Dirty Thoughts - Megan Erickson Page 0,1

and answered the call. “Yeah?”

“Cal!” Max shouted.

“You called me.”

“What’s going on?”

“Workin’.”

“You’re always working.” Max huffed.

Cal took another sip of water. “That’s what people do.”

“Hey, I work.”

“You play dodgeball with a bunch of teenagers.” Cal knew Max did a hell of a lot more than that at his physical education teaching job at a high school in eastern Pennsylvania, but it was fun as hell to get him worked up. Cal smiled. One of the first times that day.

“Hey, I had to hand out deodorant and condoms to those teenagers this year, so don’t give me that shit,” Max said.

“Condoms?”

“Yeah, they’re kinda liberal here,” Max muttered.

“Huh,” Cal said, scratching his head. They sure never handed out condoms in school when he was a teenager.

“Anyway,” Max said.

“Yeah, anyway, what’dya need?”

“How do you know I need something?”

“Why else do you call?”

“I want to hear your pleasant voice?”

Cal grunted.

“I just wanted to know if you had any plans for your birth—ouch!” There was rustling on the other line, some mutters, and a higher-pitched voice in the background. Then Max spoke again. “Okay, so Lea punched me because she said I’m doing this wrong.”

Cal smiled. Lea was Max’s fiancée, and she was a firecracker.

“We wanted to come visit you and take you out for your birthday. All of us.” Max cleared his throat. “And you can bring a date too. If you want.”

A date. When was the last time he’d introduced a woman to his family? Hell, when was the last time he’d had a date? “The five of us should be fine.”

“So that’s okay? To celebrate? I mean, you’re turning thirty, old man.”

Cal let the old man comment roll off his back. “Yeah, sounds good.” He paused. “Thanks.”

Max seemed pleased, chattering on about his neighborhood and how he was enjoying being off work for the summer. Cal drank his water and listened to his brother ramble. Max hadn’t always been a happy kid. Cal had tried his best after their mom left the family shortly after Max was born. Their dad was pissed and bitter and immersed himself in working at the garage. So as the oldest brother, Cal scrambled to hold the reins of his wild brothers.

He hadn’t done such a great job, he didn’t think. His brothers survived in spite of him, not because of him, he was sure. Brent was still a little crazy, and it had taken Lea to straighten Max out in college. Cal tried not to dwell on his failure and instead appreciated that at least they were all alive and healthy.

It was why he valued his own space so much now. His alone time. Because he’d been a surrogate father at age six, and he was fucking over it.

Although, by the time he hung up the phone with Max and slipped his phone back into his pocket, he had a warm feeling in his gut that hadn’t been there before his brother had called.

He was flipping the cap of the water in his fingers and finishing the last of the bottle when Brent poked his head in the back room. “Hey.”

Cal raised his eyebrows.

“Someone’s asking for you.”

Cal tossed the empty bottle in the trash. “The Graingers?”

“Nope, they just came and got the Subaru and left. This is a new customer.”

Cal threw the empty bottle in the recycling bin, turned off the light to the back room, and followed his brother out to the garage. “We’re closing soon. Is it an emergency? Are they regulars?” He pulled a rag out of his pocket and began to wipe his dirty hands. He thought about washing them first in case this customer wanted to shake hands.

Brent didn’t answer him, didn’t even look at him over his shoulder.

And that was when a small sliver of apprehension trickled down his spine. “Brent—”

His brother whirled around and held his arm out as they walked past a Bronco their dad had been working on. “I think it’s better if you take this one.”

Cal squinted into the sun and when his eyes adjusted to the light, her legs were the first thing he saw. And he knew—he fucking knew—because how many times had he sat in class in high school staring at those legs in a little skirt, dreaming about when he could get back between them? It’d been a lot.

His eyes traveled up those bare legs to a tiny pair of denim shorts, up a tight tank top that showed a copious amount of cleavage, and then to that face that he’d never, ever