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Things Callahan Loves.
Things Callahan Hates.
Things Callahan Shared Only with Me.
Things about Callahan I Wish I Didn’t Know.
The last category is the worst. It’s filed in my bruised heart—the in-between place where secret feelings get stuck, bound by history and truths never shared.
“No,” I say so quietly I have to repeat the word. “No, he’s never said such intimate things to me before. And the way he spoke was so intense, like he was purging himself of secrets. I think he has feelings for me, but what if I’m wrong?”
“Tests.”
“What?”
“Run tests. Push his limits. Flirt more openly and see how he reacts.”
Right. Yeah. Killer idea. Unleashing the feelings I keep contained won’t bite me in the butt. The other day, I actually stuck my face in his freaking pillow to steal an inhale of the man’s scent. But honestly, he smells so good. A new, spicy smell—woodsy and Mountain Manly—and it’s everywhere in his home. One whiff kicks my Cal dopamine addiction into overdrive.
“Flirting overtly could backfire,” I say. “I’m already so preoccupied with him. If I’m wrong, it could ruin our friendship. There’s no way I could handle that.”
“Then be subtle about it. Friends flirt all the time. Try some covert tests, which I’m sure he’ll pass. Then you can finally jump his bones and ride him into the sunset.”
I snort and cover my mouth with my hand. I cannot handle that visual right now. Not when Callahan is saying romantic things about me. Fact is, it’s never just been about attraction with Cal. I love the man he is—sweet, considerate, funny. I like the woman I am around him—honest, witty, and at ease. I’ve always been my best self with him, while secretly wishing I’d one day lie on his chest knowing he was mine to hold.
Now I’m dying to know how his massive body would feel pressing me into the mattress, those heavy thighs pushing between mine, his work-roughened hands dragging over my hips as he—
“Do you need a minute?” Cal says.
Um.Yeah.More like fifty. Or an ice bucket dumped over my head.
Cal is standing by his open door, looking calm and collected. I’m a minute from grabbing my vibrator to relieve this unrelenting ache.
“Talk to you later,” I tell Larkin and try to act cool.
I cross my arms and strike an unnatural hip-out pose. Cal squints at me. I try to tame my lascivious thoughts and quit picturing all that maleness under his clothes.Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.I’m certainly not letting my wanton gaze travel down his thin T-shirt to the sweatpants that sitjust soon his narrow hips. Nope.
I’m now Scientist Jolene doing science stuff. I’m about to take Larkin’s potentially dangerous advice and test if Callahan Bower also has a dopamine addiction to me.
chaptertwenty-one
Callahan
Jolene is acting weird. We’ve been moving around each other in my small kitchen, cooking together, and she’s been clumsy. A trait I don’t associate with Jo. Every so often, she stumbles over her feet and grabs my biceps, which flex in response. She whispers smallsorrys, while I have to physically restrain myself from locking my arm around her waist and pulling her closer.
There’s only one reason she’s this off-kilter—my word vomit earlier made her uncomfortable. And I don’t have a rewind button.
“Is it possible to do this without my fingers turning into a gluey mess?” I drop the last piece of fish into the hot oil, keeping my hands clear of Jo.
“It is,” she says as she turns the tap on for me. “But it takes actual skill.”
Always a ballbuster, but this is our comfort zone. Barbed banter. Friendly bickering. Instead of sticking my hands under the water to get clean, I wipe them on her shoulders.
“Hey!” She jumps back, sputtering out a laugh. “What was that for?”
“Guess I clean my hands as well as I batter fish.”
She digs a spoonful of avocado crema out of her dish and angles it like a slingshot. “Any last words?”
