Luke shrugs, lifting his hand to wave the pickle I hadn't notice him successfully sneak while I was ranting away. I roll my eyes and reach for it, but he just laughs and pulls his hand farther away.
"That explains why you have a problem with callin' me a nickname a five-year-old would have, seein' as you're always actin' like one yourself, Luke."
Lucy giggles, and I narrow my eyes at her. "You--"
Her hand shoots up, interrupting me before I can go at her too. "Calm down, Caroline. You need to get out of that thundercloud you've been stuck in."
I grouse under my breath, but don't argue with what she said. Not because I don't want to--oddly, I do--but because she isn't wrong. Not only am I out-of-my-mind frustrated with the lack of progress with my insurance settlement, I'm a whole different kind of frustrated because of a certain tall, handsome, and dark cowboy of mine. And that's just what he is . . . mine. In the week since our awkward run-in at Quinn and Leighton's baby shower, he's made it impossible to doubt that.
I take another bite of my burger and think about Clayton. We haven't been able to find time to actually go on a date, but it hasn't stopped him from calling me whenever he has a chance, texting me when he doesn't, and making it known I'm not far from his thoughts. Every time his name pops up on my phone, I get a rush of happiness. I'm quickly becoming obsessed with those calls, but I miss the rush of being near him. I'm a giant mix of depressed happiness because I miss the man who is quickly ingraining himself in my life, but is too busy to do more than talk through a phone.
"She doesn't have anything to say to that, Luce, because she knows she's been bein' a little shit lately." Luke takes a bite of his burger before pointing it at me. "I figured she was just bein' pissy now that she found out how much work fixin' all my accounting was gonna be, but nope, she's flyin' through that mess like I didn't have two years' worth of shit in piles all around my office, so I've got no answers for you unless it's y'all's lady time."
"I'm right here, you know, you can stop talkin' about me like I'm not," I tell him with a frown.
Lucy thumps him over the head. "How many times do I have to tell you, Luke. Women don't all menstruate at the same time, so just because you can't miss when I'm on mine seein' as I live in the same house as you doesn't mean Caroline's cycle is at the same time."
He stops eating and looks deep in thought, like the mystery of a woman's uterus is some big secret he's just figuring out. His bad mood lightens up a little when he starts volleying his stare between Lucy and me before looking down in the general direction of our bellies and doing the same.
"So it's not your lady time then?" he finally questions, looking adorably confused now.
I glance around the tables closest to ours quickly, making sure no one heard him. "Would you shut your trap, Luke? I don't need all of Wire Creek knowin' about my time of the month. For your information, I'm in a bad mood because I got some bad news about the rebuild and I'm havin' a hard time shakin' myself from the funk that delay is puttin' me in." Not a lie. Also, not the whole truth.
"You're so on your lady time," he jests.
"I'm goin' to kill you slowly if you don't stop talkin' about me bein' on my period!" I hiss in a harsh whisper.
His face splits into a smug grin the same time someone clears their throat behind me. I glance over at Lucy in horror, hoping she'll help me disappear into thin air, but she's not paying me any attention. Just like her brother, she's now looking past me. Except, where Luke looks more curious than anything, Lucy is giving her best impression of that Snapchat filter that has the huge mouth--smiling so big and weird you'd swear she's in pain because of it.
"Linney."
My shoulders hunch and I close my eyes. I've never in my life liked my name shortened. However, the affection that I hear in the nickname Clayton gave me does nothing but fill me with happiness. It's something no one but him has ever called me--a short version of my middle name--and maybe because it's all his, I love it. But even with the rush of hearing him call out to me, his timing sucks. This cannot be happening. Clayton's voice sounds behind me again, repeating the nickname he hasn't stopped calling me since last weekend. Even with the rush of pleasure I get from a nickname when it's coming from his lips, humiliation still chokes me at his embarrassing timing.
"Hey!" Luke exclaims, oblivious to the fact that I'm dying right in front of him, causing me to open my eyes to find him pointing at me. I see Clayton move to stand next to my side of the booth out of the corner of my eye, effectively blocking any chance I have at bolting. "How come he gets to call you something other than Caroline and we can't? You just met him and you've known me and Luce for close to a damn decade but won't let us."
I don't correct him. It wouldn't matter if I tried, because Luke wouldn't understand something I can hardly put my own thumb on. I haven't even told Lucy about the stupid brief crush I had on Clayton in high school, before I met my last boyfriend years ago. Having something special with Clayton Davis is beyond words. Never, not once, has anyone shortened my name and it not been like nails on a chalkboard, but the man who was my first crush many years ago lights something inside of me when I hear him rumble that nickname, and I'm in no hurry to lose this feeling. I'll be dammed if I'm going to explain that to Luke and Lucy, though. The secret is mine and Clayton's, no one else's.
Lucy elbows her brother and I decide now would be a good time to escape, but since I can't leave with the hulking cowboy blocking my way, I do the next best thing. I close my eyes and go with the good ol' theory that if I can't see them, they can't see me.
"What is she doing?" Luke questions.
I hear Lucy chuckle but keep my eyes closed. That is, until my body is moved by the solid weight of another person pushing his body into the booth next to me. I jolt, sucking in a shocked breath that does nothing but fill my lungs with a scent that is all man--outdoors, fresh air, and just a hint of soap. Before he pushes all the way into the booth, my eyes open and all I see is Clayton's smirking face, one side of his mouth tipped up and his eyes amused.
"Now what is she doing?" Luke stage-whispers to his sister.
"Reckon she's figuratively shittin' her britches, big brother," Lucy jokes, not even attempting to keep her voice low.
"Better than literally doin' it, but if that's the face she makes when she's takin' care of business, I think she needs to go get checked up at the doc. Somethin' ain't workin' right."
I whip my head around and gape at them. "Would you two shut up," I express venomously.
Luke holds up his hands in surrender. "What? All this could've been avoided if you'd just let the whole nickname thing go earlier. We wouldn't even be talkin' about your shit right now. It was you who started down this path, little one, don't get mad that I'm just tellin' you the truth."
"This did not start because of me. It started because of your sick enjoyment of embarrassing me because, for whatever reason, you find the fact that I'm shy to be some sort of freak-show act for your entertainment purposes, Lucas Hazel."
"I do not," he defends instantly.
"Yeah, Luke, you really do," Lucy confirms with a nod.
"Hey!"
She shrugs. "Not maliciously, I know you're just tryin' to get her to come out of her shell. Caroline knows that too, but you take it too far sometimes."
"I'm sorry, Caroline," Luke mutters, and I can see written all over his face that he really does feel bad.
"It's okay, Luke." I lift my hand with the intention of grabbing his across the table, but I jump when it's hijacked by long tanned fingers that grab me with soft care. Then, with my mouth hanging open, I watch my wayward hand being lowered into Clayton's lap as he holds it gently with his. I blink at my captive hand, flex my fingers, and wonder how I actually forgot he had sat down. My skin tingles where he's touching it and I find my fingers curling tighter, loving the contrast of his suntanned hand against my pale one.
"Linney," he utters in his deliciously deep voice, bringing my gaze from our joined hands
to his bright green eyes. "Thought you were havin' dinner at the ranch with me tonight?"
"What are you doin' over in Wire Creek?"
"Had to grab somethin' from the feed store that ours in Pine Oak was out of. Saw you through the window," he answers, pointing out the window to the feed store across the street.
"Oh," I lamely breathe.
"So, are we not havin' dinner at the ranch tonight?"
"We are," I confirm with a frown.
He studies me and I take a moment to appreciate how handsome he looks with his thick, dark-as-night hair sticking in a million directions. I look around, half expecting the ever-present cowboy hat to jump out and bite me. "Where's your hat?"
"Granger, one of our newer horses, got spooked today," he answers with a shrug, as if the fact that a huge animal getting spooked isn't something that requires any more explanation. But seeing as I know nothing about horses, my imagination is running wild, something Clayton doesn't miss. He gives my hand a squeeze and leans a little closer. "Sweetness, you worried about me?"
I shove him with my shoulder lightly. "You'd be worried too if you were picturin' some huge beast tryin' to stomp you to death before eatin' what's left of you, Clayton Davis."
He tosses his head back and laughs, deep and loud, straight from the gut. His hilarity booms in my ears, the rich sound making me smile. I don't even care that everyone is looking in our direction, not when I get to see this guarded man be so carefree. He's one of those people who laugh with their whole torso, too. His shoulders jump, the corded muscles in his neck flex, and his whole body moves. I drink the sight of it in until he finally stops, untangling our fingers to wipe his eyes. I have a few seconds of disappointment that he let go before he's lifting his arm up and over my body to hook it around me. His fingers grasp my shoulder, and a moment later he pulls me into his side.
And I willingly scoot my hips to get myself as close as I can without urging.
"You're one helluva breath of fresh air, darlin'." His lips press lightly against my temple and the arm around me flexes. "I knocked my hat off because I was in the middle of dismountin' him at the same time he was tryin' to two-step, and my hat landed in a giant pile of manure. Didn't feel like goin' up to the house to grab another one when I had other places I needed to be in order to finish up my day."
"Oh." Well, now I feel a little ridiculous. "Do you need to go, then?"
His brows pull in as he frowns in confusion. "Go where?"
"You said you had other places you needed to be."
His eyes dance--I swear it looks like his dark green orbs have come to life and are swirling with lighter flecks of gold that I've never noticed before. If he keeps looking at me like that, I'm going to have a hard time ever giving this man up.
"No, darlin', I'm already there."
"Y'all together now?" Luke butts in, breaking the hold that Clayton's words have on me.
"Yes," my dark cowboy tells him, not looking away from me.
"We're explorin' things," I correct, looking over at Lucy as I see the expression on his face change slightly. She appears to be about to burst with excitement. When I look at Luke, his face is blank while he assesses Clayton. "What, Luke?" I probe, not sure I'm going to like what's on his mind.
This is why I hadn't told him about . . . whatever's between Clayton and me. I'm not sure what title to put on it, to be honest, and since Luke's been in my life for a long time I knew he'd expect something more than what I could articulate. He saw me at my worst, saw how hard I've worked to move on. He and Lucy are the only two people in the whole world who understand how big a deal it is that I'm taking this step with Clayton. But they're also the two people whose opinions matter most to me, and I'm not sure I could handle it if they didn't approve. Which is probably why, in the week since he first cooked me dinner at his house, I haven't told either of them that I agreed to see what's between the two of us. I couldn't even explain my feelings toward the man to myself, let alone verbalize them to anyone else.
I squirm under Luke's scrutiny as his stare bounces between us, the silence heavy except for the sound of my heartbeat thundering in my ears. What if he sees something in Clayton that I don't--or can't--something that could mean my judgment is still warped and I need to give Clayton up. Could I let go of a man who is quickly burrowing under my skin? Could I really just walk away if one or both of my closest friends don't like him?
No, I don't think I could.
Actually . . . I know I couldn't.
After what feels like hours, Luke shrugs, smirks, and then goes back to eating what can only be a cold burger now.
"What did that thing you just did with your face mean?" I snap, my period-driven hormones and my lack of patience colliding in a burst of sass.
"What're you talkin' about?"
I look at Lucy. "Why does he always do that? Make you think the worst, but not speak a dadgum word before some stupid I know everything smirk comes across his face. Then, still not sayin' a thing, continue on like nothing happened and you start questionin' your sanity?"
Her shoulder lifts, indicating she's just as clueless, and her lips twitch.
"It's the most annoying thing in the history of . . . ever, Lucas. I can tell you want to say somethin', so why don't ya stop actin' like I can't handle whatever it is and just spit it out, bucko!"
Clayton's chest moves in silent laughter that I ignore in favor of glaring at the man across from me. Lucy chokes on a loud cackle before covering her mouth with her hand. Luke, though, holds my very annoyed scowl.
"You sure you wanna hear it, Carrie?"
"Caroline, you big dummy."
He rolls his eyes and points to Clayton. "You let him call you Linney." He leans back and crosses his arms as if that statement holds all the answers.
I shrug, making the arm around my shoulders tighten the smallest bit. "So?"
I watch Luke's emotions change like someone flipped a switch inside him. One second he's serious as a heart attack, and the next he's smiling a toothy grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. The change is so quick, had you not been watching him closely, you would've missed it.
"I think that right there about says it all for me, but since your lady time always makes you feel the need to pick fights with me, I'll clarify so you can stop lookin' for reasons to jump down my throat. You, sweet Caroline, hate when anyone calls you some shortened variation of your name. I know it's because your mama always had some different name for you growing up and it makes your remember that shit. When others do it, your nose always scrunches up, your eyes get all slitty until they almost look fuckin' closed, and your nostrils start floppin' around like they're gonna take flight and leave your face. You have never, not in all the years that I've known you, been able to hear someone shorten your name without losin' your mind. Which is why we always keep doin' it--not just because we want to erase the negative things your mama did, but because it's funny as hell to watch sweet, shy, little Caroline Michaels get pissed off. But when Davis does it, you look like a stampede of kittens just ran up to your feet and promised you a life of fluffy cuddles."
"His name is Clayton. Not Davis," I stupidly say, clearly still looking for a fight.
"Name's still Davis, too."
"Don't think I've forgotten you made me think that was his first name, Luke."
He laughs. "Change the subject, fine. Means you know I'm right. And Caroline, it's not my fault you were callin' out his last name all because you didn't bother to properly introduce yourselves the night you met."
My face heats, and I know he's going to win if I keep trying to argue with him. What's the point? He isn't wrong. Not even a little. And all four people sitting in this booth know it.
I turn my head and look at the man holding me close, his face so near mine that his soft breath dances across my cheeks. My gaze falls to his mouth when he smiles and, having decided it's time for me to be brave enough to at least confirm what Luke just said, I open my mouth. "I like it when you call me
Linney, Clayton. Luke, as frustrating as he is, isn't wrong, and you should know it means somethin' to me and that I'd like it if you didn't stop."
The left side of his mouth twitches twice before his full smile appears. "All right. And just so you know, I like the fuck out of you callin' me Clayton. No one calls me by my full name, but even if they did, I wouldn't like it half as much as I do when you're sayin' it in that sweet whisper. That's all yours, Linney."
He's halfway through his mini speech when my focus moves from his full lips to those green eyes that even a nun could get lost in. I blame those stupid, beautiful eyes for what I do next, because it's so out of character for me, it's the only way I can explain it. My back straightens, my head moves, and I press my lips to his in a soft, quick, but no less amazing kiss. He sucks in a sharp breath when my mouth connects to his, the hand resting on my shoulder flexes, and when I pull away, the soft look of happiness in those green depths shows me that I can trust the guy who chipped away a big piece of the armor that had been guarding my heart.
"Now that all that's out of the way, want to tell me why you're eatin' here when we made plans last night?" he asks softly, voice low and forehead resting against mine a second longer before lifting away, keeping his face close.
"Because I was hungry?"
"Darlin', it's four in the afternoon. Are you tellin' me you're still gonna be hungry for dinner after eatin' one of Big Tom's famous burgers?"
"Have you had a Big Tom burger?"
He nods, smiling a tiny smirk.
"Then I think you know why I'm eatin' one at four in the afternoon. When someone says they're goin' to have one of the best burgers in Texas, you don't pass that up."
His eyes crinkle at the corners. "Are you still goin' to want dinner when I pick you up, or should we do somethin' else?"
At the mention of him picking me up, something real close to embarrassment starts to burn up my throat, which makes no dang sense. I certainly didn't set my store ablaze and in turn, make myself homeless--but that's just what I am, homeless. I shouldn't be ashamed of it, but even though I didn't intentionally keep it from him, I still feel badly about it.
"How about we just leave from here?" I offer lamely. "Save you the trouble of havin' to drive an hour from here to Law Bone, when we're both in Wire Creek." Of course, in my quest to save him some gas, I don't realize my mistake until it's too late.