Foolproof Page 6

  “You, too. Make sure to cover up those devil horns tonight.” I winked. Satan’s son or not, I wished he’d tried a little harder to ask me out. Something told me he’d be a good lay.

  After work, I changed the oil in Payton’s car as a favor. Twenty minutes of scrubbing in the shower did nothing to take away the stench of motor oil etched into my nostrils. It was almost as bad as the preservatives they used for the cadavers in anatomy and physiology. Formaldehyde upped the ick factor when fishing around for organs and arteries. At least changing oil didn’t result in squirting intestinal juices.

  I’d decided anything involving surgery was out for me—I could barely handle the sight of blood, something that I hoped got better with practice. Mom assured me it would. I didn’t agree. Every lab, every pre-med class, made me want to tear my hair out. I’d rather be in the sports medicine classes, learning how to treat injured players. But I had to do this. Only a few more years and I’d finally show Mom and Dad they could be proud of me.

  Towel-drying my hair, I beelined it from the bathroom to my bedroom. I checked the weather earlier and, according to the weather app, it was supposed to dip into the low sixties tonight at the beach. Spring Hill was a typical northern California town—foggy and cool, besides the occasional freak heat wave. The total opposite of what people expected when they thought about California. I pulled my hair into a messy bun, tugged on my cutoffs , and picked out a light sweater.

  “You ready?” Payton peeked her head in, her long auburn curls cascading down her shirt.

  “Yeah, just give me another minute.” Time to pay my daily dues to my parents and give them a call.

  I punched in their number and hit send. Mom picked up on the third ring, her voice measured, practiced. Her doctor voice she reserved for patients—and disappointing daughters. “Hello, sweetie.”

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “How are you today, Juliette?”

  “Fine.”

  I could seriously record this conversation and replay my responses on a tape recorder each time, it was so scripted. After countless numbers of these calls, I knew what question she’d ask next.

  I mouthed have you talked to Eric? as she said it through the receiver.

  “No, Mom. If he wants to talk to me, he can be a big boy and use the phone.”

  I motioned with my finger right as she brought up question number two.

  “Have you studied today?”

  “No, Mom. Sorry to disappoint.”

  “I just don’t understand. If Eric were in your shoes, he’d be studying at every opportunity.”

  “Yeah, well I’m not Eric, am I?”

  I knocked my fist against my forehead. Cool it. Those little quips wouldn’t earn any trust points with my mom and definitely wouldn’t show her I actually had an iota of maturity. Sort of.

  Just as she began to speak, Payton let out a scream, blocking Mom’s voice. The hairs on the back of my neck rose. What the hell was going on out there? As much as I wanted to be tortured by this incredibly stimulating conversation, I needed to make sure my roomie wasn’t duking it out with some ax murderer.

  “Mom, I have to go. Can we talk tomorrow?”

  “Of course. Stay focused. Tell Payton I say hi.”

  “Yep.”

  I pocketed my phone, shook off the post-mom-call annoyance, and walked out into the hall. Blake stood behind Payton, his arms draped around her. False alarm. No murderers in sight. I stared at his hand on Payton’s waist and my stomach flip-flopped. I was happy for them, truly, I was, but I wanted that so damn bad. For a guy to be so nuts for me that I was all he thought about for two years when we were apart. They’d dated in high school, but when Payton’s mom died and her dad went to jail, she went AWOL. Blake spent two years looking for her, and they finally got back together when she came back to Drexler last year.

  I pushed that thought out of my mind and smiled at my roomie and Mr. Romeo. Back to pretending everything was sunshine and rainbows. The Jules they expected.

  “I’m ready, bitches. Let’s roll.”

  Blake unhooked his arms from Payton and grabbed his keys from his pocket. “We just need to make one stop before we head out.”

  “Yeah?”

  “My best friend is back in town, and I invited him.” He turned to Payton. “I thought you told her.”

  “I didn’t have time. I was busy at the coffee shop, and then it slipped my mind.” She looked at me and shrugged. “Sorry.”

  “This person have a name?”

  “Besides douche?”

  Blake picked up Payton and flipped her over his shoulder, and she let out a squeal. Her legs flailed as she thumped his back with her hand. “He’s not that bad. Cut him some slack.”

  I shook my head and walked out of the apartment, leaving them to their pervy tickle-fest. I knew long-term wasn’t in the cards for me at this point, but when it was shoved in my face every day, it made it hard not to want it, too.

  Five minutes later, Blake and Payton came out of the apartment, Payton looking a little flushed as she smoothed her crooked shirt. I shook my head. Good for her. At least someone was getting some. Which brought me back to thinking about Ryan’s arms…and how I wished they were wrapped around me right now. Those large, calloused hands skimming down my back. As I piled into the back of Blake’s truck, I wondered if he was having fun with his friends tonight.

  Five minutes later, we pulled into a subdivision of expensive houses, owned by people with decent jobs. Jobs that I would have someday when I graduated med school and paid off the swimming-pool-sized student debt I’d accumulated. But was this kind of wealth really worth it if I’d be doing something that made me miserable? Hopefully, after a few years, I’d get used to it, maybe even like being a doctor.

  Blake’s truck rolled into the driveway of a two-story colonial. Two massive white pillars stood on either side of a red door. Add in a white picket fence and this would be a fairy-tale house. Dang, what did his friend’s parents do for a living? Blake laid on the horn and a few seconds later, a built guy in a baseball cap slipped out the front door and made his way over to the truck.

  I did a double take. Wait a minute…those biceps looked awfully familiar. And that nicely defined chin. And definitely that dirty blond hair fraying out beneath the cap. Shit. What did Blake say this guy’s name was? Ry? As in short for Ryan? The same Ryan from my work was Payton and Blake’s Ryan?

  I sunk deeper into my seat, not sure how to react when he opened the door. My hand flew to my wet hair. Damn, I didn’t even style it. My fingers ran over the patch of zits on my chin. Crappity crap, I hadn’t even thrown on concealer. He’d probably be staring at it all night, grossed out. Well, there went my good flirting situation at Office Jax.

  Ryan pulled open the passenger door behind Blake and stood there, staring at me, his piercing blue eyes pinning me to my seat. Oh God, so not prepared for this. Forget A game, I was clear down to C game at this point. My stomach flopped, and I crossed and uncrossed my legs nervously as we held each other’s gaze.

  Chapter Ten

  Ryan

  The one girl who had been on my mind since I got back from work was sitting in the back of Blake’s truck, like an answered prayer.

  Blake turned around in the driver’s seat and smiled at me. “Hey, buddy.”

  “Sup.”

  “Ryan, this is—”

  “Jules.”

  Blake shook his head and his eyebrows furrowed, clearly confused as to how I knew her. “She works at Dad’s store.” I turned to Jules, who sat huddled in the corner. I couldn’t tell by the look on her face if she was excited or disappointed to see me. Hell, I didn’t know what I felt either.

  I got in the truck, this whole reunion thing getting awkward, and closed the door. “Hey, P-dawg.”

  Payton didn’t have to turn around for me to know that she had a glare painted on that pretty face. She hated my nickname for her, one I had started in eighth grade.

  “Hey, Ry. Long tim
e, no see.”

  If it were up to her, it would be a lot longer. I hadn’t exactly been nice to her when she broke it off with my buddy and then left him high and dry. I’d sent some pretty nasty texts to her cell before it shut off.

  I looked at Jules again, recognition hitting me harder than a slap in the face—something Lex had the nerve to do when I ordered her out of my apartment after I’d found her with Dwayne. Was this the same girl Blake had gone out with on a few dates before he reattached his ball and chain to Payton? Thinking about it, I was pretty sure he said her name was Jules.

  Not that it really mattered. Blake had always been gaga over Payton. Jules never stood a chance in hell. Especially when he threw away his scholarship with Baylor just for a chance that Payton might come back. Stupidest decision of his life but, then again, he knew what he wanted.

  “Long time no see.” Jules smiled over at me, her pretty little bow lips sending my pulse racing. She was even more beautiful when she wasn’t in her work uniform. With no makeup on, her face looked fresh and vibrant—all things masked by heavy eyeliner and foundation. Added bonus that she wore shorts that showcased her mile-long legs.

  The one pair of legs that I’d love wrapped around my sides right about now. She thought I didn’t notice her pushing up her cleavage today in the store, but it took every ounce of inner strength not to look. I knew her type—if I showed too much interest right away she’d get bored. I needed to be slow and methodical with her, the same plan for when I finally got her in my bed.

  Payton and Blake were chatting about a camping trip to Crater Lake they had planned for next weekend, too busy to notice Jules and me sitting in awkward silence in the back seat. Blake was my best buddy, but damn, his whipped status hovered in the red zone. A nuclear war could go off in our backyard, and he wouldn’t notice, not if Payton were anywhere in a five mile radius. I’d never seen two people so in love. In my world, girls lost interest the moment I love you came out of my mouth. Girls like Payton were rare. Love like that even more so. I couldn’t even find a girl who could stay loyal for more than a year.

  I shoved my hands in my hoodie pockets and sunk back into the seat. The thirty-year-old truck’s AC sputtered a measly cool breeze, barely reaching the backseat, which remained muggy. Shifting in my seat, I pulled off the hoodie, my shirt creeping up with the sweatshirt. I turned to Jules, whose mouth had shaped in a very attractive O, her gaze roaming over my exposed abs. She glanced up and quickly looked away when she saw I’d noticed her stare.

  Caught you.

  She was interested. Time to reel her in. “See something you like?”

  She cleared her throat and, even in the darkness of the truck cab, I noticed the deepening blush that splashed across her cheeks. “I’ve seen better.”

  There wasn’t a lot about my body that I was overconfident with, but I’d done enough sit-ups and burpees to earn my eight-pack. “You must see a lot of abs then. Have a rating system?” I snapped my fingers. “No, wait, a spreadsheet.”

  “If that were the case, you’d be a mid-lister.” Her mouth quirked into an innocent smile.

  I suddenly wanted to dropkick every single guy on that list. What kind of guys did she date if I was a “mid-lister?” Bodybuilders? Thor?

  I needed to flip the brakes of this freight train thought process speeding on a direct route to don’t go there, dipshit. Her dating history didn’t matter, because in a few weeks I’d be back in Texas. A few times of hooking up, and I’d have this girl out of my system.

  “Good thing I’m not just another guy on your list.”

  She cocked a brow, a clear Payton-ism, her gaze wandering everywhere but my direction. Her fingers etched across the earrings running up the perimeter of her ear. I wanted to run my tongue over each one of the piercings, pin her down in the truck, and explore every inch of her skin. My cock twitched in agreement. I shifted in my seat, adjusting my raging erection.

  “You wouldn’t even qualify, DeShane.”

  “Is that so?” Damn, she was cocky. And I loved it.

  “Not even for the thirty-day trial period.”

  “I wouldn’t need thirty days to convince you.”

  “And how many would it take?”

  Lowering my voice, quiet enough for Blake and Payton not to hear—not that they paid either of us any attention—I said, “I could have your toes curling in twenty seconds flat. Two minutes, and I’d be at the top of that spreadsheet of yours.”

  She shifted in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs again; each time, her thighs brushed together. I dug my fingers into the leather to restrain myself from smoothing them over her skin.

  She folded her arms, giving me a great view of her rack. “You’re awfully confident in yourself. Something tells me you’re all bark and no bite.”

  I leaned in and whispered, “I don’t bite. Not unless that’s something you’re into. Is that what Number One on your spreadsheet has going for him?” Dude. Cool it. If I’d said anything like that to Lex, I’d get slapped. And maybe castrated. But Jules didn’t even flinch.

  She readjusted her ponytail and said, “Number One had more maturity in his pinky than you possess in your whole body.”

  I stared at my jeans and let her words sink in. Probably true. This girl had my number. Maturity had never been my strong suit. Something I needed to think about if I ever wanted to get the hell out of Office Jax. I was working on it, though. Halfway through the career book and looking for something other than office supplies and police work. “Ouch.” I clutched my chest and knocked my head back into the seat. “You’re hurting my feelings.” Better to play it off as a joke, even if it did sting.

  “Oh, you have those now?”

  I should have stopped, shown her that I did possess one molecule of maturity, but it was too fun to mess with her. “Only on nights with a full moon.” I glanced out the window at the incandescent moon, which so happened to be full tonight. “Looks like you’re in luck. I might even howl a little later.”

  She scoffed. “You’re sick.”

  I chuckled. She didn’t realize how serious I was about propelling myself to the top of that stupid list. If there was one thing I couldn’t resist, it was good old-fashioned competition. Nothing would beat knowing I’d annihilated the other guys on her list.

  I stared out the window, Kenny Chesney blaring in the truck, and leaned my head against the back of the seat. The farther we got out of the city, toward the ocean, the more I could think clearly. Next week, I’d have to drag Blake out and catch some waves. Maybe take Grandma’s boat out on the bay.

  “Did you hear about Dr. Kirsh? I heard he’s super hard. Been studying the course textbook all week just to get ahead.” Payton smoothed her hands over her hair and let out a sigh. She was already studying for classes that hadn’t even started? Typical.

  Blake squeezed her thigh. “Babe, it’ll be fine. I have study notes from the fraternity test file. Plus, you have Jules and me to study with.” Blake and Jules were signed up for the same classes as her. The fucking Three Musketeers. Fuck me. Their names even spelled PB and J. No room for R in that equation.

  All of them were going to be doctors, and I couldn’t even pass business calc. I stared out the window at the trees and an occasional car rushing by.

  I still didn’t get it. How did everyone but me have a set future?

  Twenty minutes later, Blake pulled into a parking lot overlooking the beach, the truck tires crunching over gravel and sand.

  Blake cut the engine and turned to face the backseat. “Ry, can you grab the chairs?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, sure.” I hopped out of the truck and grabbed the plastic lawn chairs from the back. We walked the few yards to the beach, Payton and Peach scoping out the “perfect” spot for a bonfire.

  I grabbed a few pieces of wood and worked on starting a fire. Ten years of Boy Scouts came in handy once in a while. That, and a lighter.

  Peach sat in a lawn chair while I blew on the flames, spreading th
e fire. Out of the corner of my eye I had a clear shot of her checking me out. I decided to ignore it this time. After that exchange in the truck, I needed to assess my strategy. It was time to fan the flames with Peach.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jules

  I could tell a lot about a guy based on his underwear. Boxers? Laid back, go with the flow. Tighty whiteys? Ew, not even going there. Commando? Hello, chafing. Boxer briefs were the perfect in-between. Collected, in control. Ryan bending over the pile of wood gave me the perfect vantage point. I shook my head, totally unnerved by the fact I was so invested in his underwear choice.

  He drove me up the wall with his vulgar mouth, and yet, here I was putting my bet that he was a boxer brief guy. He freakin’ thought I was some princess. I was used to guys underestimating me and then, when they learned I was a dean’s list, pre-med student, that somehow burst their bubble and they suddenly wanted nothing to do with me. My therapist told me I should focus on the things I could control. Too bad I couldn’t have some cool mind control powers and slip Ryan’s jeans a little lower.

  The black band of his underwear peeked over his jeans as his shirt rode up his back when he tried to start the fire.

  C’mon, bend over just a little more.

  Holy crap. I was no worse than guys at a party looking for a piece of ass.

  I tugged my phone out of my front pocket and started posting a comment about hot guys being bent over wood, but thought better of it.

  Maybe he had a few half naked pics posted, and I could solve the underwear conundrum. Girl, do not go there. I pushed my phone back into my pocket before I gave myself the opportunity to stalk him online.

  “There. We’re set.” Ryan stood up, brushing his sandy hands on his jeans.

  “Nice job.” Blake clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder and smiled.

  Blake grabbed the skewers from the ground, along with a bag of marshmallows, a box of graham crackers, and a pack of chocolate.

  After majorly gorging on S’mores, I sat back in the lawn chair, watching Ryan over the crackling flames. He stared off, totally zoning out. I bet all the school talk bored him to death. Really, only pre-med students liked talking about pre-med classes. Heck, I was pre-med and I didn’t enjoy it. A niggling part in the back of my brain knew why, but I didn’t feel like exploring my life options at the moment.