“Which I am.”
“Possibly, but not probably.”
I give him the biggest, most dramatic eye roll I possibly can. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I wrap my arms around them and look into his deep blue eyes. They sparkle when he teases, but they’re not shallow pools of little substance. This man might create books for children, but he’s the most emotionally complex person I know.
“It’s a tie. We each get a question and I’ll keep calling it by its true name while you can call it Rubbish. Deal? Everyone wins?”
“That’s not true to life.”
“But this way we go to sleep much faster.”
Gavin’s chest rises and falls as he watches me. “Maybe I don’t want the night to end faster.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
GAVIN
Didthose words truly leave my mouth? I have found myself starting to think these things when I’m around Callie, but I’ve yet to boldly say anything of the sort. It’s not wise. It’s playing with fire.
She’s the fire. I’m…what? Paraffin oil? Petrol? Something dangerously flammable.
Callie’s brown eyes rake over my face. “If you don’t want the night to end, then you must want to keep playing the game.”
She reaches for the deck of cards, but I put my hand over hers. “Enough Rubbish.”
“Fine. But only if we call it a tie. We both win.”
Am I prepared for this? “Pause. We can finish tomorrow. Remember what round you’re on, I’ll remember mine, and we’ll pick up where we left off. That’s fair.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Fair and boring, but I’ll agree to it on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You show me what book you’ve been working on.”
The blood seeps from my body. Is there a drain in the floor beneath me? Because that’s where it all disappeared to. How didshe know I started working on a book? That watching her with Patty sparked an idea in me today I couldn’t quite shake until I got preliminary sketches down. Callie reminded me of a chirpy little bird, and somehow the rest of the story—or what I have so far at least—just came together.
Callie isn’t the main character, but she certainly inspired it.
None of that explains how she picked up on the fact that I’ve been writing another children’s book. “How’d you know?”
“You were in the office for so long, I assumed. Now your face is giving you away.”
“It’s been a while since I’ve drawn.”
“Can I see it?”
Usually I hold my projects close to my chest until they feel as near to perfect as I can get them, but I want Callie’s opinion on this, which is a foreign concept to me.
Perhaps because she’s a foreigner.
“Alright, Sassenach. Come on.”
Callie squeals, jumping to her feet. Her eyes crinkle giddily. “Bucket list!”
A chuckle rumbles through my chest as I shut off the lights and lead her up the stairs. Aye, that was a calculated use of the word merely because I know she wants to hear it. Aye, I said it to make her happy.
Aye, her smile was worth it.
