Dirty Thoughts - Megan Erickson Page 0,77

her there on the dance floor, at this moment, which seemed crucial, because he didn’t know if he’d breathe again until he heard what she was about to say. But what if something was wrong with Asher?

He put his phone up to his ear, but he couldn’t hear over the music. As he headed back down the hallway of the bathrooms, the call disconnected. He frowned at it and called back, getting Gabe’s voicemail. “What the hell?” he muttered, staring at his phone so intently that he wasn’t looking where he was going and nearly walked into someone. He pulled up abruptly and lifted his gaze to the hazel eyes of Dylan MacMillan.

The guy didn’t look like he wanted to move either. He was listing slightly to the right, a consequence of the rum-and-Cokes he’d been sucking down like water. But his arms were crossed over his chest.

And his eyes were cold as hell.

Cal straightened his back, already thinking of an endgame, a way to avoid a conversation and get the hell away from Dylan.

He wanted to answer this phone call, get back to Jenna, and find out what the hell she was going to say.

The way Dylan’s lip was curled, the way he looked down his nose at Cal, chafed Cal’s skin like sandpaper, but he held firm.

“So how will your relationship end this time, huh? Because we all know it will.”

Cal sighed. This conversation is already starting off well. “I’m not doing this with you.” He made to walk past Dylan, but the guy sidestepped to block his path. Cal clenched his fists and counted to ten.

Dylan was so close, Cal could smell the rum on his breath and a hint of his expensive cologne.

“It’s so easy for her,” Dylan snarled. “All she has to do is come back to town, wave a wand, and everyone falls for her. She gets the job and the man.”

Cal tried to let the words go in one ear and out the other, but his blood was beginning to boil. He didn’t care what Dylan thought of him, but he did care if he was disrespectful to Jenna. “Did you ever think about how that happens because she deserves it? Because she works hard and people notice?”

Dylan’s nostrils flared. “And everyone’s talking about you coming here on her arm, how sweet it is that you two are back together. Everyone forgets the Paytons don’t belong here, especially not at the country club.”

Cal threw his arms out to his sides. “Honest to God, Dylan. What the fuck is your problem with me? I couldn’t care less about you. I don’t care that you exist, so why the fuck do you give a shit about me?”

Dylan turned blazing eyes on Cal. “I’m tired of everything always being about her!” He shoved Cal in the chest with both hands, and since Cal was unprepared, he stumbled back a foot.

Cal clenched his fists and rolled his jaw, because what he really wanted to do was take Dylan’s block off, put a fist through his face. Break his nose just like he did ten years ago.

“I wish everyone could see what you’re really like.” Dylan’s voice was full of barbs. “And then they’ll see she’s not so perfect.”

Cal’s shoulder twitched, his whole body wanting him to throw a punch, but he thought back to half an hour ago, when Jenna danced in his arms. They weren’t eighteen anymore. Cal wasn’t a hothead. He’d walk away, because punching this guy at the country club would only make everything worse.

“Cal?” Jenna’s voice filtered through the music.

Dylan’s eyes widened. He glanced over his shoulder, and then he turned back to Cal. In two strides he was in front of the bathroom door. And Cal watched in horror as Dylan pushed the door open, then grabbed the handle, and slammed the door back into his own face.

“What the fuck?” Cal roared.

And Dylan screamed a high-pitched wail as he held his nose, which was now gushing blood.

Voices came closer, reaching the end of the hallway, as Cal watched Dylan bend at the waist, howling like a banshee.

Everything was in slow motion then. Jenna’s dad was screaming for security. His wife, with a blanched face beside him, looking like she was going to faint. Dylan clutching his bleeding face, pointing at Cal. “He hit me! The asshole hit me!”

There were men around Cal, jostling him, grabbing his arms. He stared at his knuckles, scarred from labor, and wondered how the hell he was