The Best Kind of Trouble (22 page)

And then I thought of every time I’d let him in before.

“Just let me go,” I whispered.

Nathan didn’t move for a long time.  Finally, he responded, “I don’t know if I can.”

Without another word, I opened the door—surprised and disappointed he let me—and hurried out the door and to my car.  When I got home, I collapsed onto my bed. I didn’t call Caleb or even look at my phone when it buzzed on my nightstand.

Instead, I stared up at the ceiling fan until my eyes felt too heavy, and sleep—and the peaceful oblivion it offered— found me.

You gone and broke the wrong heart baby, and drove me redneck crazy.

~Tyler Farr

When I got to the studio on Monday morning, Caleb was waiting outside for me.

“Hey,” he said, giving me a tight smile.  My usually calm unaffected, laid back Caleb, looked anything but.  His dark eyes were serious and locked on me.  He held open the door and followed me inside.  As soon as we got in, he grabbed me, and hauled me into a nearby writing room, locking the door behind us.

“What are you—?”

He spun me around, pushed me up against the door and kissed me, stealing the breath from my lungs.

When he finally pulled back, it was only enough for his gaze to meet mine.  For a moment, dread and fear washed over me under his scrutinizing, assessing stare. 

What was he about to ask me?  Please don’t ask me about Nathan.  I need you to try to get over him. No matter how wrong that is.

Suddenly, his whole face changed and his mouth curved up on one side.  “Wanna go on our second date?”

Huh?
I batted my lashes in confusion and frowned.

“Second date? When was our first?”

“In Chicago,” he responded easily, shrugging. His cool unaffected attitude was always so effortless, but just then I saw the cracks in his facade.  My stomach clenched.

I am a horrible person.

“Caleb, I don’t think…I mean you should—” I stuttered.

“Ashley,” he said quietly. “I know you have a past…a very jealous, angry past.” He rubbed his jaw and I noticed for the first time the discolored bruise along his jawline. His mouth quirked up. “Honestly, I can’t say I blame him. If I lost you I’d—”

He stopped and I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding.
What? He’d what?!

He looked away and shook his head, rubbing his hand over his shaved head.

His words from a previous conversation while we were on tour made the words catch in my throat.

I’m not worried about losing you.

“You’d what?” I asked, suddenly desperate for the answer.

His head snapped up.  After a couple of silent moments, he said, “Go with me on Wednesday to the Music Awards.”

My eyes widened. 
He wanted our second date to be public?
 

My stomach was doing backflips in my gut. If we went to the awards show together, the tabloids would have a field day. Especially after the picture and the fight. 
Is that what he wanted?  Was this some ego trip? A way to claim me in public so Nathan would know?

I wrinkled my nose and pursed my lips. I swallowed hard and tried to speak around the thick knot forming in my throat. “That would be confirming…
the rumors
.”

I looked at him pointedly.  Caleb cocked an eyebrow at me and planted his hands on either side of me, boxing me in. He smelled so good. My insides fluttered and everything inside me tightened in response to his closeness.

He was all bad boy swagger. Wrapped up in a sexy inked-up package. Trouble.

He leaned forward, sliding his nose along mine and pausing with his lips hovering just above mine. In a low husky whisper he murmured, “And you don’t want that?”

“I don’t…I mean I’m not, I—” I struggled to form a coherent sentence.

Caleb pressed his lips to mine, softly, deliberately melding our mouths together in a slow sensuous kiss.

Trouble and I were becoming best friends.

~000~

Nathan texted me on Wednesday as I was getting dressed and waiting for Caleb to come pick me up.

I know what you said. But I miss you. So fucking much.

Unwanted tears pricked my eyes.
Why did he always get to me like this?
He had the worst timing.
 His pained words made my stomach drop. Made me feel sick and twisted up my insides. 

I shouldn’t have texted him back.

Nate, we can’t keep doing this to each other. I can’t keep doing this.

His response was immediate.
You don’t miss me?

I didn’t say that.

So you do miss me?

Oh my god. Cocky bastard.

No.

Liar.

I grunted in frustration. When I looked up, I saw my flushed face and a tiny smirk on my lips.  I scowled at my reflection and tossed my phone in my purse
.  Mission Move On
, was officially in full effect.

~000~

By Friday night the pictures were everywhere.  I couldn’t even turn on the TV without seeing my face and Caleb’s and the swirling gossip.

I groaned in frustration. Caleb laughed.

Caleb plopped down on the couch next to me, an overflowing bowl of popcorn cradled against his chest. 

He slung an arm casually along the back of the couch behind me. I silently studied his profile for a moment, the flickering light of the television casted shadows on his handsome face.

Things had been quiet today between us since our date. Not as heated and explosive as on the tour. Or even as passionate and demanding as the kiss at the party or Monday at the studio.

But it was kind of nice. Peaceful. Easy.

That night at his family’s home in Chicago flashed through my mind. His dark eyes open, his lips hovering above mine, the starry night, the feel of his heart beating rapidly beneath my hand.

There was definitely something between us, but just as soon as he started to let me in, he would close off again.  It was subtle.  But the serious, vulnerable side of him, the side that let me see all his emotions in his dark eyes, would be gone.  And fun, affection, laid back Caleb would be in his place.

Just as I was contemplating this, a knock sounded at my door. And then another. And another.

I huffed, irritated and suddenly, inexplicably a little nervous to answer the door. I padded down the hall in my bare feet and opened the door to find Nathan, unsteady on his feet, leaning heavily against the door frame, glowering at me.

Looking behind me to see if Caleb was curious enough to get off the couch and finding no movement, I stepped outside and shut the door behind me.  Nathan’s eyes narrowed and as he swayed closer to me, I got a whiff of him.

“Jesus, Nate,” I cursed.  “Are you drunk?”

He put a hand out, steadying himself against the door frame and leaned down so that we were almost eye level. “So, what if I am, doll face?” he slurred.

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms in front of me in a defensive and protective gesture. “What are you doing here, Nathan?”

“Oh, so now it’s Nathan, huh?”

I shook my head.  I was in no mood to play this game with him.

“That is your name,” I replied.

Nathan stepped closer and I backed up against the door. His arms caged me in on both sides of my head. He leaned his head down, until his lips were almost touching my ear.

“I liked it better when you used to call me Nate,” his voice dropped to a low husky whisper.  “When I was
your
Nate.”

I shoved at his chest, suddenly angry as I fought back tears.
How dare he come here! He hurt me. He—

He grabbed my wrists and pinned me against the door. He smelled like whisky and cinnamon and a hint of tobacco. His full lips curled into an obnoxious smirk.

“Nate,” I whispered, suddenly uneasy at the tight grip of his fingers. He must have read the fear in my eyes as he abruptly dropped his hands and stepped back. Worry and regret marred his chiseled features.

I whispered softly, “This isn’t you.  This isn’t—”

“Isn’t what?” he cut me off, leaning into me again.  “Isn’t the kind of man I am?”

He snorted.  “What, did you think that I’d just wish you happily ever after and watch you ride off into the fuckin’ sunset…with
someone else?”

I frowned at him he stepped back a little. I pulled away from him as far as I could get on my tiny front porch. 

The smirk dropped from his features and his blue eyes sharpened, narrowed, pinned me to the spot.  He pressed his palm to the center of his chest and growled, “This is exactly the kind of man I am, sweetheart. The kind that—”

“That acts like a drunken asshole? That lies and cheats and steals?!” I snapped.

He took a step toward me, his eyes narrowed further.  Then a wave of understanding passed over his features and his blue eyes widened, his face went slack.  I fidgeted uncomfortably.

“You think I stole your virginity?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

I sucked in a sharp breath.  I didn’t answer but tears pooled in my eyes.  Nathan took another step toward me and cupped my face in his large warm hands. The familiar gesture made my thoughts and emotions swirl in confusion.

“I didn’t…how did you—”

“Face,” he chided. “I knew.”

My breath faltered and tears fell down my cheeks. That was almost worst. That he believed his old girlfriend to be pregnant and was with me that night anyway. Knowing how much I was giving him.

His voice was cracked as he spoke and I felt the fissures in my own heart.  “I know I fucked up.  I can’t even promise that I’ll never fuck up again. But,
I am the kind of man that will love you for the rest of his life. I promise I’ll never stop loving you, but—”

He took a deep breath and the thick knot in his throat moved with the movement. His eyes searched mine, flickering back and forth.  Uncertainty clouded his gaze.

“But?” I whispered, desperate for him to continue, afraid and terrified and confused about what he was going to say.

“But, if you tell me,” he continued, eyes still searching mine.  “Tell me you don’t love me anymore, that you don’t want us, I’ll walk away right now.  I’ll stop fighting if you tell me your heart will never be mine again.”