Page 52 of Coveted By the Bear

“That’s the first party I have ever been invited to,” I admitted out loud.

Caleb draped his arm over the steering wheel like he was in no hurry to leave. “We can go if you want to.”

“Do you want to go?” I asked.

“Not really my scene. More than likely, there will be a lot of people there.”

“Okay good, because that sounds terrifying.”

Caleb waved to a couple of hecklers sitting on top of the hood of the darkest colored jeep who made kissing sounds in our direction. A smile still lingered on his lips as he pulled out of the parking lot.

Rooney’s Bar was quiet with only a few older men sitting at the bar. A couple of tables were occupied, but the booth in the corner was wide open and beckoning us. It was also the farthest point from the pungent veil of smoke that hung over the bar top.

“What made you decide to work on the rig?” I asked as the waitress put two sweet teas on the table between us.

Caleb rubbed the knuckle on my hand thoughtfully and leaned back. “At first I wanted to work it because of my dad. I wanted to make him proud. But eventually, I figured out that I really liked it. I like the challenge. I like learning the different jobs on it. I work well under pressure and with deadlines. I even like the crazy shifts.” He shrugged self-deprecatingly. “Can’t imagine working a different job.”

“Is it dangerous?”

Caleb smiled mischievously. “Why, you worried about me?”

My poker face was pitiful thanks to minimal contact with other humans. Unfortunate. Caleb’s grin only grew wider, so primly, I said, “I’m sure you’re completely capable of handling yourself at your job.” I took a long, sobering draw of tea from the straw. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Yes, it is. But that’s included in the challenge part that I love so much.”

He liked his job. I’d worry in silence and spare him my concern.

Achy Breaky Heart blared out of the dusty, old jukebox in the corner. I groaned internally but Caleb grabbed my hand. “Come on,” he said.

We took our time choosing the perfect song. He fed the machine a quarter and I pressed J-14. Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers sang to the uninterested bar about how waiting was the hardest part.

“Burgers are ready,” the waitress called.

Caleb waved and led me back to our booth. He waited until I was seated to take his own. I thought it sweet that, for all his rough edges, he still had the manners that were probably expected in our grandfathers’ day.

“You ever had a boyfriend?” Caleb asked. His cheeks flushed and the mortified look on his face told me he didn’t mean to wonder out loud.

My face was probably scarlet, too. I tried to ease his discomfort by answering. “Once. I was twelve.”

Caleb’s eyes danced with relief. “What was his name?”

“Jeremiah Prichard. He was short and brainy, but he didn’t ask me too many questions, and he talked enough for the both of us. I let him hold my hand once.”

Caleb passed me an onion ring off his plate. “Scandalous.”

“I thought so. My foster parents would have whipped me good if they found out. That particular couple had a distinct paranoia about their foster kids getting knocked up on their watch.” I giggled at the memory as I shoveled a forkful of cheese fries onto Caleb’s plate, but he stared at me with ghosts in his eyes.

“Do you ever wish things would’ve been different?” he asked.

I shrugged as if it would lift the unease at dredging up old memories. “No use crying over spilt milk. I’ll be right back,” I said, excusing myself. The gritty bits and stories from my past left me raw and exposed, and I didn’t want to ruin the night with them. I needed a minute to put the screaming demons back in their boxes before they came tumbling out for all to see.

The bathroom mirror was a judgmental little beast. As I stared at my pale face, I could all but hear the scritch scratch of little claws tearing at my chain-locked memories. Things I had long ago put away for a day when I was strong enough to deal with them. The locks rattled, thunking softly against memories of my whiskey-shootin’ stepdad, and I took a deep breath to steady myself. Thinking about him now would undo me. Maybe I really was crazy like everyone said.

Caleb deserved better. I didn’t disagree, but I could sure as hell justify going straight back to that table and trying to be better for him.

Rooney’s had changed during my short-lived escape. Minutes ago, it had been a barren landscape with only a few men drinking or snoring softly against the bar top. Now, it was another planet entirely. Every square foot of space was taken by a body. The air stank of cigarette smoke and grease. My gaze fell on Caleb, like a paperclip to a magnet. He sat at our booth, and through the gyrating, raucous crowd, I could see that our table was now full. Becca plucked a fry unapologetically from my plate.

I hesitated. A slow fury burned in me, and I couldn’t bear down on them in such a state. They would see me as a starving dog defending a meal. Caleb scanned the crowd and lit up with obvious relief when he saw me. The crowd pulsed as we tried to reach each other. Everyone was lost in their own world, dancing to a rhythm that was more internal than to the barely audible jukebox music. I laughed at the ridiculousness of our effort as Caleb reached me. I didn’t know if it was the energy from the crowd or his frustration over Becca, but his lips crashed down on mine.