Every Kiss (13 page)

After stretching, I straighten up my books and open the
door, listening for signs of Wes. A savory aroma wafts down the hall, and my
stomach growls in response. I can’t remember if I even ate lunch today. I walk
quietly into the living area and see the light on in the kitchen. He’s standing
over a pot on the stove, stirring something that smells divine. And let me just
say there’s something hot about a man in the kitchen. Especially in those worn
jeans he’s changed into.

“Whatcha cookin’?”

“Beef stew. I thought it sounded better than pancakes. You
hungry?”

I climb up onto a bar stool at the island and rest my elbows
on the cool granite. “Very.” I notice the pitch black outside the windows and
look around for the time. “Shit, is it really nine o’clock?”

“Mmmhmm. You’ve been at it a while.” He opens the oven and
pulls out a little pan of brownies. “I thought you might like something sweet.
I always did when I was studying.”

Add another personality to the long list. It’s Mr. Betty
Crocker himself, ladies and gents.

“You thirsty?” he asks, opening the fridge. “I have water,
iced tea, beer, soda . . . whiskey.”

“Ha ha. Very funny. I’ll take the tea.”

He grabs two glasses and fills them with ice. “Would you
rather eat in here, on the couch, or in the dining room?”

“Your mom did a real number on you, didn’t she?” I joke.

But it falls flat. “I don’t like to talk about her.”

I slap a hand over my mouth. “No! I meant your mom, not your
mother. There’s a difference.”

“Sorry. And you’re right. Big difference.” His shoulders
relax and his face softens. “My mom always has guests, and she raised us to
cater to them. It’s engrained in me. I can’t help it.”

A warm smile stretches over my lips. “Where do you usually
eat?”

After waiting on me like I’m completely incapable of doing
anything for myself, Wes finally settles into the couch next to me, handing me
a warm bowl of stew. I waste no time digging in, while he turns the television
on, finally stopping on a popular funny sitcom. The domesticity of it all is
oddly comforting. I’m on one side of the couch with my feet tucked underneath
me, and he’s kicked back with his feet propped on the coffee table. We’re just
eating in front of the television like we’ve been doing it for years.

After we’re finished eating, he tells me that I can shower
first, so I make it a point to get in and out quickly. I know he has to work in
the morning, so he’ll probably be going to bed soon. I look into the partially
steamed mirror while I’m combing out my hair. It’s a shame that I’m the only
one that’s going to see this underwear. Or am I? I wanted to get at him, but am
I bold enough to do it? To just walk out there in nothing but?

Oh, I’m bold enough, for sure. But what would I be setting
myself up for? No. I can’t do it. I’ll just have to hope it’s screwing with his
head enough, knowing what’s under my clothes.

But . . . I am wearing the band shirt with my yoga pants.
And my glasses. I don’t want my hair to dry all weird tonight though, so I am
going to leave my hair down. Totally modest. Not sexy at all. What’s with me
behaving myself all of a sudden? He’s seriously weakening my supreme audacity
skills.

By the time I come out, he’s already cleaned up the kitchen
and straightened the living room back up. But he’s nowhere to be found. I peek
into the utility room, into his office. Nothing. That only leaves his bedroom.
I pad down the short hallway and turn toward his open door. “Wes?”

He steps out of his closet, shirtless, wearing only his
jeans with the button undone. “Yeah?”

We both freeze, suspended in this moment; although, I’m not
sure why. I’ve seen him in nothing but his underwear. He’s seen me naked. So
why is the air suddenly so thick? Why does he have to get to me like this?

“Umm . . . the shower. It’s all yours. Goodnight.”

“Thanks. I’ll get you up around six, but feel free to wake
me up if you need something. Sleep well.”

I nod, retreating to the safety of my room before my head
starts to spin. Before I start to seriously question my stance on adding
benefits to our friendship.

I cram my earbuds in and climb into bed, shutting out the
world around me. Shutting out the sounds of the water running across the hall,
the thoughts of Wes under the steamy spray. But no matter how loud the music,
that’s still the last thing I imagine when I drift off to sleep.

IT’S THE WALL-SHAKING thunder that
jolts me awake just a little after three in the morning. I knew there was a
chance of storms tonight, but that doesn’t mean I could ever be prepared for
them. I hate it. Even when I was little, I’d wake up in the middle of the
night, and I wouldn’t feel safe until I was tucked between my parents. Okay, so
I’ll even get in bed with Makenna on occasion. I’m a big scaredy cat, and I’ll
be the first to admit it.

Sometimes it helps if I check the weather on TV, just to be
reassured that everything is going to blow over uneventfully. So I roll out of
bed and head to the living room, but first, I stop to peek in Wes’ room. The
strobe-like flashes of lightening brighten his room, and he appears to be
sleeping soundly. He’s lying on his stomach with his arms wrapped around his
pillow, and the sheets are dangerously low on his back, exposing just the
beginning of the curve of his butt.

Wow.

Tearing myself away, I finally sink into the couch and click
the power button on the remote. It takes me a few minutes to find the weather,
but I’m wishing now that I hadn’t bothered. The bright green blobs heading in
our direction are filled with violent streaks of yellows and reds. And there’s
another line of them coming right behind it. Not reassuring at all,
thankyouverymuch.

Another roaring boom echoes through the house, and I let out
a little squeal, covering my mouth with both hands after I do. I’ll be fine. I
just need to go back to bed, pull the covers over my head, and wait it out. I’m
a big girl.

I almost make it to my room when I hear his groggy voice
call out to me. “Cal, everything okay?”

I peek back into his room. He’s sitting up and rubbing at
one eye. The long hair on top of his head is pointing in every possible
direction. “Uh, yeah. Sorry if I woke you up. Storms freak me out.”

He falls back onto his pillow and stretches. “You didn’t
wake me. The thunder did.” He pats the empty space on the mattress next to him.
“Come on. Hop in.”

“I’ll be fine. I just got up to check the radar, and I’m
going back to bed now.” I start to walk out.

“If you don’t get in this bed, I’m going to get up and put
you in it.”

I sigh, hoping it comes across to him as defeated, but I
know the truth. It’s relief. “Fine.”

I walk to the other side of the bed and judge the height,
trying to figure out if there’s any remotely graceful way to get up there. But
no. It looks like I’m just going to have to jump like a little dog until I make
it.

“There’s a wood rail on the side,” he says into his pillow.
“You can use it as a step, shorty.”

Pulling the blankets back, I see it and do as he suggests.
Works like a charm. “Goodnight, Wes.” I stay all the way on my side, so there’s
practically a mile between us. I know he sleeps naked, so I don’t want anywhere
near him. Okay, yeah, I do, but he weakens my resolve too much.

I lie here quietly, listening to the rain tapping the window
with an occasional pellet of hail. Normally, I’d be spazzing out, but I can
also hear the slow rhythm of Wes breathing, growing deeper and deeper as he
drifts back to sleep. It calms me, knowing he’s right here.

Well, I am calm until the thunder crashes again. I don’t
know how it didn’t break all the windows in the house. I curl tighter into my
pillow just as Wes rolls toward the middle of the bed. His arm hooks around my
waist and drags me against him, enveloping me in the safe, warm cocoon of his
arms. The blankets have managed to stay between us, thankfully, but I can still
feel the comforting heat radiating from his body.

And that’s all I need to forget the storm and drift into
blissful sleep.

“YOU’RE TELLING ME that you stayed
the night at Wesley’s house last night? Are you kidding me?”

I get why she’s stunned. I do. But she acts like I don’t
know how to make responsible decisions for myself sometimes. “How did you not
know this? I thought Wes called Shane.”

“He did. But he only asked if I’d be coming home last night.
He didn’t mention anything else about it. After that, he and Shane talked about
what all they have to do Saturday.”

I close my book and fall back on my bed. Finally finished
with my homework, I’m more than ready for a nap. Makenna just now got home, so
I’ve had most of the day to myself. I thought it would make an easy day to get
my work done, but it’s been quite the contrary. Every time I move my hair, I
catch a hint of Wes’ scent. Distracting doesn’t even begin to cover it. He’s
been on my mind all day.

True to his word, he woke me up early. He just didn’t know
that I was awake as soon as he rolled out of the bed and walked into the
closet. Let me say that the rerun is just as good as the first showing.
Somehow, it was made even better by the fact that I watched it all from his
bed.

Half an hour later, he came into the room fully dressed,
holding a mug of coffee. “Wake up, pretty girl.”

“I’m awake,” I grumbled. “And my ego doesn’t like to be
stroked this early in the morning.”

He carefully set the mug down on the nightstand and leaned
over me to speak softly into my ear. “Well, you won’t let me stroke anything
else.”

I snatched his pillow from the other side of the bed and
whacked him with it, but it did nothing to stop his evil laughter. After I got
up and dressed, he dropped me off on the way to work, just as planned. But the
thing that I’ve been thinking about all day is the fact that he said he’d call
me later.

“So? Any details you want to share?” Makenna’s question
jerks me back into the present. “You know, like
all
of them?”

“I did homework. He cooked dinner. We ate it. I showered. I
went to bed. That’s pretty much it.”

She crosses her arms and sits at the end of my bed. “Define
pretty much.”

“There you go jumping to conclusions again.”

“Callie,” she says with a cocked eyebrow, “I can read you. I
may imagine my own ending sometimes, but I can tell when there’s a story there.
Spill it.”

“Well . . .” I begin, trying to decide what to say without
her reading too much into it.

She jumps up, slapping her hands together. “I knew it! I
knew there was more to it than that. Let’s see. Last time it was nothing, he
had kissed you. This time, you stay overnight at his house alone, so what could
the big secret be? You did it, didn’t you?” She seems so sure of herself, but
then again, she always does.

“No. I told you we’re friends.” If I keep saying it, I’ll
eventually believe it, right? “I woke up in the middle of the night during the
storm, and he made me get in bed with him. Nothing happened. We slept.”

Her face falls slightly. She hates being wrong, even though
she usually is. “You’re seriously sticking to this friend thing, aren’t you? I
mean, I’m not complaining. If you dated him and then broke up, it would be
weird to have the two of you around Shane and me at the same time.”

I shimmy out of my jeans and toss them to the end of my bed.
“You and Shane are weird enough to be around. I’m not adding to it.”

She stops my hands when I start pulling the sheet over
myself. “Do you typically wear those panties when you’re staying over with a
friend? Because I sure as hell haven’t ever seen them.”

“I said we were friends. I didn’t say I wasn’t having some
fun messing with his head a little bit.” I yank my arm free and lie back down,
pulling the sheet up over my shoulders and curling onto my side. “He’s supposed
to call me when he gets off work, so be a doll and wake me up in a couple of
hours. I’m exhausted.”

Thankfully, she takes my hint that I’m done talking about
it, and she starts out of the room. “I will.”

And like a truly good friend, she does.

Now that she has woken me up, I lie here staring at the
ceiling for a few minutes, trying to motivate myself to move. I’m still sleepy,
but I feel much better. I finally make my way into the bathroom and splash some
cool water on my face, an attempt at waking myself up a little more. I’m
blotting my face dry when I hear Makenna come back in my room.

“I’m up. I’m up.” I mumble through the towel.

“So am I.”

I shriek at the male voice, throwing my towel in its
direction. “Damn you! You scared the hell out of me. What happened to you
calling
me?”

Wes looks good. I saw him in his suit this morning, but he
doesn’t have the jacket on now. His periwinkle dress shirt is unbuttoned at the
top and his sleeves are rolled up.

“Now that I know where you live, I just thought I’d stop by,
so I can effectively use my skills of persuasion. Makenna didn’t happen to
mention that you were . . . underdressed. Not that I’m complaining.”

I look down at myself, still only wearing my beach t-shirt
and those damn Victoria’s Secret panties. Oh hell, he’s seen everything I’ve
got anyway. “What do you want, Wes?” Brushing past him, I grab the jeans from
the foot of the bed and step into them.

He seems completely unflappable. “I want you to come to the
banquet this weekend. As my date. I normally drag Allison along to things I
need a date for, but this is a classy event. I need a date that can live up to
it. Besides, my mom told me that, if I bring her to another party, she’d make
me sorry. I’m not afraid to admit that she scares me a little.”

“What kind of event is it?” I manage to get the question
out, past the rioting thoughts that he wants me to be his date.

“I don’t know for sure.” He shrugs and tucks his thumbs into
his pockets. “It’s something that has to do with my mom’s job, that’s all I
know. She does these sorts of things all the time, and she expects Shane and me
to attend when we can. It’ll be black tie.”

“I can’t.” I turn the light on in my closet and scour the
row of dresses. “I don’t have anything to wear to something like that.”

Wes grabs my elbow and drags me from the closet. “Already
covered. My mom knows you and Makenna are still in college, so she made
arrangements with a dress shop that she uses. You’re to go there sometime
tomorrow and pick one of them out. And before you argue with me, she’s not
buying you a dress. She does a ton of business with that shop, and they’ve
agreed to loan you a dress.
I
, however, am buying your shoes. Not
negotiable. You just pick them out. They already have all of my information.”

I’m floored. “I haven’t said ‘yes’ yet.”

He rests both hands at either side of my neck and looks down
into my eyes. “I’m not going to allow you to tell me ‘no.’” He waits for a
moment, I think to see if I’ll argue. When I don’t, he pecks a little kiss on
the top of my head. “I’ll be here to pick you up around four o’clock on
Saturday, but you should make sure to have the whole day blocked out. You’ll
see why tomorrow. Bye, Cal.”

And he vanishes. While I stare at the open door in stunned
silence, Makenna pops into the room in his place.

“So . . . you’re going to the banquet as Wesley’s date. Why
am I not surprised?”

“Why am I not surprised that you let him in here, knowing
that I wasn’t dressed?”

“Oops.” She smirks. “You’re the one that said you were
messing with his head. I’m just being helpful.”

FRIDAYS ARE MY favorite day of the
week. I do my classroom observations early in the morning, get out of class no
later than two, and then I have plenty of time to read on the quad or go back
to my dorm to veg out after a long week. Friday is the beginning of a new
weekend, full of promise. Possibilities. But this Friday, I’m dreading all of
it. The ridiculously expensive gowns. The people I don’t know.

I look around the dress shop after Makenna and I walk
inside, and I immediately feel out of place. Sure, I’ve been in shops similar
to this before when I was looking for prom dresses, but this one is a little
more upscale. More glamorous. Even the ladies working in the shop look like
they’re just as well off as their clients are. It’s a little off-putting,
especially since I’m standing here in my usual jeans, t-shirt, and Chucks.

“Good afternoon.” The one in head-to-toe black approaches
us, her face completely unreadable. “How can I assist you today?”

“Mrs. Baxter sent us here to find dresses for a banquet,” I
answer when Makenna freezes.

“Ah, yes.” Her expression softens as she looks down at her
Blackberry. “Callie and Makenna. Follow me, darlings.”

She leads us into a private dressing room, which happens to
be the size of our entire dorm, and motions to a platform in front of a
semicircle of floor-to-ceiling mirrors. “Please undress, but you can leave on
your underthings. There are robes on those hooks over there. Mary Beth with be
with you in a moment to take your measurements, and I’ll be back with some
coffee and tea for you.”

Makenna and I just look at each other in shock when she
walks out the door. This is new territory for both of us, but we do as we’re
told and strip. I no sooner than get my robe tied before there’s a soft rap at
the door, and two sickly thin women walk in with measuring tapes. One at a
time, we’re stripped and measured carefully before the beanpole twins disappear
again, probably off to snicker about my twenty-seven inch waist.

Again, I tie my robe and sit down, and I’m just about to
tell Makenna how weird this place is, when there’s another knock. This time
it’s a dress parade. Five different women rotate in and out of the room adding
dresses to the two racks along the wall until each rack is nearly full.

Finally, the last one steps out after explaining which rack
is whose, and the one in black reappears with a tray of refreshments. “Would
you like some help trying these on?”

“Oh, no,” Makenna finds her voice. “We can help each other.”

“Lovely.” She doesn’t look like she thinks it’s lovely. “If
you need some assistance, just press the button by the door. It will alert one
of us.”

We both nod and rush to the racks, looking over each one as
we get more and more excited. Every single one of them is gorgeous, but I know
I’ve found “the one” as soon as I spot it. It’s a full-length strapless gown,
slinky black with silver beading across the top of the bodice. The skirt
doesn’t bell out; it falls straight, as straight as the slit stopping
mid-thigh. With the right heels, this dress couldn’t be any more perfect. And
once I try it on, it’s a flawless fit. God, those ladies may be skinny, but
they know their dresses.

“Why don’t they have anything pink?” Makenna whines from
behind me. “I guess this plum one will have to work. Whoa, Cal. You look . . .”
She fans at her eyes. “Good enough to make me cry.”

“Jeez, Makenna, save all that for when one of us—likely
you—is getting married. This is a banquet with borrowed dresses.” She bawled
when we went prom dress shopping, too. She’s a habitual crier.

After we’re both settled on dresses, the saleswoman reminds
me that I’m supposed to get shoes, so she leads me into another room, measures
my foot, and stacks six different pairs beside me on a little couch. I end up
selecting a simple pair of glossy black platform peep-toe pumps with a five
inch heel. I catch a glimpse of the $350 price tag as the saleswoman carries
them away, and I nearly have a heart attack.

I fish my phone out of my purse and send Wes a text. I can’t
let him spend that kind of money on my shoes.

Me: ‘
I’m not letting you buy shoes. I’ll find some
less expensive ones somewhere else. But thank you for the sweet offer.’

He immediately replies.

Wes Baxter:
‘Nonsense, Cal. I’m paying for the
damn shoes. If I was worried about the money, I wouldn’t have offered.’