He pins me in a gaze the color of lush green grass and I know, from that spot deep inside me, that he’s telling me the truth about everything. Bobby’s total honesty in every moment is a big part of what I love about him.
I lie back, turning onto my side to face him. I keep my mouth shut this time. He’s not finished; I can feel it.
He slowly rolls until we are face-to-face.
“I’d hate Len if he had a clue he was fucking doing the wrong thing. But he doesn’t. He’s a good guy. Just wrong most of the time. In his own warped way, what you heard was Len Rowan trying to be a stand-up man for you.”
I crinkle my nose. “Really?”
A spark of humor flashes in his eyes. “Yep. Sad, but true.” I smile and he touches my face, causing me to melt into the play of his fingers. “Please, don’t take this the wrong way. It’s the first thing Len’s done in a long time that I sort of respect him for. I can’t hate him for thinking you deserve the best. No way. It’s how I feel. I love you.”
Holy shit.
Now he says it?
This is so not the way I imagined the first time a guy would say those words to me.
He starts to brush my jawline with his thumb and lightly traces my face with his kisses. “I love you, Kaley. Don’t you have anything to say to me?”
I ease into his mouth. “I love you, too.”
I kiss him in a slow, deep, tongue-swirling way that makes the heat turn up in me even after our argument. It doesn’t take long before I’m pushing into him. He’s pushing into me. I grind into him and he’s hard and straining against his sweatpants. And it’s back inside me, too: that burning need because I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
I break the kiss, breathing heavily, and rest my face against his chin. “Since we got that cleared up and we love each other, does that mean this fight is over and we’re going to Santa Cruz so we can pop each other’s cherry?”
His eyes go from passion-glazed to wide open. “What did you say?”
I peek at him.
I try really hard not to.
I can’t help it.
I roll onto my back, laughing uproariously and hugging my stomach. The laughter is good. It blocks out the pulsing in my sex, probably better than a cold shower would.
Bobby covers his face with his hand, and from what I can see between his fingers I’m not sure if he’s laughing or grimacing.
Bang.
“It doesn’t take ten minutes to get your shoes, boy. Out of there. Now.”
Bobby stands up and grabs the keys from the nightstand. He looks down at his groin, groans, and plucks at the fabric covering his dick.
“Fuck. Stop laughing, Kaley. This isn’t funny. If you loved me you wouldn’t laugh. I’m in pain here.”
CHAPTER 11
I swipe open my phone and read through the last series of texts from Zoe. This is either going to work or it’s not. How the fuck did it work for Zoe? She’s already at the end of the driveway waiting in her car for me.
I click off my phone, lie back on my bed and groan.
Crap. This is stupid.
It will never work.
But it is the best plan we came up with last night.
It’s not even my plan.
It’s Zoe’s.
It has to be doomed to failure. That Zoe thought of this should tell me not to attempt it, but my procrastination in getting permission for the Santa Cruz trip from Chrissie has made it pretty much unavoidable if I want to be in the car next to Bobby today.
If I ask Chrissie this morning, straight up, if I can go the answer is going to be no. Mom hates short notice, and even if I’d ask two weeks ago like Bobby wanted me to I’m pretty sure she would have said no anyway.
I take in a deep breath.
Fuck, I’m trying it.
I’ve got nothing to lose.
It’s the only plan I have.
I lug my duffel to the kitchen. Mom is sitting at the table with her morning coffee. Alone. Perfect. Lourdes would see through this in half a second. Krystal would, too, but unlike the housekeeper, my sister wouldn’t keep her mouth shut. She’d call me out on it.
I drop my bag heavily on the floor then quickly turn to pour a cup of coffee so my back is to Chrissie.
“Good morning, Kaley,” I hear my mom say from behind me. “You’re up early. What’s with the suitcase?”
My cheeks heat. Fuck. I hate lying and I’m not any good at it. I take a moment to stir creamer into my coffee, trying to slow my heartbeat.
I calmly turn around and face my mom with my best duh, you’ve got to be kidding expression. “Big Bear. Snowboarding. With the Kennedys. Over the holiday. Until Sunday. Remember?”
Chrissie frowns. “No. I don’t. What are you talking about?”
I groan in frustration. “We talked about this.”
“No, we didn’t.”
I flounce across the kitchen and drop down heavily on a chair. “I can’t believe you forgot. Are you telling me I can’t go now? I promised Zoe.”
Chrissie’s eyes widen. “I’m not telling you anything because I don’t know anything about this.”
I grab my phone. “Fine. I’ll just call Zoe and tell her I’m not coming.”
I tap in the password. Shit, my mom’s not stopping me. Good one, Zoe. I should never have listened to her. Oh, a new text from Zoe opens on the screen.
Zoe: Make sure if your Mom decides to call to check on things that she calls only my dad. Only my dad. Don’t forget. This is important.
I quickly close the text box. I change course. “It’s not fair that I have to stick around just because you forgot about something I asked you about weeks ago.”
“We never discussed this,” Chrissie repeats more insistently.
“Well, can I go?”
“Snowboarding.” She frowns, shaking her head as she folds up her newspaper. “Since when are you into snowboarding?”
“I’m not. Zoe is going to teach me. She doesn’t want to be stuck on the slopes with her dad alone for the holidays. I promised. I’m her only friend and now I have to ditch her—”
I cut off dramatically.
OK, that was putting it on a little thick.
Fuck, did I overplay this?
Blue eyes stare unwaveringly into mine. I fight not to lower my gaze first—a dead giveaway I’m fibbing. Crap, I hope my cheeks aren’t burnish red. It feels like they’re on freaking fire.
Chrissie tilts her head and holds out her hand. “Fine. Give me the phone. If it checks out, you can go.”
Really?
I try not to be overly happy. I put my cell in her palm. “Call Mr. Kennedy.”
Chrissie taps through my contacts and frowns. “Ian?”
“He’s the one taking us.”
“Why is Zoe going alone with her dad? Where’s Yotti?”
Crap, suspicious again.
It sucks that all our parents know each other.
I shrug. “Her mom is in Bermuda. Mrs. Kennedy bailed last minute. I think they had a fight or something. Zoe is really sad.”
“Oh,” my mom says, conveying she’s not at all surprised by that creative factoid.
Good one, Zoe. That part worked brilliantly.
My mom sets the phone on the table and hits speaker. Ring. Ring. Ring. My leg wants to jiggle and I won’t let it. Another tell that I’m lying.
“Hello?”
“Ian, it’s Chrissie Harris—”
“Chrissie Harris, what the hell are you doing calling me at this hour?”
My mom laughs. “It’s after 10 a.m. Rough night, Ian?”
“Every night is a rough night. What’s going on, girl?”
Chrissie smiles and starts fiddling with her hair. “Do you know that you’re the only one who still calls me ‘girl’? But I love you for it, Ian.”
“Ah, tell me you love me again and you’ll break my heart again.”