Chapter 19
Jordan
I PRESS THE stones onto the st ep with my pick and grab the glue, squeezing it into the crevice to fasten the
pieces to the model. I feel an urge to glance at the clock on the microwave again, but I refrain, knowing it hasn’t
been more than two minutes since the last time I checked.
It’s after six, and Pike is late. He’s hardly ever late. As the minutes go by, though, I feel my temper rise,
because he hasn’t called, either, and he specifically asked me to be home. This isn’t like him, but it’s damn well
like every other guy I’ve known. I’m that girl they can treat like garbage and make wait, because I take it.
For a while, anyway. The pizza I ordered, half p epperoni and half taco, was delivered an hour ago and is
ke eping warm in the oven, while my salad is in the fridge, staying chilled. The Lost Boys, continuing our eighties
horror movie marathon, is on the TV, ready to play, and I’m alone.
Again. Okay. He could be in the middle of something, still at work. Understandable, and I’m an adult. I don’t
need my hand held. He could’ve also been in an accident, but that’s extreme, and I don’t want to be that girl who
calls, either. He’ll think I’m . . . getting attached or something.
I glue the glass balls onto the bed of what will soon be the stream, letting the minutes tick away his chances as
I sit there, wait, and get angrier.
The day has been so great. I woke up sore but hardly even noticing, because the memories of last night had me
blushing constantly. He was not out of practice at all, and I couldn’t stop smiling as I cleaned up the broken lamp
and fixed the nightstand again.
And cleaned the remnants of the A&W cup out of the washing machine from when I dumped the ice cream
float in it last night. Thank God he didn’t find out about that or he’d change his opinion on whether or not I’m an
adult.
After tidying up the house, I really didn’t want to wash off his smell, but I desperately needed a shower. I
cleaned myself up, and then I called Cam and borrowed her car to go get my paycheck at Grounders and run a few
errands. I got sideways looks from my sister and Shel, both probably wondering why I’m practically fucking
skipping around everywhere, but I didn’t care.
Because in a few hours, his eyes were going to be on me again, and I really love when his eyes are on me.
Maybe we’d go swimming tonight or throw some pillows and blankets into the back of the truck to go make out
somewhere. Or maybe I’d pick a fight so he’d bend me over the kitchen table for another spanking.
Stupid. Fantasies and expectations that never measure up in reality. I should know better. Here I am, sitting
here waiting for whenever he happens to show up, ready to be at his beck and call.
After a while, I pick up my phone again, checking to see if I have any messages.
Still nothing. I look at the time, and it’s nearly seven now. Two hours late. He’d know I was expecting him. If
he didn’t call, then maybe something did happen.
I dial him, about to feel either really pathetic if he’s not sitting in the ER right now or really bad about all my
doubts if he is.
The call goes to voicemail, though, and I hang up, hesitating only a moment before I get up and walk to the
refrigerator, drawing my finger down Pike’s list of contacts. I see Dutch’s number and dial it, thinking of
something to say that won’t make me seem desperate.
The line rings three times before he answers. “Hello?” “Hey, Dutch,” I say quickly, adding some p ep to my
voice. “It’s Jordan. Sorry to bother you. I know Pike doesn’t always ke ep his phone on him and thought you
would. I’m about to leave for work, and I lost my key to the house.” I lick my dry lips, my heart hammering. “Are
you all about done at
the site? I didn’t know when Pike would be home and didn’t want to just leave the door unlocked.”
“Oh, we closed up shop two hours ago, honey,” he tells me. “I’m home already, and he went with the guys for
a beer at Poor Red’s. I’m sure if you call him he’ll run home and lock up.”
My throat constricts and tears burn. He went out. I force a tight smile, hoping it disguises the anger inside.
“Yeah. Will do. Thank you.”
I hang up and close my eyes, forcing myself to calm down. He went out. Without even letting me know. He
just left me sitting here.
I blink away the burn, refusing to be hurt. I cared about him, and I fucked him. But I don’t love him, and he
clearly doesn’t give a shit. He got what he wanted.
All that possessiveness and a need to watch over me and protect me. It was just to ke ep me here so he could
get in my pants. He resisted me because he felt bad, but he was simply biding his time until he could talk himself
into it. Taking me to bed was always the plan. Now that he’s had his piece of ass, the monkey is off his back, and
hey, maybe April is at Red’s tonight, too, and they can pick up where they left off.
I growl, kicking a table chair. This doesn’t happen to me. Not anymore. It ends now. I hold up my phone and
dial Cam, remembering what tonight is. “Hey, what’s up?” she answers. I curl my lips, feeling suddenly bold. “I
feel like I want to see my first wet T-shirt contest.”
She gasps and then squeals into the phone. “Yes!”