"Thank you," I replied. "I'm pretty sure I would've filed it away as a bad start to my twenties and moved on but then the pattern kept repeating. Not that I got engaged. Jesus, no. I've learned my lesson there. But I got back out there and dated someone else. We were clicking. It was good. Then it ended. Five months later, he was engaged. It happened one more time after that. Dating, clicking, everything. Then it was over. He was married within a year."
"So," he started, "you don't do this. I get it now."
"I don't do this. Yeah," I agreed, a hint of defensiveness in my tone. "Those relationships were disorganized train wrecks and I'm happy—no, fucking thrilled—I'm not married to any of those guys. But please don't look at me and think those times broke me. They didn't. They helped me figure a lot of shit out and now I get to have fun. I get to make myself happy. I don't have to worry about anyone else."
"And there's no future," Cal said.
"I'll figure out the future when I get there," I argued. "Right now, I like my life. I like what I have going." I squeezed his fingers. "And I like you too."
But he didn't want the things I had to give. I knew he didn't. And I didn't want it with him. Cal was altogether too intense for a slot on my calendar. He demanded too much, played too hard, adored too deep. He wanted everything and he couldn't help himself.
Worse yet, I couldn't help myself around him.
"That's something to consider." His words were tight, as if I was asking him to choose which type of poison to ingest.
"Yeah," I agreed. "Think about it. You know where to find me."
He offered a noncommittal murmur but said nothing else as we rounded the last quarter of the trail. He didn't need to say anything. He hated this—as I knew he would—and I hated it for him. Cal wasn't like Stephen, Leif, or Harry. Even when he had me on the tailgate of his SUV, treating my scrapes and being bashful, I knew he didn't function that way. He vibed on a different level, my man-brick. He wasn't meant for anything but full-out, balls to the walls, unrelenting intensity when it came to work, women, even burgers. His whole damn life moved at that level. All or nothing at all.
And what a treat that full-out, balls to the walls, unrelenting adoration would be. But it wasn't meant for me. Not for now, not for keeps.
I knew it but that didn't stop it from stinging worse than some well-placed bites to the ass.
I pointed at the park gates as they came into sight and a gangly creature hunched over an abandoned coffee cup. "Is that my raccoonasaurus?"
"No, Stella. That's a plain old raccoon. A little one too. No dinosaur lineage whatsoever," he said with a laugh. "It's not even the same animal from last week. That was a beaver. This is a raccoon. I'm sure of it."
"I swear to god, it was at least three feet tall and speaking in tongues. That thing wanted to enslave humans, starting with me."
Cal laughed. "You're fucking adorable." He shook his head, hitting me with a smile hot enough to thaw an ice sheet. "All right, Stella. That's our walk for today." He stepped back, pointed to the gates. "The beast has scurried off now that he's had his morning mocha."
"Thank god," I said, starting in that direction. "If that's the price, I'll pick one up on my way over tomorrow. I don't mind paying off the bouncer."
Cal stopped near my car, crossed his arms over his chest.Oof.Walking by his side protected me from the full frontal. I glanced across the street, down at my nails, up at the brightening sky. Anywhere but the gun show. Because I couldn't help myself. I really could not.
"What do you have going on today?" he asked. His question came out stiff, as if he didn't know how to talk to me anymore. "Do you get any downtime after working straight through the weekend?"
"Downtime, no," I said, laughing. "After the draft, there's a day or two where everyone breathes and the players are busy bathing in champagne and buying fancy cars. Unless they combine the champagne with the fancy cars, I'm usually off the hook. But after that, it's right back to the mayhem." I lifted my hands, let them fall. "What about you?"
"My schedule is light. That's always a cause for concern," he said, his knuckles running down the line of his jaw. "The shit always hits the fan when I have time on my hands."
"Because you invent your own trouble?"
He shook his head. "When it comes to hospital life, downtime attracts trouble. If it's quiet, wait a few minutes and all hell will break loose."
"Hmmm." The light hit his beard scruff and I was pretty sure my ovaries catcalled him. I rolled my eyes at myself but went straight back to admiring his scruff.
Stella don't Stella Stella Stella don't go there.
Cal shifted, unfolding his arms and setting his hands on his hips. "Any late meetings or calls tonight?"
I blinked away, mentally paging through my calendar. "Nothing after eight, assuming McKendrick's babysitters succeed in keeping him confined."
He stepped closer to me, moving into my space the same way he did before I left him on the sidewalk in front of his building. I could smell those manly pine trees. I could feel his skin, warm under my touch. I could almost taste his lips. God, I wanted to kiss him.
Don't do it don't do it don't do it Stella don't do it don't don't don't.
"Then I'll meet you for dinner at eight thirty," he announced.
