I let her fumble her words. If she thought I would jump in and admit to being the cat lady, she was so very wrong.
Every nerve along my skin shot up goose bumps as Cage’s hot breath bathed my ear. “Brea and her husband, Michael, role play during sex. She wears her hair in a beehive and he sucks a pacifier and calls her mommy,” he whispered.
I giggled. Brea gave us both a curious look. Then I giggled some more, and I just couldn’t stop. She shook her head and turned her attention back to the game. I covered my mouth with my hand, but the laughter continued. Cage put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his chest to help hide my laughing fit.
“I was just kidding.” He chuckled.
“What?” I jerked up.
“Shh…” He grinned, tapping the side of his finger over his lips.
At the same time, our smiles faded. I don’t know what it was for him. I imagined thoughts of his girlfriend came to mind. For me, it was my body fully registering his arm around my shoulders, my hands fisting his shirt, and our faces just inches apart. The bill of my hat grazed his forehead. It wasn’t a good idea to stare at his lips, but I couldn’t help it because he stared at mine. I pulled back an inch and watched his Adam’s apple bob as he took a deep swallow.
Why did I feel so comfortable with him touching me and me touching him? We’d had brief interactions on three different occasions over the course of more than three years, yet I kissed him the first time, took a goofy fan-girlish selfie the second time, and lingered too close to his lips the third time.The problem was that it didn’t feel too close.
I released his shirt and sat up straight. He removed his arm from me. We sat silent for a few minutes, staring at the field. I jumped when his shoulder bumped mine as he leaned in closer.
“Brea was being a bitch by calling you the cat lady. I just wanted to see you smile again so I made that shit up,” he whispered.
Keeping my eyes focused on the second player in a row to strike out, I nodded. “It was funny shit. Well done, you.” I smirked and through the corner of my eye, I could see him smiling too.
It took everything I had to keep from asking about his girlfriend. I didn’t want to bring it to his attention that I even realized he had a girlfriend. After all, he didn’t introduce me to her the night of Everson’s party.
“So… I never lived in New York.”
“What?”
My eyes remained focused on the game. “In Omaha, I told you I was from New York. My brother Luke and I were looking for ‘Jillian,’ and she was in danger… we were kind of in danger too. I’m from Tahoe and moved here from San Francisco?—”
“She called me. Jillian… she called me.” Cage’s jagged-edge voice sliced through my train of thought.
I didn’t know that. Our family rarely discussed Jessica/Jillian’s time in Omaha. She faked her death and fell in love with another man. Both she and Luke spent many months in counseling to piece back together their relationship after everything was over. As much as I wanted to ask her about Cage, I never did. I loved her and Luke too much to mention anything related to that time in our lives.
“So she told you everything?”
“She told me virtually nothing. She offered, but I didn’t want to know about her new life. I know that sounds bad, but I just couldn’t deal with it—any of it.”
“She’s my sister-in-law now.”
“Don’t …”
I looked over at him.
He forced an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to know. Not yet, just… not yet.”
I nodded. “I understand.” It was the truth, but it still made me sad. It had been three years, but his wounds weren’t healed. It’s like he just buried them without any sort of closure, and they’d forever feel raw as long as he ignored them. In my own way, I really did understand. After all, I still couldn’t go a day without thinking: Ben died and I lived.
We didn’t talk much the rest of the game. One minute I felt the events of our pasts like a wedge between us, and the next minute I felt some pull—a sexual tension. To be honest, it might have just been me. Going a really long time without sex, having Everson as a neighbor, and watching naked Charlie Hunnam didn’t help my situation.
The Twins were killing it, so the crowd started to thin out before the end. I thought it would be best for me to slip out, as well. Cage had gone back inside. As I made my way to him, several guys gave me an easy nod and said, “Hi.” I stopped behind Cage, feeling like a fool because I wanted to say goodbye, but I didn’t want to interrupt his conversation. Finally one of the guys in their little circle nodded toward me, and Cage turned around.
“Sorry, I’m not trying to interrupt. I’m leaving and I just wanted to say goodbye.”
“Oh, the game’s not over. You have a hot date or something?” Cage wiggled his brows.
Yes, naked Charlie, but after the close encounter with the man of my dreams, I would be watching Charlie but thinking of Cage while I touched myself. In that moment I prayed he couldn’t read my filthy mind.
“More like a Netflix addiction.” I shrugged. “That’s what us cat ladies do.”
