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“No, don’t do that. I like this guy. He’s …”
What?
Pushy. Domineering. Too confident by half.
Funny. Kind. Sexy.
The problem with Caleb was that he pushed all her buttons. He wanted to protect her, to mess with her house and her life in order to make her and Henry safer, and she probably needed to let him. To admit he was right. To change.
She didn’t like that.
And he pushed other buttons, too. Caleb made her yearn, and she didn’t want to yearn anymore, not ever again. She’d had enough of twisting herself into pretzel shapes to please men who made her feel small and unwanted. Enough of offering herself body and soul to guys who were all wrong for her.
Only, maybe he wasn’t one of those. She’d thought so when she met him yesterday, but now … the way he’d looked at her, touched her. The way he’d stood behind her and offered his help without any pressure, almost wordlessly. Protecting her, but not like a security guard. With one hand on her body, he’d held her there like a lover. He’d claimed her in front of her ex-husband.
And God help her, she’d liked it.
“He’s the right person for the job,” she said finally. “He knows what he’s doing.”
I don’t, though.
“Well, at least one thing’s going right. Oh, just a sec—”
Someone’s muffled voice came over the phone, and she heard Jamie say faintly, “What time?” and then, after a moment, “Now?” Then he was back on the line. “I’ve gotta go. I have a meeting in five, and it’s going to take ten to get there. I’ll call you back this weekend, okay?”
“Sure. Just … think about Carly, okay?”
“I hardly ever think about anything else. Later, Ellen.”
“Bye.”
After she disconnected the call, she looked down at the giant mound of celery she’d sliced—enough for eight salads. Multitasking had never been her strong suit.
She had to decide. To make up her mind about whether she wanted the lights, the alarm. Whether she wanted Caleb.
It had been so long since she wanted anything at all, she didn’t know how to decide.
After a moment’s consideration, she made up her mind to watch her movie. Bogey and Bacall always seemed to know what they wanted. Maybe it would rub off.
Chapter Eleven
“I have to go out. You want pizza for dinner?” Caleb asked. “I’m going to pick a few up at the Cove, and I could drop one off for you.”
“Where are you going?” Katie twisted a silver ring around and around her thumb. A nervous habit. Caleb recognized it from her television-watching weeks, and he looked at her more closely. She’d been doing a lot better lately—so much so that he’d almost forgotten to worry about her. But tonight, something was off. She’d been quieter than usual since he got home this afternoon, and here came the twisting.
“I’m headed over to Ellen’s,” he said.
“Oh, reeeally. And why, may I ask, are you going to Ellen’s again tonight?”
“It’s not that. I was trying to get her to install security lights, but she wouldn’t agree, and now I have to make good on my threat to stand guard on her porch.”
“When are you supposed to sleep?”
Caleb scrubbed his hand over his face. “Maybe I won’t sleep. But I’m hoping she’ll cave by midnight.”
“Not me. I hope she keeps you out there all night. That would be hilarious.”
“Thanks.” Part of him wanted to ask Katie what was the matter, but it didn’t usually work to be that direct with her. If she wanted to talk to him, she would have to be the one to say something. “So do you want a pizza or not?” He picked up his keys and his wallet off the phone table. “I need to get moving.”
