All In (Cedar Mountain University #2) Page 9

  I frown. “Tell me what?” Robby has been friends with Cole forever. Hell, he’d been my friend forever. I feel like I know pretty much all there is to know about him.

  “We met during an underground fight.”

  My frown only deepens. “An underground fight? I didn’t know Robby went to those.”

  Jacob smiles. “He didn’t go to them, Pixie. He fought in them. And for a couple of months, right after I quit football, so did I. Because I was pissed at the world and it was a good excuse to kick somebody’s ass.”

  “He fights in them? How did I not know this?”

  “Because he didn’t want you to.”

  I shift in my seat, facing forward once again. It went against everything I thought I knew about Robby. Sure, he was a big guy, and I had no doubt that he could dominate in the ring, or whatever it was they fought in. But Robby was absolutely the nicest guy I knew.

  Like, nice to a fault.

  I just couldn’t picture him in some secret underground fight club.

  For that matter, I couldn’t picture Jacob there either.

  “Do my brothers know?”

  “I’m sure they do, but I don’t remember seeing them there. At least not the ones I went to.”

  “Why wouldn’t they tell me?”

  Jacob looks my way again. “These fights aren’t put on by real high class guys, Grace. Most of the spectators are drunks or jackasses, usually both, and they’re no place for someone like you.”

  “A girl.”

  “That isn’t what I said.”

  Etta James has given away to Pearl Jam on the radio, and they’re the only sound in the car as I try to figure out how I had missed this.

  I’m still struggling to figure it out when Jacob pulls off the interstate. He maneuvers through the light traffic of a little town before turning down a dirt road that winds around some open fields. We round a corner and there in the distance I see where we must be going.

  “A fair? You’re taking me to a fair. You’re full of surprises, Jacob.”

  He parks next to a beat up pickup truck, turning the car off. “I figured if you didn’t like the rides, you’d at least like the food.”

  “Are you going to win me a stuffed animal from one of those games?”

  “Of course. Let’s go see what kind of trouble we can get into.”

  Chapter Ten

  “I think there is something wrong with me.”

  I curl up on the couch between Delaney and Ally, dropping a plate of grapes and cheese on the coffee table as I do.

  “What are you talking about?” Ally has switched to days at work and is finally able to join us for our weekly trashy TV night. Which is good, because I really need some girl time. And girl advice. It’s been over two weeks since my first date with Jacob, and though opportunity had bloomed numerous times between then and now, not once had he kissed me.

  His lips have come nowhere even remotely close to landing on mine and I have never been so freaking frustrated in my entire life.

  “It’s the only explanation I can come up with. Either there is something wrong with me, or I’m reading him entirely wrong and he really is dating me out of pity.”

  “I don’t think he’s dating you out of pity.” Ally pops a grape into her mouth. “He watches you with sexy eyes.”

  “What?” Delaney laughs. “What are sexy eyes?”

  “You know what they are. Cole watches you with them all the time.”

  Shuddering I say, “Okay. No referencing the word sexy and either of my brothers in the same sentence.”

  “Suck it up.” Ally grabs another grape. “Your brothers have sex.”

  “I just threw up a little in my mouth.”

  “Lots and lots of sex.” Ally adds with a grin. “At least on my end. Del?”

  “Yup.” Delaney agrees, even though she’s blushing. “Lots.”

  “I need new friends.”

  Laughing, Ally reaches over to grab the remote off the coffee table. She flicks the TV on, maneuvering through the channels until she finds the right one.

  “I thought you didn’t want to date.”

  “What?” I glance over to Delaney.

  “Just a couple weeks ago you were telling me you weren’t ready to date. Yet here you are.”

  What am I supposed to say to that? Because she’s right. I hadn’t wanted to date. I’d only wanted to drool over him. Which I totally still do. Every damn time I’m with him. But this is definitely dating. Only with the most frustratingly drawn out anticipation for a first kiss ever.

  “I wasn’t planning to. It just sort of happened.” I take a long drink of the beer in my hand. “And we’re not really dating. I mean, we are, but we aren’t.”

  Ally laughs. “That clears it right up. Just admit you like the guy, Grace. It’s okay to like someone other than Grant.”

  Frowning I say, “It has nothing to do with Grant.” Shit. “Or not really.” Dammit. “I didn’t think I was ready because when I thought about dating someone else I felt like I was cheating on Grant.”

  Ally arches a brow. “This would be the same Grant who obviously doesn’t seem to have a problem diving head first into dating practically the entire female student body.”

  “You don’t have to remind me.”

  “You do remember that he broke up with you, right?”

  “Not likely to forget any time soon.” I finish my beer, even though it tastes sour in my mouth now.

  “So stop trying to psychoanalyze your relationship with Jacob.”

  “It isn’t a relationship.” I insert.

  Ally doesn’t even hesitate, talking right along like I hadn’t spoken. “Just enjoy yourself. Nobody’s saying you need to fall madly in love with the guy and marry him. Just stop beating yourself up over the fact that you aren’t still pining over Grant every second of the freaking day.”

  “I wasn’t pining.” Much.

  Delaney snorts next to me. “You could give classes.”

  I opened my mouth to respond, then promptly closed it again. I probably could have given lessons. I’d never once doubted the direction my relationship with Grant was going. I never once doubted that we were supposed to be together. The epic love story, much like my parents, that would withstand the test of time.

  Obviously, Grant hadn’t shared that certainty.

  But over the last few weeks I hadn’t thought about him as much, and when I did, the pain that had been all consuming before had lessened.

  “Maybe he wants to be sure.”

  I glance over to Delaney. “What?”

  “Jacob. Maybe he wants to be sure you’ve really moved on. It would be stupid of him otherwise, right? To get involved with someone who isn’t ready.”

  “Unless he only wants sex.” Ally spoke around a mouthful of grapes. “But honestly, if that was the case I doubt he would have held off on kissing you for this long. So maybe Delaney’s on to something.” Ally tucks a long lock of hair back behind on ear. “You should just kiss him.”

  “I’m not that bold.”

  Delaney suddenly starts choking next to me. Arching a brow I ask, “Are you all right there, Del?”

  “Yes.” Her voice is hoarse as she coughs once again before she starts laughing. “Don’t say stuff like that when I’m eating.”

  “I don’t see why that is so funny.”

  “Seriously? Grace, you are the most straightforward, in your face person I know. Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t just kissed him if that’s what you want.”

  Instead of answering, I reach over for the remote, turning the volume up on the TV. “We’re missing the show.”

  I was officially done with the girl advice portion of the evening. I didn’t want so sit here and explain the hit my ego had taken with Grant. It wouldn’t come as a surprise to either one of them, I’m sure, but that didn’t mean I wanted to sit here and dissect my newfound insecurities with them.

  I’d told Jacob that Grant had broken up with me because I wa
sn’t enough. It was the only explanation that I could come up with, given the reasoning he had presented that night. And if I wasn’t enough for him, what made me think I would be enough for anyone else?

  And the longer Jacob and I…did whatever it is we’re doing, and he doesn’t make the move to make it anything more than hanging out, I feel the tiny bit of self-esteem I’d hung on to slipping away.

  Which was beyond stupid, but there you go.

  Chapter Eleven

  The heavy beat of the music is annoying.

  As is watching the numerous drunk couples who I assume thought they were dancing, but in reality looked like they are having sex on the make shift dance floor.

  Frat parties aren’t nearly as fun when you’re single and sober.

  Taking a sip of the one measly beer I’m allowing myself, I shift as someone comes to sit on the couch next to me. Kelsey is once again wandering around somewhere with Bradley and a couple of her sorority sisters. She’d introduced me to them, but they had become a blur of blonde hair and blue eyes. I’d tried to make appropriate noises in all the right places, but I totally wasn’t in the mood for a party, and I never should have let Kelsey drag me here.

  Here especially.

  Because here meant Jacob.

  I’d taken a page from Delaney’s book and skipped class today to avoid him. Something she had done once when trying to avoid Cole. Of course I hadn’t let her avoid him for long, because I thought avoiding situations was stupid and pointless. At least, I’d thought so at the time. When it was her and Cole. Now it was me. And Jacob. And avoidance didn’t seem entirely stupid.

  Just weak.

  Which was worse.

  Jacob hadn’t done anything wrong, but after the previous night with Ally and Delaney, I’d needed to put the space between us, even temporarily. For my own sanity, which was waning. I’d taken the step back to try and determine if I was really interested in Jacob, or really interested in the fact that he was the first guy I’d been attracted to since Grant had dumped me and I was using him to regain my confidence.

  I’m sure Delaney was right, that he was waiting to make sure I was really over Grant. I mean, what moron would deliberately get involved with a girl who was still totally hung up on the jackass who dumped her to screw other girls?

  What kind of bitch would it make me if I let him get involved when I wasn’t ready?

  But what if I was ready? Or maybe I just needed to take the first step out of the bubble of hurt I was living in so I could get ready.

  To make matters worse, Grant was here. Wandering around the frat house with some of his friends. Some little blonde girl hanging on his arm. I wasn’t as bothered by the girl hanging on his arm as I was by the fact that he had moved on so easily and I seemed stuck in the past.

  Being single sucks. Like big time sucks.

  Taking another drink of my now incredibly warm and disgusting beer, I shift further into the couch, crossing one leg over the other to give the couple who had settled in to practically have sex next to me, more room to maneuver.

  I’m pretty sure in about five minutes or so I was going to get an education.

  “You seem incredibly fond of this couch.” I glance up to find that Jacob is standing next to me with a smirk on his face. “I’m pretty sure this is where I found you last time.”

  I shift again, my body automatically swaying in the direction where he stood. The guy was freaking gorgeous. It was somewhat daunting. I’d been with Grant, who was definitely no slouch in the looks department, but Jacob had him beat tenfold on an entirely different level.

  Grant had been beautiful. Jacob had sexy down to a science. He was dressed in dark wash jeans with a gray T-shirt pulled taunt across a chest that I knew was seven different types of lickable, with his brown hair tousled around his head like someone had just had the pleasure of running their fingers through it.

  I wish it’d been me.

  He’d forgone shaving once again, and the light stubble that flirted across his jaw line only added to the overall appeal of the gorgeous male package standing in front of me.

  Yeah, totally in lust with him.

  “At least this time you aren’t having to rescue me from the handsy red head.”

  Dammit, he even makes confusion look sexy. How is that humanly possible? “What red head?”

  “The persistent one, who I had totally been contemplating sleeping with.”

  “James?”

  “I guess so,” I say with a shrug of one shoulder.

  Laughing, Jacob holds a hand out, waiting for me to grab it before helping me up to my feet. “James isn’t a red head.”

  “No?” I could have sworn he had red hair.

  “No,” Jacob confirms. “He’s a blond.”

  “Huh.”

  He reaches his free hand up, the rough pads of his fingers drifting across my skin just under the thin strap of my tank top along my shoulder. I shift slightly at the curl of heat that spreads from the skin he touched to settle in several other fascinating places in my body.

  It takes every damn ounce of willpower I have to keep from throwing myself at him.

  His voice whispers across my skin, igniting a similar reaction as his touch had done. “I like this shirt.”

  It was suddenly a favorite of mine, too. The tank top was covered with a black sweatshirt that hangs loosely off one shoulder, bearing the skin beneath, and giving a teasing hint of the various butterflies I have tattooed across my back.

  “Am I going to have to share my bed this time as well?”

  Flushing at the numerous dirty thoughts that flip through my brain, I shake my head. “Not because I’m drunk.”

  The second the words are out of my mouth, I realize the implication they represent. He arches one brow, the hand still holding on to mine tightening briefly before relaxing again showing that he doesn’t miss the implication either. “Really?”

  “Oh, God,” I groan. “Maybe I should get drunk so I have an excuse for my stupidity.”

  Tugging me closer against him, Jacob bends down so I can feel the heat of his breath against my neck as he whispers, “You’re welcome in my bed anytime, Pixie.”

  I swallow thickly before swiping my tongue across my suddenly dry lips. “Good to know.

  He pulls back. “Would you like another drink? I was heading to get myself one when I spotted you.”

  “Uh, no thanks, I’m all set.”

  “Well, walk with me anyway.” He pulls on my hand, leading me through the maze of bodies toward the kitchen where the keg has been set up in the corner. He has to drop my hand fill up his cup, and I rub my palm against the rough fabric of my jeans.

  It does nothing to erase the tingling sensation that his skin against mine had left behind.

  Once he has his drink, he leads me over to the far side of the kitchen. There are a few other people in the small space, once of whom is obviously drunk and is using exaggerated arm movement to enhance whatever story it is he’s telling.

  Jacob is leaning against the counter next to me, our bodies not touching at all, but I feel like we are. I swear I can almost feel the brush of his body against mine, like the feeling has been branded into my skin forever.

  “You didn’t mention that you were coming tonight.”

  “Kelsey invited me.”

  “I would have invited you, if you’d shown up in class today.” He pauses briefly, and I can feel his gaze sweep over my profile like a physical touch. I nearly strain the muscles in my neck to keep from looking at him. “Or if you’d answered any of my texts. Or calls.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I see the blur of a red plastic cup being lifted up, pausing as he takes a long drink and then dropping out of sight again.

  “Are you avoiding me, Pix?”

  Yes, totally. “No.”

  “Uh-huh. I don’t believe you.”

  “Do you think I’m using you?” Fuck. Fuck! What is my mouth doing? It’s obviously not connected to my brain or those wo
rds never would have formed.

  “What?”

  I can hear the genuine surprise in his voice, and when I finally turn my head to look at him, I can see the confusion clouding those startling eyes. “Do you think I’m using you? To get over him?” I ask again, because apparently I can’t keep my mouth shut. “Is that why you haven’t kissed me?” Jesus. Someone needs to put me out of my misery.

  He makes a sound in his throat, his eyes cutting across the room to the small group of people standing there, who have stopped their own conversation and are obviously listening intently to every word I’m spouting. I’m such an idiot.

  Such a freaking moron.

  Closing my eyes I breathe out, “Never mind. I’m sorry. Forget I said anything. I think I’m going to go now.”

  His fingers close around my elbow before I can move away, and I hiss at the delectable touch of his skin against mine.

  “I don’t think I can forget that.”

  “Try harder,” I suggest with a tight smile. I know embarrassment has made my cheeks pink, and I rub a hand over one to try and wipe away the stain.

  “Oh, no, I think I’m going to have to answer that one.”

  I’m eighty percent certain I don’t want to know the answer. “Seriously, you don’t need to.”

  “No, I think I do.” His gaze flicks back to the small group of people standing near us in the kitchen. “But maybe not here.”

  Thankfully, before he can suggest we go anywhere else to dissect my stupidity, someone is loudly calling his name. His gaze is momentarily torn from mine, and I take the opportunity to draw in a steadying breath. The air is sucked right out of me again as I watch Lincoln Montgomery heading our way.

  Lincoln is the very epitome of the sexy bad boy that every girl fantasizes about taming at one point or another in their lives.

  Tall, coming in an inch or two above Jacob, with wide shoulders that stretched the thin material of the shirt he is wearing to the point that it looks white in certain areas, Lincoln keeps his dark brown hair cropped close against his head. He has a full sleeve tattoo on one arm, and my cursory scan of the ink shows various nautical themed art pieces flowing beautifully from one to the next.