Even Odds (23 page)

“I don't think this is over.” She returned to her lunch, unease making the food sit heavy in her stomach.

“No, I doubt we'll be that lucky.” Caleb grimaced. After a moment, though, his grimace turned into a small smile, and he reached out to touch her hand. It was only a light brush of his fingers over hers, but it conveyed reassurance. “I'm proud of you, though.”

Isabel turned her hand palm up to squeeze his fingers. “Thanks.” She returned to her lunch feeling the tiniest bit better.

A loud, uproarious laugh brought her back to the present. She glanced off to the side and saw Lloyd laughing it up with the art team. Well, Lloyd was laughing. A couple of other people were smiling, and Phil just looked uncomfortable. Isabel knew what the conversation had to be about. Her suspicions were all but confirmed when she saw Lloyd make a rude sexual hand gesture and then laugh again.

All right, fine. That was enough. Leaving her lunch at the table, she pushed to her feet, her chair scraping along the floor, and walked over to the other table. She dropped down into the empty seat right next to Lloyd, filled with the reckless kind of anger she'd never before felt at work.

Lloyd looked over at her and smiled, not at all deterred by her presence. “So glad you're here. I was just telling these guys how much you're enjoying working with Caleb. I'll bet you're putting in some serious overtime.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Isabel glanced at the rest of the table. To her surprise, no one was laughing anymore, all looking at Lloyd with varying levels of discomfort. “I just told you, I don't think my personal life is any of your business. If you keep talking about it, I'm going to report you to HR.”

Lloyd's smile turned mean. “Oh come on. Just like you to not even be able to take a joke. I'm only playing. Is it that time of the month or something?”

Isabel's anger became overlaid with resolve. She didn't care about not making waves anymore. If Lloyd was going to talk shit, she was going to make waves. Just staring at his smug face made her want to hit him. Was she that much of a pushover that he wasn't even worried about her response? Somewhere down the line, she'd given him the tacit approval to talk about her behind her back with no repercussions whatsoever. That bullshit was about to stop, right now.

“I'd like to talk to you outside, please, Lloyd.”

Lloyd raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Really? Come on, Isabel. Just drop it.”

Isabel kept her voice calm and even. She was, after all, a professional. “I can either talk to you in the hallway, or I can talk to you right here in front of half the staff. Which would you prefer?”

Lloyd's expression remained dubious, but he had apparently gone too far to back down now, even though everyone in the room was frowning at him. “For fuck's sake. I thought we could joke about this sort of thing. I've known you for years, Isabel. You were never so uptight about this before. Is it the new guy?” He nodded over his shoulder to Caleb, who was watching the exchange from his seat, eyes narrowed, clearly upset but letting her handle it. Isabel felt buoyed by his quiet support. Undeterred, Lloyd pressed on. “Don't want him finding out he's not the first horse in the barn, is that it?”

Wait, was he actually comparing her body to a barn? In the middle of the break room? Her first response was shame at having to discuss any of this at all. She wanted to run out of the room, but she made herself stay, because this had gone far enough. If he wanted to discuss this in the middle of the break room, then fine, she could do that. “I've never been okay with it, but I didn't say anything before now. I'm sorry if, as a grown adult, you need someone to tell you that making inappropriate sexual comments about a coworker is not okay, but since you clearly need that direction, I'm going to start now. I'm not a barn, Caleb is not a horse, and you have no business with me or my sexuality now or ever, in private or in public. Is that clear?”

Lloyd's face had tightened as she was speaking until it was as tight as a prune, his lips pursed in anger. She was obviously getting through to him. Best not to give him the advantage, so she pressed on. “Lloyd, you've been nothing but a pain in the ass to me since you started working here. So you think I'm some kind of fraud, or I'm not good enough because I'm a girl? None of that is true. And I'll kindly expect you to keep your mouth shut and work with me as a professional, because even if you don't take any of this seriously, HR does.”

Lloyd rolled his eyes. “Come
on
, Isabel. If you can't take a joke, then why'd you get in on the scavenger hunt at DiceCon? I thought you were fun.”

That damn scavenger hunt. Isabel couldn't wish she'd never done it, because then she wouldn't have had that wonderful weekend with Caleb, but a part of her still regretted letting herself get caught up in the moment, feeling like she had something to prove. She answered truthfully. “I didn't realize the effect that was going to have on my professional life, mostly thanks to you. Matthew and Dan haven't mentioned anything about it, and it's only you who keeps bringing it up. So just fucking stop already, okay?”

Lloyd still wore his sour-lemon face, which was actually a nice change from his shark-toothed face. “Fine, whatever. Don't you have some work to do?”

“I'll get to it soon. I'm not done here, and you aren't my boss.” Caught up in her confidence, Isabel felt dizzy with the reality of actually standing up for herself. “I don't want you to condescend to me anymore. I don't want to hear anything from you about my personal life, except if you want to ask me on Monday morning if I had a good weekend. Is that clear?”

“Fine! Fine. Sorry.” Lloyd returned to his lunch, his face redder than when she'd sat down, cowed and clearly pissed off about it. She'd take it.

She turned to the rest of the art team, who had fallen silent and were staring at her with a mix of fear, respect, and confusion. “Sorry you guys had to hear that. I hope you have a nice lunch.” And she picked up and joined Caleb back at the table. From behind her, she heard Phil loudly change the subject, asking Craig if he'd seen the latest trailer for a new game.

Caleb was watching her with admiration as she approached. She gathered up the rest of her food and nodded toward the hallway. Caleb followed her out. When the door swung shut behind them, he grinned at her. “That was incredible. Are you going to report him to HR?”

Isabel shook her head. “I'll tell Iris I confronted him about it, but I'm not filing a complaint unless it continues.”

She felt comfortable with the decision. If there had been any ambiguity before about what constituted notification of harassment, there was no ambiguity anymore. She'd report his ass in a heartbeat if she heard one word further on the subject, and he knew it, too. Apparently, so did the rest of the art team.

“Good enough.” Caleb smiled. “I'm proud of you. That was awesome. I'd say that the odds are in your favor on winning this whole arrangement.”

“We're still talking about winning?” Isabel grinned, tickled that he was still keeping track, then glanced up at the clock. “I need to get back to work. I'm going to stay after five tonight and make up for some missed time. After that, do you want to come over? You've never even seen my place.”

Caleb took a long time to answer. He held her gaze, his eyes reflecting an emotion that Isabel couldn't quite name. Finally he nodded. “Yeah. I'd like that.”

They said their goodbyes and Isabel sashayed back to the design room, putting a little extra sway into her hips just because.

And who knew? Maybe tomorrow she'd even wear her hair down.

Caleb was so distracted
driving home that he missed his turn and ended up three blocks away from his apartment, headed in the completely wrong direction. A steady stream of profanity ran through his head as he found a place to turn around. Shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck. His internal swearing had nothing to do with the five-minute detour, and everything to do with the obnoxious, nagging sensation that he was going to have to be in a damn relationship now. Not just the pseudo relationship to which Isabel had acquiesced, but a real relationship with emotions and consequences and a risk of failure, because damn everything in the world, he'd fallen in love with her.

This mess had happened sometime that day, so quickly he hadn't even realized it until he'd looked at her at the end of the day and thought,
Christ, I'm in love with her
. He hadn't been asking himself about Isabel, but the thought was so clear in his mind that he couldn't deny it even if he wanted to.

Which he didn't.

That was even
more
surprising.

When he arrived home, he threw together some pasta while mulling over the conversation with Isabel that he was going to need to have that evening. Of course it was going to be him saying he was wrong, that he actually
did
want to try a relationship even if it meant the possibility of screwing everything up, and would she please forget everything he said to the contrary so he didn't feel like a major indecisive prick? Shit, it should be enough of a clue that he wasn't even upset about being so wrong about this. Annoyed, maybe, but any annoyance was overshadowed by his feelings for Isabel that had been building over the last few weeks without his notice. Seeing her confident in herself was the catalyst he hadn't even known he was waiting for.

Henry was going to find this hilarious. He imagined Isabel meeting Henry when he came to visit. They'd probably hit it off, and the thought made him smile. Damn, he had it bad. It felt like a serious change after the way he'd always felt about getting into relationships. His smile faded. He hoped Isabel hadn't already written him off as someone who could never get serious. The last bites of pasta went down harder than the rest.

After throwing his bowl into the dishwasher, he grabbed a duffel and tossed a change of clothes into it, plus his toothbrush. With his hand on the bag's zipper, he paused. Hopefully he wasn't being too presumptuous, packing a change of clothes as though he was going to stay the night. Maybe he'd leave his bag in the car so she didn't think he was treating her as a foregone conclusion. Sure, sex was great, but against his previous judgment, he wanted something more.

Yup. Henry was never going to let him live this down. And he was okay with it.

———

Isabel kept checking the
clock that night, waiting for Caleb. They arranged for him to come over after dinner, and now that it was after dinner, she couldn't settle. She had stress-cleaned her house already and even changed clothes twice. Somewhere along the line, she'd become the kind of girl who changed clothes based on what a man might think. That change had happened just as suddenly as the realization that she'd gone and fallen in love.

Yup.

She wanted to deny it, but she had clearly turned some kind of corner with Caleb that day, even if he had no idea. Whatever was happening between them had changed fundamentally after her conversation with Lloyd. At least, she felt the change. In all likelihood she was alone in her feelings, and Caleb didn't notice the earth shift beneath their feet like she did. The part she hadn't quite figured out was whether she was going to tell him or not, and if so, how in the world she could do so. He already said he didn't do relationships, and she was going to drop this bombshell on him? It was almost cruel. This dilemma was why she found herself artfully arranging the magazines on her coffee table until the doorbell rang.

“Hi,” Caleb said when she opened the door. He wasn't carrying a bag, and when he smiled, the smile didn't reach his eyes. Oh shit. Had he come all the way over to tell her this whole thing was a mistake? She stepped aside to let him in, not sure whether to greet him with any sign of physical affection, and he didn't move in for a hug or kiss.

Hands tucked in his pockets, Caleb looked around him. Most of Isabel's cozy house was visible from the doorway, all except the bedroom and bathroom upstairs. “I like your piano,” he said.

Isabel followed his gaze to her hand-me-down piano, one of her most prized possessions even though it didn't look like much. “Thanks. I want a grand, but there isn't space in here. Someday.”

“Maybe you can play something for me.”

“Sure, maybe.” She couldn't tell if he was serious or just humoring her. “You want to come in?”

“Okay.” He walked past her and sat down on the couch. “This is a nice place.”

“Thanks.” Isabel sat across from him on the chair. His tension was killing her. She couldn't sit through the whole night like this. After confronting Lloyd earlier, her “put up with ambiguity” tank was empty. “Okay, listen.”

Caleb had been studying the stack of nicely organized magazines on the coffee table, but he looked up at her tone. “I'm listening.” He sounded cautious.

Isabel pressed on. This would be just like pulling off a Band-Aid or getting in a cold pool: best to do it quickly. “So I
think
I'm in love with you?” It came out more like a question than a statement, but at least it was out in the open.

Caleb blinked, his beard twitching with a smile. “So you
think
you're in love with me? Are you sure about that?”

“Don't make fun of me! This isn't easy to say.” She felt her face heat. “I know you don't want a relationship, but I couldn't not tell you.”

He stroked his beard, thinking, but he didn't look upset. The first tendrils of cautious hope made their way into her chest. “Okay,” he responded at last. “I guess this makes it a lot easier to tell you I was wrong.”

“Wrong about what?”

Caleb looked up and to the left, trying and failing to fight his smile. “About not wanting to be in a relationship.”

Was he serious? Isabel got up out of the armchair and sat next to him on the couch. “Don't fuck with me, Caleb Portland.”

“I'm not fucking with you!” He laughed, running both hands through his hair. “I was embarrassed to tell you, okay? I tell you I wasn't interested in a relationship, and the very next day, I realize I'm in love with you? How am I supposed to say that?”

Isabel grinned, happiness washing through her with sudden intensity. “You're in love with me?”

“I already said it once, Isabel. Don't make me say it again.” Caleb folded his arms behind his head and looked away, his cheeks coloring.

Isabel reached up and took his arms down, holding his hands between hers. She needed to make absolutely sure. “Say it again.”

Caleb met her gaze. While his eyes sparkled, there was no mischief in them. “I love you.”

Isabel threw herself into his arms and found his mouth with hers. He reacted with a startled, muffled noise, and then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her flush against him. She crawled into his lap and straddled him to be as close to him as possible through all their clothes. She couldn't believe she could have this. Sure, there would be problems, maybe future issues with work, definitely some overinvolvement from her mother, but right now, this was exactly where she wanted to be.

Caleb cupped her jaw and slowed their kisses to something less frantic, more sensual. “You know,” he said between kisses, “I'm going to probably be pretty bad at this relationship thing.”

She caught his bottom lip between her teeth, nibbled, and soothed the place with a soft kiss. “You know, you're going to have to meet my parents.”

He let out a theatrical groan and threw his head back. “Not the parents! Are they—” His breath hitched when she started kissing his neck. “Are they old-world Cuban, with conservative morals?”

“Hah! Not exactly.” Isabel licked the space at the hollow of his throat. “But they're on this new kick for me to settle down, so you can expect them to push everything too fast.”

Caleb tipped his head to the side, and she worked her way up to his ear. “Mmm. Sounds like that's going to tip the odds in my favor.”

“Don't start that again.” She caught his earlobe between her teeth.

His hands slid down from her hips to cup her ass through her jeans, scooting her even closer. “You started it.” He then skimmed his hands under her shirt, tracing the sensitive skin of her back. “Is this ending up where I hope it ends up?”

Isabel dropped a kiss on his lips. “With a
StarCraft
rematch?” She wiggled her hips, and Caleb groaned.

“Please tell me you have a bedroom around here somewhere.”

“Upstairs.” She hopped off the couch and gestured. “Come on.”

Feeling light and free, she pulled him into her bedroom, which she'd stress-cleaned earlier in hope of this outcome. It didn't feel real yet, the idea that she could have this, could admit it to herself and to others. Touching Caleb and knowing it actually meant something made her feel dizzy with happiness. She climbed onto the bed and rolled onto her back. When he crawled up from the foot of the bed to lean over her, that happiness was replaced with something much more primal, especially when he started removing her clothes.

“This shirt is fantastic.” Halfway done with the buttons, Caleb leaned in to nuzzle at her breasts, sending a flutter of pleasure through her. “Please, please wear button-down shirts more often.”

Isabel smiled, arching her back to press her body closer to his mouth. “Only if you always treat me like this.”

“We'll never get to work on time.” He finished with the buttons and pushed her blouse off her shoulders. She pulled it out from under her back and threw it off the bed. “I love your breasts. Fucking hell. I'm never going to get tired of these.”

“I hope you don't.” Still in a daze, she let him strip her down, caught up in the soft press of his mouth on her skin. Before she knew it, she was naked, and Caleb was tugging his clothes off with single-minded focus. She admired his tattoos anew and reached out to run her fingers over his arms, his chest, his back when he leaned down to kiss her again. He shivered. Sitting back on his heels, he gently brushed her searching hands aside and parted her legs. She might never get used to the way his eyes darkened as he opened her up, staring down at her like he wanted to take her to pieces with his hands. Without preamble, he pressed two fingers inside her.

Pleasure sparked from the contact and she swore, which made him smile.

“God, Isabel. You're so wet already.” He touched his tongue to his upper lip in concentration as he began sliding those fingers slowly in and out.

The sounds of her body would have been embarrassing, but Isabel was too giddy and turned on to care. She made her face neutral and shrugged, even though a smile threatened to interrupt her mask of disinterest. “Who, me? No, I barely feel that. Maybe I should get a book to read.”

“Oh yeah?” He flicked his thumb across her clit. Isabel gripped the comforter with both hands, but managed to keep up the act.

“I'm sorry, are you doing something?” She faked a yawn, which did a nice job covering her laugh.

Caleb was grinning, too, caught up in their game. “I guess I'll have to try harder. You think you can resist me?” He switched to two hands, letting his other thumb take over on her clit while he continued fucking her with his fingers.

“Of course.” It was much more difficult to keep a straight face like this, with her body starting to quiver. From his expression, she knew she wasn't fooling him, and he was having as much fun as she was.

“Give me five minutes.” He pressed up and in, and he must have found her G-spot, because Isabel felt an answering thrum throughout her lower body. “I'll bet you I can get you to come in five minutes.”

“And if I manage to hold out?” She propped herself up on her elbows to look down her body at where he was working her over, the sight almost as erotic as the sensations themselves.

“Then you can tie me to the bed and have your wicked way with me.” Caleb waggled his eyebrows at her. “But when I win, I want to use your vibrator on you again.”

Isabel smiled. Clearly, there would be no losers in this bet. “Hands only. No tongue.”

“Deal.”

She only made it four minutes.

———

By the time they
rolled apart from each other in the wee hours of the morning, sweaty and breathless, Caleb couldn't stop smiling.

When Isabel noticed his expression, she propped herself up on her elbow. Even after that much sex, with her curly hair wild in places and sticking to her neck in others, she looked beautiful. “What?” She matched his grin.