Sweet & Sassy Anthology: Stormy Kisses Read online

  He extended his hand. “Micah Calloway. This is going to sound like a line, but I think I’ve met you before. Did you go to Fresno State, by chance?”

  “No. I went to USC.” Even as I said it, I realized he did look familiar. His skin was deeply tanned, and his clothes screamed West Coast. And the way he cocked his head when he spoke, his crooked grin—

  My stomach flopped as the memory returned. Under his hat would be straw-colored hair, wild and messy, framing a low forehead. His jaw would flex and unflex when he grew thoughtful, and his wit was sharp enough to cut steel. A halfback on the boys’ soccer team.

  And also the guy who’d had the nerve to date two girls on the girls’ soccer team at the same time.

  I’d been among the first to join our pact once we found out Emmaline’s and Addy’s boyfriends were the same person. That day, in the girls’ locker room of Mission Verde High in Northern California, we declared that none of us was allowed to date or even talk to Micah Calloway. His name had practically been a swear word in our circle ever since.

  And now he was here in Colorado, staring down at me with his white-toothed smile.

  He nodded. “You went to Mission Verde High, right? And you played soccer. Callie? No, Corie. I think you were in my calculus class.”

  I blinked, surprised that he remembered that much. It wasn’t like he’d ever been interested in me. He’d probably been to our games supporting his girlfriend. Make that plural: girlfriends.

  Micah still waited for an answer.

  I folded my arms across my chest and choked out the first words that came to mind. “Small world, I guess.”

  He chuckled. “What are the chances? We’re both a long way from home. I assume you’re Sofia’s mysterious roommate. She wanted me to meet you, but I guess we’ve known each other for years. Why don’t we sit down for a bit? We can catch up.”

  I couldn’t help but stare at him. Micah had always been athletic, but he’d managed to keep toned in the seven years since then. In fact, he’d filled out even more and grown another couple of inches. And probably dated a couple hundred more girls. The usual confidence that attracted people to him—borderline arrogance, truthfully—was still there, but more muted. More laid-back, and I daresay, slightly more mature. He seemed genuinely interested in talking to me.

  But this didn’t change anything. I couldn’t let a smile and a set of broad shoulders distract me. Not again.

  Micah watched me intently, and I noticed the clerk fiddling with some paperwork, pretending not to overhear. I lowered my voice. “I can’t. Sofia’s waiting for me. So you reserved the restaurant for her tonight?”

  “It seemed the least I could do. Did she use the birthday guilt trip on you too?”

  “Of course.” You have no idea.

  “Yeah, I was actually surprised she talked me into this. It’s not my usual hangout.” He gestured to the people chatting and flirting on the oversized leather couches.

  I knew exactly what his hangout was—behind the auditorium bleachers with a girl. No matter what he said, Micah Calloway would have a different woman on his arm every day of this retreat, and I wanted no part of it.

  “Well,” I said, my voice clipped, “thanks for reserving the private room, but I can take over from here.” She’d want her college friends there, but the ratio would be tricky. Too many other girls would mean competition for “her” guys. To make things harder, I’d have to be secretive about all of this. And, of course, there was the matter of procuring carrot cake for dessert. I couldn’t make it myself, but maybe this was better anyway.

  “I already invited everyone,” Micah said, his smile turning triumphant. “The entire group. Figured we’d get all the important people that way.”

  Everyone? I groaned inwardly. That meant dozens of people. “Again, thanks for your help, but I think it would be better if I took over.”

  “Ah. You’re one of those.”

  “What?”

  “It’s not hard to see.” He gestured to me, up and down, like I was a TV for sale. “Controlling. Uptight. You weren’t like that in high school.”

  You didn’t know me in high school. I managed not to snap back at him, remembering calculus, the class we’d had together. I had worked hard to perfect my grades. He had missed at least one day a week and joked his way through lectures when he did attend. Yet somehow he’d managed to pass.

  School seemed as easy for him as getting girls. But he’d never once glanced my direction. Not that I had wanted him to.

  And I was not uptight. I fingered my hair, which I’d wrestled into submission with a straightener this morning, and dropped my hands before he could notice. “And it seems you’re the same arrogant, overly critical ladies’ man you always were. Excuse me, but I have things to do.” I swiped my bag with one hand and headed toward the elevator.

  “Funny how you’ve written me off already,” he called after me, a smile in his voice, “yet somehow I’m the critical one.”

  I slammed my bag onto the floor and banged the elevator’s up button with my fist.

  “By the way,” he said. “Dinner’s at six. I’ll save you a seat.”

  ***

  Sofia grinned as we headed down to dinner. “This is so sweet of you, arranging all this.”

  “I didn’t do much,” I muttered. I’d curled her dark hair for her, at least, creating loose waves that hung past her shoulders. Her new black dress hugged her waist perfectly, and by the glow on her cheeks as we entered the restaurant, she knew she looked great.

  We’d found the dress while shopping for my interview outfit yesterday. I’d found the perfect TV ensemble: a slimming pair of trousers and a deep-blue silk blouse that brought out my eyes. Yet somehow Sofia had definitely come out the winner.

  I fingered my pale-peach sundress, wishing I’d bought something for this occasion as well. It was more summer-in-California than winter-lodge-formal-dinner, and I felt a chill even through my sweater.

  “You should take off the sweater,” she whispered as we entered the restaurant. Several pairs of eyes from seated guests turned toward her. Sofia’s cheeks turned pink, but she grinned at the attention.

  The smell of simmering meat hit my nostrils then, and my stomach grumbled. “I’m cold, and I’m not trying to catch a man,” I pointed out. “Besides, you want me to look as frumpy as possible next to you, remember?”

  “I never said that. I want you to have fun too, and you can’t do it dressed like a granny.” She beamed at the restaurant host. “Sofia Fuentes and Corie McMullen.”

  The host nodded and motioned for us to follow him. The restaurant looked just as upscale as the lobby, clean and well laid out, with real wooden tables and chairs. The ceiling was an intricate pattern of timber, an interesting contrast to the modern lighting. I liked this place immediately. Just enough modern and rustic for my taste.

  As we entered the private room, the group of three-dozen men and women stood and began to clap. “Happy birthday, Sofia!” they called out in varying tones and speeds, then laughed at their poor attempt at a greeting. They noted my presence with differing degrees of interest. I recognized a few from photos of Estelle’s last retreat. The rest were probably random people Micah had invited to complicate things. At least there seemed to be enough space for all of us.

  Sofia’s blush deepened. “You guys are too much.”

  The group began chattering again, and chairs scraped the wooden floor as everyone reseated themselves. They’d saved a seat at the head of the longest table for Sofia. With a twinge of embarrassment, I realized there was only one empty chair there.

  I swept the crowd and caught Micah’s gaze. He wore a gray shirt with a black jacket—not leather, but very masculine. He grinned and patted the empty seat next to his.

  Not in a trillion years. Why had I agreed to this?

  For Sofia, for Sofia, for Sofia . . .

  Grumbling, I strode back into the main dining room and swiped an empty chair from a table there. Sofia rai
sed an eyebrow as I placed my chair next to hers, but thankfully, she scooted over to make room as everyone talked. I felt Micah’s eyes burning through my skin and pulled my sweater around me more tightly.

  Everyone gave their drink orders, and soon the servers were back, desperately trying to place each drink with its rightful owner. Only two servers for all these people. This was bound to be a long night.

  I noticed a couple at the other table with their backs to us, the woman leaning her head on the man’s shoulder. The way he sat—legs turned away, his shoulders rigid—told me more about their relationship than words ever could. Those two wouldn’t make it past the end of the week.

  My Love Right system was a huge accomplishment, but it was also a curse. Especially when it came to my friend and the guys she dated. I just hoped Sofia could find something more lasting this time around.

  “Are all three of your guys here?” I whispered to her.

  “Yep.” Sofia nodded toward two men a few seats down to our right. “Curly hair over there with the gray shirt? That’s Evan the Snowboarder. It wasn’t hard to convince him to come, as you can imagine.”

  I made a mental note. Evan was surprisingly clean-cut. He wore a collared shirt he’d left partially unbuttoned, revealing a smooth, tanned chest. His looks suggested a subtle care in appearance and an awareness of his own attractiveness. I’d place him around 78–80 on the scale until I knew him better. When he saw me looking, he cocked his head and raised his drink toward me, expressionless. I smiled, but his lips didn’t even twitch.

  “Stoic one, that,” I muttered.

  “In a sexy way, though, right?” Sofia tilted her head. “Tim’s the one next to him, with the suit coat.”

  “Really?” I whispered. I couldn’t remember a single one of her exes who owned a suit, much less wore one to dinner. She was more into the surfer and skater types.

  “He’s more roguish than he looks. And he doesn’t actually need the glasses. He thinks they make him look smart.”

  I lifted my drink to my lips, trying not to look like I was sizing up the man. At first glance, Tim did look like the sophisticated business type. His glasses were rectangular and balanced his long face and square jaw in a stylish way. He drummed his fingers on the table as he read the menu.

  I pursed my lips. Tim was harder to place. I’d have to find a way to speak with him.

  Micah stood and lifted his glass. “If you folks don’t mind, I’d like to propose a toast. Sofia, may you have a birthday beyond your wildest dreams.”

  Beyond your wildest dreams? Was this guy for real? Resentment boiled in my blood. As Sofia’s best friend, I should have led the toast—and I would have done a far better job of it.

  Sofia giggled. “I do believe I will. Thanks, Micah.”

  The group murmured agreement and sipped their drinks, and Micah caught my gaze as he sat. I looked away instantly.

  “Number three,” Sofia whispered. “Micah. Isn’t he hot? Definitely the most thoughtful one too. He’s the one from Mission Verde. Does he look familiar at all?”

  “A little.”

  “Seriously? That’s not a body you can easily forget.”

  I swallowed back a nasty retort. Whatever I thought of him, at least Micah had been kind to Sofia so far. He was the best looking of the three, no question. Most of the women at the table had tried to engage him in conversation already, yet he’d managed to keep the focus on Sofia. And he was polite enough.

  Well, to other people.

  “He’s something,” I finally said.

  “Sofia,” Tim called out, adjusting his glasses. “Are you going to introduce your friend? Some of us don’t know her.”

  “Of course!” Sofia said and draped her arm around me. “Guys, this is Corie McMullen. We’ve been roomies since I graduated.”

  “What do you do, Corie?” Evan asked, still expressionless. It gave him a calculating look, like a doctor looking at a lab report. Did the guy ever smile?

  “She’s an author,” Sofia said when I didn’t answer. “A best-selling author, actually, and her book is genius. Out-of-this-world smart, I’m telling you.”

  “You’re further along than most of us, then, Corie,” Micah said. “At least you’re doing something with your education. Good for you.”

  I had no desire to be introduced as a relationships expert in front of this crowd, but I forced a smile. “Thanks, but nobody here cares about that. Tell me about you, Micah. Did you play soccer at Fresno State?”

  “Ouch,” Tim cut in. He had taken off his glasses and begun to adjust them. “She doesn’t even know you and she found your sore spot, man.”

  “I don’t mind talking about it,” Micah said, then turned back to me. “I got a scholarship, but I ruptured my ACL in the first game. Had two surgeries and rode out the year on crutches. But it forced me to decide what I wanted to do with my life, so there’s that. What did you study, Corie?”

  I felt like I was being herded into a trap. The chatter in the room had grown quieter, and an uncomfortable number of strangers listened in. “Masters degree in statistics. Why?”

  “It’s just that most statisticians don’t write books like yours.”

  Sofia perked up. “You’ve read her book?”

  “I may have thumbed through it.”

  I folded my arms tightly, wishing my sweater were warmer. Micah had read my book? But I’d just barely met him a few hours ago.

  He opened his menu with a slow, careless gesture. “Just curious about something. How many of the guys at this table have you assigned numbers to already? I’m pretty sure I had a rating before you even sat down, and I bet it ain’t pretty.”

  “Oooh,” a few of the people cooed.

  “That’s not how it works,” I said coolly. “My rating system doesn’t exist to judge people. It’s there to inform women of the traits most important to them and guide them in the right direction as they search for a lifelong relationship. Definitely not down your alley.”

  Tim hooted his approval. Sofia raised an eyebrow. Guilt swept through me. She’d brought me to analyze her guys, not insult them.

  “It’s a good thing you used normal language for simple folk like me,” Micah said. “Wouldn’t do for us commoners to have to decipher your superior prose on the subject of dating and the unfaithfulness of men.”

  “I have nothing against men in general. Just certain ones.”

  “Interesting. I’ve got to say, though, most educated people would frown on the idea of math being used as a weapon.”

  I stared at him. My book had a girl-power vibe, but I hadn’t intended it to come across as bitter and cynical. “You wouldn’t know math if it crawled up your pant leg. I know how well you did in calculus.”

  “Yeah, it’s not like a guy with a mechanical engineering degree would know anything about numbers. I’m guessing you don’t want to hear about its flaws from a man, though, given how clueless we are when it comes to relationships.”

  Someone said, “Give her a break, Micah,” but he just grinned behind his menu. Was this all a game to him?

  “There may be insignificant flaws in the math itself,” I said carefully, “but the system is sound down to its core. I can’t say the same for you.”

  The group laughed. Micah blinked, then a slow smile slid onto his face. “Might have to agree with you there.”

  Another conversation broke out at the end of the table, and the group turned back to their menus. The moment had passed. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that Micah had won this particular argument. I’d gotten a shot in, so to speak, but he’d damaged an organ.

  Micah: 1, Corie: 0.

  Sofia glared at me and leaned over. “Looks familiar, huh?”

  “We had a class together.” I left it at that. I’d tell her more later if she really wanted to know. “His degree was really mechanical engineering?”

  “Graduated with honors. He got into grad school at Berkeley, too, but then he changed his mind. Not sure why.”
<
br />   I’d applied to Berkeley and been denied. Heat crept up my neck and I glared at the table, leaving the menu untouched.

  Micah stared at us for a moment, then gestured to the server behind him. “Excuse me, but I ordered a carrot cake for the birthday girl. I’d appreciate it if you could bring that out first. Life is short, as they say.”

  The server smiled. “Right away, sir.”

  He’d ordered Sofia a cake too. Of course he had. My hands slowly curled into fists.

  “Corie,” Sofia whispered. “You’re trembling. Do you want to go back to our room? I can bring you up something.”

  “I’m fine,” I hissed.

  “You’re not letting him get to you, right? He’s just teasing.”

  My behavior at my best friend’s birthday dinner had been unacceptable. I’d embarrassed her and taken Micah’s criticism way too seriously. She was right. This wasn’t like me. All this planning for the perfect day, and I had been the one to ruin it.

  Why had I let Micah get under my skin like that? It wasn’t like he’d cheated on me personally. And I couldn’t care less what he’d studied or how he did in calculus. I looked down at my hands. They were indeed shaking.

  “Nope. I’m great, and I’m staying.” I waved my purse in her face. “And your dinner’s on me, no matter what Micah says. All right?”

  She gave me a strange look. “Okay. Um, thanks.”

  “No problem.” I forced a smile. “Now, what are you getting—the pork or the steak?”

  ***

  I barely tasted the food. When everyone had finished and Sofia began making plans with her old friends for the evening, I excused myself and headed back to our room. I changed into my pajamas and laid down, but I was too angry to sleep. Instead, I pulled out my laptop and connected to the lodge’s Wi-Fi, cursing Micah the entire time.

  Why had I agreed to come? I’d grown past all this—the flirting, the games. It was one thing to match couples on paper, examining pieces of their lives mathematically. It was quite another to be the one analyzed and examined.