Wrecking Ball (Hard to Love 1)

“Let me get you something to drink. What can I offer you Calvin?” she says ushering us further into the backyard.

“That’s alright, Mrs. DeSantis. We’ll help ourselves,” Prince Charming replies.

Da hell? Who is this guy? I turn and give him ‘the look’. The look that says, ‘What the hell are you doing?’ Having seen it often enough by now, he knows what it means.

“There are beers in the first cooler and soft drinks in the other. Let Tom know what you feel like eating and how you want it cooked.”

“We got it, Ma, thanks,” I say interrupting. I push Calvin in the direction of the grill and watch his six. I’m afraid that if I leave him alone with Angelina for a single second, she may start measuring him for a tux. The crowd congregated around the grill goes completely silent as we walk up. Yup, Tom is wearing his Mr. Hot Stuff apron again.

“Well if it isn’t Persephone and her date,” Amber drawls with a smirk.

My eyebrows nearly reach my hairline. “Amber,” I mutter. I have to give Calvin credit, all he does is raise a black eyebrow and smile.

“How do you feel, Dad?”

“Your mother replaced my french fries with kale chips. How do you think I feel?”

“Sir,” he says, extending a hand at my father.

Tom wipes his hand before reaching for Cal’s. “Good to see you again. What can I offer you? Sirloin? Hamburgers? These are my friends by the way.” An explosion of voices erupts as they all come forward at once to shake Cal’s hand. Up until now all the males around us were silently gawking, now they’re flat out fangirling.

Twenty minutes later, Tom has somehow wrangled Cal into manning the grill while they argue the merits of the new unsportmanlike conduct rule. The men congregating around them hang on Cal’s every word as if they’ve just witnessed the second coming.

“You’re falling in love with him.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement of fact. Or at least, Amber seems to think so. Raising a beer bottle to her lips, she takes a sip and skewers me with her x-ray vision. I meet her gaze head on (can’t show any fear with Amber). Then we both turn to watch the man in question from our perch on the deck.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not in love with him.”

“Then what is it? Mad cow disease? Pharmaceuticals? Because you have that vacant, blissed out look on your face every time your eyes land on him.”

“Really?” At this, Amber gives me an exaggerated eye roll. I cringe in return. “Do you think he’s noticed?”

Shrugging, she says, “Probably. He’s not stupid.”

No, he’s not, damn it. “At most, it’s a teeny tiny nothing little crush. I’ll get over it.”

“Hmm.”

“He kissed me”

“Did he?” she drawls with a haughty arch of a blond brow.

“He’s a face holder.”

“Shit, I love that.”

“Me, too.”

“He’s looking this way. He’s smiling––don’t smile back.” Amber’s hazel eyes furtively check me out. “I said don’t smile back.”

“Too late.” Calvin’s warm gaze holds mine and I can’t look away. I can’t stop the warmth spreading inside my chest that tugs the corner’s of my lips up.

Her defeated sigh gets my attention. “What are you going to do?”

“Enjoy it while I can. I won’t be seeing him anymore in a couple of weeks anyway.”

She nods.

“You want us to drive you back to the city?” I offer.

“Na, I called Uber.” Her gaze falls on the label she’s busy picking at. Then she glances sideways and adds, “Got a date.”

My eyes slam into hers. She looks away first. This is the first time in years Amber’s been on a date. Joy explodes in my chest. “Wanna tell me about it?”

“Not yet…I’ll let you know if there’s a second one.”

“Okay,” I say curling my lips around my teeth. The force of the smile threatening to grow could seriously break my face in two.

“Ugh, don’t look so damn happy. It’s one date.”

She gets up and pours out what’s left of her beer. Grabbing my face, she smacks a kiss on my cheek. “See ya. Gotta go say goodbye to Ange and Tom.”

“Have fun!” I sound downright giddy. In return, she gives me her surliest look.

Calvin is still talking to the guys around him. Heads above everyone else, it’s impossible to miss him. I cannot be developing a crush on a man that is using me as a safeguard against other women. To distract myself, I start cleaning up the deck. I need to keep busy. But more importantly, I need to keep my eyes off the incredibly hot guy I live with.

An hour later, night has fallen and the fireworks set to begin shortly. Did I mention I love fireworks? Was there ever a more romantic scene on film than Heath Ledger silently pining for the love of his life––one very sexy rodeo cowboy––while fireworks go off in the background? That’s a rhetorical question, there isn’t. Back to me, though.