Birthday Girl(96)

My pulse quickens. She doesn’t have a working car yet. Where did she go?

Did she have to work, after all? I check my phone again for texts, but I don’t see anything.

Maybe her sister gave her a ride.

But she would’ve told me if she had to work.

Dialing Jordan, I jog down the stairs as the line rings and turn the television off again.

When the line picks up, a blast of music hits my ear and I flinch, pulling it away just a hair.

“Hey,” she says, and I’m surprised she sounds so…calm.

“Where are you?”

“Out,” she replies. “I’ll be home later.”

“Are you working?”

She laughs, and I hear another woman’s voice and a string of chatter in the background. “Uh, no,” she finally answers.

Then I hear a bellow of what sounds like forty men cheering in the background, and I straighten, trying to figure out what the hell’s going on.

“Jordan, I’m sorry I was late,” I tell her.

“Huh?”

“I’m sorry I was late!” I shout into the phone. “Work had to be done, and I had to stay.”

“Then why didn’t you call?” she replies, her voice growing louder. “You weren’t at work. You were at Red’s, and I don’t wait. Not anymore. I’m out with my friends, and I’m having fun. I’ll be home later.”

And then all the music in my ear and the DJ’s voice in the background falls dead and the line cuts off as she hangs up.

Hangs up on me.

I lower my phone and stare at the ended call. Ok, so she’s mad. I think. She didn’t sound mad, though. Or drunk. She just sounded indifferent, and for some reason, that feels worse. I can deal with anger, but not with a girl who sounds like she’s perfectly content with whatever conclusions she’s drawn. Shit.

Then it occurs to me what the DJ in the background was announcing.

Wet T-shirt Night at The Hook.

My eyes widen. She wouldn’t be that stupid, would she?

Goddammit. What the hell am I supposed to do? Is she out having some fun like she said or is she checkmating me? Is she trying to entice me to come and get her by threatening to do something I won’t like, or do I stay right where I am, call her bluff, and see what happens? This is why women and I don’t get along and my relationships don’t last. I don’t have the head for this bullshit.

But the fact that she went out at all is because of me. If I had come home when I told her I would, she’d be curled up next to me on the couch right now, taunting me with her eyes, her hands, her smell, and that sexy-ass way she arches her back when she stretches.

I sigh and shake my head.

I want her so badly.

Sticking the phone in my pocket, I pull out my keys and head for the door. As soon as I open it, though, I see Cole standing there with his hand out like he was just about to open it.

I halt, my eyebrows shooting up.

“Hey,” he says, his voice unusually pleasant.

I open my mouth to speak but it takes a minute to find my voice. “H—hey,” I stammer, a little shaken at seeing him suddenly. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all day. I was even out to a couple of your usual haunts during my lunchbreak. Where the hell have you been?”

“Yeah, I know, sorry.” He walks in and heads for the kitchen. “I had some things to tie up.”

He goes for the fridge and pulls out a soda, then turns and leans against the sink as he pops the top.

“So, what’s going on with you?” I stand at the island. “Your mom shows up this morning, saying you quit your job?”

He flashes me an amused look like I’m overreacting.

“If you kept me posted, I wouldn’t nag,” I burst out but try to make it sound like banter.

He glances behind him out the window, seeing something, and pushes off the counter, heading through the laundry room and into the backyard. I follow him.

“I’m fine,” he calls over his shoulder. “I actually have a new job. That’s why I quit.”

He walks over to the pool and starts pulling the tube for the vacuum up. I’d completely forgotten about it. It had been going since yesterday afternoon.

“A new job?” I ask, taking his slack from behind him. “Where?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t like surprises. Where’s the job?”

He starts laughing, and I scowl.

“Why are you laughing?” I demand. Does he know how worried everyone is about him, and now he acts like he’s got everything together, and we’re supposed to not ask questions?

“Because I’m excited,” he says. “I’ll tell you soon. I promise.”

“Is it legal?” I pull the tube, feeling the weight of the vacuum as it starts drifting across the pool toward us.

His back shakes with another laugh.

I quirk an eyebrow.

“I promise, this job is as legal as it gets,” he tells me, a private joke in his words I don’t understand. “I’ve got a steady paycheck coming, medical, dental, retirement, the whole works.” He glances at me. “I’m not on drugs, and I’m not in trouble. I’m absolutely fine. I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I just didn’t want it to be awkward for Jordan.”