Page 74 of The Daring Times of Fern Adair
“You look nice,” he said, his voice groggy.
“Oh. I… thank you.” She’d hoped he would think so, but now the compliment flustered her.
He looked at the flat pillow next to his. “You should get some shut-eye.”
The bed had seemed wider a moment ago. She toed off her shoes and lifted her feet onto the cheap gingham blanket but didn’t lay back.
“Hey.” Cal’s warm fingers wrapped around her forearm. He gave a small tug. “We’re just gonna sleep.”
Fern relented, knowing now that she could take him at his word. Still, as she settled down beside him, she had to know something. “Why did you kiss me?”
He turned onto his side and propped himself up on an elbow. It felt awkward to hold his stare, but she forced herself to do it. She’d been timid far too long. She’d asked a bold question and should be bold enough to accept the answer.
His brow tensed with apprehension. “Did you not like it?”
“No, I did, it was…it was wonderful,” she replied shyly.
Cal’s cheek twitched, a hint of a grin there and gone again. His eyes dropped to her mouth. “Why do you think I kissed you?”
“It felt a little like a goodbye.” A tightness in the base of her throat turned her voice hoarse. “You said that I didn’t belong with you.”
A muscle along his jaw rippled. Had he forgotten saying those words? They had been pinging around inside her mind ever since. Alongside the blistering kiss, the statement had left her utterly confused.
Cal cupped Fern’s cheek—the scarred one—and stroked his thumb along the curve of her chin. “You don’t. My world wrecks beautiful things like you.”
Stung, she jerked her head away from his touch. Was he teasing her? “I’m not beautiful.”
He pulled his hand back and rested his open palm on her stomach, over her navel. Rebellious heat rushed to that one spot. He held her eyes. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known.”
He had to be joking. He certainly wasn’t telling the truth. Disappointed, Fern shook her head. “I thought you never lied.”
Cal’s palm tensed and slid lower to her waist. “I thought you trusted me.”
“I do.”
“And I don’t lie.”
His fingers rubbed gently upward, along her ribs as he held her gaze, daring her to challenge him again.Beautiful? Fern knew every weal and pucker that marred her face by heart and, while her scars were only skin-deep, beautiful was something they would never be.
Yet, on his surface, Cal wore an ever-present scowl and a hooded, dark glare. He appeared dangerous: a brooding storm cloud sneaking up on a summer party, a man in black in a crowd of pastel linen. But she’d seen what was beneath Cal’s surface. She’d seen his breaks of sunlight and blue sky. The vulnerable parts of himself he kept hidden away. Had he shown them to anyone else? Her guess was no. Not even to Rodney.
His palm rubbed up her ribs, creasing the rayon of her dress. How could just his touch make her feel thisway? Like a lump of hot liquid, pooling beneath him. Like nothing that had worried her seconds ago mattered at all. The fervent pressure of his hand as his fingertips brushed ever closer to the underside of her breast, the tracking of his eyes down the length of her body, that jumping muscle in his jaw… Fern reached for it.
The shadow of Cal’s beard was rough as she ran her finger lightly, hesitantly, over his skin. His eyes closed, and he released a small gust of breath. She’d never noticed how black his lashes were. She swept her thumb over them gently, then did the same to the gash on his cheek.
He covered her hand with his, curling his fingers around hers. Cal slid her palm to his mouth and pressed his lips against it, then lower, to the sensitive skin of her inner wrist. Fern’s pulse thundered in her neck. Inexperience left her blind as to what might happen next, to where this was leading.
“A girl like you doesn’t belong with a bum like me,” he said, his breath fanning down, along her arm, his eyes still closed.
His heavy leg had bent and curled around hers. She wanted him closer, and yet that desire frightened her too.
“You’re not a bum.” He let out another gust of breath, this time a mirthless laugh. He opened his eyes.
“Compared to what you come from? Yeah, I am.”
“I don’t care about that.” What Fern came from had been an illusion, a lie.
With his hand still covering hers, Cal lowered her arm to rest against her chest. His weighted it down, as ifbarring her from him. He shifted his leg off to the side too.
