepping away from the sink, Caylee scooted up onto the clean bench, crossing her legs at her ankles. “We’re both adults, Cooper. Who you choose to . . .” She paused ever so slightly, her lips pursing as she searched for her next words. “Knock boots with is your business.”
“Knock boots?” I cocked my eyebrow, trying not to laugh.
“You know what I mean.” The indignation in her voice was cute.
As she glared at me for teasing, I had to admit, I loved seeing that fire in her eyes. Caylee Sawyer was definitely different from all the other women I’d been with recently. For the first time, I was actually having fun talking—fully clothed—no touching.
Who would’ve thought?
“But in case you need clarification, I could go the rest of my life never seeing that again.” A beautiful flush of crimson spread over her cheeks. “And before you say it, I’m not a prude. I’ll have you know I enjoy sex. Lots of it.” That last part made her stutter, her cheeks darkening with an even stronger blush.
Damn, how did we end up talking about this, and why the hell couldn’t I stop imagining what sex with her would be like?
My focus landed on her mouth, remembering how her tongue lightly touched her teeth and pressed against her bottom lip as she spoke. Caylee liked lots of sex. So did I. In an alternative universe, this would be where I made my move, kitchen duties forgotten when I stripped her bare and tasted her.
But this was the world we lived in, and temptation or not, these four walls would never see the two of us indulging our appetites.
The thought depressed me.
Steering the subject away from eminent danger, I handed her a plate, turning away as she twisted to place it in the cupboard by her head. I didn’t need to see the flash of skin from her top rising and revealing her stomach. What I needed was to keep myself firmly entre
nched in the friend zone and not entertain what it would be like to drag my tongue over her body.
I felt lecherous.
This was Owen’s wife.
Widow, I inwardly corrected, like clarifying it made some kind of difference.
“You okay? You disappeared again.” Concern skated across Caylee’s features. Her gaze dropped to my hands where I was tightly gripping another plate, my thumb pressing hard against the ceramic.
I chuckled to hide my embarrassment. “Yeah, I’m fine. I guess sometimes I get lost in thought.”
Accepting the dish, Caylee quickly stacked it with the others. “If I offered you a penny for them, would you share?”
My laughter turned into a choked splutter. I would rather have both eyes gouged out with a spork than reveal where my mind was dwelling. “It wouldn’t be worth your penny. You should hold on to it for something better,” I deflected, holding my breath.
Luckily, Caylee wasn’t the type to pout and use her feminine wiles to get her way. “Okay, I’ll do that.” Winking, she pretended to place her coin into her pocket, and I pretended I didn’t catch the smallest glimpse of her panties.
You’re a jackass, I chided, groaning silently. It was never a good sign when you realized you were incapable of controlling yourself—despite all your best efforts.
There were jokes about men who were led about by their dicks. Turns out, I was one of them.
Minutes ticked by. “Anyway, just so we’re clear, I’m sorry for making things uncomfortable between us,” I added, pulling the plug and draining the dirty water from the sink.
Hopping down from where she was perched, Caylee nodded. “Apology accepted. See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” She patted my arm, causing the muscle to automatically react and flex. “You ready to play cards?”
And just like that, everything was okay. “If you’re ready to get your butt beat at poker,” I replied.
“Oh, we’re not going to play poker. Rebecca has a better game.”
There was something about the mischievous smirk she wore that told me things were about to take a turn to the interesting. “Really?”
“Yep, and all it requires is your car keys,” Caylee answered, not giving away any other information. “Come on, let’s see if they’ve found the cards yet.” Grabbing my hand, she tugged me to follow her.
My skin prickled at the contact, but I didn’t pull away, letting her lead the way.
How dangerous could a card game be anyway?
****
Eyeing my keys currently in the bowl in the center of the table, I wasn’t quite sure I’d heard Rebecca right. “We’re playing what?”
“Go Fish, the Rebecca Freeman edition.” She grinned, walking around the chairs and placing a shot glass by each of us. “Trust me. You’re going to love it!” There was a heavy emphasis on the love.
“We play it all the time,” Caylee giggled, sitting on the edge of her seat. “The more people, the better.”
“And it requires us handing over our keys?” Marty asked, just as skeptical as me.
“Absolutely,” Rebecca beamed. She left the room for a moment, returning from the kitchen with a large bottle. “While we’re huge advocates of fun in this house, we’re equally big believers in not drinking and driving.” And with that, she slid back into her seat and passed the alcohol to Caylee. “Okay, rules of the game. Hopefully, you all know how to play Go Fish. We’ll go clockwise around—” Her brows furrowed. “I guess we’re sitting in a rough circle . . . or square.”
“Or squircle,” Caylee offered.
“Or cirquare,” I caught myself adding, the made up word feeling funny in my mouth.
“Exactly!” Rebecca’s smile lit up her face.
“And what does that have to do with it?” Marty asked, pointing to the funky liquid that shimmered as Caylee tipped the bottle back and forth.
I’d seen the drink at the store and always thought it was a girly version of hard liquor. Filling her shot glass, Caylee passed it to me, and I held it out, studying it. This was some seriously weird shit. I didn’t know whether there was actual glitter mixed in, but it sure as hell looked like it.
“Simple. Each time you’re told to Go Fish, you take a shot.”
The evening just got that much more appealing.
Marty lifted the bottle to his nose, sniffing it suspiciously before slowly pouring himself some. “I just have one comment. If I grow a vagina drinking this, I’m going to be pissed.”
If I’d had my mouth full, I’d have sprayed it everywhere. “Dude, you need to warn me when you say shit like that.”
“What?” he asked, glancing at me, baffled. “It’s a legit concern. Tell me you’re not worried this will veto your man card.”
“Suck it up, Buttercup,” Caylee retorted, grinning as she watched him twist his glass back and forth with open horror. “Real men don’t worry about a little glitter.”
“That’s usually because it’s attached to a stripper or something. Seriously, you don’t have anything more . . . testicle fortifying?”
That did it. “Testicle fortifying? What the fuck?” I spluttered. I wasn’t even drunk and I couldn’t believe this conversation.
Marty flipped me the bird. “Back me up here, Cooper.”
Lifting my hands, there was no way I was going to get involved judging by the way Rebecca seemed to swell in her chair, ready to explode all over Marty and his indignation. “I’m Switzerland.”
“Fine, deal the cards then,” he huffed, earning a laugh from everyone.
Leaning over to pat him gently on the arm, Rebecca’s tone sounded exactly how I talked to my Lola, my companion dog, when she obeyed. “There, that’s a good boy.”
Marty’s reluctant grin didn’t match Lola’s, though. “Whatever.”
Suddenly, a wicked thought surfaced. Picking up my cards, I arranged them in my hand by their suits. I knew it didn’t matter with this game, but it was still a habit. One of the ways I spent any down time in Afghanistan was playing with Owen and the guys. It was also where I learned to count cards. I didn’t mention it—not wanting to bring up the good memories I had from then. Anything that remotely touched on my time as a Marine was kept heavily locked away and guarded in my head.
One of the first things I realized once I’d gotten home was there was no talking of the positive without a deluge of the bad being loosened as well. It was as if they were all jumbled up together in my mind and accessing anything resulted in an avalanche of emotions. It was best to stuff it all down.
Safer.
For me—for everyone.
It wasn’t pretty when things fell apart.
“I’ll start,” I volunteered, pursing my lips in fake concentration. “Caylee, do you have a six?”
“Yes,” she exclaimed, sliding a card to me. Picking it up, it was a Jack. It was on the tip of my tongue to say something when I saw the look exchanged between Caylee and Rebecca. They were up to something. When her gaze darted from me to the bottle to Marty, I grinned. They were thinking exactly the same as I was. Without saying a word, the three of us formed an alliance—our target, Marty.
Caylee spoke next. “Rebecca, do you have a . . . five?”
“Damn, you’re good.” Slapping down the card, she passed it over to her roommate. “My turn. Marty . . .” Rebecca scrunched her eyes as she studied Marty. For our plan to work, she’d need to guess correctly. “Do you have . . . a . . . ten?”
Time seemed to stand still. Marty peered over his cards, giving away nothing. I was preparing to tell him to quit wasting time when he finally let out a frustrated sigh. “Here.” The relief was almost palpable. It was going to work. Rebecca accepted her new card with a smile, shifting in her seat.
“Okay, Cooper,” Marty drawled, licking the tip of his finger as he tried to pick what to ask for. “Do you have . . .” He glared at me hard, his attempt to read my mind. Cocking an eyebrow, I silently dared him to give it his best guess. “A queen?”
I
did, the Queen of Hearts. “Go. Fish.”
The look of perfect dread on his face was priceless. Amidst the whoops and hollers from the two girls, I didn’t feel guilty in the least for my deception as my best friend grabbed his shot glass. Hovering in front of his mouth, there was a slight tremble to his hand.
“Come on, big boy. Don’t tell me you’re scared of an itty bitty glitter drink,” Rebecca teased.
“I just want you to know that whatever happens next, the first one to call me Marcia, will get an ass-kicking from me.” He pointed to each of us. “I’m being serious. I’m doing this under duress.”
“Just shut up and drink,” I groaned, rolling my eyes at his theatrics. There was never a dull moment when Marty was in fine form. And right now, he was doing his version of flirting. “Trust me, you’ll still have that small excuse for a dick when you’re done.” It was only when Caylee gasped in shock that I realized I wasn’t hanging out with the guys. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I imagined my mom cringing.
“Oooooh, BURN!” Rebecca laughed, clapping her hands. “Come on, quit being a pussy.” It was my turn to be surprised, my eyes widening. Noticing my reaction, she added, unabashedly, “What? Do you think you’re the only one with a potty mouth?”
“I can vouch for that,” Caylee interjected. “Especially when she’s been drinking. Good-bye, sweet girl. Hello, sailor.”
Where most girls would be mortified, Rebecca took it as a compliment. “Just keeping it real, yo. Now, quit procrastinating, Guitar Boy.”
Dragging in a deep breath, Marty tipped his head back, downing the entire shot in one gulp. With his Adam’s apple bobbing, he cupped his crotch and lightly squeezed. His reassurance that all was well between his legs was comical.
“And?” I asked.
His eyes were still closed, but I swore he looked like he’d just faced his greatest fear and won. “And what?”
“What’s it taste like? Stick your tongue out. Does it sparkle?” I couldn’t help myself.
“You’ll know soon enough, asshole. It’s your turn.”
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