Those words slammed into him, bringing everything into focus, and it was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped onto Cal’s head.
What the fuck was he doing? No really. What the fuck was he doing?
He was about ten seconds away from fucking her in the cab of the tow truck. Jenna MacMillan. The only girl he’d ever loved. He hadn’t seen her in ten years, and he acted like this, like the same out-of-control eighteen-year-old who couldn’t keep his hands to himself.
She’d felt right under his hands, her lips had been perfection, and that was the problem. Nothing had changed between them from back then to now. He was still Cal Payton, a blue-collar piece of shit, and she was Jenna MacMillan, daughter of the richest guy in town. She still saw him the same, didn’t she? The rough guy with rough hands who’d take her in a truck?
The definition of insanity was doing the same thing and expecting different results. Cal was many things but crazy wasn’t one of them.
Jenna’s flushed cheeks faded, and her brow furrowed as she stared at his face, which surely showed his dawning anxiety over this situation. “C-Cal?” Her fingers curled into the hair at the nape of his neck.
He closed his eyes and let his head fall back on the headrest. He dropped his hands from her legs, hating the way his palms itched to go right back where they were, like her skin was magnetic.
He swallowed and prepared to hate himself. “No.”
Her body tensed on top of his. “What?”
“No, I don’t wanna come inside. And you gotta get off of me.”
There was a pause, and she flexed her hips slightly onto his erection, which made him grit his teeth. “But—”
“I’m holding on to my willpower by a fine fucking thread. So if you don’t get off me in five seconds, Jenna, swear to God, I will be inside you. Now get. Off.” He used crude words and language on purpose. That’s what she expected of him, wasn’t it?
He didn’t open his eyes until she slid off him. Where once there had been a simmering heat of attraction firing in this cab, now there was nothing but a chill. And it went right down to his bones.
He heard her take a deep breath and then her purse straps jingled. He opened his eyes and gripped the steering wheel, staring straight ahead at the door of her garage. She’d rented a nice house. He figured she didn’t plan to stay there, but even if she did, it would be a nice place to raise a family. He could picture a basketball hoop over the garage door. A nice little swing on the front porch. Jenna standing at the door, a toddler clinging to her leg as he pulled into the driveway after a long day of work.
He didn’t want that. He told himself he didn’t want that. It wasn’t for him. Jenna wasn’t for him.
And as much as it killed him to listen to her gather herself together over on the other side of the truck cab, he had to stay firm. Another couple of minutes of awkwardness and anger would save them each from a future of heartache. Because this would end again, probably even worse than the last time. Which was pretty fucking bad, considering the broken nose and possible assault charge.
He heard her take a sharp breath, and he wondered what kind of battle was coming. “Cal—”
“I’ll take your car back to the shop and get a tire on it. Brent’ll call you when it’s ready.” He turned the ignition, still avoiding her gaze.
“Excuse me?” Her voice shook.
He turned to look at her, careful to keep his face blank. “He’ll call you when it’s ready,” he said slowly.
Her nostrils flared as she inhaled sharply. “Can you explain, please, why you’re pretending like I wasn’t on your lap five minutes ago with my skirt hiked up to my waist?”
Of course she wouldn’t let him get away with this. “That shouldn’t have happened.”
“That shouldn’t have happened?” Her voice was reaching screech octaves. He heard, and he knew she did too, because she shook her head and turned away from him.
She smoothed her dress, and it pained him to see how much this hurt her. But he told himself it was for the best, despite the sour feeling in his stomach.
“Well, thank you for fixing my tire. I’ll look forward to your brother’s call.” She opened up the truck door, hopped down, and turned to peer back into the cab. There was a flash in her eyes he didn’t like. “Maybe he’ll be nicer to me than his asshole brother.”
Cal couldn’t stop the sneer from curling his lips. “Don’t play that game with me, Jenna.”
She smirked, and he knew she’d willingly poked the bear. “Then don’t play games with me, Calvin.” She slammed the door shut and stalked to the front door of her house. She opened her front door and stepped inside.