Miss February (The Calendar Girl Duet Book 1) Page 9

  “Don’t cry, Daddy,” I whispered. “I’ll be okay.”

  The grass rustled nearby. I opened my eyes to see Chase slipping into the shadows.

  “Too late,” I called. “I saw you.”

  He turned back. “Sorry. I saw you sitting here alone, and I thought I’d come out and see if you were okay.” He hesitated. “I’ll leave you to . . . whatever it was you were doing.”

  I shook my head and patted the spot on the retaining wall next to me.

  “It’s okay. I was just talking to my dad.”

  He sat beside me and stretched his long legs out next to mine. “How long?”

  A smiled tugged at the corner of my mouth. Finally. Someone who didn’t make me feel even a little crazy for talking to the stars.

  “Almost eight years.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I miss him every day, but I have good memories. He was a great dad.”

  He handed me a bottle of Heineken. “I don’t know what you drink, so I just brought you one of these.”

  “Tequila, but this is fine.”

  “I’ll have to remember that.”

  I laughed since he’d given me a bottle of tequila as a birthday present.

  “Oh, yeah.” A slow smile crept over his face after I reminded him. “I forgot.”

  “You liar.” I playfully bumped him with my shoulder. “Who bought it? Diane?” Of course she had—and she was probably watching us from somewhere in the house. “Did she send you out here after me?”

  He shook his head. “Absolutely not. I came on my own.”

  “I think you’re still lying.”

  “I swear! Don’t you think if she’d sent me out, she’d at least have made sure I brought the right drink?”

  He had a point. He also had a great smile. He seemed pretty serious for the most part, but when he smiled, his eyes sparkled as if he were lit from the inside.

  “So what’s your story?” I asked. “I’m sure you’ve already heard all my ugly secrets and way more than I’m comfortable with anyone knowing.”

  He shrugged. “Not much to tell. I’m twenty-seven. I grew up outside of Allentown. I moved here a couple months ago to work with my brother. Like I said, not much to tell.”

  “Oh, there’s more,” I assured him, wondering what had happened with the rabbit, and if she’d moved here with him. “You’re just not talking.” I stood up and faced him. “Can I have your hand?”

  He looked confused but held out his left hand.

  I shook my head. “No, the right one.”

  He transferred his beer to the other hand, wiped it on his jeans, and held out his right hand. In spite of the cold, wet bottle, his hand was still warm. I put my hand in his as if we were going to shake hands and felt it again—a low-voltage vibration. I’d felt it the first time, when he’d come into the luncheonette, and at the wedding when he’d touched my arms, and again when we shook hands at Blondie’s last week.

  I still had no idea what I was feeling. Again, I remembered my dad’s fateful declaration about his boss all those years ago, and how he’d known he was going to die just by shaking his hand.

  “Are you feeling okay?” I asked.

  He smiled. “You mean right now, while you’re holding my hand? Yeah, actually, I feel pretty good.”

  I shook my head. “I mean health wise. Are you healthy?”

  “Why? What did you have in mind?”

  It seemed he wasn’t going to take me seriously.

  “Nothing.”

  I reached for the other hand. He finished his beer, set the bottle on the ground in front of him, and held it out to me. I held both of them, closed my eyes and concentrated.

  “Has anyone ever told you they felt some type of electricity when they touched you?” I asked after a while, opening my eyes.

  “Actually, yes.” He laughed when I made a face.

  “I’m a little psychic,” I said. “My dad was extremely gifted, and I heard him say once that he shook someone’s hand and knew the guy was going to die soon.”

  “Jesus.” He pulled his hands away as if he were the one feeling the shock. “That’s one hell of a party trick you got going there.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not saying I feel that. I don’t know what I’m feeling, but I’m feeling something. A vibration. It’s faint, but it’s definitely there.” I sized him up. He looked healthy. “Still . . . I’d feel better if you got a checkup.”

  “Oh, you would, would you?”

  “I’m not crazy.” I sounded exactly like someone who was crazy. “It’s a deep gut feeling. I just know things. I also usually know when someone is lying to me.” Given that I was involved with someone who lied, or at least bent the truth to suit him, I probably should revisit my earlier declaration about not being crazy. “Sometimes I just know what’s going to happen before it happens—sometimes just seconds before, so it’s not like it does much good, but still. Don’t tell Diane, but I knew about this party, although I wish I could’ve been surprised.”

  I cocked my head. “I know! I’ll prove I’m psychic. I can guess your middle name.”

  He ducked his head and chuckled. “I doubt it.”

  “Seriously. What’s your last name again?”

  “Holgate.”

  “Okay, Chase Holgate. What’s your middle initial?”

  He shook his head and laughed. “Too easy. You have to figure it out on your own.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Challenge accepted.”

  “Oh, and one other thing.” The corners of his mouth turned up. “If you don’t guess my middle name, I get to give you a birthday kiss.”

  “I’m very good,” I warned.

  “So am I.”

  I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from smiling while the rest of me got all warm and tingly, and he wasn’t even touching me this time. Given my relationship with Preston, it came as a bit of a surprise. Chase was extremely attractive—and probably could incinerate a pair of panties if he wanted—but he was a bit rough around the edges, especially compared with Preston.

  “Deal,” I said. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d missed a name. “Will you tell me if I guess the right initial first?”

  He shook his head.

  “C’mon!”

  “Nope. Stakes are too high.”

  I stared at him for a little while, but nothing was coming to me. Not even a letter.

  “Give me your hands again.”

  That had never worked before, but I was really struggling. He smiled and extended his hands. I held onto him for a while, but still I got nothing, although the vibration grew stronger. I tilted my head up to the night sky and tried to focus.

  “Hey! No cheating. Your dad can’t help.”

  I’d been sad thinking of another birthday without my father, but that made me laugh. After a few more moments, I gave up.

  “You win.” I let go of his hands and offered up my cheek.

  “Oh no.” He gave a deep laugh as he stood, towering over me. “I get to kiss you, and not on the cheek.”

  “You know I’m seeing someone,” I reminded him, although I was sure he must already know. I wasn’t about to lead him on.

  “I know,” he assured me, “for now.”

  My traitorous body was buzzing. “You have a lot of faith in yourself, don’t you?”

  “I just know my strengths and my weaknesses.”

  He put his hand against the small of my back and pulled me closer. Then with his right hand resting on the back of my head and tangled in my hair, he tilted my face toward him. His kiss was gentle at first, but he slowly applied more pressure, and I could feel myself yielding. He pulled back a fraction of an inch, hesitated, and then kissed me again. And I let him. I didn’t owe him more than one kiss, but I let him kiss me—and to my surprise, I kissed him back.

  When I finally pulled away, he didn’t try to stop me.

  “I . . . um . . .” I wasn’t quite sure what I was going to say.

  “U
m . . .” he replied teasingly.

  “Okay,” I said finally. “You’re a very good kisser.”

  He grinned. “Thank you. You should keep that in mind.”

  He leaned forward, and I thought he was going to kiss me again. Instead, he whispered in my ear. “I don’t have a middle name.”

  I gasped. “That’s not fair! You lied to me.”

  “No, I didn’t. And you gave up. You didn’t figure out there was no name.”

  “That sounds like a technicality.”

  “A win’s a win.” He grinned. “Want to kiss me again?”

  It surprised me how much I wanted to say yes, but I didn’t. I just laughed. “No, you cheater.”

  His smile faded as his features darkened. “No, not a cheater. I’m what they call a good guy. We’re the ones who finish last.”

  There was sadness in his voice. It was the part of the story he wasn’t telling. But before I could surmise anything more, he headed toward the street.

  “I have work in the morning, so please make my apologies,” he called, walking backward. “Happy birthday, Rain. I hope this next year is your best one yet.”

  A few minutes later, the silent night was filled with the throaty roar of his bike as he disappeared into the night.

  And as strange as it was, it felt as if he’d taken a little part of me with him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It may not have been the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it sure as hell wasn’t easy walking away from Rain after that kiss. I’ll admit, when I saw her at the track I thought she was just a really hot piece of ass, and I believed that after all the shit I’d been through in the past six months, I deserved a good fuck with no strings attached. Given a choice, she’s who I would’ve chosen.

  But in the short time I’d known her, I no longer saw the hard candy shell. She was more than sex on a stick, with her bleached-blond hair, beautiful face, inch-long fingernails, and body that just wouldn’t quit. I’d caught a glimpse of her softer side. The girl sitting outside alone the night of her party, crying quietly under the trees, had seemed innocent and vulnerable. And the few times I’d seen her since, at Blondie’s or at Wally’s, I’d caught her watching me like she really was concerned about my health or something.

  It made me want to get to know her, not just nail her, although I sure as hell wouldn’t be averse to that either.

  We’d finished up working on the car early Thursday, and the crew and I headed to Blondie’s. I hadn’t eaten, so a burger and some of Irena’s homemade pierogis washed down with a couple Heinekens was just what I needed. I couldn’t get over how good the food was for such a little hole in the wall.

  I was about to settle up with Lynette and head home when Rain and Preston walked in. I sat back down and ordered another beer. Other than that night at the track, I’d never seen the two of them together, and I was curious what it was about him that kept her hanging on, especially if there were even a remote chance that he was two-timing her.

  It didn’t take long for me to wonder if she was a glutton for punishment, because from where I sat, he was a first-class jerk. They’d taken two stools near the door, directly across from us. Rain saw Wally and waved, but I was partially blocked by the display of bottles in the center of the bar. Either she didn’t see me, or she was ignoring me. I fancied that she was thinking about kissing me. I was probably kidding myself, but the kiss we’d shared had gotten me through some lonely nights.

  She seemed unusually subdued, and it was clear after only a minute or two that her boyfriend had been drinking. He was loud and boisterous, and although I couldn’t hear what she ordered, I heard him insist on pouring his own. Lynette handed Rain a glass of club soda with a twist of lime, then set a shot glass and a bottle of Jameson in front of him. Even though the spelling was different, it wouldn’t have surprised me to learn some distant relative of his owned the distillery.

  He whispered something to Rain and nuzzled her neck. I had to look away. I had no right to feel anything, let alone jealousy. But for as much as I tried to remain focused on Wally’s discussion of the merits of Hoosiers over Goodyears, I couldn’t help zeroing in on what was going on across from me.

  Rain seemed tense and irritable and growing more so. Preston kept grabbing her. At one point, he held her around the waist and stuck his shot glass into her cleavage. When he reached for the bottle of whiskey, she pulled it out and slammed it on the bar.

  “C’mon, babe.” He picked it up and tried to put it back.

  Fish and one of his buddies started egging her on.

  “Go ahead, Rain! I bet that’s not the only place he sticks his face.”

  Fish burst out laughing while the drunk beside him clapped him on the back, then yelled, “If he’s no good, I’m an excellent linguist.”

  He stuck his tongue out like he was Gene Simmons. I wanted to yank it right the fuck out of his head.

  Rain usually had a snappy comeback, but not tonight. Tonight she seemed defeated. Preston pulled her out of her chair, stood her in front of him, and slipped the glass between her breasts again. She seemed miserable, but for some reason, she appeared willing to let the jackass have his boob shot. At least until she looked away. When her eyes met mine, I could feel her embarrassment from across the bar.

  “No!” She yanked the glass away. “I said I don’t want to. Isn’t that good enough?”

  “Aw, c’mon, babe. What’s got into you?” He made like he was going to bury his face in her cleavage, glass or no, but she pushed him away. “What the fuck is your problem?”

  Fish let out a wild catcall. Rain shot him a threatening look.

  “Just stop,” she said to Preston, trying to keep her voice low.

  “C’mon, please?” He raised the glass above his head, and though he spoke to her, he did it for the benefit of everyone in the barroom. “Let me do a boob shot, and I’ll buy a round for the house.”

  The place erupted in cheers.

  Rain snatched her purse off the bar. “Fuck you, Preston! You want to do boob shots, bring your girlfriend in and put her on display.”

  She spun toward the door.

  He called after her. “Your tits are nicer!” When the door slammed shut behind her, he added loudly, “Fuck you. You can walk home.”

  “I’ll fuck her,” Fish yelled, and the place erupted with more cheers, especially when Preston lifted his filled shot glass and toasted the bastard before throwing it back.

  The only person who wasn’t enjoying the show, besides me, was Wally. He gripped my shoulder.

  “You look like you’re ready to kill somebody.” He spoke low enough so that only I could hear him. “He’s drunk. I’ve never seen him like this before.”

  I shook my head. “I gotta go, or I’m gonna end up kicking the shit out of him.”

  Wally gave my back a couple pats. “Good idea.”

  Preston was in no hurry to go after Rain. Although he hadn’t gotten his way, he ordered a round for the bar anyway. He was everybody’s fucking hero.

  I picked up my helmet and threw a twenty on the bar.

  Preston was talking to Lynette as I passed. “She can wait until I’m good and ready, or she can walk her ass home.”

  I was almost to the door when he reached out and grabbed my arm. He was stockier than me, but I had several inches on him, plus I was fast. I also wasn’t drunk.

  “Where you going?” His speech was slurred. “I’m buyin’, motorhead, dincha hear?”

  “Yeah, I heard. No, thanks.” I yanked my arm from his grasp.

  “Eh, fuck you too,” I heard as the door closed behind me.

  There was no sign of Rain near the apple-green Corvette I assumed was Preston’s. I was climbing onto my bike, when I caught sight of someone walking about half a block away. When she passed under a streetlight, that white-blond hair lit up like a beacon.

  “Jesus Christ,” I muttered. I had to give her credit. She had to live at least five miles from here, yet damn if she wasn�
�t determined to walk home.

  I started up my bike and rode until I could pull up in front of her. I cut the engine and slipped off my helmet.

  “You planning to walk all the way home?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want a ride?”

  She stopped walking to consider my offer. “I guess.”

  I handed her the helmet. “Here, put this on.”

  “What are you going to wear?”

  “I’m from Pennsylvania. No helmet laws. I’ll be fine.”

  “Yeah, but this is New Jersey.” The helmet was too big for her, but it was better than nothing.

  “I’ll go slow, I promise. If I get pulled over, it’s only a twenty-five-dollar fine. I’ll take my chances.”

  She climbed on and put her arms around my waist. I had to remind myself to focus.

  “Am I holding you too tight?” she asked.

  I smiled over my shoulder. “Just tight enough.”

  She loosened her grip, but as soon as I took off, she squeezed harder. Despite my promise to take it slow, if she held me tighter when I went faster, I might just have to do that.

  At the first stop sign, I asked if she wanted to go for a ride or straight home.

  “I’d love a ride, but not if you don’t have a helmet.”

  “No problem.” I leaned into the turn and headed up Cedar Hill Road. I had a spare helmet back at my apartment.

  “You want to come in or wait here?” I asked after pulling into my driveway.

  She made a face. “I need to use the bathroom, if that’s okay.”

  “C’mon.”

  I was waiting in the living room when she came out. It gave me a crazy little thrill seeing her in my apartment.

  “This is nice,” she said, surveying the place. “A little sparse, but nice. You’re very neat. Either that or you don’t have enough stuff to make a mess.”

  “Both, actually. When I moved, I left everything with my ex.”