Foolproof (5 page)

Chapter Ten

Ryan

The one girl who had been on my mind since I got back from work was sitting in the back of Blake’s truck, like an answered prayer.

Blake turned around in the driver’s seat and smiled at me. “Hey, buddy.”

“Sup.”

“Ryan, this is—”

“Jules.”

Blake shook his head and his eyebrows furrowed, clearly confused as to how I knew her. “She works at Dad’s store.” I turned to Jules, who sat huddled in the corner. I couldn’t tell by the look on her face if she was excited or disappointed to see me. Hell, I didn’t know what I felt either.

I got in the truck, this whole reunion thing getting awkward, and closed the door. “Hey, P-dawg.”

Payton didn’t have to turn around for me to know that she had a glare painted on that pretty face. She hated my nickname for her, one I had started in eighth grade.

“Hey, Ry. Long time, no see.”

If it were up to her, it would be a lot longer. I hadn’t exactly been nice to her when she broke it off with my buddy and then left him high and dry. I’d sent some pretty nasty texts to her cell before it shut off.

I looked at Jules again, recognition hitting me harder than a slap in the face—something Lex had the nerve to do when I ordered her out of my apartment after I’d found her with Dwayne. Was this the same girl Blake had gone out with on a few dates before he reattached his ball and chain to Payton
?
Thinking about it, I was pretty sure he said her name was Jules.

Not that it really mattered. Blake had always been gaga over Payton. Jules never stood a chance in hell. Especially when he threw away his scholarship with Baylor just for a chance that Payton might come back. Stupidest decision of his life but, then again, he knew what he wanted.

“Long time no see.” Jules smiled over at me, her pretty little bow lips sending my pulse racing. She was even more beautiful when she wasn’t in her work uniform. With no makeup on, her face looked fresh and vibrant—all things masked by heavy eyeliner and foundation. Added bonus that she wore shorts that showcased her mile-long legs.

The one pair of legs that I’d love wrapped around my sides right about now. She thought I didn’t notice her pushing up her cleavage today in the store, but it took every ounce of inner strength not to look. I knew her type—if I showed too much interest right away she’d get bored. I needed to be slow and methodical with her, the same plan for when I finally got her in my bed.

Payton and Blake were chatting about a camping trip to Crater Lake they had planned for next weekend, too busy to notice Jules and me sitting in awkward silence in the back seat. Blake was my best buddy, but damn, his whipped status hovered in the red zone. A nuclear war could go off in our backyard, and he wouldn’t notice, not if Payton were anywhere in a five mile radius. I’d never seen two people so in love. In my world, girls lost interest the moment
I love you
came out of my mouth. Girls like Payton were rare. Love like that even more so. I couldn’t even find a girl who could stay loyal for more than a year.

I shoved my hands in my hoodie pockets and sunk back into the seat. The thirty-year-old truck’s AC sputtered a measly cool breeze, barely reaching the backseat, which remained muggy. Shifting in my seat, I pulled off the hoodie, my shirt creeping up with the sweatshirt. I turned to Jules, whose mouth had shaped in a very attractive
O
, her gaze roaming over my exposed abs. She glanced up and quickly looked away when she saw I’d noticed her stare.

Caught you.

She was interested. Time to reel her in. “See something you like?”

She cleared her throat and, even in the darkness of the truck cab, I noticed the deepening blush that splashed across her cheeks. “I’ve seen better.”

There wasn’t a lot about my body that I was overconfident with, but I’d done enough sit-ups and burpees to earn my eight-pack. “You must see a lot of abs then. Have a rating system?” I snapped my fingers. “No, wait, a spreadsheet.”

“If that were the case, you’d be a mid-lister.” Her mouth quirked into an innocent smile.

I suddenly wanted to dropkick every single guy on that list. What kind of guys did she date if I was a “mid-lister?” Bodybuilders? Thor?

I needed to flip the brakes of this freight train thought process speeding on a direct route to
don’t go there, dipshit
. Her dating history didn’t matter, because in a few weeks I’d be back in Texas. A few times of hooking up, and I’d have this girl out of my system.

“Good thing I’m not just another guy on your list.”

She cocked a brow, a clear Payton-ism, her gaze wandering everywhere but my direction. Her fingers etched across the earrings running up the perimeter of her ear. I wanted to run my tongue over each one of the piercings, pin her down in the truck, and explore every inch of her skin. My cock twitched in agreement. I shifted in my seat, adjusting my raging erection.

“You wouldn’t even qualify, DeShane.”

“Is that so?” Damn, she was cocky. And I loved it.

“Not even for the thirty-day trial period.”

“I wouldn’t need thirty days to convince you.”

“And how many would it take?”

Lowering my voice, quiet enough for Blake and Payton not to hear—not that they paid either of us any attention—I said, “I could have your toes curling in twenty seconds flat. Two minutes, and I’d be at the top of that spreadsheet of yours.”

She shifted in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs again; each time, her thighs brushed together. I dug my fingers into the leather to restrain myself from smoothing them over her skin.

She folded her arms, giving me a great view of her rack. “You’re awfully confident in yourself. Something tells me you’re all bark and no bite.”

I leaned in and whispered, “I don’t bite. Not unless that’s something you’re into. Is that what Number One on your spreadsheet has going for him?”
Dude. Cool it
. If I’d said anything like that to Lex, I’d get slapped. And maybe castrated. But Jules didn’t even flinch.

She readjusted her ponytail and said, “Number One had more maturity in his pinky than you possess in your whole body.”

I stared at my jeans and let her words sink in. Probably true. This girl had my number. Maturity had never been my strong suit. Something I needed to think about if I ever wanted to get the hell out of Office Jax. I
was
working on it, though. Halfway through the career book and looking for something other than office supplies and police work. “Ouch.” I clutched my chest and knocked my head back into the seat. “You’re hurting my feelings.” Better to play it off as a joke, even if it did sting.

“Oh, you have those now?”

I should have stopped, shown her that I did possess one molecule of maturity, but it was too fun to mess with her. “Only on nights with a full moon.” I glanced out the window at the incandescent moon, which so happened to be full tonight. “Looks like you’re in luck. I might even howl a little later.”

She scoffed. “You’re sick.”

I chuckled. She didn’t realize how serious I was about propelling myself to the top of that stupid list. If there was one thing I couldn’t resist, it was good old-fashioned competition. Nothing would beat knowing I’d annihilated the other guys on her list.

I stared out the window, Kenny Chesney blaring in the truck, and leaned my head against the back of the seat. The farther we got out of the city, toward the ocean, the more I could think clearly. Next week, I’d have to drag Blake out and catch some waves. Maybe take Grandma’s boat out on the bay.

“Did you hear about Dr. Kirsh? I heard he’s super hard. Been studying the course textbook all week just to get ahead.” Payton smoothed her hands over her hair and let out a sigh. She was already studying for classes that hadn’t even started? Typical.

Blake squeezed her thigh. “Babe, it’ll be fine. I have study notes from the fraternity test file. Plus, you have Jules and me to study with.” Blake and Jules were signed up for the same classes as her. The fucking Three Musketeers. Fuck me. Their names even spelled PB and J. No room for R in that equation.

All of them were going to be doctors, and I couldn’t even pass business calc. I stared out the window at the trees and an occasional car rushing by
.

I still didn’t get it. How did everyone but me have a set future?

Twenty minutes later, Blake pulled into a parking lot overlooking the beach, the truck tires crunching over gravel and sand.

Blake cut the engine and turned to face the backseat. “Ry, can you grab the chairs?”

I nodded. “Yeah, sure.” I hopped out of the truck and grabbed the plastic lawn chairs from the back. We walked the few yards to the beach, Payton and Peach scoping out the “perfect” spot for a bonfire.

I grabbed a few pieces of wood and worked on starting a fire. Ten years of Boy Scouts came in handy once in a while. That, and a lighter.

Peach sat in a lawn chair while I blew on the flames, spreading the fire. Out of the corner of my eye I had a clear shot of her checking me out. I decided to ignore it this time. After that exchange in the truck, I needed to assess my strategy. It was time to fan the flames with Peach.

Chapter Eleven

Jules

I could tell a lot about a guy based on his underwear. Boxers? Laid back, go with the flow. Tighty whiteys? Ew, not even going there. Commando? Hello, chafing. Boxer briefs were the perfect in-between. Collected, in control. Ryan bending over the pile of wood gave me the perfect vantage point. I shook my head, totally unnerved by the fact I was so invested in his underwear choice.

He drove me up the wall with his vulgar mouth, and yet, here I was putting my bet that he was a boxer brief guy. He freakin’ thought I was some princess. I was used to guys underestimating me and then, when they learned I was a dean’s list, pre-med student, that somehow burst their bubble and they suddenly wanted nothing to do with me. My therapist told me I should focus on the things I could control. Too bad I couldn’t have some cool mind control powers and slip Ryan’s jeans a little lower.

The black band of his underwear peeked over his jeans as his shirt rode up his back when he tried to start the fire.

C’mon, bend over just a little more.

Holy crap. I was no worse than guys at a party looking for a piece of ass.

I tugged my phone out of my front pocket and started posting a comment about hot guys being bent over wood, but thought better of it.

Maybe he had a few half naked pics posted, and I could solve the underwear conundrum.
Girl, do not go there.
I pushed my phone back into my pocket before I gave myself the opportunity to stalk him online.

“There. We’re set.” Ryan stood up, brushing his sandy hands on his jeans.

“Nice job.” Blake clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder and smiled.

Blake grabbed the skewers from the ground, along with a bag of marshmallows, a box of graham crackers, and a pack of chocolate.

After majorly gorging on S’mores, I sat back in the lawn chair, watching Ryan over the crackling flames. He stared off, totally zoning out. I bet all the school talk bored him to death. Really, only pre-med students liked talking about pre-med classes. Heck, I was pre-med and I didn’t enjoy it. A niggling part in the back of my brain knew why, but I didn’t feel like exploring my life options at the moment.

I wiggled my toes in the sand, my legs aching to get up and move. “It’s so nice out, wanna go for a walk?”

Payton and Blake looked at each other, using their silent couple eye-squinting-speak to decide if they wanted to stay parked in front of the fire or not.

She scooted out of her chair and grabbed his hand. “Sounds good.” She turned to Ryan. “You coming, Ry?”

His gaze wandered down my body, and I fought back a shiver. Just his eyes on me made me want to climb on him in that stupid chair and find out just what he was packing under those jeans. God, what did that say about me? I thought I was over jerks, but here I was getting all hot and bothered by the thought of his underwear.

Blake and Payton fell behind as we made our way down the beach, most likely making out—I wasn’t willing to turn around and look. Ryan fell into step with me, both of us walking in comfortable silence. He was much easier to handle when he didn’t talk.

I breathed in deeply, enjoying the mixture of salt, warm sand, and a hint of sunscreen. My life was not so suffocating outside of Spring Hill. I didn’t have to worry about the classes I didn’t want to take or the parents who never quit being disappointed. Or my brother who used to be my go-to confidante, but turned out to be a total loser.

Up ahead, I saw a large stick and sand that had recently been washed over by the tide. The driftwood called to me like a beacon, a reminder of all the good times I had with my family at the beach. Racing ahead of Ryan, I grabbed the stick, turning back to him and giving him a flirty smile to mask the tremble in my bottom lip as I thought back to the last time Eric and I had gone to the beach and skimboarded. He’d wiped out after trying to do a backflip on a wave near the shore and cut open his chin on a jagged rock. Stupid Eric. Always reckless, always pushing the limits.

Ryan chuckled. “What are you doing?”

“Declaring our love to people at Farmington Beach.” I started spelling out my name in the wet sand, dragging the driftwood deeper than I usually did. Teasing him felt much better than sulking about my careless brother. I spelled out his name under mine and surrounded both our names with a heart.

Jules & Ryan 4eva

His mouth tipped up in one corner. “Cute.”

“I thought you’d like it.” I don’t know what it was about Ryan that made me want to tease him. He seemed like the kind of guy who liked a girl who could dish it, and my body and subconscious were more than willing to oblige. I was a blank slate in his eyes. The fresh sand with no scars. He didn’t know me like everyone else, the mistakes I’d made.

A rush of tingles bubbled through my veins at the thought of having a fresh start, giving me that high, an endless supply of energy, the one thing I really missed when I took Adderall. There was nothing wrong with a little flirting. I gripped the stick harder in my hand and did something that probably went ten steps past innocent banter. Winding back, I hit Ryan’s ass, the contact making a loud
thwap.

He straightened and his voice cracked a little when he said, “You did not just go there.”

I grinned and raised my brow. “I just went there.”

“You’re asking for it.”

Before I could respond, Ryan scooped me up and threw me over his shoulder. I squealed, my hair flying in my face. His warm hands cupped the backs of my thighs, his fingers firmly gripping my skin.

“Quit screaming or you’re going in the ocean.”

“Let me down.” I kicked my legs in a half-assed attempt to wriggle free. I’d rather have the opposite, to be closer, pressed against his solid body.

“You lost that chance as soon as you tapped my ass with that stupid stick. Payback’s a bitch.”

Uh oh.

Ryan went crashing through the water. He was knee-deep before he whipped my body around, his arms now cradling me to his chest.

I shrieked again, gripping tightly around his neck, not wanting any part of me in the cool Pacific water. Even in June, the water remained frigid three hundred and sixty-five days a year. “No, no, no. I’m sorry. Just don’t drop me in.”

“Now you’re begging for forgiveness?” He dipped lower, my butt coming way too close to the waves.

“Yes!” The crashing waves swallowed my scream.

“And what’s in it for me?”

If my Sevens touched the saltwater, I might have a conniption. They were one of my last nice pairs of shorts, and it’d be years before I could splurge on outfits again. “Anything you want, DeShane,” I whispered in his ear.

He straightened, my body moving farther away from the water. For a second I thought he was going to safely deposit me back on shore. “Sorry, too bad.” And then his hands disappeared from underneath me and my legs plunged knee-deep into the chilly water.

I screamed, still hanging on to his neck, goose bumps snaking from my legs to every inch of my skin. “You’re so gonna pay for that!”

“Oh yeah?” He unhooked my hands from his neck, ducked down quickly, and splashed water on the remainder of my legs—and my shorts.

Lord give me strength not to smite him
. “Make me.” He grinned and then took off toward the shore. I might have been freezing my ass off, but this was the most fun I’d had in a long time.

I rushed toward him, water splashing every which way as my feet trudged through the ocean, laughing, my whole body tingling, wanting to be near him.

Racing up behind him, I jumped, trying to tackle him to the sand. Instead, I planted myself on his back without him moving an inch. Not even rattled that another human body made impact with his. Time to play dirty. Ten years of watching my brother play soccer paid off; I knew just how to take down a player. I pushed my foot into the soft spot right behind Ryan’s knee as he ran up the beach with me clinging like a barnacle to his back. His leg buckled and he went down. My foot stung as it hit something on the beach, but I laughed it off, still giddy.

I let go of his back, lying on my side in the sand, as he rolled over. “You fight dirty,” he said, brushing sand from his arms.

“You love it.”

His baby blues bore into me, melting away any last bit of ocean chill that nestled in my body. “Maybe.” His gaze flicked down to my legs and his brows knit together. Did I miss a spot shaving? Did he see that one spot of cellulite that I just couldn’t seem to get rid of no matter how many squats I did? “Shit. Are you okay?”

I looked down at my foot, which was spewing blood onto the sand, like something out of a horror movie. From the amount of blood, I couldn’t tell where the gash began or ended, but I knew it needed to be cleaned out. Pronto. “I’m okay.” My scalp prickled, my vision wavering.

In the second grade I raced Tommy Brooks on my pink bike, streamers fluttering through the air as I totally trashed his ass, putting an end to his
boys rule girls drool
view on life. I was too busy celebrating my victory to notice a pothole in the pavement. My bike dipped, and I went sailing through the air, rocketing straight to Neverland. Unfortunately I didn’t see Peter Pan, but I did break my arm in three places, my blood staining the asphalt. I rocked that pink cast, but was squicked out by my own blood from thereon out.

Taking a deep breath through my nose, I closed my eyes and willed away the urge to upchuck. I just needed to get it cleaned up and I’d be okay.

“C’mon. Blake always has a first aid kit in his truck. I once got a fishing hook caught in my ear, and he stitched me up since we were four hours from the nearest hospital.” He stood and, without so much as a struggle, hooked his arms around my waist and under my knees and lifted me off the ground. We were a good half-mile from the parking lot, and my mind went through all the meds I should take just in case it got infected. Would I need an antibiotic?

His brows knit together, the skin between forming a crease. I wanted to smooth the line with my thumb. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you cleaned up in no time.”

I liked this side of Ryan—Ocean Injury Savior suited him.

“Thanks. It’ll be fine.” My shaky voice contradicted me. “I can walk by myself. I don’t need you to carry me.”

“And get more sand in the wound? Not happening.”

“Fine.” I took one last glance at my foot and groaned, hiding my face in Ryan’s solid chest. This moment would be so much better if I wasn’t spewing blood.

“Figures future doctor would be scared of blood.”

“Just my own.”

A few minutes later, Ryan propped me in the bed of the truck and reached under the back wheel well and fished out a key. He unlocked the truck, rummaged around in the back, and emerged with a first aid kit. “I may not be a future M.D., but I think I can manage cleaning up your cut.”

I breathed in deeply through my nose, looking anywhere but my foot. “Thanks.”

His warm hands lightly gripped my leg, and he twisted it from side to side as he examined the cut. I yanked my foot back as he applied some hydrogen peroxide. “Sorry. I just want to make sure everything gets cleaned out.”

I winced and bit the inside of my cheek. “Mm-hmm.”

A few minutes later, he applied a bandage and his fingers lingered on my calf. “The good news is the cut’s not deep.”

“What’s the bad news?”

He gave a small grin, the skin around his eyes crinkling in the corners. “I suck at putting on bandages, so you’ll need to reapply one when you get home.”

I looked down at my foot, which looked like someone had done a bad Christmas wrap job. This guy definitely wasn’t dainty, and I suddenly became more aware of his rough hand that lightly squeezed my ankle and then released it.

“I need to go get the lawn chairs and other supplies. Be right back.”

A few minutes later, he returned with the chairs and shoved them in the back of the truck. He stood in front of me, again putting his hand on my leg. “Hope you’re not in too much pain.”

“I’m good. Barely hurts now.”

Ryan cleared his throat and backed up a step, looking unsure of what to do next. What was there to do? Payton and Blake would probably head back to the truck soon, and walking on the beach with this doozy of a bandage was out of the question. Guess we’d just have to park it here until they returned.

“Thanks for fixing me up, doc.” I plucked the hat off his head and shoved it over my hair. It was big, warm, and smelled like coconut. Something about him turned me into a sixth grade girl. Pretty sure next I’d be hiding his binder or carving Mrs. Jules DeShane in my notebook.

“You’re pretty damn cute in that.” He smoothed his thumb across the corner of my lip, his gaze pinning me to the truck bed. For a split second I thought he might lean in and kiss me, but something in his expression changed. Maybe I’d imagined it, hoping for something that wasn’t there. He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts and hopped up in the truck bed next to me. Leaning back on his elbows, he stared up at the cloudless sky, millions of stars dotting the darkness. “It’s a beautiful night.”

Oh-kay.
Clearly, I was misreading these signs if he’d resorted to talking about the weather. Dating drought at an all-time high. Sound the emergency sirens. How was I supposed to flirt properly if he wasn’t interested?

“I used to go stargazing a lot when I was younger.” Eric and I used to make forts in the backyard and pore over the astronomy book my mom had gotten us. He was always into all the stories that went behind the constellations while I was more interested in the designs.

I leaned my head on the crook of Ryan’s shoulder, enjoying the moment with this one guy who had no clue about my past.

Ryan lifted my hand and traced across the freckles on the inside of my arm. “Have you ever heard of the constellation Cassiopeia?”

I shook my head, burying deeper into his shoulder. “No.”

He traced the freckles again. “See how your freckles spell out a W? That’s the same shape as Cassiopeia. She was considered one of the most beautiful women, the queen of Aethiopia. Very fitting on you.”

It clicked. My high school astronomy instructor had once given a lesson on this constellation. The queen who got in a heap of trouble and was banished to her throne in the stars.