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CHAPTER ELEVEN
CALEB
One month later…
The sun was completely downand the evening air cool by the time Caleb got out of his car in the parking lot of Black Light. Nothing about this night was going according to plan.
Right on time he heard the ding of a text message on the cell phone in the back pocket of his slacks.
Text from Presley:
SRY. Running L8. BRT! Go 2 bar. Meet u there.
Sometimes textingwith her was like having to learn another language. At least he’d got her to stop using emoji’s for everything. That had been even worse, but he considered it a small price to pay for falling in love with someone eight years younger than him.
He chuckled as he walked toward the entrance, shooting off a properly punctuated response to drive carefully before having to check his electronics in at the security desk, locking his phone in the small locker provided.
The first half hour of his wait flew by as he caught up on the news with some of the other members in the bar. But when he’d finished his two-drink maximum and there was still no Presley to be found, he started to get concerned.
He was half way across the social area, headed to find his phone, when Presley rushed through the entrance looking panicked as she scanned the area looking for him.
“Hey there, baby girl. I was just getting worried about you.” Caleb pulled her into his arms for a hug. It had been three long days since they’d seen each other — entirely too long to suit him.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she apologized, hugging him so tight she almost knocked the air out of his lungs.
“Wow, I missed you too. Is everything okay?” Caleb asked with a chuckle.
“I know I’m in so much trouble,” she mumbled against his chest.
Caleb peeled her apart from him far enough so he could look down into her eyes. “Why would you think you’re in trouble?”
Presley stammered a short, “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”
It bothered Caleb that she was acting like he would actually punish her for something as trivial as being late. True, some Dom’s made punctuality one of their rules, but that just wasn’t his style. He’s spent the last few weeks painstakingly communicating as clearly as he could about about the rules he wanted as the groundwork of their relationship.
“Presley, are you under the impression that you’re going to get punished for running late, because I don’t remember ever making that a rule between us.”
He’d expected his clarifying question to calm her, but the panicked look in her eyes only increased.
“Not exactly… it’s just… I was with my friends and we sort of got distracted…”
Caleb held his fingers to her lips. “Let me help clarify for you. There will be events in our lives where I do expect you to be on time… weddings, funerals, movies… things that have official starting times. But as long as you’re safe and haven’t broken any of the four D’s, I’m perfectly fine waiting for you for a few minutes here and there.”
“The four D’s,” Presley mumbled absently.
Since their miscommunication the month before, he’d reviewed what he considered the foundation of the kind of DD relationship — the kind ofmarriage— he wanted with Presley over and over again, determined to make sure she went into their future with her eyes open.
But tonight they were standing in the middle of the busy bar with scantily clad members brushing past. This wasn’t exactly how he’d planned their evening to start, but he had to ask.
“You look confused. Do we need to review them again?” he asked.
“No!” came her quick reply. “I mean, it’s too loud in here to really talk much.”
Caleb couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was off, but she was right about one thing. It was too loud on a busy Friday night to stand in the middle of the room and have a heart to heart.
“Did you eat?” he asked, prepared to go up to the more quiet gourmet kitchen directly above them at Runway where they could grab a bite and talk more freely.
“I’m not hungry,” she answered quickly.
