Bait (Wake, #1)(12)

“The truth? Yeah,” I admitted.

I could can tell by the way her eyes wouldn't land on mine that she was not impressed. After I'd thought about it, I wasn't that impressed either. Maybe I should have lied and said I was a saint, but she probably would have saw right through it though.

“Listen, Blake. It isn't nuclear physics. If you sleep around on someone, there are only a few reasons why.” I held up a finger and she looked at it like the answer was written there. “One. He's a jerk.”

“Grant's not really a jerk.”

“Very convincing. Especially when you add 'really' in there like that. But for the sake of argument, we'll say he's not.”

“Okay.”

I had her full attention. As if I were about to tell her where the Holy Grail was, she leaned over the table and her boobs pushed up enough so that her cleavage was on display just for me. It was mag-f*cking-nificent. I needed to slow down and come up with a few more reasons. “Two. You think he's unfaithful and you're doing a tit-for-tat thing.” I wiggled my two fingers and then directed them at her for an answer.

“No, that’s not like me. Even if I did think that, I'd just break it off with him. But he's not like that either.” Damn. I had hoped it could have been that.

“Three. You are looking for a reason for him to break up with you.” Something fired in her eyes and then she shook her head, but didn't verbally shoot it down. “Or four. He doesn't know how to get you off.”

She had a filling in her back, bottom left-side tooth. I gained this bit of Blake data when her jaw unhinged itself there in the middle of the cafe.

“So. Number four then? That sucks.” I leaned back in my chair and watched her. I would have loved to hear what she was thinking in that moment. It appeared she was having a conversation with herself, the way her head was nodding and her eyes squinted in deep thought.

Would she change the subject or fight back?

“He gets me off. All the time,” she defended, a little louder than I expected her to.

She was a fighter.

Then her small-framed body slouched after she noticed how loud she'd spoken. It was one of those moments when you're somewhere full of sound and right when you speak the planet goes on mute. She was living that scenario.

I kept going. “Nope. That took you too long. I feel a little bad for you. Women as a whole, really. Half the men I know don't give a shit if a woman gets off or not. I think it's a testosterone thing. They can't be blamed.” Her eyes glazed over in thought. I changed the subject, “Wanna go find some clothes?”

She was so cute. Still shaking her head. I knew she was trying to think of the last time her boyfriend curled her toes. If he did, in fact, get her off like she'd claimed, it was a long time ago.

“Come on, Betty. You need some duds.”

She rose. We made for the door and then she froze, “Wait. We can't leave our mugs.” She turned back for our abandoned table and grabbed a few napkins from the counter on her way. As she came back to me, she tried her best to wipe them out. “You bought these. I'm keeping mine.”

“Sure. Keep it.”

“You don't want yours?” She looked a little disappointed at the fact that I was going to leave it behind. Somehow that morning, two fifty-five cent coffee mugs from the resale shop down the street had become landmarks. Mementos.

I didn’t think of myself as sentimental, by nature, but seeing how attached she grew to those inanimate objects made me consider them special, too.

Maybe it was her. She was awesomely different. Original.

And, thank God, she didn't shop like other women I knew. Certainly not like the women in my life. She walked into a store, looked, touched, and bought. Very decisive. When I thought we were going back to her hotel, she stopped us in front of a shop called The Flower. From the window I could tell it was a bra and underwear place.

“Casey? I need to buy some private things. Thanks for walking me around this morning, but I think I've got it from here.” Her nose was again pink. She was being bashful.

“Right. Right. Right. I get it. Are you sure you don't want a man's opinion? I have an eye for these kinds of things.” I smiled, but I didn't feel like smiling at all. I hadn’t even thought of leaving her. I wanted to spend the whole day talking and laughing with her. I wanted to go back up to her hotel room and have her for lunch. I guessed that was shot all to hell.

“I'll be at the graduation party tonight. Are you going to be there?” She looked hopeful, like she wanted me there.

“Does a hobby horse have a wooden dick? Yeah, I'm going. I have stuff I need to do anyway. I'll see you there.” Real smooth. I was bringing back some real zingers.

“Good. I was hoping you were still going. Besides, you said that you needed to break up with Aly, right?”

Well, wasn't that interesting?

“I do need to do that,” I said in agreement.

“I know my way around down here pretty good. I lived here. Remember? So you don't have to hang around. Besides, I need to buy a bra and underwear. I'll see you tonight.”

I have to kiss her.

That fast, the thought sprung to mind. I needed to kiss her. Mark her lips. Leave a taste of me on them to remind her. Not giving it any more thought, I closed the space between us. She didn't flinch or move, so I continued. I cupped her pretty face in my hands and rubbed my thumbs across her soft lips. Her tongue snaked out to lick where I'd touched and that's when I moved in, catching her tongue mid-swipe. She still tasted sweet from the coffee.