Bent Not Broken (A Cedar Creek #1) Page 11
I knew he was a good dad and well respected in the community. Now that I knew he was Betty’s son, this made him even more so in my mind. I knew Betty would put him over her knee if she knew he was screwing people over. After what she’d said about me to me that would definitely multiply by a gazillion if he screwed me over, seeing as it looked like she liked me. A lot. So maybe that fact contributed to me feeling safe in his presence.
Also, his absolute determination to make me trust him. He had to know that that was a lot to take on, even though he didn’t know about my past. But with what he said to me in the truck, it seemed he knew exactly what he had taken on. And it was not like I’d asked him to do any of that.
Honestly, he hadn’t even been on my radar.
Yes, I had known he existed.
And yes, I definitely had known he was hot.
He had this certain vibe about him that automatically made women go weak in the knees. But I had never considered spending any amount of time with him, apart from our easy chit chat when he dropped Tommy off or picked him up at the bookstore—if you could call me babbling and him giving me chin lifts, stares, and a few very attractive male chuckles chit chat.
No, he hadn’t been on my radar simply because I didn’t let any men in Cedar Creek enter that zone. My principle of no complications included no men from Cedar Creek. That could get uncomfortable and nasty. Exactly what I had tried to avoid.
Cal was very sure of himself in a good way. Not arrogant, not condescending, but in a self-assured male badass way that against my better judgment was a turn on.
I would have never thought that with what had been done to me, I could ever be remotely attracted to someone as aggressive and forward as Cal. But now that I thought about it I was starting to realize that there was a difference between aggressive as in violent and aggressive as in determined.
Cal was the latter.
Just like Larry.
Thinking of Larry, I doubted that the determined kind of aggressive could or would ever turn into the violent kind. That would go against his principles. Cal seemed to be the same. Fair enough, I didn’t know him that well yet, but if something like opening doors for his date was part of his man code and he stood firm on things like that, then being violent in any way with a woman would go against his principle on respect.
So there you go. I could feel safe in the belief that he would never physically hurt me. But why did I want to trust him? That’s what this was, the crux of the matter. I wanted to trust him and I had no explanation as to why, since I had never had that urge in any form or capacity, at least not to this degree. I wanted to trust Cal Bennett. Which went completely against all my principles.
I didn’t trust.
I always doubted.
I always waited, no, I knew, was absolutely certain that something bad was going to happen. Even with Macy I had always held that small part of me back. I hadn’t trusted her and Larry enough to fully disclose everything that had happened to me until last week.
But wanting to trust Cal was different.
I had hardly spent any time with him. So what was it about him that made me want to do exactly what he asked me to do in his truck? To trust myself in his hands and trust that I would be safe there? I had no explanation for that.
On this thought I heard, “What’s going on in that head of yours?” coming from my left.
I blinked and realized that I had zoned out, completely wrapped up in my own head. I turned my eyes on him and said, straight up, “I don’t know what to do about you.”
“Thought I made that clear,” he muttered.
“Yes, you made yourself clear. You’ve been very straightforward. That doesn’t mean I know what to do with you. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“What doesn’t?” he asked.
“Why me? What made you go after me all of a sudden? And why do I like it? Why do I want to trust you? I shouldn’t—” I was interrupted in my babbling.
“Yes, you should,” Cal interrupted me, coming close, his hand going to the back of my head, his fingers in my hair.
“And you will. You already do. Or we would not be sitting here. I would be nursing a bruise on my shin if I heard you correctly this afternoon, instead of enjoying a nice meal with you. For now, don’t worry about the whys and the whats. Though, Ivey, you already know why. The what I will get into later. You want to trust me. You just said so yourself. So just do it.”
“It’s not that easy,” I whispered under my breath, trying to avoid his eyes by looking down at the table.
“I know, baby. I’ll help. I told you I’d take it easy on you and I will.”
“This is you going easy on me?” I asked, looking back up at him, astonished.
“Yeah,” Cal answered, his lips tipping up.
“What would not easy look like?” I wondered out loud and felt his intensity hit me. At the change I saw happening in his eyes I forgot everything. His eyes were all I could see.
I forgot how to breathe.
I forgot how to blink.
My heart forgot how to beat.
What came alive instead were my nether regions. I felt a spasm between my legs and my panties got wet.
Good lord.
“Yeah,” Cal rumbled, correctly reading my reaction. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second trying to get control. Thus giving me the opportunity to try and do the same.
“You call that guy?” Cal changed the subject. He still held me close and spoke quietly.
“That guy?” I asked stupidly, still trying to fight my way out of the Cal fog.
“Your boy toy,” his voice was getting impatient.
At those words I snapped out of the fog and focused my eyes on him again, getting annoyed.
“Don’t call him that! His name is Grant!” I snapped.
“Don’t care what his name is. What is he to you?” Yes, getting more impatient.
Not knowing how to answer that I snapped, “I don’t know. A friendly acquaintance. Calling him my boy toy makes it sounds cheap. He is a nice guy. I like him.”
“Call it as I see it, babe. Now, you call him?” Yup, impatient.
“No,” I again snapped at him.
“Ivey—” now there was a warning in his tone.
I interrupted him, “I didn’t have to, okay? I cut him loose last week.”
I tried to move away from him and crossed my arms across my chest, but he just pulled me closer.
“You cut him loose last week?” The warning had changed to surprise. And something else. Relief?
“Yes,” still snappy.
“Why?”
Was he for real? Just let it go already!
“What does it matter?”
His face was coming close to mine, his eyes boring into mine.
“It matters a great deal to me why you would cut someone loose you’ve been hooking up with for 18 months. Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad you did. Now, I wanna know why.” His voice had gone back to firm and impatient. He knew I’d been meeting Grant for 18 months? How? Did he keep tabs on me?
“How do you know how long I’ve been meeting him for?”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about that. Answer. My. Question.” He tipped his head even closer to mine, underlining the warning in his tone.
Now in a snit, my voice was getting louder. “My pretty little head?” I hissed in his face while my back went ramrod straight.
“Ivey—” he rumbled through clenched teeth.
“Don’t you Ivey me, Mr. Hot Guy! I—” Cal crushed his mouth down on mine, effectively shutting me up. He kissed me for a good long while until I melted into him. Then he retreated, but didn’t go very far, as in not far at all.
“Now, baby,” he said against my lips, “answer my question.”
Realizing he wouldn’t give up and not really having a reason for not telling him, I whispered against his lips, “He wanted more.”
“More?” Cal asked.
“More
than just sex,” I kept whispering. At the mention of sex his hand tightened at the back of my head for a split second. Then I felt his lips on mine in a soft kiss before he moved his head back an inch.
“I like that,” he stated quietly, confusing me again.
“What?” I asked.
“You cutting another man loose ‘cause he wanted more from you. I already got more from you and I haven’t even had you yet,” Cal explained in a smug voice, which made my eyes go wide in realization and I cursed inside my head.
Shit!
He was right. I hadn’t looked at it that way. But he was absolutely right. I was giving him more than sex already without even having had sex yet.
Shit!
I closed my eyes and planted my face in his chest. I heard Cal chuckle his deep masculine chuckle and felt his lips brush the top of my head.
Shit again!
“You done?” he asked there.
“Done?” Did he mean my snit?
“With your food, baby.” I nodded my head in confirmation, still leaning against his chest. He gave me another brush of his lips, then moved back and out of the booth, pulling me with him by my hand and saying, “Then let’s get you home.”
*****
Lying in my bed in the dark, I stared up at my ceiling, thinking. Thinking about everything Cal had said to me, and what that meant for me. Clearly, my plan of making him not like me had failed. He had me figured out with barely having to look at me.
That was concerning.
Usually, men would shy away from a woman who played games. It was too exhausting and they were right. It absolutely was. I hated it when women played games and was astonished at what lengths they would go to to get what they wanted. I thought that kind of behaviour was abhorrent.
Maybe that’s why I sucked at it. My heart wasn’t in it. Still, it confused me that Cal could see straight through my plan. And what confused me even more was that he called me out on it without hesitation instead of running the other way as fast as his legs would take him.
He clearly had my ticket.
When Cal had dropped me off after dinner, I had expected him to try and come in for a drink. He didn’t. After walking me up my front steps, holding my hand tightly in his, he stopped me by my front door and kissed me. That kiss was different from the other kisses he had given me. It wasn’t urgent, it wasn’t demanding. Instead, it was slow and searching and teasing and tasting. It lasted a good long while. So long that when he ended it, I was again in a Cal fog.
One of my arms was wrapped around his waist, the other one around his neck, my hand fisting in his hair. One of his arms was gripping my waist, holding me tight to his body, while the other one was wrapped around my shoulder blades, his hand touching the side of my breast. It was the best kiss I had ever had.
When he ended the kiss with his mouth open against mine, we were both breathing hard. I was in such a fog that it took me a while to open my eyes, and when I did, I could only manage to open them halfway. I could feel a growl against my mouth coming up from deep inside Cal’s body.
“Inside,” he said strangely in that growly voice. Still deep in the fog, I didn’t react, couldn’t, but kept staring up at him with half lidded eyes.
“Baby, if you don’t go inside right now, I’ll lose my hold on going easy,” he kept growling, giving me a little shake.
The shake was what snapped me out of the fog, and I took a careful step back hoping my legs would hold me. I took a deep breath, turned around, opened my purse to get my keys, and being successful in that endeavor—which meant something seeing as my hands were shaking badly—I stepped towards the front door to unlock it. I turned my head to look up at Cal and said in a soft voice that I didn’t know I had in my arsenal, “Goodnight, Cal.”
His hand had come up to my cheek, his thumb stroking my cheekbone lightly, his eyes roaming my face until they had come to rest on my eyes.
“Night, baby. Breakfast. Nine,” he reminded me in a gentle, low voice.
“Okay,” I breathed, then stepped into the house and closed the door behind me.
I didn’t make it far.
I was grateful that my legs didn’t give out before that—because that would have been embarrassing—but as soon as the door was closed, I had to lean my back against it for support.
Then I heard, ”Lock up!” from outside.
God, he was such a good guy! I steadied myself and locked the door, upon which I heard him turn around and walk down my front steps. I waited until I heard his truck drive away before I again leaned against the front door and let my head fall against it with a loud bang. I took slow, deep breaths.
The night replayed in my head again and again, but I kept coming back to the same conclusion: benefit of the doubt.
It’s what Macy said I should do.
Don’t wait for bad things to happen, Ivey. Give Cal the benefit of the doubt and see where it goes. If he screws up, he screws up and you move on.
Okay, I could do that. I think. It scared the shit out of me, but he promised he would go easy on me and he promised he wouldn't hurt me. So I promised myself to give this a chance, to give Cal the benefit of the doubt and see where this went, before I got ready for bed and fell into a deep and restful sleep.
Cal
Lying in his own bed, staring at his ceiling in the dark, Cal was asking himself one thing. Why in the fuck he hadn’t gone after what he wanted sooner.
The promise of Ivey had been so huge that he had told himself she deserved better. Better than a single dad who screwed up and got his college girlfriend pregnant, then found out that Stacy wasn’t ready to be mom, so she left him with the baby when Tommy was only a year old. Which left him to be a single dad at twenty-five years old. He loved his son, had never regretted making him, but that wasn’t something that you burden a good woman with. A woman, who was broken and didn’t trust anyone, especially men. If he was honest with himself, he also hadn’t been ready to trust a woman again, seeing as the mother of his son had left him in the middle of the night never to return. He hadn’t looked for her or trying to get her back. She had made her decision and had left them, and that was that. No second chances.
So he had stayed away from Ivey when she had moved to town a year after Stacy had left him.
Now he regretted that decision.
He had thought the promise of her was huge, but it was getting better and better with every moment he spent with her. He liked it all. Her funny, her sweet, her embarrassed, her giving attitude.
Yeah, he liked it all.
She was perfect.
But that was not the only reason he regretted not going after her sooner. The reason he regretted it most was the episode in his truck on the way to dinner. A panic so palpable he could still taste it had come off of Ivey in waves, had left him with a sour taste in his mouth and a bad feeling in in his gut. What the fuck had happened to her? What had been done to her that would send her into a state that was so painful to watch that all he could do was pull her into his lap and cradle her like a baby trying to soothe her?
Jesus!
He could still feel it now. Her shaking body wrapped in his arms.
He couldn’t ask her what had sent her into that panic. She was too closed off and self-protective for that. He had to tread carefully or she would run, of that he was sure. Cal knew her panic had something to do with her feeling strong and safe hidden behind her walls and not coping with anyone breaking through.
Any man that was.
But she was still too raw, too afraid for him to ask her about it, to open up to him. He wasn’t sure she would ever trust him enough to share all her demons with him, but he would sure as hell try. But first, he needed his hooks in her deep before he could attempt a move like that.
Still, Cal realized he needed to do something to protect her from going through that kind of panic and pain again. He should have made his move years ago, he should have protected her from that sooner.
But now was now
and he needed to do something.
So he made a decision. A decision that if she found out he did something about, he could lose her. He had promised her she could trust him. And she absolutely could. This was in her best interest, to protect her, to make sure she could feel safe, to make sure that whoever hurt her would pay for it and forgot she existed.
He had to use his contact to find out about her past, so he would understand her reactions, her need to push him away. He needed that information to navigate his moves.
And then he would make sure she didn't have to be scared ever again.
His friend would find out, he could find anything.
Decision made, Cal grabbed his phone from the nightstand to give his private investigator best friend Bane a call.
Chapter Eleven
Normal
Ivey
Merriam Webster defines normal as this:
Common. Usual or ordinary. Not strange. Natural.
Conforming to a type, standard, or regular pattern. Not deviating from a norm, rule or principle.
Something that is typical or expected.
For the first nineteen years of my life, my normal was not common or natural or ordinary. But for me, it was usual and typical, a regular pattern. I always knew what to expect.
Anger.
Hurt.
Humiliation.
Desperation.
Those were my constant companions. Wherever I went, whatever I did, whoever I met, that was what I always expected in the end.
The prospect of going to college was my dream.
My escape.
My freedom.
But in the end it only turned out to be the normal I had tried to escape from.
Still, call me stupid, but I refused to give up all of me, to drown in the darkness. I knew that pieces of me were forever gone.
Big pieces.
A lot of them.
So many that I would never heal completely.
But tiny little pieces of me I managed to keep intact at the core of me, and lying in that hospital bed, dealing with my grief and recovering from my wounds—the wounds you could see, the wounds on my soul I knew would never completely heal—I had sworn to myself I would protect those little pieces at all costs.