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“I probably shouldn’t. Looks like you just crawled your way out of hibernation.”
I glanced down at myself to see my shirt hanging open and my jeans unbuttoned.
“Shit, I—sorry.”
Callie seamlessly rescued the cobbler while I fumbled to make myself decent. I fought through the sting of pain as I tucked my shirt into my jeans. Callie half turned away to give me privacy, but I still noticed her stealing a glimpse or two out of the corner of her eye.
“It’s nice to see I was the one to catch you off guard this time,” she said with a wry note in her voice.
“Yeah, well, trust me, my old man would have my hide if he found out I slept so late. It won’t happen again.”
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wished I could take them back. I’d seen the pitying looks from folks in town sometimes. Poor Landon Hewitt, that scrawny kid with an alcoholic, abusive father and no mother. The last thing I wantedwas to see pity in Callie McClaren’s face, too. I didn’t want the black stain of my father’s existence anywhere near her, either. I felt as if I’d unintentionally poisoned the air by bringing him up.
I cleared my throat, racking my brain for a change of subject. Before I could say anything, Callie stepped closer and her gaze shifted slightly upward. I sucked in a sharp breath at her proximity. Then she lifted her hand and—to my utter shock—combed her fingers through my hair.
I froze. My eyes threatened to slide shut with ecstasy.
God, that felt good. That feltincredible.
A hot bloom spread like wildfire through my body. No one had ever touched me like this in my entire life. Thirty-one years on this earth and I was still an awkward virgin who blushed in the presence of a woman. My father would be howling if he could see me now.
“You’re always so serious,” Callie murmured. “But you’re much less intimidating when you have a fuzzy cowlick sticking up on one side of your head.”
I grumbled and swiped a hand over my hair. The corner of her mouth twitched as she suppressed a laugh.
“Don’t worry. I took care of it. You’re presentable now.”
Before I could respond, Callie slid between me and the door frame.
“Come on. You should get a few bites of this cobbler while it’s still warm from the oven. It tastes best that way.”
I watched Callie disappear into the kitchen. Her steps were confident, as if she knew she belonged here. The clatter of cupboards and dishes signaled she was making herself at home.
The phantom heat of her touch still haunted me. I scrubbed my hands through my hair, hoping I’d tamed that damn cowlick. When I entered the kitchen, Callie stood on tiptoe, reaching for the line of plain brown coffee mugs that rested on a shelf above the sink. Her shirt rode up, exposing astrip of skin at her hips. The waistband of her jeans indented into her flesh.
My hands would fit perfectly there.
I shook my head, smothering that thought. She was Beau’s lady, not mine. My hands didn’t belong anywhere on her.
I came to stand at Callie’s side and reached over the sink, selected two mugs, and passed them into her waiting hands. When her fingers brushed mine this time, she didn’t shy away or pull back. She flicked a glance up at me through her lashes. I could have sworn a pretty pink flush colored her cheeks for just a moment before she turned away.
“Coffee usually goes well with cobbler,” she said. “Unless you don’t like coffee, of course.”
“I’m a Colorado cowboy,” I replied. “Coffee comes with the territory. I’ll get it started. Have a seat.”
As Callie pulled out a chair at the table, I couldn’t help noticing how domestic the setting was. Early morning sunlight slanted through the window, spilling in long, golden rays across the floor. The hiss-and-sizzle of the coffee maker was punctuated by the delicateclink-clinkof silverware while Callie scooped out generous portions of peach cobbler and spooned them into our bowls.
Is this what a normal breakfast looked like? Peaceful, cozy, and comforting. My mother died in a car accident when I was too young to remember her, and my father was never the type of man to sit down for a meal with his son. He was usually too deep into a bottle of liquor to give a damn about solid food. I had to fend for myself, choking down dry cereal because the milk had gone bad.
Beau often saved a bit of food for me so I didn’t go hungry. Leftovers from the diner where his mama worked. Warm biscuits and spicy dried jerky from the bunkhouse. Boxesof protein bars we both knew he’d swiped from the local general store.
“Landon?”
My head snapped up. “Yeah?”
Callie studied me with a quizzical look, holding her spoon paused in mid-air above her bowl. I’d been so deep in thought that I hadn’t noticed when I joined her at the table. It took me a split second to realize her hand was on my arm.
“You looked like you were a thousand miles away,” she said. “Is everything all right?”
