“What’s going on in that head of yours, G? I can see the cogs spinning,” he says, ever observant. Unusually perceptive when it comes to me.
“Nothing.” I shake my head and smile, not about to reveal any insecurities to this guy. “I’m excited for the fireworks to start.”
He sends me a skeptical look and I keep the smile plastered on my face, not about to waver now. He does not get to see me act all vulnerable and shit. Nope.
“Come on, let’s get some chairs,” he tells me and we do exactly that. He grabs the heavier one and carries it over to the window while I find a fold-up chair leaning against the wall that someone probably left behind in one of the boats.
We set up the chairs in front of the window, Caleb pulling them close together when I suddenly hear patriotic music start up.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Oh, they have a recording they play along with the fireworks. It’s all in sync and every resort blasts the music. It’s actually pretty cool.” Caleb settles his big body in the heavier chair. “Sit down. Relax.”
I can’t relax with him so close, especially when I know what he wants from me. What I want from him. I’m still thinking about his earlier proposition, but come on.
We both know I’m eventually going to say yes.
I sit on the fold-up chair but it kind of sucks. And it’s dusty. I can feel Caleb’s eyes on me as I try to get comfortable before he finally says, “Come here.”
I whip my head in his direction, startled by the downright sultry tone of his voice. “What do you mean?”
He pats his thigh. “Come sit on my lap.”
“Caleb…”
“I won’t do anything too inappropriate,” he says, holding up his hands.
Notice how he says the word too. As in, he’ll be semi-inappropriate, but not too terribly so.
I push myself out of the chair and stand in front of him. “Are you sure?”
“You’re blocking my view, babe.” He grabs hold of me and pulls me into his lap, and I have no choice but to let him rearrange me as I sit there so that he’s got one arm wrapped firmly around my waist. “You comfortable?”
A white burst of sparks fills the sky, lighting up our faces. He’s watching me very carefully, his lids at half-mast, and he looks sleepy.
Sexy.
Shit. I’m in so much trouble.
Nine
Caleb
This is the closest I’ve been to Gracie in…a while. I remember the first time I met her, when we went to that concert for her lame ass ex’s band Bat’s Cave, and she sat on my shoulders. I’d been surrounded by Gracie, her freaking crotch pressed against the back of my head, and I remember thinking then, this isn’t a bad place to be.
Currently holding Gracie while she sits on my lap, thinking once again, this isn’t a bad place to be.
Not a bad place at all.
The fireworks have started. The first one was a dazzler, spreading white sparkles wide across the sky, but the next few have been duds, which is typical for this yearly show. I keep my arm firmly around Gracie’s waist, and I notice how stiff she’s holding herself. As if she’s uncomfortable sitting on my thigh.
She weighs nothing. She’s all long limbs and slender curves. Her scent is driving me out of my mind. The sunscreen and flowers thing must be a fucking aphrodisiac. I want to bury my face in her neck and take a big whiff, but she’d probably shove me away and call me a freak.
Which, maybe I am, I don’t know.
Instead, I restrain myself, never letting her go, trying to get her to relax.
Slowly but surely, she does. The fireworks continue, perfectly in time with the music, and everyone outside is oohing and aahing as they light up the dark sky. Though Gracie’s still holding herself a little too stiffly for my tastes.