One to Tell the Grandkids (11 page)

Caleb’s eyes went wide, and he pointed at Slate. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Oh yes.”

Several of Caleb’s friends were hooting now, yelling, “Do it!”

“No!”

Slate pushed him out into the middle of the floor and started the chant. “Ca-leb. Ca-leb.” Taryn didn’t know what the hell was going on, but she joined in. Caleb was standing, hands on his hips, his head down and shaking back and forth.

Then, just as the music crested into the first verse, he struck a pose.

It took Taryn a few seconds to understand Caleb was doing
the
dance—the exact dance the boy band did in their video. He tossed his head, threw out his hands, gyrated his hips, jumped. He pointed, one hand on his head. He spun. He sunk down to his knees and then pushed himself back up.

Taryn screamed with laughter, clapping and cheering along with Caleb’s other friends. His hair was just long enough that it flopped with his movements, making him look younger—as boyish as the band members had once been. He could have given them a run for their money with a grin that made her breath catch, a cocksure smile of a man who knew he made what he was doing look good.

He was sexy. She hadn’t quite realized it before, but he was.

The song ended, and Caleb stood with his head thrown back, laughing and trying to catch his breath. Slate slapped him on the back, giggling like a schoolboy. With a look of faux annoyance, Caleb pushed the other man away. He looked around the bar and caught her eye. Taryn grinned back as he loped toward her. Before he said anything, he grabbed her water and threw his head back as he drank it down.

“Okay, what’s your excuse?” she asked.

He set her water down, his tongue darting out to wipe the remaining moisture off his lips. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at her. “What?”

She leaned in, her hand on his chest and repeated the question near his ear. “Why do you know how to dance like a boy-bander?”

His grin curved up on one side, and he tilted his head, his nose skimming her cheek. Even though she’d been the one to lean in, Taryn was caught off guard by his nearness. His voice was a low rumble at her ear. “The answer to questions like that is always to impress a girl.”

When he pulled back enough to look in her eyes, Taryn was stricken tongue-tied. She was all too aware of the heat of his skin against her palm, hot through the fabric of his shirt. The salty scent of sweat mixed with the vibration of his low tone against her skin had a visceral effect that burned in her bloodstream. She blinked, disconcerted and displaced.

“Hey.”

Taryn jumped as Slate came to sit on her other side. He wrapped an arm around her waist and splayed his hand over her stomach. “How’s my baby doing?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Taryn saw Caleb shift and put some space between them. Annoyance tinged with irritation twisted her gut. Clearing her throat, she looked up at Slate. “How many have you had?”

Slate shrugged and sat back, letting his hand slip away from her. “A few beers. Don’t worry. I’m not going to hit on any pretty people.”

Taryn stared at him because the thought had honestly not occurred to her. Should the idea he would get drunk and stupid with some other person bother her? Given their current situation, the idea shouldn’t have surprised her. A young person out drinking with friends was going to flirt.

There wasn’t much she remembered about the night they’d spent together. She knew better, but Melanie had encouraged her. It had been a bad week. Just one, she’d told herself when her friend pushed the first drink at her.

It felt good. One drink turned into two and three until, like Caleb, the worries had melted right off her shoulders. She was dancing. And laughing. And then Slate was there. Handsome. She remembered he made her smile. It had been a long time since anyone had tried to charm her, and such positive attention was hard to ignore.

Shaking those wisps of memory away, Taryn looked up at him. “You know, if you wanted to hit on pretty people, it wouldn’t bother me.”

Confusion flitted across his face, followed by hurt and then confusion again. His brow furrowed, and his head tilted in that puppy-like way of his. “It wouldn’t?”

Taryn wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “Why would it?” She looked away from his earnest, if somewhat bleary, eyes. “You don’t owe me anything. At least, you don’t owe me that. You can do whatever you were doing before I came along.”

“Oh.” There was a tense moment of awkward silence between them. “Okay. Yeah.”

He seemed more perplexed than hurt. Maybe that was more the alcohol than anything else. Still, Taryn regretted the heaviness that had polluted the otherwise happy atmosphere. She hadn’t meant to bring the party down. In fact, her intention was just the opposite.

Luckily for both of them, Dean came over then to challenge Slate to a round of pool. He found her hand and gave it a friendly squeeze, the look on his face back to the easygoing expression she was getting used to. Slate was just the kind of guy who let things slide off his back.

Taryn turned, curious what Caleb had to say about the whole exchange. She was startled to find the booth empty.

“I got him, Taryn. Isn’t heavy lifting off-limits?”

Taryn snorted, readjusting her grip on the very drunk man between her and Slate. “I’m not trying to bench press him.”

Between them, Caleb hummed, either oblivious to their conversation or not caring. His voice was a low, smooth timbre that made Taryn think he’d probably sing a beautiful bass when he wasn’t drunk off his ass.

They got Caleb into the house, leading him like a big, sleepy child toward his bedroom.

“I’ll get him some water and aspirin,” Taryn said.

Slate nodded as he knelt beside the bed, working to get Caleb’s shoes untied.

Just before she entered the room again, she heard Caleb say her name, and she stopped in her tracks in the hallway.

“Taryn is beautiful.”

“Um, yeah, man. I’ve noticed.” Slate sounded amused.

“No, no. I mean like on the inside, too. She’s a good girl. I think you’re lucky.”

“Lucky?”

“What you have?” Caleb sounded forlorn, his voice far away. “It’s yours, you know? Taryn and the baby.”

“Oh, well, the baby, yeah. I’m going to have a baby. Ain’t that the craziest thing?” Slate laughed, the sound a little nervous. “But the girl? I don’t know, man. I don’t think she wants me.”

Taryn curled the cold glass of water close to her chest. Slate was right. The idea of being his wasn’t a title she wanted. He was a lovely person, and she couldn’t say she was upset, all things considered, that he was going to be her baby’s father. That being said, try as she might, she just didn’t have feelings for him.

“What do
you
want?” Caleb asked.

“I just want to be a good dad. I want to do the right thing.” Slate sighed. “I want to know how this all turns out.”

Taryn lingered in the hallway, resting the back of her head against the wall. If there were ever a moment she wanted a crystal ball, this was it. She didn’t want Slate to end up hating her any more than he wanted her to hate him. There was a hint of relief admitting to herself that she truly wasn’t attracted to him. Maybe it would all be simpler if she were, but she wasn’t.

Then again, maybe it was simpler because she wasn’t. Romance, relationships—they were complications all by themselves. She and Slate still had so much to work out. They were taking their friendship one day at a time, but there were a lot of questions they had yet to answer, much more important questions than whether or not they were attracted to each other.

More time passed than Taryn intended before she finally pushed up off the wall. She entered Caleb’s room to find both he and Slate were fast asleep. Slate was above the covers, asleep on his back, while Caleb was underneath, facing away.

Two unlikely brothers
, she reflected as she set water and aspirin on the nightstand beside Caleb. Though she knew she was invading their privacy, Taryn lingered, watching over both the men for a handful of seconds.

She let her worries fade away to amusement when she remembered Caleb dancing earlier that evening. She remembered watching him with all his friends, in his element and happy.

Just as soon as a smile began to creep up her cheek, Taryn frowned. A strange sensation tingled just beneath her skin that she couldn’t explain. It was not an unpleasant feeling, but it was disconcerting.

Lost in thought, she reached out to smooth a strand of hair from Caleb’s face and started when his eyes blinked open. She froze, but he only smiled, raising a hand to brush her cheek tenderly before his eyelids fluttered closed again.

It occurred to Taryn she probably liked the simple touch more than she should.

Chapter Eleven

I
t was still dark when Taryn came into semi consciousness with a jolt. Her world shook unsteadily. She whimpered, automatically grasping for something to hold on to.

“Shh.” There was a soft voice near her ear. “I’ve got you.”

She calmed as easily as she’d started, curling toward the warmth under her fingers. “Slate,” she mumbled, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He was carrying her somewhere, and she probably should have been more concerned about that. But she felt safe. Her mind hadn’t left that hazy place yet.

“Don’t wake up.”

He was setting her down on something soft. Comfortable.
It was too easy to succumb to sleep again. She shivered, shifting onto her side and snuggling closer to a spot that was radiating heat. With a little sigh, she let go of consciousness again.

Caleb’s head hurt.

There was a light behind his closed eyelids he was certain was trying to kill him. His mouth was full of cotton wrapped in nasty. His stomach was trying to twist right out of his throat while at the same time making him crave ramen noodles like a son of a bitch.

It took him a few minutes to register anything beside the throb in his head and the churn of his stomach. He internally cursed his friends. Stupid friends plying him with his own booze and leaving him to die.

A soft, distinctly female sound broke through the hangover haze. It occurred to Caleb then that his skin, under his shirt, was clammy, overheated. There was a weight on his chest, and when he raised his hands, he encountered long, soft hair. Wary, he opened his eyes.

It took a few seconds for his eyesight to adjust, but then he realized Taryn was in his bed. More accurately, she was in his arms. Her head rested on his chest, hand spread wide on his stomach.

In the stillness of the late morning, his brain wasn’t working at its full capacity. Maybe the sight of her like this should have sent him scrambling. Instead, he let his fingers curl into her hair, smoothing tangles as he looked down on her peaceful face. From his vantage point, he could see the scattering of freckles across her nose and the way her lips pursed in sleep. She was pretty. He’d told her that before, but right then it became an emotion that left warmth at the center of his chest. What had once been a simple observation became an appreciation.

An appreciation he probably shouldn’t have for the mother of his best friend’s baby.

With a groan, Caleb eased himself away from her, carefully guiding her from his chest onto the pillow beside him. She grumbled and pouted, fisting her hand in his shirt. He couldn’t help his smile. He put his hand over hers and worked to loosen her grip.

“You’re comfortable.” Her words were hardly intelligible. She definitely wasn’t awake. “Don’t leave.” Despite her words, her body slumped backward and her hand fell to her side.

Caleb’s chuckle turned into another groan as he got upright. He had to sit still lest the dizzy spin of his head get the better of him. Nausea rolled through him in waves, and he swallowed down the lump in his throat. This had to be how Zeus felt right before his God-sized headache turned out to be his full-grown daughter Athena trying to bust her way out of his head.

It took him a few minutes before he was ready to stumble out to the living room. He found Slate there, sprawled across his couch. Ambling over, he smacked the younger man on the side, making him huff and curl inward. “Move over.”

Slate made a disgruntled noise as he pulled his legs up to his chest, sitting up. “Fucker, you have a loveseat and two chairs.”

“I wanted to sit here.” Caleb rubbed his eyes and proffered the bottle of aspirin he’d found on the nightstand.

“I’m cool, man. No hangover. I could use some water.”

“Make it happen.”

Slate grimaced, but he got up, coming back with two ice-cold bottles of water. Caleb drank almost all of his without breathing. Feeling slightly more human, he turned to his friend. “How did Taryn wind up in my bed?”

Yawning, scratching his belly, Slate shrugged. “I put her there.” Caleb raised an eyebrow at him, and the younger man made a face. “What? It seemed wrong. She’s pregnant. She shouldn’t be sleeping on the couch.”