into the next one, and Cal had to smile at Wayne’s choice.
Because, yeah. Maybe so. Maybe he was.
Working on his next broken heart.
And that looked like just what it was going to be, because there he was an hour later, walking a girl home from a dance like he was fifteen years old. Worse, walking her home with her girlfriend as a chaperone.
When Zoe and Rochelle had exchanged one of those complicated woman-looks and gotten up to leave, he’d gotten right up with them.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” he said.
“We walked,” Rochelle said. “My place is only a couple blocks away. Plus, you know . . .” She waggled her final empty bottle. “A few too many.”
“What about Zoe?” Cal asked. “This a sleepover?”
He saw the smile the girls exchanged, caught the startled look from Deke, met it with one of his own. Damn . Nah. Couldn’t be. Or could it? Wouldn’t that be something?
“Nope,” Rochelle said. “I’m walking Zoe home first.”
“Then I’m coming, too,” Cal said. “Since you gave me my Good Guy badge and everything. Call it protection.”
Deke had come along, of course. No shaking him.
Cal had taken one look at the girls when they’d stepped out into the high-forties chill of a late-October night in Paradise, and asked in astonishment, “You’re walking home like that? You’ll freeze.”
“Nah,” Rochelle said. “Zoe lives up by City Park, that’s all. What’s that, six blocks? We’ll walk fast.”
“Hell you will,” Cal said. “Got my truck right here. Five minutes and you’re there. Both of you, since I can tell the professor isn’t about to climb up in my truck alone with me, Good Guy badge or no.”
“No, thanks,” Zoe said. “You’ve had as many beers as I have.” At least she tried to say it, but her teeth were chattering so bad, Cal could barely hear it.
The buzz he was feeling wasn’t coming from the beer, but he wasn’t telling her that. “Right,” he said. “Walking.” He opened up his truck, grabbed his sweatshirt, and tossed it to Rochelle. “Put this on.”
She didn’t argue, and he was already shrugging out of his heavy wool jacket, draping it over Zoe’s shoulders. “Here, princess. Can’t do anything about those pretty bare legs of yours, but this’ll help.”
“You’ll be cold, though,” she said, but she was putting it on all the same. The ends of the sleeves dropped inches past her hands, and the tails of the jacket hung to midthigh, so far you could barely even see the dress. She could be naked under there. And wasn’t that a nice little thought.
“Me? I’m pretty much immune by this point. Besides,” he said with a grin at her, “I tend to run hot.”
Rochelle snorted, and Zoe laughed, too, and kept on laughing. “I thought this was going to be good practice,” she told him with a little snort of her own that told him that four beers were about three more than she was used to drinking. “Flirting with you. I kind of need practice, in case you can’t tell. I can’t decide if you’re practicing, too, or if this is your normal mode.”
“You think? And this isn’t even my A game. I’m a little rusty, you could say.” He set off down the broad sidewalk of a nearly deserted Main Street with her, leaving Rochelle to follow along with Deke. “But I was practice, huh? Who am I the warm-up act for? Got your eye on somebody up there on campus?” He sighed. “And here I picked the hay out of my hair and everything.”
Another snort. “Nobody. Practice for nobody.”
“Ah.” He pretended he understood, even though he didn’t. Could she be into girls after all?
No. Those had been signals she’d been sending. Confused signals, contradictory signals, but signals all the same. He was glad, though. She didn’t belong with some professor. She needed loosening up, needed to let that woman inside her go. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part.
“I like the paintings,” she said, checking out the
Because, yeah. Maybe so. Maybe he was.
Working on his next broken heart.
And that looked like just what it was going to be, because there he was an hour later, walking a girl home from a dance like he was fifteen years old. Worse, walking her home with her girlfriend as a chaperone.
When Zoe and Rochelle had exchanged one of those complicated woman-looks and gotten up to leave, he’d gotten right up with them.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” he said.
“We walked,” Rochelle said. “My place is only a couple blocks away. Plus, you know . . .” She waggled her final empty bottle. “A few too many.”
“What about Zoe?” Cal asked. “This a sleepover?”
He saw the smile the girls exchanged, caught the startled look from Deke, met it with one of his own. Damn . Nah. Couldn’t be. Or could it? Wouldn’t that be something?
“Nope,” Rochelle said. “I’m walking Zoe home first.”
“Then I’m coming, too,” Cal said. “Since you gave me my Good Guy badge and everything. Call it protection.”
Deke had come along, of course. No shaking him.
Cal had taken one look at the girls when they’d stepped out into the high-forties chill of a late-October night in Paradise, and asked in astonishment, “You’re walking home like that? You’ll freeze.”
“Nah,” Rochelle said. “Zoe lives up by City Park, that’s all. What’s that, six blocks? We’ll walk fast.”
“Hell you will,” Cal said. “Got my truck right here. Five minutes and you’re there. Both of you, since I can tell the professor isn’t about to climb up in my truck alone with me, Good Guy badge or no.”
“No, thanks,” Zoe said. “You’ve had as many beers as I have.” At least she tried to say it, but her teeth were chattering so bad, Cal could barely hear it.
The buzz he was feeling wasn’t coming from the beer, but he wasn’t telling her that. “Right,” he said. “Walking.” He opened up his truck, grabbed his sweatshirt, and tossed it to Rochelle. “Put this on.”
She didn’t argue, and he was already shrugging out of his heavy wool jacket, draping it over Zoe’s shoulders. “Here, princess. Can’t do anything about those pretty bare legs of yours, but this’ll help.”
“You’ll be cold, though,” she said, but she was putting it on all the same. The ends of the sleeves dropped inches past her hands, and the tails of the jacket hung to midthigh, so far you could barely even see the dress. She could be naked under there. And wasn’t that a nice little thought.
“Me? I’m pretty much immune by this point. Besides,” he said with a grin at her, “I tend to run hot.”
Rochelle snorted, and Zoe laughed, too, and kept on laughing. “I thought this was going to be good practice,” she told him with a little snort of her own that told him that four beers were about three more than she was used to drinking. “Flirting with you. I kind of need practice, in case you can’t tell. I can’t decide if you’re practicing, too, or if this is your normal mode.”
“You think? And this isn’t even my A game. I’m a little rusty, you could say.” He set off down the broad sidewalk of a nearly deserted Main Street with her, leaving Rochelle to follow along with Deke. “But I was practice, huh? Who am I the warm-up act for? Got your eye on somebody up there on campus?” He sighed. “And here I picked the hay out of my hair and everything.”
Another snort. “Nobody. Practice for nobody.”
“Ah.” He pretended he understood, even though he didn’t. Could she be into girls after all?
No. Those had been signals she’d been sending. Confused signals, contradictory signals, but signals all the same. He was glad, though. She didn’t belong with some professor. She needed loosening up, needed to let that woman inside her go. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part.
“I like the paintings,” she said, checking out the
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