Even Odds (15 page)

This hour of the afternoon, the Brass Buckle was quiet. “We shouldn't have trouble getting a table,” Isabel said, parking in a metered space along the sidewalk. “Most people come here for breakfast or lunch.”

Caleb looked up at the unassuming storefront as he got out of the car. “Nice that it's not all chain restaurants around here.”

“This part of Tampa, there aren't a lot of chains. It's part of why I like living here.” Isabel preceded Caleb into the café and ordered herself an iced latte. As she took a seat in a corner booth, she tried to quell the nerves that had bubbled up in her stomach again on the drive over, nerves about rehashing any kind of personal conversation with Caleb. All she had to do was get through this conversation and they could transition to being coworkers and nothing more, the air cleared.

When he slid across from her into the booth with his order, they just stared at each other for an uncomfortable few moments. Isabel shifted, took a sip of her latte, and tried to find someplace to look that wasn't into his brilliant green eyes. She ended up staring at the table right in front of him, where his hands rested, curled around a cup of hot coffee.

“You shouldn't drink too much hot coffee in this heat,” Isabel heard herself saying, without meaning to start talking. God, she sounded dumb.

“I don't like iced coffee.” Caleb sipped from his mug as if to prove his point. “But maybe I'll have to start if I'm going to live down here.” He took another sip. “This is really good.”

Another minute of silence. Finally, Caleb sighed, the sigh of someone who was facing an unpleasant task. “Okay, I owe you an explanation.”

Isabel took a long sip of her latte, giving her sudden swell of panic a moment to settle down. She was going to let him talk, and not interrupt. “Yeah, you do.”

Caleb looked down at his mug, then back up at her. “I didn't know where you worked when I first came over and helped with the display case. I had applied to PI Games, but it wasn't until we were at the party and you said you worked in Tampa that I had any thought it might be at the same place where I'd applied.”

“And yet you didn't think to
ask
where I worked?” Isabel blurted out. So much for not interrupting. She took another sip to force herself to be quiet and listen.

“I actually googled you that first night, after I walked you back to your hotel. I found out you worked for PI Games.” Caleb ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “But then when I didn't hear back from Will, I assumed I didn't get the job, and so I didn't think it would matter.”

“Why were you so sure you didn't get the job?” Isabel couldn't imagine giving up hope so quickly unless she'd been explicitly told otherwise.

Caleb hesitated. He was clearly wrestling with something difficult to discuss. “I've had a lot of rejections since Foggy Goggles went under. Things haven't gone particularly well for me. I've learned it's easier to expect the worst than keep facing the disappointment.” His shrug looked forced. “Maybe it's not the healthiest thing in the world, but it's gotten me through.”

That was so sad. Isabel would have felt bad for him if she weren't still fairly angry. Okay, maybe she felt a little bad anyway. “So when did you find out you had the job?”

“After I left you on Saturday night, I got back to my room and found an email from Will.” Caleb bit one side of his lip, staring down into his coffee.

“And you didn't think of calling me and telling me?” She made a face.

“I'd already thrown away your number and I couldn't think of how to explain in an email. I just kept putting it off. And here we are.” He looked up through his lashes, head still ducked. “I know that's pretty shitty.”

Isabel nodded, managing to remain quiet. Her latte tasted cool and sweet. Caleb's explanation may not be ideal, but at least it was honest. Something didn't add up with his timeline, though, and after a moment, she figured out what it was. “So if you didn't get the job until after you left me on Saturday, then what were you trying to tell me when we were outside, in the snow?”

Caleb's mouth tightened. “That was something else. It's not relevant now.”

Isabel wanted to push the subject, but she wasn't sure how far she'd get. His expression had become guarded and cautious. It's not like whatever it was mattered much now anyway.

Caleb shrugged and continued on his previous topic. “You were only fucking me for a stupid scavenger hunt, so I stopped feeling bad about it. Well, mostly. Maybe you think it was a dick thing to do, but I really didn't think I'd ever see you again.”

Isabel looked around to see if anyone was listening, since their conversation was no longer as quiet as before, but the café was empty except for them and the barista behind the counter who was playing on her phone. She turned back to Caleb. “So you aren't even sorry?”

“Am I sorry I didn't tell you?” Caleb paused, which Isabel could not even
believe
, because wasn't the correct answer obviously yes? Then again, though, he wasn't just telling her what she wanted to hear. He was telling her the truth. Finally he sighed. “I'm sorry I hurt you, so yes, I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I should have gotten in touch when I got the job, and I understand if you don't trust me anymore.”

“I don't think it matters whether I trust you personally or not. We're coworkers now. Whatever happened at DiceCon is behind us.” When she drank from her latte this time, it tasted watered down from the melted ice. She stirred it with the straw.

“What about you, then?” Caleb asked. “Are you sorry you didn't tell me about the scavenger hunt?”

Isabel met his eyes. “That's different.”

“How? It's still deception.” Caleb leaned in. “You still had sex with me under false pretenses.”

“I did no such thing.” Isabel felt her chest constrict. “I wanted to loosen up and try something new. The scavenger hunt was just . . . the catalyst. Not the main reason.”

“So you would have slept with me even if there weren't points involved?” Caleb raised an eyebrow, disbelief all over his face.

“Maybe,” Isabel said, unable to stop from sounding defensive. Was it the truth, though? She looked back down at the table, wishing there were something meaningful to stare at other than her cup leaving a condensation ring on the laminate table, because she didn't want to meet Caleb's eyes. “I would have wanted to, but I would have been too shy.”

“You don't strike me as very shy.” Caleb's lips twitched. The bastard was trying not to smile.

“I told you already, the Isabel you met at DiceCon isn't the real me.” Isabel leaned in, hoping he'd get the message. Why couldn't he just accept her for who she was? “I'm not the kind of person who does that, even if I want to. I'm a professional at the top of my career. I'm not some floozy who wears push-up bras and low-cut blouses to try and get a promotion. I'm not some woman who takes random guys back to her hotel room.”

Caleb tilted his head to the side. “Who said anything about being a floozy?”

Isabel bit her cheek. “It's all the same, isn't it?”

He shook his head slowly, eyebrows drawing together. “No, it's definitely not the same. I don't understand why you can't be a professional and still enjoy sex. Because you obviously do enjoy sex.”

Isabel glanced at the barista, who hadn't looked up from her phone and was either not listening or good at looking like she wasn't listening. “A woman can't be sexy and taken seriously at work. It's just not possible. You wouldn't understand, because you're a guy.” She started drumming her fingers on the tabletop. “I shouldn't have gotten involved with you at all, because now you're my coworker and everybody's going to find out I slept with you and I'm going to be looked at as some kind of tramp.”

“No, wait a minute.” Caleb reached across the table and closed his hand over hers, stopping the drumming. “Is that what this is all about? You think I'm going to ruin your reputation?”

“Not on purpose, no.” Isabel felt her eyes heat, and damn it, she was not going to cry. She took a deep breath in through her nose and let it out, and the urge to cry faded enough that she could talk. “I want people to take me seriously. I don't want them to treat me like a pair of boobs or a token hire.”

“Would people really think that, even after you've been with the company all these years?” Caleb sounded surprised, but not like he thought she was foolish, and that slight difference in tone was enough that Isabel relaxed a bit.

“I don't know. They might. At my old job . . . you know what, it doesn't matter. I don't date much because I don't want the people at work thinking I'm easy. I don't want them thinking about my sexuality at all.” Isabel traced the edge of her cup with a finger of her free hand, her other hand still under Caleb's. She hadn't pulled it back yet, even though that would be a very smart decision. “If I want sex, well, I know how to get myself off.”

Caleb's hand twitched over hers, and Isabel looked up to see his face flush. She tried a smile. “What did I say?”

“Nothing, I just . . .” He pulled his hand back, made a vague gesture. “Mental image.”

Now it was Isabel's turn to feel embarrassed. “Oh. Sorry.”

“It's okay.” Caleb shook his head. “So you did this scavenger hunt thing to let loose for a weekend, and now, what? You regret it?”

“I don't know.” Isabel rubbed the side of her neck. “I guess not. It was fun. Hot. I never do anything like that. Plus, only Matthew and Dan know it was you, and they're pretty good friends of mine, so I don't think they'd tell anyone. I just wasn't expecting to ever see you again.” She avoided eye contact. No, she wasn't expecting to ever see him again, and she definitely wasn't expecting to still want him as much as she did. “I am sorry I hurt you, though. If I'd known you would be upset about the hunt, I would have told you. Let Lloyd win the stupid game. I didn't even enjoy first class all that much.”

Caleb laughed, surprising Isabel into looking up, which was a mistake. With his dimples and the affection in his eyes, it was easy to forget that sleeping with him again would be a disaster, and easy to remember how hard he made her come.

“Maybe we should start fresh,” Caleb suggested. “Put all this behind us. Really work together as if we've never met.”

Isabel felt a flood of relief, her shoulders relaxing. “That would be great. I'd like that.”

“So all is forgiven?” Caleb asked, leaning in a few inches, his expression earnest.

Isabel considered, trying to ignore his green eyes. “I don't know. Your asshole move was way worse than my asshole move. If we were up against each other in a ‘who's the biggest asshole' contest, I'd bet on you to win.”

“Oh come on.” Caleb pursed his lips in thought. “I think we'd be evenly matched.”

Isabel shrugged. “If you insist.” She smiled anyway. It would be easier to let things go, get a fresh start. “But fine, all is forgiven.” She raised her cup with the last of her latte. “To coworkers?”

Caleb clinked his mug with hers. “To coworkers.”

The problem with being
just coworkers, of course, was the part where Caleb wasn't sleeping with Isabel. At the end of his first week, he collapsed on the couch after work, completely wiped out and still surrounded by boxes that he just hadn't had the energy to unpack. He went through the post-work motions of checking his email and browsing his favorite websites, but after a few minutes he put the laptop on the coffee table. Lying back on the couch, he stared up at the popcorn ceiling of his apartment with a prickling sense of discomfort. The air-conditioning blew cool over his body but did little to settle his general unease. He'd spent the last hour of his day in a meeting with Isabel reviewing the concept art his team had created, the entire meeting completely innocuous, and now her scent was in his mind and he felt like an animal from how he was reacting. Staying focused during the meeting had taken all his concentration.

Women didn't get under his skin like this, not anymore. He had sexual partners and moved on. Logically, it was probably the fact that he couldn't have her that made him want her more. He looked over at the ocean of boxes, irritated. How the hell did he have so much stuff, anyway? He lived in a one-bedroom apartment. Maybe he should throw out all these boxes. All his furniture had already been brought in by the movers, and he'd lived without the rest of this stuff for a week, right? He probably wouldn't miss most of what was in there.

Before he could do anything rash, his laptop alerted him to an incoming Skype call. Henry's face showed up when he accepted the call.

“Hey, buddy.” Caleb pulled the laptop onto his stomach. “How's life on the road?”

“I'm home this weekend, actually.” Henry looked the same as ever, pale in the washed-out light from his computer screen. He ran a hand through his short black hair and looked around his room. “Just got back this morning. How's Florida?”

“Hot as balls. And humid. But otherwise pretty good.” Caleb felt a pang of loneliness and wished he could drag Henry out clubbing with him. Some guy time would be a good antidote for all this pointless lust for Isabel.

“You all unpacked? Hang on, I'm just gonna grab a beer.” Henry disappeared from the screen, then reemerged with a brown bottle.

“Hell no, I'm not unpacked. I'm thinking about throwing everything out, though.” Caleb glanced over his shoulder at his fridge. A beer sounded good, but his fridge looked too far away.

“Don't throw it all out. You packed it for a reason.” Henry was always the voice of logic in their friendship. “How's the new job?”

“I like it. The people are good and the pay's not bad. It's a lot of work, though. I might put in some extra time tomorrow to get ahead.” Caleb scratched his beard. He had nothing to do on the weekends anyway. Work was preferable to boredom.

“What about Isabel?” Henry leaned back on his couch and threw an arm over the back, smirking.

“What
about
Isabel?” Caleb felt a prickle of trepidation.

“How'd she take it when you showed up?”

Caleb shrugged. “It was rocky at first, but we talked things out.”

“Are you two still . . .” Henry made an obscene hand gesture and Caleb looked at the ceiling. He should never have told Henry he hooked up with her at DiceCon.

“No, things at work are strictly business.”

“What about after work?” Henry pressed.

“We're not seeing each other, okay?” Caleb's answer came out more aggressively than he anticipated. “Hang on. I'm getting a beer.” He pushed the laptop off his stomach and pulled a beer out of the fridge, taking that moment to calm his irrational anger, then came back and resumed his position on the couch. “It's not like that with us.” As soon as he said it, he paused. How was it with them, then? At DiceCon, he'd been deluded enough to think he was falling for her after only a few days and some (admittedly adventurous) sex. In the weeks since, he had convinced himself that he'd been delusional, but only a few days in her presence had brought those feelings right back. Relationships meant trust and commitment, plus the potential for heartbreak. He didn't know if he wanted to go through all that again.

“It doesn't have to be anything serious.” Henry grinned.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I don't think she'd go for that, either.” Caleb grimaced and washed down his words with a swig of beer. If DiceCon was any indication, meaningless sex with Isabel wouldn't stay meaningless for long. “When are you going to be in the area?”

“End of May, actually! There's a trade show in Orlando and they're sending me. You want to meet up?”

“Sure. Shoot me a reminder when you know more.” Caleb looked to his right at the looming pile of boxes. “Ugh. I don't want to unpack.”

“You have to unpack.” Henry spoke slowly, like he was talking to a child. “You can't bring a date back to an apartment that looks like shit.”

“I'm not an idiot. If you were here I'd hit you.”

“If I were there I'd be leaving because your apartment looks like shit.” Henry drank from his beer, then looked at the bottle for a few moments as if in contemplation. Then he broke the silence. “I met a girl.”

“Oh yeah?” Caleb perked up. Henry didn't date much. “Is she local?”

“She's from Leominster, so not too far. I'm taking her out for dinner tomorrow.” Henry's smile was a mix of shy and proud. “Maybe this will get my mom off my back.”

“You're almost thirty. You're supposed to be well on the way to giving her grandkids by now.” Caleb thought about his nephew and nieces and for a brief, mad moment, imagined bringing his own kids to play with them. Where the hell had that come from? He never even wanted to get married, let alone have a
family.
He pushed the thought from his mind and drank more beer.

“Tell me about it. I keep telling my mom to stop being all Tiger Mom about me getting married, but then she starts yelling at me. Speaking of parents. Has your mom finished crying about your move?” Henry disappeared from the frame for a minute, then came back with a bag of potato chips.

Caleb perked up. “You know, she didn't take it that badly. I think the move let her know I was serious, and she read up on PI Games and the work they've done, so she knows it's legit. Some passive-aggressive bullshit about this being ‘better than nothing,' but all in all, it wasn't as horrible as I'd thought. Nobody cried. And they sent a plant, which for my parents is practically giving their blessing.”

“Progress.” Henry nodded and saluted with his beer. “I'm supposed to go over tonight and set up my parents' new computer.”

“They'll probably feed you,” Caleb reasoned.

“That's what I'm hoping.” Henry looked off screen. “Actually, I should get going and do that before she calls me up and starts yelling at me. Let me know how it goes with Isabel.”

“There is nothing happening with Isabel, and you let me know about your date tomorrow.” He gave Henry a Cheshire cat grin. “Or Sunday, if she stays over.”

Caleb had the reward of Henry looking flustered before he composed himself. “Shut up. Bye.”

“Bye.” Still grinning, Caleb closed the laptop and set it aside. He looked back at the ocean of boxes before him. Maybe he could just do two of them. Two boxes would be manageable.

He chose two boxes at random, since he hadn't done any of the stuff his mother had recommended like number them all and make an itemized list. One was kitchen supplies, which he shoved into drawers and cabinets, and the other was art supplies.

Hmm. Leaving the box half unpacked, Caleb pulled out an old half-finished sketch pad and some charcoals from the box and settled down at the dining room table. He took a moment to leaf through his old drawings, a mishmash of stuff from art classes and his own free drawing, the half-finished portraits he'd given up on, before he found a blank section. For a few minutes he just stared at the empty page. He'd been reluctant to do much sketching since DiceCon, frustrated at his mental block around it, and had instead put all his time into finishing the mermaid that was now hanging above the couch from some impressive wall anchors. This was his fresh start, though, and his life felt like it was moving forward, so maybe his art would make progress as well. He pulled out a stick of charcoal from the case and started sketching.

He didn't consciously set out to draw Isabel, but as he put charcoal to paper, he wasn't surprised to see her face emerge on the page. He took his time with her lips, those rich, full lips that he wanted to see parted in ecstasy again, and what the hell, no one was going to see this sketch pad but him anyway, right? So he continued, drawing out her entire nude form, those voluptuous breasts that she kept hidden under baggy clothes, exposed and full as he'd seen them last. He felt his cock twitch as he imagined the soft weight of them in his hands, the dark brown nipples against her golden brown skin, and committed the image to paper. She was slender but soft, and he drew the curves of her body as he remembered them, all her slopes and angles. He drew her with one knee up, a hint of dark curls just visible with the angle of her leg, her other leg stretched out on the bed. Of course he would draw her on a bed, just where he wanted her, all laid out for him to enjoy. He closed his eyes, charcoal poised over the paper, his fully hard cock pressing against the seam of his jeans. Fuck.

Caleb tossed the charcoal aside and left the drawing as is. He washed his hands in the bathroom, scrubbing the black chalky remnants off his fingers and palms, before flopping down on his bed and freeing his cock. He gripped his shaft firmly and tugged without mercy, a swift, brutal rush to climax. With Isabel on his mind, her legs spread and lips parted in a silent O, he came in record time, spilling over his fist, the pleasure sharp and fierce.

When the orgasm ebbed, he cleaned himself up and then stared at the ceiling. He'd jerked off to thoughts of her almost every day that week, and each orgasm brought him no closer to getting over her. Shit. Plus, the weekend loomed in front of him with two whole days of nothing but work to keep him busy. He could unpack the apartment, sure—in fact, he probably should—but he should really go out and meet some people. He'd heard some of the guys talking about the club scene in Ybor City—maybe after going in to work tomorrow, he'd check it out.