Rekindled (28 page)

I swallow knowing I’d been caught. Damnit. It’s true though, his body is perfectly sculpted and meant to be worshipped, and he knows it. Cocky bastard. I didn’t know it was possible, but somehow his bravado makes me even more in love with him. The different sides of his personality are like facets of a Rubix cube, and our time apart from each other left him disjointed and jumbled. And now that we get to spend time together, I’m going to take my time testing out the various ways of solving them, putting him back together, and I’m going to enjoy every single second of it.

Our food arrives, and our conversation falls into a comfortable melody of questions and answers. He tells me more about his job as a smoke jumper, while I regale him with stories of my clients back in L.A. He asks me about what my plans are once summer is over, and I tell him I’m not sure. I can tell he’s unhappy with my noncommittal answer, but luckily he leaves it be. There’s a lot of deeper issues we need to talk about before we can really move forward as a couple, but for now, I just want to take things slowly. I want to give us the space to become reacquainted before bringing up topics that I’m not sure how he’ll react to.

“Thank you for dinner, that was amazing.” I wipe my mouth with my napkin and set it on my empty plate.

“You’re welcome, and I knew you’d like it.”

“It’s been years and you still know me so well.”

“Parts of you, yes. But there’s a lot that I don’t know, and I’m going to really enjoy discovering the new stuff, too.” He reaches over and takes my hands in his, bringing my knuckles to his lips and placing gentle kisses along the tops. “So, with that said, when can I see you again?”

I want to say whenever you want, but I know we need to take this slow. If we move too quickly, I’m worried it’ll blow up in our faces, and so I take a breath and say, “my next day off is Wednesday, does that work for you?”

“Wednesday’s my new favorite day.”

Callie: Riddle me this: You leave home, make three left turns and return home. On the way you see two masked figures, who are they?

That’s the text I wake up to after I agreed last night on the phone to let her pick our next date. Even though I haven’t seen her since our date on Friday, we’ve spent a couple hours each night on the phone, and sent multiple texts throughout the days. It reminds me of when we were teenagers, and now that I have her back in my life, I don’t know how I ever managed to let her go. One thing’s for certain, though: I’m never letting her go again.

Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I pick up my phone and text her back.

Me: Uhhh, two robbers?

Callie: Nope, guess again.

I stare at the wall trying to figure out the answer, but nothing’s coming to me. I’m going to blame it on her lips which kissed me stupid on our date Friday. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the way her lips taste like cherries, or the way she makes these breathy moans that have had me jerking my junk ten times in the past four days. I’m like a goddamn sixteen-year-old again, creaming into a wad of tissue beneath the covers of my sheets.

Yesterday was the worst, probably because the anticipation of seeing her again today had me worked up in such a ball of energy, I couldn’t concentrate on a damn thing. We had a small fire to snuff out and I almost missed my jump landing because I couldn’t stop thinking about Callie. Luckily, I snapped out of it just in time and was able to correct myself before I ended up smashing into a tree. By the time we made back to base, my thoughts were consumed by wanting to feel the softness of her tits pressed up against me, the way her smooth skin felt against my fingertips. I wondered what her pussy tastes like and what it’d feel like to bury myself inside her. I’d had to jerk off twice last night just to be able to fall asleep.

“Dude, what the fuck are you doing?” Matt asks as he stands in the doorway of my room with his arms folded and a smirk on his face.

“Nothing, why? What’s up?”

“Man, you’re completely pussy-whipped and you haven’t even had her pussy. Or did you and that’s why you’re all spaced out?” He wags his eyebrows at me and I throw my pillow at him and hit his face.

“Did you need something or did you just come in here because you miss me?” I bite out as I stand up and throw on a t-shirt.

“I actually came to see if I can borrow your truck. Macy bought a new couch and the furniture place is trying to get her to spend an extra two hundred bucks for delivery.”

“Sure, if you can answer this riddle.” I read the text Callie sent and watch as the vein in his forehead pops out and he taps his finger on the tip of his chin. “Don’t pop an artery, I’d hate for you to have an aneurysm over this.”

“Fuck off, I’m thinking.” He fires back and the crease between his eyebrows deepens. “I got it.” He snaps his fingers and then slaps his thigh. “Raccoons.”

“Raccoons?” I repeat. I want to tell him that’s an asinine answer, but truthfully, I’m not positive it’s not correct.

“Yeah, dude, think about it, there’s raccoons all over residential areas and people call the markings on their faces masks, so why not? What’s this for anyway?”

“It’s a hint for where Callie’s taking me for our date today.”

“Well, it’s worth a shot. Maybe she’s taking you to the zoo or some shit.”

I tap out a quick text to Callie.

Me: Is it raccoons?

Callie: Lol, no, but that’s a good one. But that was guess number two, three strikes and you’re out.

I read her text again and excitement bubbles to the surface when I realize what it is.

“Got it.” Matt looks at me expectantly. “Baseball. Two masks, the umpire and the catcher. Three lefts and you’re home.”

Matt shakes his head and laughs. “Wow, I don’t think I ever would have caught that.”

“Me neither, if she hadn’t given me that last clue.” I turn and grab the keys off my nightstand and toss them to Matt who catches them with one hand. “Callie will be here soon so I’m going to snag a shower, but if I so much as find a scratch on my truck when I get back, you’re a dead man.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, your truck is precious. Don’t worry, I won’t scratch her up, although Macy and I might have a little fun in the bed of it.”

He winks at me as I flip him off and he backs out of my room laughing.

I was seven years old when my dad took me to my first baseball game. School was out for the summer and I think my dad felt bad that he and my mom had been doting on Rylee so much, so he woke me up one morning and told me to get dressed because we were going to Boise for the day. I still remember the way it felt sitting beside my dad in his 1980 Dodge Challenger as we drove to the stadium, wearing my green and yellow jersey with Humphrey the Hawk, the team’s mascot embroidered on the front. The way the vibrations of the speakers rumbled deep in my belly when the announcers spoke, and the way peanuts and popcorn tasted so much better here than anywhere else.

Over the years we’d come back multiple times as a family, later bringing Callie with us, but that first day is, and always will be, sacred.

I’m reminded of that day as we approach the Memorial Stadium, the weathered green and yellow sign off to the side with a picture of a Hawk next to the words,
Memorial Stadium, Home of the Idaho Hawks.
We pull into the parking lot and I smile when I see a man walking toward the entrance with a little girl perched on top of his shoulders and a woman with a round belly by his side.

We step out of the car and I reach for Callie’s hand as we make our way to the ticket box. There’s a line of people waiting to get inside, so I take the opportunity to get closer to her, moving so that I’m standing at her back with my arms wrapped around her waist. She’s the perfect height for this since her head barely comes to my shoulders, making it easy for me to lean forward and place small kisses right below her earlobe.

“Tate.” She twists to look at me. “You keep that up and we won’t make it through the first innings.”

“I’m okay with that if the trade-off is I get you.”

“Tate!”

“Okay, okay, I promise to behave. I just like holding you.”

She turns in my arms. “I like that, too.” She presses up on her tip-toes, draping her arms around my neck and presses her lips to mine. I suck on her bottom lip which elicits a soft moan from her and I playfully nibble it before releasing her.

She pouts and I bend my head so that our foreheads are pressed together. “Sweetness, if I keep kissing you, there is no way we’re making it to the game.” I lightly kiss her nose before spinning her back to face forward and we take a few steps in unison to approach the booth and purchase our tickets.

The Boise Hawks are a minor league team, so this stadium isn’t like the mammoth-sized ones the majors use, but it’s large enough that there’re plenty of seats to choose from. The seats are a faded crimson color from the unsheltered sunlight, and while the plastic material isn’t what I’d choose to make a sofa out of, it’s nice enough for a couple hours to watch the game.

We slide past a group of forty-something year olds right behind third base, all wearing the Hawk’s colors of green and yellow, the men have their faces painted accordingly and the women’s nails are a feminine representation of their Idaho-pride. The Hawks may not be the Yankees in stature, but Boise is fiercely proud of their minor league team, and not afraid to show it.

“You want something to eat or drink?” I ask, pointing to the small concession stand over in the corner.

“Sure, whatever you’re having is fine.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” I lean over and kiss her cheek before standing and making my way through the aisle towards the concession stand.

By the time I get back with hot dogs, popcorn, and Pepsis for both of us, the game has started, and I watch as Callie shoots out of her seat and cheers alongside the rest of the stadium as one of the Hawk’s players makes it to the third base. A man in a suit a couple seats over is bent over the armrest of his chair as he asks Callie something. She smiles at him and shakes her head no. I don’t know what he asked her, but my feet pick up the pace and I nearly trip over the damn steps trying to make my way back to her.

It’s stupid to be jealous of a stranger, of someone who likely just asked her if she had the time or some other casual question. But it’s Callie.
My
Callie, and I don’t like the way his eyes are taking her in. I don’t like the way one corner of his lips tugs into a small grin as she opens her mouth to say something to him. For all I know, this guy could be the next Saint lined up to get into heaven, but I’d rather die and go to hell before I let another man steal her from me. He reaches out and his fingers brush against the sleeve of her shirt. He holds up a piece of lint before releasing it from his fingers, but I’ve seen enough. I’m seeing red.