Wrecking Ball (Hard To Love Book 1)

by P. Dangelico

  “Cool,” Sam answers enthusiastically. I watch Calvin’s eyes move between Sam and me, his brow doctored with confusion. I type back my response and put the phone away.

  “Who’s Mr. Miller?” says the big dude who’s been taking up a lot of space in my head lately. His tone, I don’t fail to note, is a tad suspicious.

  “Derrick’s dad. Derrick’s my new friend and his dad is real nice and he’s helping us play better,” Sam answers in one long breath. Calvin places his fork down and crosses his arms. This new information displeases him. Before his mood can get traction, I cut in.

  “I’d love for you to come.” My breath comes to a screeching halt when I realize I just used the word ‘love’. The serious expression Calvin was wearing a second ago disappears, replaced by…he looks happy. He looks happy and I get happy, too. This is really bad.

  By the time we reach the park the next day, Jason and Derrick Miller are already waiting for us. Standing on the basketball court, stretching, Jason Miller beams a thousand watt smile at me that gives me pause. I sincerely hope he’s not getting any amorous ideas because I am definitely not interested. He’s a great guy and all, but there’s another great guy that has been haunting my dreams every single night, and I need to deal with excising him from my head before I can even consider how I feel about dating again.

  “Wanna play two on two today?” Jason asks with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Groan. That better not be what I think it is…blatant male sexual interest.

  I glance at Sam, who nods. “Sure,” I answer with a tight lipped smile. I’m warming up when I hear the bling of an incoming text.

  Where are you?

  It’s from Cal. Why do people forget simple manners when they’re texting? I text back.

  At the park. Oh hey, how are you? Having a good day, Shrek?

  A second later.

  Shrek? What park?

  Hmmm. My fingers fly across the screen.

  The one off Hillside Ave.

  Ten minutes later I spot the Range Rover pulling into the parking lot. Da heck…

  Rendered mute by the sight of the big guy jogging toward us in his workout gear, all I can do is stare. As usual, he draws all the attention; everybody at the busy park is suddenly elbowing the person next to them and gawking. Calvin stops less than a foot from me, his expression neutral. I don’t have a clue what to expect. His gaze moves between my lips and eyes, and a prickle of discomfort crawls over my skin. It’s clear we are an item of intense interest and it sets me on edge. Then he turns to Jason, who’s staring back at us in total confusion, and says, “Sup,” accompanied by a short nod.

  Sup? “What are you doing here?” I do my best to contain the smile that’s threatening to spread across my face. And then the s-h-i-t hits the fan because he swoops down and smacks a kiss on my lips.

  Huh? I might as well have stepped in front of a freight train because, at present, it definitely feels like I just got hit by one. Stiff as corpse, I don’t move a muscle while Calvin extends a hand at Jason and hooks a heavy arm around my shoulders like it’s been living there its whole life.

  “Calvin Shaw, Sam’s uncle.” It takes Jason a second to snap out of his confusion but who can blame him––it’ll take me a heck of a lot longer. I glance briefly at Sam and find him grinning at me, grinning.

  “Jason Miller, Derrick’s dad.”

  Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Now Jason is fangirling. Calvin shakes Derrick’s hand and Derrick gives him a shy little smile in return.

  “Do you like football, Derrick?”

  Although he keeps smiling, Derrick’s timid gaze falls to the rock he’s nudging with his toe.

  “Whata ya say, Derrick,” Jason gently prods.

  Derrick nods, and Calvin adds, “Would you like to come to a home game this season as my guest?”

  Oh Jeez, the bright excited look on Derrick’s face feels like a punch to the sternum. I rub the ache.

  “I have your jersey,” Derrick softly says and Calvin smiles.

  Slay me now.

  Thirty minutes later, Calvin is exchanging numbers with Special Agent Jason Miller of the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s New York office, some serious man love developing between him and the dude that kissed me. The four males ended up playing while I bit my lip and wrung my hands in a state of high anxiety that one of them would end up in the emergency room.

  Calvin drapes his arm over my shoulder while he says his goodbyes and Jason’s gaze goes straight to the hand hanging loosely over my breast. Instantly, my face goes up in flames. All this touching is making me crazy. I’m constantly wavering between turned on, craving it, and complete embarrassment. On the way back to the cars, I decide to get to the bottom of this strange new behavior.

  “What’s with the moves, Don Juan?” I whisper.

  “Doing my part to sell this thing. Don’t look so disgusted.”

  “I’m not disgusted!” I’m shouting. I’m shouting, emphatically disputing that his kisses do not gross me out. The smile flirting at the corners of Cal’s lips tells me I am a class A sucker. Time for a change of topic.

  “You could’ve hurt yourself. Can’t you just take it easy for once?”

  “I don’t do losing.”

  “Ever? Even if it’s for your own good?”

  “Even if it kills me.”

  “Cam?” Sam yawns loudly. It’s late but he wanted to read one more chapter of Harry Potter, and I didn’t have the heart to say no.

  “Yeah?” I say, reaching to turn off Sam’s bedside lamp.

  “Are you going to marry my uncle?”

  “Why would you ask that?”

  “I saw you kissing.”

  Umm, this is awkward.

  “Not everybody that kisses gets married, Sam.”

  “’Cause if you do, maybe I can live with you guys.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can live here…for good.”

  “What about your Mom? She’d really miss you.”

  “No––she wouldn’t.”

  I take a moment to decide how to handle this very delicate situation. “Sam, you’re Mom is sick. You know that, right?”

  “Uh huh, she says she can’t help it. Why can’t she help it?”

  “I’m not an expert, but I know that your grandmother had the same sickness.”

  “Does that mean I’ll get it, too?”

  “No. Your uncle doesn’t have it. But I’m not a doctor so maybe we can find one to explain it to us. Would you like that?” He nods vigorously. “Okay, tomorrow we’ll talk to your uncle about it.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Of all the holidays, the Fourth of July has always been my favorite. Hot summer nights, sparkly fireworks, a sense of togetherness, of common ground. Have you ever heard anyone say ‘I hate the Fourth of July’? No, you haven’t. Know why? Because nothing bad ever happens on the Fourth. Everybody’s too busy having fun.

  It’s still early afternoon when we head over to my parents’ house. I glance at the man sitting in the driver’s seat. He’s wearing a simple white polo and long khaki shorts. His hair is getting longish again. Sam is in the backseat wearing the Beats headphones that Cal brought home for him the other day, watching The Secret Life of Pets and giggling every two seconds.

  It all looks so domestic. Like we’re a regular family going to a barbecue. My spirits sink to the bottom of the shitter when I realize Amanda will be here any day now to pick up Sam and I’ll be…who the hell knows where I’ll be.

  “Why do you look like that?” His voice is gentle, concerned.

  “I’m going to miss you.”

  Just like that, it comes flying out of my mouth. I watch his nostrils flare and his pouty mouth pinch. Great––I’ve embarrassed him. He doesn’t know how to respond to my mopey confession. The silence grows excruciatingly uncomfortable. Though, thankfully, I don’t have to bear it for too long since we’re only a block away. He parks the Range Rover on the street and we head over, walking arou
nd the side of the small saltbox house I grew up in.

  In contrast, my parents’ back yard is quite large, the first reason why they always host the Fourth. The second reason is that we get a perfect view of the fireworks celebration the town holds every year, and the third is my father’s green thumb.

  “Wow,” Calvin offers when we step into the backyard. My father could give Martha Stewart a run for her money. The landscaping is meticulously cultivated, every flower imaginable in full bloom. I notice this year all the flowers are white. And then I stop noticing the flowers because every head in the area, from my estimation fifty or so, swivels in our direction. My face goes up in flames while the man standing next to me remains one cool customer.

  Cal drapes an extra muscular arm over my shoulders, pulling me closer, and my color goes from hot pink to tomato red in seconds. And that arm…sweet Jezuz that arm. It wraps around me like a security blanket, the heat of it sinking all the way to my bones. I want to lean in so badly it hurts. I want to wrap my arms around his waist, tuck into his big hard body, and bask in the comfort. But I don’t. I can’t. Because I’m a fugazi girlfriend. I don’t have a right to lean, touch, think, consider, or have any kind of feelings for him. That truth needs to get straight in my head.

  Standing with my father and a passel of other males I don’t recognize––some young, some old––is Amber. Her face goes from joy to surprise to confusion in a span of seconds. Then it spirals down to suspicion. Her refined features contort into a really cute scowl. She raises her Amstel bottle at us in salutation.

  My mother approaches us beaming, and I mean beaming. “Camilla Ava Maria you didn’t tell me you were bringing your…” This is priceless. Ange looks momentarily perplexed as to how to address Calvin.

  “Boyfriend,” he adds, coming to her rescue with a smile. Yes, an honest to goodness smile, a real one. And as I stare at it, my heart does strange things inside my chest that it’s not supposed to. Ange gives him her toothiest grin in return. Gawd, I can practically hear her drawing up the wedding list in her head.

  “Let me get you something to drink. What can I offer you Calvin?” she says ushering us further into the backyard.

  “That’s alright, Mrs. DeSantis. We’ll help ourselves,” Prince Charming replies.

  Da hell? Who is this guy? I turn and give him ‘the look’. The look that says, ‘What the hell are you doing?’ Having seen it often enough by now, he knows what it means.

  “There are beers in the first cooler and soft drinks in the other. Let Tom know what you feel like eating and how you want it cooked.”

  “We got it, Ma, thanks,” I say interrupting. I push Calvin in the direction of the grill and watch his six. I’m afraid that if I leave him alone with Angelina for a single second, she may start measuring him for a tux. The crowd congregated around the grill goes completely silent as we walk up. Yup, Tom is wearing his Mr. Hot Stuff apron again.

  “Well if it isn’t Persephone and her date,” Amber drawls with a smirk.

  My eyebrows nearly reach my hairline. “Amber,” I mutter. I have to give Calvin credit, all he does is raise a black eyebrow and smile.

  “How do you feel, Dad?”

  “Your mother replaced my french fries with kale chips. How do you think I feel?”

  “Sir,” he says, extending a hand at my father.

  Tom wipes his hand before reaching for Cal’s. “Good to see you again. What can I offer you? Sirloin? Hamburgers? These are my friends by the way.” An explosion of voices erupts as they all come forward at once to shake Cal’s hand. Up until now all the males around us were silently gawking, now they’re flat out fangirling.

  Twenty minutes later, Tom has somehow wrangled Cal into manning the grill while they argue the merits of the new unsportmanlike conduct rule. The men congregating around them hang on Cal’s every word as if they’ve just witnessed the second coming.

  “You’re falling in love with him.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement of fact. Or at least, Amber seems to think so. Raising a beer bottle to her lips, she takes a sip and skewers me with her x-ray vision. I meet her gaze head on (can’t show any fear with Amber). Then we both turn to watch the man in question from our perch on the deck.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not in love with him.”

  “Then what is it? Mad cow disease? Pharmaceuticals? Because you have that vacant, blissed out look on your face every time your eyes land on him.”

  “Really?” At this, Amber gives me an exaggerated eye roll. I cringe in return. “Do you think he’s noticed?”

  Shrugging, she says, “Probably. He’s not stupid.”

  No, he’s not, damn it. “At most, it’s a teeny tiny nothing little crush. I’ll get over it.”

  “Hmm.”

  “He kissed me”

  “Did he?” she drawls with a haughty arch of a blond brow.

  “He’s a face holder.”

  “Shit, I love that.”

  “Me, too.”

  “He’s looking this way. He’s smiling––don’t smile back.” Amber’s hazel eyes furtively check me out. “I said don’t smile back.”

  “Too late.” Calvin’s warm gaze holds mine and I can’t look away. I can’t stop the warmth spreading inside my chest that tugs the corner’s of my lips up.

  Her defeated sigh gets my attention. “What are you going to do?”

  “Enjoy it while I can. I won’t be seeing him anymore in a couple of weeks anyway.”

  She nods.

  “You want us to drive you back to the city?” I offer.

  “Na, I called Uber.” Her gaze falls on the label she’s busy picking at. Then she glances sideways and adds, “Got a date.”

  My eyes slam into hers. She looks away first. This is the first time in years Amber’s been on a date. Joy explodes in my chest. “Wanna tell me about it?”

  “Not yet…I’ll let you know if there’s a second one.”

  “Okay,” I say curling my lips around my teeth. The force of the smile threatening to grow could seriously break my face in two.

  “Ugh, don’t look so damn happy. It’s one date.”

  She gets up and pours out what’s left of her beer. Grabbing my face, she smacks a kiss on my cheek. “See ya. Gotta go say goodbye to Ange and Tom.”

  “Have fun!” I sound downright giddy. In return, she gives me her surliest look.

  Calvin is still talking to the guys around him. Heads above everyone else, it’s impossible to miss him. I cannot be developing a crush on a man that is using me as a safeguard against other women. To distract myself, I start cleaning up the deck. I need to keep busy. But more importantly, I need to keep my eyes off the incredibly hot guy I live with.

  An hour later, night has fallen and the fireworks set to begin shortly. Did I mention I love fireworks? Was there ever a more romantic scene on film than Heath Ledger silently pining for the love of his life––one very sexy rodeo cowboy––while fireworks go off in the background? That’s a rhetorical question, there isn’t. Back to me, though.

  At the perimeter of the yard, away from everyone else, I park myself in an empty lawn chair and watch my Dad play a game of bocce with Sam. They’re both laughing at something, the huge grin Sam’s wearing on his adorable face so infectious it makes me smile too.

  “Hey.” My attention turns to one very tall man loping in my direction. “Hiding?” Hands in his pockets, his stride is as relaxed as his expression. The smile I see on those lips that I know are soft and sweet makes me sick. Yes, you heard it right. I said sick. Because I crave it. I want it all for myself, and that isn’t going to happen. Conjuring full sentences is becoming difficult when I have the object of my fascination standing this close, so I resort to a headshake.

  “I think Tom made some cash tonight. How many autographs did you have to sign?”

  An honest to goodness smile spreads across his face. He’s been doing a lot of that lately. “He cut them off at thirty.”

  “He definitely p
imped you out.”

  Shrugging, Calvin says, “I don’t mind. Two were season ticket holders.” Then he throws that championship winning body down in the nylon chair next to me. It’s a miracle it doesn’t split in two––although the chair does protest with a loud groan.

  As luck would have it, it’s clear tonight, the sky a perfect blank canvas for the show that’s about to begin. A minute later, everything goes dark and suddenly my senses are on steroids. I can feel the bead of sweat crawling down between my breasts. I can smell the sweet scent of the honeysuckle hedge right behind us. I can even hear each relaxed breath the large man sitting next to me takes.

  The first candle is lit. A red ball of sparkles explodes over us. Glancing sideways, I catch his profile illuminated by the red glow in the night sky. He’s beautiful…there’s no arguing that. What’s even better is that he’s wonderful.

  “You’re a good man.” The words come tumbling out of my mouth. Good grief, I’m turning into a love struck teenager. Calvin turns to look at me, his expression neutral, his thoughts unreadable. “Don’t ever believe otherwise.”

  His hand covers mine on the armrest of the chair. When my gaze falls on it, I expect him to remove it but he doesn’t. He holds it ‘til the sky turns smoky from the tail end of the fireworks. And I can’t help but think that this, this is the most romantic scene I’ve ever witnessed.

  “So that went better than expected,” I mention while the three of us walk around the side of the house, headed for the car. “Bob only managed to cop a single feel this time.”

  Calvin’s head whips around, his expression a mix of surprise and anger. “You better be joking.”

  “Camilla.”

  The smile I was wearing a second ago melts right off my face. Standing a few feet to my left, walking up my parents’ driveway, is Barbara Blake––Matt’s mother. She’s holding a manila envelope. Her bright blue eyes narrow a touch as her gaze settles on Calvin. My body goes stone cold. The perceptive man standing next to me doesn’t miss a thing. His strong, warm fingers lace through mine, the feeling so unbelievably good that for a second I forget I should be nervous.