He lowered his head, and I noticed sweat forming on his forehead.
“Listen, man, you’re doing what’s right,” I said. “But you’ve got to make a real go of it. My dad knocked my mom up and married her, but couldn’t give up the side *. Now he’s alone and driving a rig over half the year. Don’t let that be you.”
Mo nodded. “Thanks, man.” He stood and crossed back to the bar.
Fuck it, I thought, and followed him.
After another drink, we headed out to the festival. Originally, I didn’t want to go because I knew she’d be there. Cate. She’d blown me off big-time, and I wasn’t accustomed to being brushed off. But fuck that too, because after chatting with Mo, I had a new plan, and the music fest was the perfect place to make it happen.
We hustled over to the food trucks first before winding our way into the crowd. Ashton disappeared to see Ava, and I got caught chatting up every Tom, Dick, and Jeanette. I’d worn my sweatband for the outing, ready for the season to roll, but it had been a mistake. Everyone wanted to see me, not that I could have hidden at six foot four.
When I finally got away from everyone, I caught a quick glimpse of Ash and decided it was the best time to do what I needed to do.
And I did.
Then I went back and enjoyed the party. Cate’s voice echoed off the buildings lining College Avenue, and my brain was not the only organ to perk up. Kill me now, but my dick liked the sound of her voice, the throatiness of her laugh, and the ballsy way she spoke. I smiled to myself, happy as fuck to see her stop bowing down to Sonny.
When she was through talking, I went to find her. Sonny let me back behind the table with a wink—I’d already fixed that shit moments earlier—and I was standing right behind my little vixen wrapped in red lace.
I mumbled into her ear, inhaling her citrus scent, and had to refrain from licking her neck. We chatted until our conversation was rudely interrupted by that jerk wanting his freebie CD.
I wanted to yell, “Get the fuck away,” but thought better of it. I would be the one walking her home, and that was all that mattered. My game plan was in motion, and if there was one thing about me—I always knew where the X’s and O’s were supposed to be.
When the music finally died down for the night, I stood waiting to the left of the radio station’s area. Leaning against a tree, I called out, “Cate, hurry.”
She flashed me an evil look. No, she wasn’t to be messed with when it came to work. The thought niggled in my brain, making me squirm a bit, but I pushed it back.
My silence and patience only lasted another five minutes, and then I sneaked up on my prey again.
“Let’s go,” I said in her ear. She jumped at least a foot, her head colliding with my chin.
“Shit, you scared me!”
Laughing, I grabbed her by the waist and tossed Miss Feminism over my shoulder caveman-style and walked her straight out of the booth.
“Put me down,” she yelled, smacking my back. “What about my funnel cake?”
“They shut down, so I owe you one. And I’m not putting you down until we’re far enough away that I know you won’t go running back to work.”
“Blane, I’m heavy. Put me down.” Her voice cracked on the heavy part, and I did as she asked.
I grabbed her hand and stilled her movement, forcing her to face me. “You’re not heavy.”
Her dark gaze skittered over our surroundings in the moonlight as she tried to find something to look at other than me. “I am, seriously. And friends don’t carry friends.”
“This again.”
She started to protest, and I only knew one way to shut her up. I glanced around us, taking in where we were—near the quad, halfway between town and the dorms—and dragged Cate to a nearby cluster of trees.
“Cate—”
“Catie,” she corrected me.
“Cate, listen, we’re friends but with potential for so much more. Stop bulldozing me. You’re a closet sports watcher, and I’m a closet feminist.”
This made her giggle.
“And stop with this heavy business. You’re a woman, as far as I can tell, and women have tits and ass. Many men like that, including myself.” Silently, I added, But I only realized that a few weeks ago when your curvy ass walked into the studio.
Her eyes got round, and the sight of her pulse fluttering in her neck made me want to sink my teeth in and leave a mark.
“You can’t say stuff like that.”
“I can and I will,” I protested. Or maybe I argued or demanded; I wasn’t sure.
“No. I’m not that kind of woman.”
I gently pushed her back against the tree and leaned my body into hers. “Caterina, you can be all woman, have wants for yourself, and still have the desire to be desired. I don’t think the two have to be mutually exclusive.”