Kulti(156)

“Yes.” I pulled away from him. “I’ll definitely let you know if I hear from anyone.”

“You’re an idiot. You will,” the bratwurst interjected, getting up.

“I don’t know how I’ve lived my entire life without you and your kind, encouraging words. Really. It’s a miracle I’ve survived this long.”

Kulti was doing his usual scowl-thing, but the corners of his mouth were tipped up as he grabbed the back of my neck with his broad palm and swung me around to face the doorway. “I have never met anyone that needed me less than you do.”

The way he said it, I wasn’t sure whether it was a compliment or not, so I didn’t comment on it. I just bumped my shoulder against his. “Thanks for inviting me tonight.”

He nodded as we walked out the path leading toward my car. When we stopped by the driver side door, he put one hand on it and the other on my upper arm. “I’ll make this up to you.”

“You don’t have to make anything up to me. This isn’t your fault. I knew what I was doing. As long as you don’t forget I exist after the season is over, there won’t be anything to regret, all right?” I said, even though on the inside a small part of me was still frustrated and a bit depressed about all of this.

Kulti cocked his head. “You think I could forget about you?”

“No… well, I don’t know. You haven’t known me that long. I’m sure you have—“ I almost said ‘tons of friends,’ but at what point had this guy given me the idea that he had a lot of friends? Never. Not once. “I’m sure that you have plenty of distractions back home. I didn’t mean it in a negative way. I just know life gets in the way sometimes.”

“I don’t waste my time on things, Sal. Do you understand what I mean?”

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled up, and hoarsely I answered. “Sort of.” He wouldn’t waste his time doing things with me if he didn’t like me and didn’t want to be my friend, I knew that much.

He opened his mouth and closed it. He wanted to say something; it was evident on his face. The German swallowed hard and an even look crossed his features, making me incredibly aware of everything: of the sticky summer night, the darkened sky missing its stars, the way his skin let off the barest hint of something sweet smelling. His fingers tightened over me, his thumbs digging into that groove where my shoulder met my collarbone.

I’d seen his face hundreds of times, and it seemed to never be enough. After I had gotten over my infatuation with him, I’d envisioned myself with someone who worked for himself: a go-getter maybe, good with his hands, quiet, honest and nice. Possibly a mechanic. I had wanted someone who would come home, a little dirty, a little sweaty and capable of fixing things. I pictured a steady, reliable type of guy. I wasn’t sure where I’d gotten that fantasy from, but it had stuck with me. Adam, my ex, had been that way, mostly. He’d been a general contractor straight out of a romance novel—incredibly good-looking and sweet. I hadn’t thought he was real at first.

Now facing Kulti, so much taller than me, older than me, serious, sneaky, temperamental and having only mowed a lawn once in his life… I couldn’t find it in me to be disappointed that this was where my dumbass heart had taken me. I was an idiot, of course. What the hell was I doing having feelings for this jackass again? Unrequited love and I had known each other once, and I didn’t want to be up close and personal with it again. So what was I going to do? I had no clue, but I was worried my heart would get stomped to death.

Hope for the best? Blah.

I missed the glance he took at my mouth. Missed the way he fisted his hand as he pried it off my shoulder. I didn’t see the look on his face when he stared at mine for a brief second.

“Good,” he finally said, easing his hand off the car door and tearing me away from thinking about how I was going to get over this whole being-in-love-with-the-wrong-person-crap. “Call when you get home.”

I couldn’t help the smile that crossed my face. Maybe he wasn’t in love with me, and maybe I wasn’t really the best friend he’d ever had, but he cared about me. Most of his actions made it loud and clear, even when he was being a bit of a gruff, emotionless dick. I could have done worse.

All right, that wasn’t true. I couldn’t have loved anyone else, definitely not anyone worse. I wouldn’t have done something so stupid.

Not that having feelings for him wasn’t completely fucking dumb, because it was, but… whatever. This was so hard.

“I’ll send you a text when I get home,” I agreed, opening the door and getting in. Once the car was on, I rolled down the window and watched him standing just a few feet away. “You know, even if you didn’t get Mike, Alejandro and Franz to come to the camp, and bought shoes for the kids, I would still think you were kind of great… most of the time, right?”