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“Wish I didn’t have to take you home,” I said as she snapped her safety belt into the lock. When she looked up at me, I touched my lips to hers, sipping gently.
When I stepped back, she sighed. “I wish I didn’t have to go home. This has been…nice,” she whispered feebly.
“Only nice?” I grinned at her. “Damn, I’m doing something wrong.”
She laughed. “Uh, false. You did not one single thing wrong. Just remember I’m a graphic designer, not a wordsmith. I can be counted on to pick the perfect color, but maybe not the right word.”
I shut the door and, holding her gaze the entire time, meandered around the front of the truck. I climbed in and pressed the brake and the ignition button. The truck rumbled to life. I loved that sound almost as much as I’d loved Catie’s needy whimpers and moans as I’d moved inside her.
I checked traffic as I paused at the road, waiting for the gates to close behind us. Catie was frowning at her phone. I pulled out onto the main street. “Something wrong?”
Her curls trembled as she shook her head. “I just keep getting these weird texts.”
Alarm bells jangled discordantly through me. “What kind of weird texts? Threatening?” I was already mentally reaching for my phone to call Asher and request a security detail to keep her safe.
“No! Not threatening at all. Just a little sad. I think it’s a wrong number situation.”
I couldn’t let it go that easily. “If they get dangerous, or you feel unsafe in any way, I want you to let me know.” Now that we were together, it was only a matter of time before the media and the crazy paparazzi started hounding us. I could imagine the headlines:Who is Callan Wilder’s New Mystery Woman?And they were tenacious…they’d never stop until they uncovered every detail about her. Anxiety settled like a brick in my gut.
She aimed a luminous smile at me. “I will. But this is nothing.” She shook the phone in her hand, then settled it in her lap. She changed the topic. “Enough about that. Tell me what your plans are for the day.”
20
CATIE
Hey, Dad. Just want you to know I think I’ve met ‘the one.” Just wish you were here to share my joy. Love you. Miss you.
After Callan dropped me off, making plans to get together the following day—God, could I wait that long?—and I’d called my folks to check in, I played with Frank a while before settling in front of my computer. While waiting for it to boot up, I checked my phone again, looking at the message from the unknown number.
The texts I’d gotten had become progressively more upbeat, which made the sign-off somehow sadder. I couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be for her, or him, to have exciting news to share, but not be able to share that happiness with the person who mattered the most. I knew if I didn’t have my dad to talk to, to celebrate with, I would feel lost. Or worse, abandoned.
I was close to my whole family. My brothers and mom were always there for me. But Dad was my guy, my touchstone. I’d told him about every aspect of my life, sharing my trials and triumphs over the years. He’d been the first person I’d gone to when Steve had cheated on me. Dad had never once saidI told you so, even though I kind of knew deep down that my father had never really felt like Steve was right for me. Despite his concern that Steve didn’t love me the way Dad thought I deserved, he’d made the effort to like and accept the man for my sake. When the marriage crashed and burned, my dad was there to pick up the pieces without judgement.
My computer finished starting up, and I launched Photoshop, but took a pause to text my dad that I loved him. That was all. That was the message. His reply came immediately:Ditto, sweet girl.That was me, his sweet girl. Smiling, I stowed the phone in the desk drawer.
Still thinking about how truly awful it would be to lose a parent, I focused on the charity project Carrie had sent me. I’d already done the research on the program, and knew I had my work cut out for me. The opportunity to work on the project excited me. The concept of helping underprivileged athletes attain success in their chosen sport, regardless of the poor economic conditions they lived in, appealed in ways other charity organizations hadn’t. Or maybe the charm came from knowing that Callan had embraced and championed the cause. The existing website, which I’d already redesigned in my head, had pictures of Callan presenting a large check to the executive director of the charity. Honestly, the pictures were blurry, which didn’t stop me drooling a little as I studied Callan. For the occasion, he’d worn a dark suit with a vibrant yellow tie, anddamnhe filled out the cut of the suit magically. His dark golden hair curled under the brim of his cream-colored cowboy hat. An energetic smile crinkled his features. I’d seen the intensity of that smile last night, as he held my gaze in his big bed. His broad shoulders and lean hips had been incredible in my embrace. Those long legs that had fit so perfectly behind mine while we slept. Hand to heart, I grew a bit breathless knowing that what lay under the fabric was a million times better than my imagination rendered based on the pictures.
But recapping every moment of our intimate, sexy times together wasn’t getting the work on this project done. So I blew a kiss, yeah, I know how weird that was, to the image of Callan and shut down the website, turning my attention to the project notes Carrie had emailed me.
Before I dove in, I emailed Carrie back, requesting an introduction to the executive director, and asked about hiring an associate to handle updating the charity’s website.
Then, I zoned out and started playing with lines, angles, and colors for the new graphics I’d been commissioned to develop.
I’d been at it for a couple hours when I finally took a break. I rose off my chair and rubbed my backside as I stretched out my cramped muscles. Frank lifted his head from the cat bed in the corner. When he saw me stretching, he stood and stretched as well, front paws way out in front, cat butt in the air, his tail straight up and waving a bit. His gaping yawn triggered an answering one from me, and I laughed. I reached into the drawer to grab a treat for him and tossed it in front of his paws. It never ceased to amaze me how quickly he gobbled the snacks, then looked at me like I’d killed his brother when I didn’t toss a second one to him.
But today, I did give him another. “That’s for being such a good boy with Elvis yesterday.” I scratched behind his ears, then left him crunching away in my office and headed to the kitchen for a treat of my own.
As I passed through the living room, a shadow darkened the front window. I froze, because I wasn’t expecting company, and Callan’s questions about threatening texts, and feeling like I might be in danger, rose like a cobra in my mind. I held my breath, waiting to see if a delivery driver was just leaving a package on the porch, or if someone was going to knock or worse, just try the knob. I slapped my back pocket. Empty.Dammit, why’d I leave my phone in my desk?
The doorbell buzzed, which made me jump but unfroze my feet. As I approached the door, I chastised myself for being a ninny. I peered out the sidelight window and relaxed immediately.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” I told Naomi as I opened up for her.
“Really?” Her look cried that I was a freaking idiot. “I don’t know why not. We have a regular hiking date on the calendar for Sunday afternoons.”
She let loose of Sweet Cream’s collar and he bolted past me into the front room. Frank streaked out of my office, and the two of them started their ritual wrestling greeting.
“You gonna let me in?” Naomi asked, lifting the small teal box in her hands under my nose.
