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The inclination to press my own breasts in that same spot, to remove any memory of her brazen action, was strong. Instead, I palmed his cheek and smiled. “I believe you.” I’d been cheated on before, but oddly, I trusted this man with my whole being. I’d bet Faithful was his middle name.
He stretched inside the cab and sweetly licked my lips, then covered them with his own. The kiss lasted only moments, but there was a lifetime of longing and respect in the gesture. His breath fluttered against my skin as he pulled away and whispered, “Thank you. Ready to get out of here?”
His drugging touch had robbed me of the ability to speak, so I just nodded. As he moved around the front of the truck, I buried my face in Elvis’s fur, trying to ground myself.
The truck rocked a bit as he climbed in, keyed the ignition and then the engine roared to life. Elvis barked and plopped onto my lap, nose pressed to the window like a little kid, excited to take a ride. I lowered the window halfway and wrapped my arms around Elvis’s shoulders, holding onto to him as he shoved his head through the opening.
Callan reversed out of the parking spot, put the truck into gear, and steered out of the parking lot. As soon as we hit the open road, he reached across the console, grabbed my wrist and pulled my hand off Elvis’s scruff and drew it toward him. He twisted my fingers in his and rested our joined hands on the console as we drove away from Barks and Recreation.
“What do you think about picking up Frank and making a day of it at my house while we get Elvis settled? We could barbecue some steak, maybe fish a little.”
“Fish?” I laughed. “Maybe not that part, but yes to all the rest.” A throb struck up between my thighs, imagining us together, at his house, a quiet, romantic evening for two. Plus two pets.
And that seemed about as close to heaven as a girl could want.
17
CALLAN
Catie told me to stay in the truck while she ran inside to get Frank and everything he’d need for a day, and I hoped a night, at my house. She’d pointed out that she could drive to my place, but I assured her that when she was ready to head home, I’d be glad to take her. I prayed she wouldn’t need to go her house for the rest of the weekend. When she returned, I helped her stow the pet carrier and a canvas bag in the back seat.
“Be right back. I’ll grab some fixins’ for a picnic supper. Stuff that will go with those steaks you promised.” She hurried back inside before I could tell her I had plenty.
A plaintive yowl echoed from the carrier, and Frank butted his head against the secured wire opening. “Hey Frank. It’s okay. You won’t be in there long.” I slipped one finger inside the cage and Frank’s cool nose pressed against it, sniffing me. His motor started humming; a low, deep rumble of a purr. I took that as a good sign that Frank accepted me.
Elvis hopped over the seat and landed in front of the carrier. He barked excitedly. Frank shied back in the cage and hissed.
I gripped Elvis’s collar and hauled him away. “Let’s give him some space, buddy. There’ll be plenty of time for you to impress him once we get home.”
Catie popped out her front door and dropped a picnic hamper on the steps. I shut the car door to contain Elvis, and then hurried up the front walk to meet her and grab the hamper from her.
“Did they do okay with the meet-up?” she asked.
“Frank hissed, but I think because Elvis barked. He has a big bark for such a small dog.”
“Oh, he’ll grow into that too, along with those big paws.” She laughed as she boosted herself up into the cab.
I stashed the basket in the back seat, then climbed back in. Elvis was sitting in the footwell behind Catie’s seat, tongue hanging out and just staring at Frank. He shot a glance toward me as I ran my arm along the front seat and twisted to reverse out of Catie’s drive, then he immediately turned back to Frank’s carrier. At least the cat had stopped hissing.
“Do you think they’ll get along?” I fretted as I spun the wheel and then eased on the gas to leave the neighborhood.
Catie patted my thigh. “They’ll be fine. Frank is mostly easy going. He gets along with Sweet Cream, and Naomi’s dog is way bigger than Elvis. And we already know Elvis is comfortable around cats. They’ll be snuggled up in a ball sleeping together by nightfall.”
Her words built an image in my brain, one of Catie and me, curled together in my big bed. I crossed my fingers on the wheel, praying for it to be so. My heart beat a steady cadence in my chest, and if I’m honest, much lower in my body, anticipating getting to know this wonderful woman intimately.
The sweet heat of her palm seeped through my jeans and into my muscles. I covered her hand with mine, holding her in place. She seemed content with this, judging by the charming smile on her kissable lips. She’d twisted in her seat to keep an eye on Elvis and Frank in the back seat.
For the duration of the drive to my place, we listened to music. At one point, a song by another client of Asher’s started playing. It was a catchy tune and had a fun back story behind it.
I pointed to the radio. “So this guy set up a mega country star to change his regular concert gimmick. Instead of having a bunch of hot chicks, beg pardon”—I sent an apologetic glance her way—“he, this guy, enlisted the Chippendales to dance behind the artist while he was singing one of his most popular songs. The crowd went crazy.”
She laughed. “That’s genius. What did the singer do?”
“He went on singing and trying to match the moves the dancers were doing. By the end, he was breathless and complaining that he needed to work out a little more.”
The laugh that came out of her mouth was more snort than giggle. She quickly covered her mouth with her fingers. “Oh my!”
“Did you just snort?” I aimed a goofy smile at her.
