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Tristan’s own smile slipped as he finally caught on that she either hadn’t gotten the joke or didn’t think he was funny.
Wow. A female who was immune to Marchande’s charm. If Caleb wasn’t so busy sweating over his monumental to-do list, he’d find a moment to circle today on a calendar.
Isaiah cleared his throat, likely sensing that was his cue to smooth things over. “If you think this building is too small, I had another thought. What about expanding the place where you currently teach?”
For Isaiah, she had nothing but genuine cheer, blinding him with a megawatt grin. “You know what? I was thinking the same thing.”
And they were off and chatting about their mutual ideas, ignoring everyone else. Tristan stared at the two of them as if he’d been hit in the face by a tree branch.
“Guess that’s the first party you haven’t been invited to,” Caleb commented mildly. “Tough break.”
“Shut up, Hardy.” Tristan scowled. “If we’re not using this as the schoolhouse, what do you want to do with it?”
The subject change didn’t fool Caleb. Cassidy’s shutout had stuck in Tristan’s craw something fierce. Probably it would be good for him to spend some more time in Cassidy’s company. He could stand to gain some humility in that department. But that was a long game, and Caleb wasn’t in the mood to push it today. He had bigger fish to fry.
“It needs to be an art studio again,” he said decisively and had the guy in mind to handle it. “That’s right up Rowe’s alley, and he needs a project like this.”
“Because he hasn’t started drawing again yet?” Tristan guessed quietly.
That was why he and Tristan had survived a decade plus together. They were in sync in so many ways, which was the only reason Caleb would discuss something so personal as Rowe’s difficult road to recovery with someone else. “Not since the surgery after Syria. Maybe this will jog something loose.”
Tristan nodded, his lips pursed. “That means I’m still on schoolhouse duty, right?”
“I need someone I can trust on that. It’s the most important project thus far.”
The atmosphere in the empty storefront shifted, and he didn’t have to glance up to know that Havana had crossed the threshold. But being aware of her presence didn’t stop the hard punch to his heart when he did meet her gaze. The long red ponytail at her crown swung against her shoulders as she skirted a large wooden block that had probably been a platform for the metal structures that had once apparently been on display here. She had a rectangular leather portfolio under one arm, but he couldn’t seem to tear his attention from her arresting face.
How did she get more beautiful with each passing day?
He hadn’t seen her since she’d bailed after his balcony soul-baring routine. He got it. She had no room in her life for a relationship with someone who wasn’t in any kind of emotional condition to give her the commitment she needed.
“I have some plans drawn up,” she said by way of greeting. “I wanted to show them to you before I presented them to Damian.”
She’d come to him first. That pleased him enormously. It shouldn’t. There was no competition here, and if there was, both men had already lost. He cleared the dust from his throat that she’d stirred up with her entrance. “Sure. I have a makeshift office in the building next to the antique store. You want to go there?”
She nodded. “Lead the way.”
Caleb called out to the others that he was leaving. The walk across the street wasn’t nearly long enough for him to get the wild beat of his pulse under control. He ached to lace his fingers with hers, to bond with her in some small way, just to assure himself that somehow everything would be okay.
But the magic he’d started to believe in, that he’d felt in the very earth at the springs, seemed to have deserted him, if it had ever really existed in the first place.
When they got to the shop he’d commandeered for the mayor’s office, he unlocked the door and held it open for her. The sweet brush of her body against his as she entered shouldn’t be such a thrill, but he couldn’t help his reaction to her any more than he could help the impossible roadblocks that seemed to eternally stand between them.
He shut the door behind him, and she turned, mouth open to speak, but he’d moved closer to her than she’d apparently guessed because she froze. But she didn’t step back, and the space surrounding them crackled with energy and anticipation. No different than it normally did, but he had a heightened sense of awareness that there was also a lot unsaid.
He didn’t say any of it though. His fingers burned to touch her, and he couldn’t seem to stop himself from reaching out to brush back a stray bit of hair that had rebelled against her ponytail holder.
She leaned into his touch ever so slightly, and that was all the encouragement he needed to sweep her into his arms. The leather portfolio thunked to the floor as her arms came around him in tandem, and their lips met in a torrid kiss that should have discharged the electricity swirling between them.
It didn’t. The energy intensified, and he thought he might burst clear out of his skin from all the things that Havana did to his insides. He soared along a bright stretch of heaven until she pulled back, her torso rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath.
“Caleb—”
“Don’t say it,” he murmured, loath to break the spell. “Let me kiss you, and then we can argue about it later.”
When she was under his fingers, their mouths in perfect alignment—and not capable of hashing out yet another variation of why they wouldn’t work together—the world made sense. Barriers vanished. He wanted to stay in that place.
She shook her head, but not one iota of the vibe between them faded. “I don’t want to argue at all—”
