by Cassie Cross
“Your words, not mine.” I shouldn’t have said that, but a small part of me is glad that I did. In order to keep my mouth occupied before I slip up and say more things that I have no business saying, I take a bite of the sandwich, which is just…delicious. I try the potatoes, and they’re awesome too. “You’ve perfected the BLT, Nate. And this potato salad is so good.”
“I’m glad you like it,” he says. “It’s my grandmother’s recipe.”
“Really?” Even though I just watched him make the food that we’re eating, I’m having difficulty reconciling this rugged man in front of me with the kind of person who talks about making potato salad from his grandmother’s recipe. I picture him in his kitchen at home, wearing an apron and whipping up some recipe from his childhood. The thought of it makes me grin.
“What, you don’t believe me?”
“I was just picturing you wearing an apron, that’s all.”
“I have one, you know,” he says as he spears a few potatoes with his fork.
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”
“It has ‘Caution: Extremely Hot’ written across the chest.” He’s completely serious, but he’s smiling at me anyway.
I cover my mouth with my hand as I laugh, and his eyes linger on mine as my smile fades. Sometimes the way he looks at me is so intense that I’m not sure whether I should wrap my arms around him or run away.
“We should eat,” he says, nodding towards my plate.
We slip into an easy silence through our meal, occasionally teasing, occasionally making small talk. It’s not until we both finish that we have any semblance of a real conversation.
“That was the best sandwich I’ve ever had,” I tell him as I fold up my napkin and place it on the table.
“Ever?” he asks, looking a little surprised and a lot pleased with himself.
“Well, my mom did make me this grilled cheese once…but that was a close second.” I take a sip of wine and then lean back in my chair. “So, what do you do when you’re not making BLTs?”
“I bought my first house a year ago,” he says, pushing his plate away from him so there’s room for him to rest his elbows on the table. “It’s in a nice neighborhood and all, but it really needed some fixing up. I’m about halfway done now, but I spend a lot of my free time working on it. I recruit my friends to help me with the promise of free pizza and beer. I’ve become friendly with most of the people at Home Depot.”
“And you’ve managed to stay out of the emergency room,” I tease.
He laughs. “So far. When I’m not doing that, sometimes I head out to the lake near my house. I’ll send a text to my buddies, and half the time we wind up hanging out there. We go swimming, drink a little. What about you?”
“My life is boring compared to yours.”
“Doubtful. No home improvements to keep you busy?”
I shake my head. “I’ve been staying with my mom since the breakup. I intended for it to be temporary. I mean, it is temporary, I just haven’t…you know.” He’s just going to let me keep rambling, so I make myself stop before he starts judging me or something. “I read a lot, do market research. I like to bake, although I haven’t really been doing much of that lately. I work a lot. Like, a lot a lot.” I shake my head and take another sip of wine. “God, I sound pathetic.”
“No you don’t. You sound like someone whose life changed and you just haven’t caught up to it yet.”
I grin because that’s such a nice way of looking at it. I like the way Nate looks at life. I like the way he looks at me. “Thanks.”
I reach back and pull my hair up off the back of my neck. It’s a warm night—the warmest by far since I’ve been here—and I kind of want to go inside to get some relief.
“You know,” Nate says, leaning toward me and resting his elbows on his knees. “Gabby and Ben aren’t going to be back for hours. What do you have planned for the rest of the night?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Nothing yet.”
With a mischievous glint in his eye, he asks, “Feel like going swimming?”
THE WRIGHTS have an indoor pool, because Nate was right; this place really is a self-contained entertainment environment. The pool is fairly large, too, and I’m surprised I hadn’t noticed it here before. It makes me wonder what else Amy and Jack have hidden in this house. A movie theater? A bowling alley? I want to ask, but I’m afraid that the words would come out wrong, like I’m somehow making fun of their wealth. So I keep my mouth shut.
There are dim lights along the walls next to the windows, and the lights inside the pool are dim, too. The low lighting creates a romantic type of atmosphere that I’m not entirely sure that I’m comfortable with, and that’s not because I don’t want to get romantic with Nate, but more because I do. The more I’m around him, the more I want it. And that’s dangerous, that’s bad. That’s everything I promised myself I wouldn’t do, especially if I’m going to make it out of the next four days unscathed. I can enjoy myself when I’m with him, I just can’t let myself get in too deep.
“I like your suit,” he says, offering me a mischievous grin. Again, it’s like he knows what I’m thinking and wants me to stop thinking so much.
I look down at my simple red bikini, as if I’ve forgotten what it is that I’m wearing. “Thanks,” I tell him. “I like yours too.”
They’re blue swim trunks, nothing really special. But they hang low on his waist, and because he doesn’t have a shirt on I can ogle his abs, which are…incredible. I want to tell him that, but I don’t.
Nate quickly looks down, as if he’s forgotten what he was wearing too. “You’re lucky I decided to forego the banana hammock for you today.”
I laugh. “I appreciate that.” Although I’m sure if anyone can make that look good, it’s him.
The water in the pool is very warm, and Nate and I are standing together in the shallow end, the water close to our knees. I take a few steps forward and he follows suit, until we’re waist-deep. I skim my fingers across the surface of the water, enjoying the soft feel of it on my fingertips. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a pool, and this memory of my father and me swimming pops into my mind. Unlike most of the other memories I have of him, this one makes me smile.
“What are you thinking about?” Nate asks.
“My dad,” I tell him, not even stopping to think about whether sharing this would be a good idea. About whether I even want to. It seems my mouth has made up my mind for me. I want him to know, although I’m not sure why. “We used to go swimming a lot when I was a kid,” I say. Nate’s looking at me like I’m telling the most interesting story he’s ever heard, which encourages me to continue. “He used to do this thing where he’d crouch down in the water and I’d put my feet on his shoulders. He’d grip my ankles and then he’d pop up and throw me across the pool. It was fun.”
Nate smiles. I get the feeling that he’s glad I shared with him, but I can also tell he knows exactly what I’m talking about.
“Madeline likes to do that too.”
“A girl after my own heart.”
A few seconds later, Nate dives into the water and swims into the deep end, about ten feet away from me. When he comes up, he treads water.
“You should come down this way,” he says. “The water’s clear, so you can see we don’t have an eel infestation.”
I bring my hand up to rub the back of my neck. It’s so difficult for me to stay away from him, especially with the promise of his wet skin just waiting for me at the other end of the pool. I want to put my hands all over him, it’s almost like a sickness how badly I want it.
“Are you afraid of getting your hair wet?”
“No!” I yell, half laughing. Just to show him how not afraid to get my hair wet I am, I dive under the water and swim over, giving his foot a gentle tug before I surface right in front of him, so we’re facing each other.
“You look good,” he says, giving me one of those smiles that makes me feel like my heart tr
ipped and flipped and fell on its ass.
“You are so smooth.”
“I’m not trying to be smooth. I mean it.”
I roll my eyes.
“Why can’t I just give you a compliment?” he asks.
I look at him for a long while, and I don’t know that I have an answer for him. I swim over to the side of the pool, because suddenly my heart feels so heavy that I’m not sure I can stay afloat anymore. Nate follows.
“Callie,” he says, very softly.
My back is pressed against the shiny blue tiles that line the perimeter, and I’m looking down at my hands, all distorted by the water. He grips the concrete edge of the pool, one hand on either side of my head. He’s got me boxed in, but I don’t feel threatened by it. He’s close, but I could swim away if I wanted to.
The thing is, I don’t want to.
“He really did a number on you, didn’t he?” Nate says, not even trying to hide his anger. “You’re still torn up over it.” And the way the words come out, they’re a statement of fact. I have to set the record straight.
“I’m not torn up over it,” I tell him, looking him right in the eyes. And that’s the truth. I mean, it’s part of the truth, but things aren’t that simple.
“Callie-”
“I’m not. See, the thing is that I thought this would be us, you know? Me and Ethan getting married. Having a wedding, spending the rest of our lives together. I thought that’s where we were headed. I let myself believe I had forever with him, and then I came home and found him in bed with another woman. In our bed. And I just…I couldn’t believe it.”
“Cheating isn’t usually about the sex,” he says, like that matters at all.
“That doesn’t make it any better, Nate. That makes it worse.”
He nods, looking down, and I’m not sure if he doesn’t say anything because he wants me to keep going or because he just doesn’t know what else to say. There’s a part of me that’s ready to say this, to admit it out loud, and I want to admit it to him.
“Six months later, it’s not the sex that bothers me. Well, not really. It’s that I never thought he could do something like that to me. I didn’t think he was even capable of it. I was supposed to be the person who knew him better than anyone else, and I wonder how deep would I have gotten before I found out? Would we have gotten married? Would we have had children? How long would it have taken me to figure out that I didn’t know him at all? That’s what scares the hell out of me. So it’s not about him, you know? It’s about me. I don’t trust myself to know who it’s safe to give my heart to.”
Nate takes a deep breath, and his face is so full of understanding that I could cry. He reaches up and pushes a strand of hair behind my ear, and his expression is so tender that I can’t help but press my cheek into the palm of his hand and close my eyes. He makes me feel safe, and I don’t know if it’s right, but I want to allow myself the comfort that he offers, even though that’s so dangerous. It would be so easy for me to let myself fall in love with him. So easy to let him in. So easy for him to break my heart.
Nate’s hand slides down the side of my neck, and he traces the strap of my swimsuit with his fingertip. I can feel the trail of heat his touch leaves all the way down in my toes. “You won’t ever know who it’s safe to give your heart to. Falling in love is a risk.”
I laugh bitterly. “I think it’s well documented that I’m not much of a risk taker.”
He smiles, putting his hand back on the edge of the pool. “Not every guy is like Ethan.”
I know he’s dying to tell me that he isn’t like Ethan, but he doesn’t do that. I don’t know why his silence makes me believe him more than his words ever could, but everything in my brain is just a big swirl of confusion right now.
“But some guys are, Nate. How will I know the difference?”
He waits for me to look into his eyes before he speaks. “You’ll feel it.”
He says the words with conviction, and I want to believe him. I do know that I feel something when I’m with him, and I’m not sure whether it’s something I can’t name or something I just don’t want to name. Whatever it is though, it’s driving me crazy; it’s making me want to run in ten directions at once.
Nate’s leg brushes against mine, and all of a sudden I can feel his chest pressing against me. I’m not sure if he moved closer or if I did, but that doesn’t really matter anyway. I move my leg so that my foot presses up against the wall behind me because I need some leverage, and as I’m moving my thigh brushes up against his erection. He inhales a sharp, quick breath at the contact, looking at me with intensity behind his eyes that sends a nervous rush through me. And the truth is that I’m so tired of trying to sort out these feelings. I want Nate to feel; I want to be taken out of the equation, just for a little while.
Before I can talk myself out of all the reasons why this is a very bad idea, I wrap my legs around the backs of Nate’s thighs in order to hold myself up. I slide my hand across his shoulder and wrap my arm around his neck, then slide my other hand down his chest, gently grazing his skin with my fingernails. The contact makes his eyelids flutter. He reaches up to touch my face, but when I look at him, he knows that I need him to let me drive this. He knows that I need him to just put his hand back on the side of the pool. So, he does.
I want to kiss him so badly, but if I do I know I’ll never stop. I’ll get so lost that I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to find my way back again. I’m not sure that I’d want to, and that scares the hell out of me.
I run my fingertips along the waistband of Nate’s swim trunks, and his muscles contract beneath my touch. I like teasing him, making him wait. But I’m not doing this to be cruel, so it’s not long before I slip my hand below the fabric and glide my palm along the length of his erection. I clasp my hand around him and slide it down. Nate’s head rolls to the side, his perfect, stubbly jaw on offer for my kisses. I press my lips there, then gently nip at his chin, drawing a low kind of growl from him that spurs me on. I take another pass downward and he bucks his hips into my hand, needing more friction. His breath quickens as I move, and my eyes meet his. He tilts his head and moves forward just a bit, wanting to kiss me, but I look down because I can’t let myself do that right now. I focus my attention on what I’m doing, and when my thumb skims over the tip of Nate’s dick, his eyes squeeze shut. The water makes everything more sensitive for me, so I can imagine how much better this feels for him.
“Callie,” he says, whispering my name. He presses his forehead against mine, and I can feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek. His lips are right there, and I manage to have the willpower to not taste him. I manage to go against every instinct that’s coursing through my body, and somehow this—touching him like this and not kissing him—is the sexiest thing I’ve ever done.
Still stroking him, I slide my other hand up the back of his neck and lightly scratch my nails against along his scalp. I remember that he liked it the first night we were together in Dallas, and he likes it now. I can tell by the way his breathing picks up and his muscles loosen. It’s like he can’t hold his head up anymore and he brings it to rest on my shoulder as I push him higher and higher.
“Nate, are you in here?”
Shit—it’s Jessa.
His name echoes throughout the room, and his head snaps back in an instant. I pull my hand away from him and duck under his arm. Jessa walks over right as I’m pulling myself up onto the pool deck, and I’m thankful she had the foresight to call out his name before she walked in here.
“Hey Callie,” she says, offering me a smile.
I smile back at her as I pick up a towel and wrap it around myself. My heart is pounding so hard in my chest that I can practically see it thrumming beneath my skin. “Hey,” I reply, pushing back the growing wave of disappointment that Nate and I were interrupted.
“What’s up?” Nate asks. His voice is kind of gravely; it’s huskier than usual. I wonder if Jessa notices the difference.
/> “Mom was looking for you, she wanted you to help her move some tables. I’ll just tell her you’re busy.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “I was just going to head back to my room. I’m feeling a little tired.”
Nate sighs. “I’ll be right there.”
Jessa walks out, and I tug the towel tighter around me as I look over at Nate. His arms are crossed on the side of the pool, his forehead pressed against his arm, looking down. Maybe I should say something, but I don’t. I just turn and walk away.
WHILE NATE and I were having dinner, Amy moved my things into the last spare bedroom that was available in the main house. It just so happens to be right at the beginning of the hallway that leads to Nate’s room. I’d only spent a few minutes in here earlier when I changed into my swimsuit, and honestly, I don’t really want to be in here right now. I want to be back at the pool with Nate. I regret leaving the way that I did; I regretted it the second that I walked away.
I reek of chlorine, and every time I smell it I remember the way Nate looked at me when I was touching him. Those kinds of memories make it impossible for me to think straight, so I walk into the bathroom and turn on the faucet. Once the water is hot enough, I strip off my suit and step into the shower.
Under the warm, relaxing water, my mind drifts back to Nate, to what we just did. Or what I just did, I guess. I don’t know why I feel so drawn to him; it’s completely ridiculous. I’ve known him less than a week. The thing is, I love talking to him and being around him. It’s stupid for me to try to ignore that, isn’t it? But when I’m around him, I just want to kiss him. I want to talk to him for hours. I want to wake up with him, I want to share my bed with him. I remember feeling the same way with Ethan, even though those things didn’t come nearly as quickly.
Nate was right, not everyone is like Ethan. Maybe Nate wouldn’t cheat on me, but maybe he’d leave like my dad did. Or maybe things just wouldn’t work out between us for whatever reason. That would hurt just as much.