Page 33 of Impossible Love

Cal reaches for the dashboard button to pull up the top of the Jeep.

He’s right. It’s chilly. But I’m happy for the dropping temperatures. Anything to turn off what’s just been turned on. “Can we leave it down, please?”

He flashes some side-eye my way but takes his finger off the button. “Whatever our guest prefers.” Then he looks away.

As he starts the motor, I know I’m fooling myself. A cold wind isn’t going to do the trick. Even a long soak in an ice bath couldn’t extinguish the hot throbbing between my thighs.

I cross my legs. Tight.

This situation is ridiculous. I’m ridiculous. What am I doing? Why did I even let him kiss me?

The real question might be, why did I kiss him back?

I’m dimly aware of the Jeep cutting through the wild terrain. Under normal circumstances, I’d be concerned that this wasn’t safe. I’d tell myself that we’re in a god-forsaken spot smack in the middle of nowhere inside of an even bigger middle of nowhere. I’d worry that we’re going too fast, much faster than on our way out. That the Jeep will hit a rock and we’ll roll over, sailing out into the air and plummeting to the bottom of a deep canyon, where our bodies will never be found.

But I’m not afraid of anything as boring as a rollover. I’m not even afraid of encountering another rattlesnake.

Because I’m with Cal.

It’s like he’s magically eliminated all those everyday fears. I can see that he’s a highly-skilled protector, not a predator, and that he’ll keep me safe, no matter what happens. But here’s what I’m wondering: why does he want to keep me safe?

That’s what I’m scared of.

My body has just betrayed me, revealing how much danger I’m in. That kiss sent me reeling. Honestly, I’m not sure I can even call it a kiss—it was something else entirely. That was a surrender, for both of us. It was almost as if I heard a loud click! in my own head, the sound of puzzle pieces that fit perfectly.

Cal claimed his territory with that kiss. And his territory is me.

I tell myself to snap out of it. This isn’t some cable rom-com. It’s not even a date. I’m here to close an acquisition. I’m reading too much into this.

After all, it’s not like our bodies and souls became one or some equally impossible trope. I’m too smart to believe in fairy tales.

So that’s the objective truth. The problem is, there’s nothing objective about what I’m feeling, what’s happening between Cal and me.

Cal and me…

The throbbing between my legs returns, more demanding than ever, and I tell my body to cool it. “Cal and me” is a concept that doesn’t exist. There will be no more sexy-angry kisses with a view. That’s the end of that.

I take a deep breath, inhaling the fresh air. Please wash it all away, I ask the beautiful surroundings. Wash it all away so I can return to myself.

Besides the flurry of activity in my brain and the unrelenting hum between my legs, we ride all the way back to Cal’s home in silence. I look over at him once to see his eyes focused straight ahead, his jaw tight.

He regrets that kiss. So do I.

Who cares if there’s silence between us? There’s nothing to say. I’m not responsible for filling the time with meaningless talk. If he wants to say something to me about the land deal, fine, but all other subjects have nothing to do with me.

I cross my arms and tuck my hands into the coat. A cloud of Cal’s scent envelopes me, and I close my eyes and breathe it in before I remember to give my attention to the beauty of Yosemite Ranch, not the warm scent of a man I can’t have.

We pass through a large meadow with breathtaking views of majestic mountains. I can see the beginnings of a desert that stretches out into infinity and disappears over the horizon.

But I don’t give a shit about the landscape. I don’t give a shit about the beauty. Cal not only has my body confused, he’s shoved my brain right off the rails.

I should be focusing on my job. Specifically, the puzzling nature of all the new information I’ve just gathered.

First off, Sulfur Springs isn’t what I’d been told. It won’t need extensive excavation, trenching, and grading. It won’t need drip irrigation and landscape design. It’s not the barren, stinky spot I was led to believe it was.

Also, the MacLaines aren’t the ignorant rubes the research made them out to be. All the sons were SEALs. I’ve lived my whole life in San Diego, and I’ve met my share of SEALs who train in nearby Coronado. Those men are the best of the best. Not only are they intelligent, educated, and highly skilled, their training has made them some of the most resilient human beings on the planet.

Is that why my father instructed me to talk only to Jamie, and not his sons?

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