Every Kiss (9 page)

Because I can’t get anything past her, I also have to tell
her the “we’re just friends” part, and she corroborated his story. Shane had
mentioned before that he’s quite anti-relationship. I’m floored when I find out
that he got married when he was eighteen. He got his girlfriend pregnant, so
the obvious responsible next step was to run into the next town to elope. She
lost the baby just before she was three months along, and the marriage ended
before their first anniversary. She was cheating on him with her old boyfriend.

Now, apparently, he’s very upfront about it. If he does
venture into a relationship, and it takes a serious turn, he’s out. Done. He
doesn’t want to hurt anyone, and more importantly, he doesn’t want to get hurt.
I can’t fault him for that. Hell, I want the same thing. No feelings. No
strings or attachments. No one to answer to. Simple and uncomplicated is good.

I glance down at my watch. “Let’s get out of here. I should
be done shocking you, and we have a mountain of laundry calling our names.
Besides that, I can’t wait to get in bed and sleep off this wicked hangover.”

“DO YOU KNOW where Wes works?”
Makenna calls out from the bathroom as soon as I walk into our dorm. I set my
bag down and lean against the door jamb, watching her mouth twist unnaturally
while she brushes mascara onto her pale lashes. This is the first time I’ve
heard his name since the night we left their parents’ house, and that was three
weeks ago, so her question catches me off-guard a little bit.

“Umm, no, I don’t think he ever mentioned it. Why?”

She leans out the door and points to a manila envelope on
her bed. “Shane is at his parents’ house for a couple days, so he asked if I
could drop that envelope by to Wes this week, since he works here in
Tuscaloosa. They won’t see each other until the weekend, and there’s some tax
papers in there that Wes needs by tomorrow. I didn’t think to ask where he
works. No worries, though. I’ll call Shane and find out.”

“I didn’t realize he works around here.”

“Yeah,” she drawls out while smearing lipstick on her top
lip. “Lives about half an hour from here, too, so he’s about halfway between
here and their parents’ house. Shane has taken me over there a few times.”

I nod and turn into my room to pull my books out of my bag.
I’ll be so glad when this semester is over. My professors must think that we
don’t have any other classes because they’re all assigning massive amounts of
homework this week. Thank God there’s only about a month left before summer.

“So you want to come with?” Makenna waggles her eyebrows at
me.

“Where?”

She slaps my shoulder. “Duh. To wherever Wes works.”

“I have a shitload of homework, Mak,” I complain, waving my
hands over the books and binders sprawled out on my bed. “And it’s all due by
Friday, so I only have tonight and tomorrow. Just tell him I said hello.”

“Come on. We’ll just drop it by there real quick and then
grab some dinner. You have to eat, you know. Then, you can come back and hit
the books. Please? You know I don’t like going to strange places alone.”

“And you know I don’t like to stay home alone, but in this
case, it’s a necessity. I don’t know how I’ll ever get all of this done.”

She sits on the corner of my bed on my fuzzy brown comforter
and pokes her bottom lip out, batting her infamous puppy dog eyes.

“You’re annoying. You know that? Fine. I’ll go. Just let me
change.”

She bounces her butt on the bed and claps as I flick on the
closet light. “You look fine though. Why are you changing, huh? Are you
planning on smooching Wes again?” She makes kissy noises.

“Jeez, Makenna.” I yank my shirt off and throw it at her. “I
swear, if I had a kid sister, I’m positive this is what it would be like. I
spilled my tea on my shirt at lunch, so I’d like to look remotely clean in
public, if that’s okay with you.”

“Uh huh, perfectly okay. But you might want to put on some
lip gloss, too, so the public will think your lips are kissable. Just throwing
that out there.”

I button my jeans and cram my feet into my favorite Chucks,
smirking when I realize I just put on a band t-shirt. “I think my lips are
pretty damn kissable right now. Wanna see?”

“Don’t you dare,” she cackles, scooting further onto my bed
as I stalk closer. “I don’t know where your lips have been!”

She squeals when I bounce onto the bed, holding her down
until I can manage to blow a raspberry on one of her cheeks. “See?” I let her
go but still sit on her stomach. “I’m irresistible.”

“Irresistibly disgusting,” she says, wiping her wet cheek.

She doesn’t say a word when I end up going into the bathroom
to brush my hair and put on a little makeup, though. I know she’s thinking it,
but she stays quiet. She does, however, smirk at me when she sees the nude
sheen of gloss on my lips.

“Shut up, Makenna.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Before we can make the long trek to our parking lot, she’s
already called Shane to find out where Wes works and get directions. I get into
her car, but she stays outside while she’s on the phone. I can imagine she and
Shane are having a sickeningly sweet conversation about how much they miss each
other and blah, blah, blah. I’m happy for them, but damn it, I just don’t get
how they can always get along. It’s too eerily perfect. Me? I like a little
more drama. A little fight now and then to keep things interesting. To keep the
sex interesting.

To each their own, I suppose.

Speaking of drama, I lean back onto the head rest and think
of Wes. Talk about intense. I’ll bet make-up sex with him is mind blowing. Um,
no, I’m not going there. What I really meant to say was that I wonder where he
works. Yeah, exactly what I meant. Imagining him in his low-slung jeans and
tight black t-shirt, I can see him working as a bartender or maybe even a
waiter in a kitschy kind of cafe. I’m sure the man could make an obscene amount
of tips.

Makenna finally joins me, sinking into her seat with an
intense red flush on her cheeks.

“Please tell me you didn’t just have phone sex with your
boyfriend?”

“I didn’t!” She slaps at me after turning the key in the
ignition.

“What’s with the blush, Makenna Madison?”

“Shane loves me,” she sighs. “He wanted to tell me in
person, but he couldn’t wait until the weekend. He’s never told me that
before.”

See? Sickening. “Uh, it’s about time he says it. It’s
only
been a year since you met him. But any fool could see it. Did you tell him
back?”

“Yes.” She fans herself. “He told me from the beginning that
he only wanted to say those words to the woman he knew he’d be with the rest of
his life. You know what that means, right? In a roundabout way, he’s telling me
he wants to marry me. God, I’m going to cry.”

“If you do, I’m going to throw up.”

She punches my arm. “You don’t have a romantic bone in your
body, do you? But that’s okay . . . when the right person comes along, I’m sure
you’ll be grossing
me
out.”

“Doubtful, but that’s enough of that. Where are we headed?”

“Can’t remember the name of the place now,” she says,
shrugging. “But I have an address.”

It takes us nearly thirty minutes to get across town in all
the traffic, something that’s always a problem here, but it thins a little once
we make it to the other side of downtown. I never tire of looking at the worn,
old buildings, imagining what the city looked like when they were first built
so many years ago. Now, though, they may not be beautiful in any sense of the
word, but they lend so much character and simplicity to an otherwise obtrusive,
bustling city.

“Ah, there it is.” Makenna’s voice croons delicately as she
flips the lever for her blinker.

I look at the massive structure before me, and I can’t help
wondering if she got the address wrong. “Are you sure?”

She taps her thin finger to the ripped receipt she has the
address written on. “This is what Shane gave me. Oh!” She points to the sign
towering over the expertly manicured landscaping. “Yeah, that’s the name.
Fields and Lehman Analytics.”

Okay, then. Maybe he’s their groundskeeper or a maintenance
man or something. I follow her up to the front doors, quietly observing the
modern beauty of the building. Nothing like the aged brick buildings downtown,
it has about six stories, completely wrapped in tinted glass and gleaming
metal. Its bold, sharp lines are aesthetically pleasing. It reminds me of
something you’d see in one of those futuristic action movies. Let’s just hope
it isn’t full of robots.

Makenna holds the solid glass door open for me, and I follow
her up to the reception desk, where she asks for directions. “I’m looking for
Wesley Baxter’s office. Can you point me in the right direction?”

The stiff woman at the desk looks quite displeased. Or
constipated. Fiber, lady. It works wonders. “Is Mr. Baxter expecting you?”

Mr. Baxter? Oh, this is hilarious.

“Yes, I believe so.” Makenna practically shrinks under her
scrutinizing, accusatory gaze.

“One moment,” she snaps impatiently. She picks up the phone
and punches a few buttons. Her hair is pulled impossibly tight into a neat bun
on the top of her head. Yeah, that might be the source of the bitchiness, too.
“Sandra. I have a couple of . . .
ladies
here, claiming to have an
appointment with Mr. Baxter. Can you confirm?”

I roll my eyes. Damn, if I don’t hate pretentious people.

“I see. I’ll send them up.” She cuts her eyes back to us and
points to the bank of elevators at her side. “Fifth floor. Check in with
reception there.”

Finally, curiosity gets the better of me. “What the hell
does he do?” I ask when the elevator door closes.

“I’ve never discussed it with him in detail, but I guess the
general idea applies to all of them.”

“Which is?”

She scrunches up her face, looking at me like I’ve
completely lost it. “Uh,
money
.”

The ding sounds just before the shiny metal doors slide
open. This lobby looks much like the one on the first floor, just on a smaller
scale. But the receptionist actually stands when we exit, walking around her
desk and extending her hand with a warm smile. I’m guessing she’s around my
mom’s age. Her short, dark hair is styled into big curls, and even though she’s
dressed in a fitted pencil skirt and sky-high heels, she looks at us as if
we’re equals.

“Welcome to Fields and Lehman, ladies.” She shakes both of
our hands enthusiastically. “If you’d have a seat right over there in the
waiting area, Mr. Baxter will be with you in just a moment. Can I get you a
drink while you wait? Water, tea, coffee, soda . . . we have whatever you would
like.”

“No need, Sandra. I’m here.” That dark voice sounds from
behind her. “Thank you.”

She nods with a soft smile and steps away. No, she
fades
away, as well as everything else in the room. All I see is him, or at least I
think
it’s him. Sure, his face is the same, minus the sexy stubble I remember. But
from the neck down, he’s not the tall, moody stranger in worn jeans anymore. He
emanates power. Control. His charcoal suit is crisp and perfectly tailored to
his lean frame. His bright blue tie is the same color as his eyes. He looks
older somehow. More mature.

“Makenna. Callie. Good to see you.” His greeting is stiff
and formal. Weird. “Why don’t you come into my office for a minute?” He turns
to the receptionist, who stands as he addresses her. Again, weird. “Sandra,
please hold my calls.”

“Yes, sir,” she answers respectfully.

We follow him down a long corridor into a corner office.
It’s freaking huge. A modern gray couch with lemon yellow pillows sits against
the wall, and two matching chairs face his desk, which is a gleaming structure
of metal and glass topped with a computer monitor the size of a flat screen TV.
On the other side of the room, four televisions cover the majority of the wall
space, each displaying various news channels and stock data. But two of the
four walls in the room are nothing but floor-to-ceiling windows, lending a very
open and sleek quality to the room.

“Have a seat.” He motions to the two chairs before sitting
in his own. “Bottle of water?”

“No, thanks.” Makenna doesn’t look fazed at all. Why am I
the only one who is completely weirded out by all of this? “Here’s the envelope
you needed.” She pulls it from her bag and places it on the edge of his desk.

“I appreciate you bringing it down here. Will you be coming
to the banquet with Shane this weekend?” He frowns at his buzzing cell phone
and silences it.

“He mentioned it to me yesterday. I think I just might if I
can find something remotely appropriate to wear.”

He weaves his fingers together and rests them over his
stomach, leaning back in his chair a little. “What about you, Callie? You
coming?”

I jerk to attention. Crap, he’s talking to me. “Oh, uh . . .
I didn’t know anything about it actually, so I guess not.”

“Well, Makenna can fill you in. You should come.” A hint of
amusement plays on his lips. “No whiskey for you this time, though.”

Well, I’ll be damned. It really is him. I was beginning to
wonder if he was some creepy robot clone or something. “I’ll see what I can
do.”

“Good.” He looks down at his phone again. “This is the
second time he’s called now, so I’d better take this.” Wes swipes the screen
with his finger and lifts the phone to his ear. “Are you worried I’m putting
the moves on your woman or what?”

Makenna grins wide. It’s Shane.

“Oh, yeah? That’s cool.” His eyes dart to me. “Well, Callie
is here, too. No, no . . . that’s okay. I’ll get her home. See you in a bit.”

“What’s going on?” Makenna asks.

“Looks like Shane is on his way here. He spouted off some
mumbo-jumbo about how you’re both in
love
now, and he wants to see you
tonight. I guess right after he got off the phone with you earlier, he jumped
in the car.”