He fiddled with the TV in his bedroom, connecting wires to a DVR.
“I take it you don’t watch movies in bed very often?”
“Pretty much the only time this thing turns on is when these two are here.”
Conversation about TV and little girls was good—I was starting to feel calmer.
“I can’t fall asleep without watching TV for a while,” I told him. “I guess you’re one of those people who falls asleep the second your head hits the pillow?”
Caine finished hooking up the wires, and the screen illuminated with the preview of some Disney movie.
Again, he walked back to me. “I didn’t say that. There are other things to do before you fall asleep at night that I prefer over television.”
I must’ve looked like a deer in the headlights, because Caine chuckled. “Relax, I’m just screwing with you. You looked uncomfortable, so I thought I’d help you out and make it worse.”
“I’m going to go clean up the tea mess.” I waved to the girls from the door and backed out of the room.
Five minutes later, Caine returned to the living room. I’d just finished washing the tea set and was drying the little dishes before packing them back into the girls’ backpack.
“They’re really sweet girls,” I said.
“Luckily they take after their uncle and not their mom.”
I laughed. “Yeah, right.”
Caine took the dishtowel from my hand. “What, you don’t think I’m sweet?”
“That’s definitely not a word I’d use to describe you.”
“Oh yeah?” He dried a tiny saucer and handed it to me to pack up. “And what word would you use?”
“I don’t know. Enigma, maybe?”
Caine thought about it for a moment. “Not sure I can argue with that one.”
After we finished packing up the tea set, we heard a phone buzzing.
“Is that mine or yours?” I asked.
“Mine’s in my pocket. Must be yours.”
I walked to the couch and dug for my cell in my purse, but it stopped making noise before I got to it. Reading Davis’s name on the screen, I sighed audibly.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah.”
Caine waited for more.
“It was Davis. He texted me earlier, and I forgot to text him back.”
He nodded. “You make a decision on that?”
“No.”
“Want my help?”
My brows lifted. “You’re going to help me decide if I should give my ex another shot?”
“Sure. Why not? Tell me about him.”
“What do you want to know?”
“What’s he do? How old is he? Ever married? The basics.”
“Okay. Well, he’s twenty-nine, divorced, and a regional sales manager for a nuclear medicine durable equipment company.”
Caine deadpanned, “Sounds like a dick. You shouldn’t give it another shot.”
“What? Why?”
He held up three fingers on one hand and began to tick them off as he spoke. “Three reasons: One, he’s twenty-nine and divorced. Something’s wrong there. Bad track record. Two, salesman. That right there is a red flag. He sells crap for a living. It’s only a matter of time before he’s selling you a line of crap, too. And three, name’s Davis.” He shrugged. “It’s a stupid name.”
I stared at him incredulously. Feeling the need to defend my previous choices, I reminded him how ironic his assessment was. “One, you’re thirty-two and don’t have serious relationships. That right there says more than making a mistake when you’re young and marrying your high school sweetheart. Two, you’re a musician. Everyone knows musicians are notorious playboys. I’d venture to say the cheater ratio is double for a musician over a salesperson. And three, have you read the Bible? Cain wasn’t exactly the good son.”
Caine nodded. “Exactly. So I know the type. You should keep away from him.”
I’d apparently misunderstood his point.
“I think you’re a little insane. You don’t know Davis’s type just from his age and occupation. He’s a great guy. He works hard, wants to have a family some day, calls his mother every Sunday. He even has a romantic side—took me on a picnic in the park once.”
Caine scoffed. “That’s not romantic. He sounds like a wimp.”
My hands went to my hips. “What are you talking about? Of course that’s romantic. What’s your idea of romance, if you’re such an expert.”
Caine walked from the kitchen to the couch where I was standing. He stepped into my personal space, and I refused to move. When he leaned down, putting us eye to eye, our noses were practically touching.
“I don’t do romance,” he said. “I prefer fucking like animals to picnics in the park.”
God, why was he being such a jerk?
More importantly, why did I like it so much? Goosebumps prickled all over my skin and a shiver ran through my body, causing a tingle between my legs. Not to mention, my nipples had grown so swollen I was going to need to step back in a minute if he didn’t give me some room. And while he’d turned me on, he’d also pissed me off. I rolled with the latter.
“Maybe that’s why you’re still single.”
Caine’s eyes narrowed. “If everything about this guy is so great, what’s taking you so long to answer his question?”
He had a point. It should have been a no-brainer. But if I was being honest with myself, the reason had nothing to do with how great Davis was or wasn’t. The only thing keeping me from giving the man another chance is that he wasn’t Caine.
I felt defeated. “You’re right. There’s really no reason not to have dinner with him tomorrow night. Who knows, maybe the spark will light again. I’ll never know until I try.”
Caine retreated with a stiff, blank mask. It didn’t matter that we had chemistry like I’d never experienced or more in common than most happily married couples. He wasn’t interested in me. The more I got to know him, the more I realized the professor-student thing was just an excuse. Caine West was not a man who’d let anything get in his way if he really wanted something.
With a little distance back between us, my thoughts were clearer. “I should go.”