Page 30 of Pitcher Perfect

“Wow,” I said.

“That was hot. You’re so hot.” His hands gripped me tighter.

I luxuriated in the strength of his hold and shifted to ease the growing pressure in my jeans. The man’s pheromones scrambled my mind. As I leaned forward to pay attention to his neglected earlobe, something on the bookshelf behind his couch caught my attention. My gaze zeroed in on a familiar face on a book spine. I wanted to scream, pound my fists against the back of the couch until the moment rewound to just before I was dumb enough to let my attention wander from Caleb for a moment.

“What?” Caleb craned his neck to look behind him.

“Henry Hewitt.”

“You know of him?”

Fuck.The way Caleb’s voice got all high, like a kid who just received a puppy for his birthday.

I cleared my throat—twice—before I found my voice. “Uh, yeah. I do.” My heart sank faster than a quarter in a glass of beer.

“That’s the chef I was telling you about. The cookbook I got in high school.” He looked back over his shoulder, grinning as he returned his attention to me.

I tore my eyes from my dad’s smiling face and looked at Caleb. He beamed at me, clearly thrilled to share more about such an important part of his life.How could someone so important to him be someone who hurt me so much? No, no, no, no.

“Why do you look like you’re about to puke? Fuck. I didn’t give you food poisoning, did I? Here, let me get you some water.” He gently moved me off his lap and next to him on the couch.

Numb, I watched him fuss in the kitchen with a glass of water from the filtered pitcher in his fridge.

When he brought it back to me, he had the sweetest pinch between his eyebrows. “Is it your stomach?”

“No.” I drank the offered water anyway. I would need it to get through the next part. Damn my expressive face. It always got me into trouble. Ty’s mom used to warn me that wearing my heart on my sleeve was both my biggest strength and challenge.

I could say something disagreed with my stomach and bolt, then try to play it off the next time we talked. I didn’thaveto tell him who my dad was. As I thought about how excited he’d been to tell me about his start in the culinary world, my stomach really did feel sick. I sure as hell didn’t want to do anything to tarnish his fond memories, especially when it seemed like one of the few bright spots surrounding his mom’s death. But I alsohatedlying and was terrible at it. If I didn’t say anything, it would fester and probably give me an ulcer. Surely, it would come up later, anyway. Hell, some of the people at the competition would probably know me as Henry’s son. It would be way worse if Caleb found out from someone else.

That kiss had my hormones all riled up, had me thinking about wanting to do it again and not wanting to fuck anything up with Caleb before that happened. I needed to be honest.

He perched on the arm of his couch and studied me, concern etched on his handsome face. It made the divot in his chin deepen.

I took a fortifying breath. “I want you to know that I love how Henry inspired you. Seriously. That makes me really happy.” I hoped he could read the sincerity in my expression.

He eased onto a couch cushion. “Thanks?”

“That’s my dad,” I blurted.

Caleb blinked at me. “Henry Hewitt is your dad? For real?” He looked between his books and me. “Austin Hewitt. Fuck. Yeah. I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot. It’s a common name. He usually says he’s from the Pacific Northwest because he thinks that sounds fancier than saying a small town in southern Oregon.” I stopped myself before my bitterness seeped out. “But if you go to the Wikipedia page about him, it’ll mention he used to run a restaurant in Dahlia Springs, the birthplace of his wife. I think it mentions he has a son named Austin. If you want to double-check.”

“Check? Why wouldn’t I believe you?” He shook his head. “Sorry, trying to wrap my head around this.”

Danger, danger!Experience had taught me that when people knew who my dad was, it changed things. A few people in college and at the company I worked at before quitting to start the brewery had tried to get close to my dad through me. I really hoped Caleb wasn’t like that.

“Wait, didn’t you say you spent part of your childhood living with Tyler’s family?”

I nodded but kept my mouth shut. I could say a lot about my parents, but I didn’t want to burst Caleb’s bubble about my dad. I loved seeing how happy and excited he was, and I couldn’t stand being the one to take away that magic.

“Because your dad wasn’t here.”

Unable to trust my voice, or the words that might spill out, I shook my head.

“I’m so sorry. He was out building a career, and kids like me looked up to him while he wasn’t spending time with his own kid. That fucking sucks, Austin.” He gripped my thigh.

Tears stung the corners of my eyes. I hadn’t cried over my parents in years, and I wasn’t about to start with a guy who had just given me the best kiss of my life. “It’s fine. I turned out okay.” I tried for a breezy smile. I needed to get the hell out of there before I broke down or begged him to kiss me and make it better. “Anyway. I should probably get going. Long day at the brewery tomorrow. Can I help you clean up?”

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