Every Kiss(47)

Makenna: ‘I was giving you an opportunity to tell me what’s really going on. I saw the kiss, Cal.’

Me: ‘Again, effects of the champagne. It’s nothing.’



Please let it go. Please let it go.



Makenna: ‘Well, if it’s nothing, you won’t mind if Shane and I come over to check on you. Maybe we’ll even stay the night.’

Me: ‘Sure. Just have Shane call Wes if you’re coming, so he can work out the sleeping arrangements.’



I know she’s trying to call my bluff, but I also know that Shane wouldn’t dare set foot at Wes’ house tonight. He knows exactly what’s going on, and I have a feeling Wes would pummel him if they showed up.



Makenna: ‘Okay, then. I’ll probably see you in an hour or so.’



Yeah, probably not.

“Makenna says they’re coming over here in an hour to check on me,” I blurt out nervously when Wes pulls into the long driveway. “And they might even spend the night.”

He stays quiet until he comes to a complete stop. “The hell they are.” He plucks his phone from the console and punches a quick message, hitting send before he hands it to me. “Problem solved.”

He sent a message to Makenna.



Wes: ‘Mak, you can stop fishing for the truth. Tell Shane that I give him permission to fill you in. I love you, kid, but don’t you dare show up here tonight.’



“Wes! Why would you tell her that?!”

He shrugs. “Stay put.” He gets out and comes around to open my door. “She’s going to find out everything anyway, so why hide it. Are you ashamed or something?”

“No.”

“Good. I’m not either, so we don’t have to keep it a secret.”

Once inside the house, he doesn’t waste any time. He grabs my hand and leads me straight into the bedroom, immediately stripping off his jacket and tie while I watch from just inside the door. I don’t know if I should start undressing or sit down or . . .

“Stop thinking, Callie,” Wes orders, obviously sensing my unease. “You really think I’m going to pounce you as soon as we walk in the door?” He finishes unbuttoning his shirt and walks up to me. “You want one of my t-shirts and some boxers? I thought we might get comfortable and relax a bit.”

I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Okay, sure.”

He grabs some clothes from a drawer and drops them into my hands before rubbing a thumb across my cheek. “If you want to shower, you’re more than welcome to go first. Don’t take this the wrong way, but if you don’t shower, at least wash the makeup off. You’re gorgeous tonight, but you’re a damn knockout without it.” He pauses to kiss my forehead. “I’ll shower when you’re done, and maybe we’ll watch a movie or something. Sound good?”

I nod and force a confident smile before I slip down the hall and into the bathroom. What kind of cat and mouse game is this? I think I liked it better when I thought he was going to jump me as soon as we walked in. Now, I don’t know what we’re doing. It’s like he’s toying with me, so I’ll be constantly guessing when it’s going to happen. But will it be worth the wait and anticipation? Oh, I definitely think so.

After pulling a million hairpins out of my hair, I get in the shower. I have so much hairspray and gunk in my hair that I can’t even run my fingers through it, and I feel like I need to be sandblasted to peel off the layers of makeup, creams, and heavy perfume on my skin. I’m relieved that he likes me without all of it because I certainly feel better without it. I feel like my skin can finally breathe once I start scrubbing it all away. The bonus of it all is that I get to use his body wash and shampoo, and it’s like testosterone in a bottle.

Finally feeling clean, I dry off and pick up the pile of clothes on the counter—a plain white shirt and some pale blue boxers. After getting dressed, I swipe my towel across the mirror to clear the fog and laugh to myself at how big his clothes are on me. But then again, something about wearing his clothes is oddly sensual. Finally, I move on to the tangled, wet mop of hair on my head, and I’m rummaging through my purse for a brush when there’s a knock at the door.

“Cal, you decent? Open up.”

I peek through a narrow crack in the door at Wes. “Need something?”

“Yes.” He pushes the door the rest of the way open. “It’s my turn, and you’re a bathroom hog.”

I just stand here with a hairbrush in my hand, gawking while he turns the water on and adjusts the temperature. He turns to grab a towel from the shelf beside me but pauses as his gaze meets mine in the mirror. “You look damn good in my clothes.”