Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

The drive is in silence and it's making me nervous.

Cal looks over and rests his hand on mine. The one that's picking at my cuticles.

"You don't have to be anxious about it, Beth," he tells me simply.

I gulp. "What?"

He squeezes my hand. "Yes."

"Um… what?"

" Yes is the answer to both of your questions."

"I wasn't aware I asked one," I'm baffled.

He smiles at me. "You can be so dense sometimes, Bethy."

Now I frown. "That's rude."

"Yes, you can love two people in completely different ways. Yes, I answered your 'unasked' question that you really did ask out loud."

"Oh." Yikes. I try to pick again, but he gently squeezes again.

"After all this time, how can I make you so nervous?" he asks.

How? "Because you're you and I really don't want to ruin what we have."

"You can't."

"How can you possibly say that?"

"Because I'm the only one who can decide you really can't but sometimes, like last night, you try really hard to try to change my mind," he replies.

"Cal—"

"I won't say it's okay because it's not. When you act as you did last night I want to throttle you."

I flinch. "You never get mad."

He pulls over as he chuckles. "Sure, I do. I just don't vocalize it as well as you and Rome. Last night I was livid. You ruined what could have been a perfectly good night by getting drunk because you still don't know what the hell you're doing or why you're doing it."

"Cal—"

He hushes me with a finger over my lips. Anyone else and I'd bite that fucking finger. But not Cal. He doesn't mean harm or to belittle. It's a tender gesture, one that is full of love.

"It's no wonder it's Rome that's tying you up in knots, Bethy. You two are exactly alike."

I frown and move to open my mouth to tell him that's insulting, but he presses the finger gently against my lips again.

"Calm down. I don't mean it as an insult."

I roll my eyes.

He chuckles. "Right. It's Rome."

I nod.

"You're just as stubborn as he is."

That gives me pause because, yeah, I am.

"Well, maybe not if you're agreeing with me, because he never agrees to shit." Cal smirks, then removes his finger but uses that hand to cup my cheek. "You just don't see it, Bethy. He doesn't either. I can't fix that for either of you. You two need to get there by yourselves. I just wish you'd hurry the hell up."

"I'm so confused."

He nods. "I know. But you'll figure it out."

"Ooo-kay. I'm going to trust you're right. Whatever it is you're trying to say."

He scoffs. "I'm always right. Haven't you figured that out yet?"

I snicker. "Arrogance. Is it contagious? Did you catch that from Rome?"

"Bethy, who says he didn't catch that from me?"

"Truth. I'm not sure who's worse sometimes."

Cal turns to the road with a laugh.

"I take that back. Rome's much, much worse." Then I pause. "Unless you've won a bet or something. Then you're the absolute worst."

He continues laughing and it makes my heart flutter and my stomach dip. There it is. What I've been waiting for. All my life.

He looks over and catches me staring. I blush a bit and he grins. It's cocky and self-assured.

"Baby, you can stare at me all you want so long as you do it like that ."

"If I didn't have sand in my panties, I'd let you in them when I get home. Too bad you left me on the beach last night, isn't it? Otherwise you could see me giving you that look while I was naked," I taunt, then cross my arms and grin when he sighs.

"Not my finest moment," he admits.

"Hmm. I might forgive you just this once if you promise never to involve my parents again," I hedge.

He lifts a brow. "Counter-offer. I'll agree to never involve your parents again if you promise to stop all of the bullshit you were trying to drown with alcohol."

"Interesting. I only half-understood the majority of this conversation so I'll agree because one: parents, and two: I trust you," I concede.

He grins and I realize it's the second time I admitted that. Making him happy also makes me happy. It's definitely not a hardship. That smile. That face. With his sunglasses on, he's only hotter. His normally brown hair is now tipped with highlights from the summer sun. His skin, sun-kissed and deeply tanned. He may be a man who wears a suit in the office, but outside of it he prefers swim trunks or shorts and no shirt. The muscles under his current shirt are absolutely divine. I know them by heart. Hard ridges with soft sloping indents. Just a smattering of hair on his chest. The multiple tattoos he's had inked into his skin over the years—before he was of age, I might add. While Cal is the better of us, he's also a very bad boy at times. I'd bet everything I own those eyes are twinkling and just a touch darker in color as the blue tends to deepen when he gets aroused.

"Too bad for the sand, though," I quip and tug the hem of my dress down.

I want to cry at the words because the sand in question is in very uncomfortable places that are now, because of my thought processes, swollen with arousal.

Cal groans.

Agreed.

Damn you, Callum.