Chapter Ten
Present day
Cash loved seeing the passion in Callie’s eyes. Sitting across the table from her at the Wild Turkey, after following her to her place to drop off her car, he enjoyed the excitement in her voice as she talked about starting her own business. He didn’t know why he’d been skeptical—or maybe concerned was the word to describe how he’d felt when she’d first mentioned it.
But she’d done a lot of research. He’d never thought Callie wasn’t smart, but he found himself impressed. And there was no doubt that this was something she cared about and had a talent for. He’d seen it himself and had a weird feeling of pride at the amazing confections she created. Even today, when the wedding planner had been so complimentary, he’d felt a warmth expand in his chest and an urge to hug Callie.
Fuuuuuuuck.
“So, I don’t know if this will work out or not.” She swirled the bourbon in her glass. “But I’m going to give it my best shot.”
“Does that mean selling the house is off the table?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I guess for now it does. I don’t think I can handle selling the house, finding somewhere new to live, and moving at the same time as starting a business. On the other hand, who knows how busy I’ll be. But I do like having that big kitchen.”
Going to the house she had shared with Beau irritated him. He didn’t want her to make rash decisions, but he’d kind of liked the idea of her moving somewhere else. And if he helped her find a new place, he could make sure it wasn’t far from him.
Selfish bastard.
“I don’t think I’ll tell my parents.”
“Why not?”
She shrugged and dropped her gaze to her drink. “They probably don’t really care.”
“Bullshit.”
She said nothing.
“Why would you say that? They’re your parents.” She’d never talked a lot about her parents to him. Obviously, he knew about her family. Everyone in Houston had heard of the Sutherlands. Callie’s grandfather had built a huge oil empire years ago, and now her father’s real estate development business was a part of the massive Sutherland conglomerate.
He’d met her parents a few times when Beau and Callie’d been getting married and a few times since then at charity functions or the country club. They didn’t exactly run in the same social circles, except that Beau had kind of dragged him into those circles, especially when it came to business.
He’d always been curious why that hint of sadness occasionally appeared in her eyes, when she’d seemed to have such a picture-perfect life. He knew she wasn’t very close with her parents. “Tell me why you say that,” he commanded, since she still hadn’t said anything.
She sighed. “My parents have never been very interested in their kids. You could ask my two brothers, and they’d say the same. Well, maybe not Josh. He’d probably defend Daddy. They’re so much alike. But Griff and I always felt like they were too busy with their own shit. Daddy’s all involved with the company and making money and trying to prove to his daddy that he’s a good businessman. Mama’s into spending the money. Or donating it. She does a lot of great philanthropic work.”
“That’s admirable.”
“Sure. Except she does it because it gives her status and prestige and connects her with other wealthy women. You’ll never see her down on Dowling Street serving food to the homeless.”
He smiled wryly. “Okay, I get it. But they have to be interested in their kids’ lives.”
“Only if we live our lives the way they want us to. You know they were unhappy when I left Beau.”
“Yeah.”
“They thought he was the perfect husband for me. Mama wanted me to have a life just like hers.”
“With a cheating husband.” He remembered the drunken conversation the night of her divorce party.
“Yes.” Callie sighed again. “I wonder if Mama has had affairs, too. I just can’t imagine… Well, we’re different. Obviously. Anyway. We had nannies who raised us while Mama and Daddy were busy with work and charities and extramarital affairs. We were pretty lucky, really.”
Cash snorted.
“Really. We had good nannies who I think really cared about us and taught us values. Well, there was that one girl who stole Mama’s narcotic painkillers after Mama had one of her, er, procedures.” She made a face, and Cash could guess what kind of “procedures” Audrey Sutherland had had. “Overall, we were lucky, but it’s just not the same. When you’re a kid, you want nothing more than your parents to pay attention to you and encourage you and…love you.”
Her lips dipped at the corners, and he wanted to kiss them and make them turn up.
“Shit,” he muttered. “They love you, Callie.”
Her smile was wistful. “Well. Maybe. Like I said, if we did what they wanted and lived our lives the way they expected, they loved us. But I tried so hard to be what they wanted, and it was never good enough for them. Finally when Beau and I were dating, I got a little approval. Then he asked me to marry him, and Mama was over the moon. I think that was the only time I ever did something that made them happy.”
A rock materialized in Cash’s gut. Sure. Beau was the one who’d made her parents happy.
But that was all bullshit. Marrying someone they approved of was the only thing Callie’d done that made them proud? Bullshit. Callie was a sweet, talented, and loving woman, and her parents should have seen that from the time she was born. And they should have been on her side when it came to the split with Beau. A burn rose inside him, remembering that Joshua Sutherland was still friends with Beau.
He slammed a hand down on the wooden table, making the glasses jump.
Callie started. “What?”
He bit back the growl that rose in his throat. “Nothing.”
She eyed him nervously. Fuck that. He’d never hurt her.
He ground his teeth, feeling helpless. The Sutherlands had been polite and accepting of him, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t the kind of guy they’d be ecstatic about being involved with their daughter. Especially since they were still unhappy about the divorce. Which was just one more reason he should stay the fuck away from Callie.
But that was easier said than done, because when it came to her, he was weak. Also foolish. Somehow he lost all his common sense when he was around her, as evidenced by their little kitchen-sex adventure last weekend. Goddammit.
“Well,” he said roughly, eyes on his beer, “I’m proud of you. Sounds like you’ve got things figured out. I think you can do it, darlin’.”
“Thank you.” Her voice was soft and warm. He risked a look at her face and found her eyes downcast, too. Fuck. They were both afraid to even look at each other. “That means a lot, Cash.”
He cleared his throat. “How about a game of pool? We haven’t played for a while, but I’m pretty sure I can still kick your butt.”
“Ha! Are you kidding me?” She slapped her hands on the table. “You’re going down, dude. Loser buys a round.”
He laughed and rose from his seat. He’d be buying all the drinks anyway. “Bring it.”
The only reason she won was because he kept thinking about the hurt in her voice when she’d talked about her parents. He’d never known all that, and it totally threw his concentration off as they played.
Here he’d thought she’d grown up the pampered, spoiled princess, and in a way she had, but he’d always assumed her parents had worshipped the ground she walked her designer heels over, because, hey, who wouldn’t?
He did.
He shook those thoughts away. Being with Callie was sweet torture, burning him up from the inside out, lusting after her, loving her, wanting her so bad and knowing he could never have her. He wasn’t sure why he kept tormenting himself by spending time with her, but being apart was even worse. The last week he’d obsessed about finally being inside her, and he was so ashamed and remorseful for how it had happened. She deserved much better than that.
She deserved everything.
“Take that!” She gave him a triumphant grin, stabbing her pool cue into the scarred wooden floor.
He shook his head, smiling ruefully. “Yeah, yeah, you won. Come on. Next round’s on me.”
They returned to the table and ordered another round, then Cash excused himself to use the restroom. When he returned, he frowned at seeing two men sitting with Callie, one of them in his seat, the other practically on top of her.
He paused beside his chair, folded his arms across his chest, and lifted his chin. “You’re in my seat, man.”
The guy glanced at him and shrugged. “Don’t get your shorts in a twist. Just having a word with this lovely lady.”
Callie pursed her lips and gave Cash a lift of her shoulders.
“I’m not drunk,” the guy said to Callie. “I’m just intoxicated by you.”
Cash’s blood ran hot.
Callie laughed, but he heard the tension in it. “That’s a terrible line. Does it actually work for you?”
The guy beside her smirked. “Hell yeah.” He shifted closer, as if he were smelling Callie’s hair.
“Back off, man,” Cash growled, lowering his arms. His hands curled into fists. The guy frowned at him. “Yeah, you.”
“She told us she’s single.”
“She’s not single, she’s mine, so back off.”
“Maybe we should ask the lady?” The dude in his chair leaned forward. “You want us to leave, sugar?”
Callie didn’t even hesitate, a worried look shadowing her eyes. “Um, it would probably be best.”
“You don’t sound very sure.” The guy leered at her.
Cash lost his patience. “She’s trying to be polite, asshole.” He grabbed the guy by the back of the shirt and lifted him out of the chair. The guy sputtered and flailed his arms, trying to wrench out of his grip. Cash gave him a shove and released him. “Now get the fuck away from her.”
“Cash!” Callie jumped to her feet, her eyes huge.
The guy’s face was now red, and he charged at Cash and took a swing. Distracted for a second by seeing Callie stand, Cash tried to evade the punch but took it on the side of his head. “Oh fuck no.” He drew back and threw a punch of his own.
“Hey, you can’t hit my brother!”
The second guy leaped across the table, knocking over the empty glasses. One of them shattered on the floor, the other rolled across the table. Callie lunged and grabbed it, then actually tried to grab the guy jumping the table by fisting his T-shirt.
“Callie, get back!”
“Cash, stop it! Oh my God!”
One dude grabbed him from behind and the other was trying to punch his face. Jesus Christ.
Vaguely aware of other bar patrons gathering around and some shouts, Cash shoved his elbow back into the ribs of the guy behind him, once, twice. The guy grunted and dropped, and Cash laid a series of blows on the other man, blocking a shot with his forearm, then landing an uppercut that had the jerk falling to his knees.
He whirled around in case the other man was coming at him again, but the bouncer and one of the big bartenders had the guy in a hold. Cash relaxed his arms, adrenaline rushing through his veins, making his skin tingle and his muscles tight. Another bartender pulled the other dude to his feet. The brothers glared at him.
He looked at Callie, standing nearby with her hands over her mouth.
“Let’s go, darlin’.”
Her eyes widened. He threw down a bunch of money, more than enough to cover their drinks and broken glasses, took Callie’s arm, and led her out of the bar into the late-afternoon heat. He stalked through the parking lot toward his truck, yanked open the door, then lifted her onto the seat.
“Cash!” she protested again.
He paused, leaning his forearm along the doorframe, his breath still coming in choppy bursts.
She stared at him. “Your lip…”
He touched his fingers to his throbbing bottom lip and drew them away with blood on them. Shit. His knuckles burned, too. He glanced at the blood there as well and shook his hand.
“Oh my God.” Callie glared at him. “What was that?”
“That, darlin’, was a bar fight.” He grinned. Heh. That had actually been kind of fun. It had been a while since he’d thrown down in a bar.
“That was not necessary!”
“Sure it was. They were hitting on you.”
“It was fine! I could handle them.”
“Hey. I didn’t start it.”
She sighed. “I know. But when you got all caveman alpha, that’s when the trouble started.”
He scowled. “Caveman alpha?”
“Yes!” She rolled her eyes, sucked in a long breath, and let it out. “Jesus, Cash. What is with men? This is why the world is so effed up. Even if biology makes you the more aggressive gender, you can be better than that. Physical violence is never the answer.”
He sat back and let her words sink in. Shit. She had a point. “I was trying to look after you.”
“I don’t need to be looked after! I can look after myself.”
“Huh.”
“I was just here the other day with Kristy. Some guys were flirting with us, but it was fine! I dealt with it.”
Jesus. “You’re not going to that place with Kristy again.”
“What? You don’t get to tell me what to do. And what the hell was that, telling them I’m yours?”
He narrowed his eyes at her. Yeah, he’d said it, mostly in an effort to get those assholes to back off. He knew she wasn’t his. Adrenaline and testosterone rushed through his bloodstream, and she was gazing at him with her beautiful big eyes, lips parted, and her breasts rising and falling on her chest. He tried not to look, but damn, the sundress showed off a lot of her smooth, golden skin, and there was cleavage and… Fuck.
He wiped his mouth on his shirtsleeve, then reached for Callie and dragged her closer, slamming his mouth down on hers. A rush of blood scalded his veins, and lust punched him in the gut. She made a muffled sound of protest, fists gripping his T-shirt, but her mouth opened to his, and their tongues stroked together.
His lip stung, but fuck it, that was nothing.
His mouth moved on hers, fierce and greedy, and excitement pounded through him.
They drew back and stared at each other.
“What was that?” Callie whispered.
“You’re askin’ a lot of questions, the answers to which are pretty obvious,” he said, a smile tugging his lips. “That, darlin’, was a kiss.”
She stared at him and swallowed. Her tongue touched her bottom lip, and he groaned and leaned in for another taste. Her hands slid up and curled over his shoulders, hanging on as he kissed her again, hot and deep and wet. One hand went to her breast, covering one soft curve and gently squeezing. She moaned into his mouth.
His other hand curled around the side of her neck just below her ear, his thumb brushing her jaw, then her throat. Her skin was so damn soft. Desire tore through his blood. “We probably shouldn’t be making out in the parking lot in broad daylight,” he finally said, releasing her and stepping back. She held his gaze with dazed eyes as she shifted her legs into the cab, and he closed the passenger door. When he climbed in, she sat slumped in her seat, panting.
Without a word, he started the truck and put it in gear, backed out of the parking spot, and exited the lot. It wasn’t far to Callie’s place, and neither of them said anything, heat shimmering around them in the cab despite the air conditioning.
He jumped out as soon as he was parked in her driveway and hurried to help her out of the truck. Still not talking, she led the way to the front door, unlocked and opened it. He closed and locked the door behind them.
She turned to him. “Come upstairs. I’ll clean up your wounds.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. He liked the sound of that. “Okay.”
He followed her up the wide staircase, his hands itching to touch her. She led him into a bathroom. “Have a seat.” She gestured at the closed toilet.
He sat.
She surveyed his injuries, then opened a cabinet and pulled out a couple of small packets of what appeared to be alcohol wipes and a tube of ointment.
He tried to ignore her tits as she stood in front of him and ripped open a package. Then she laid gentle fingers beneath his chin to tip it up. She touched the cool cotton pad to his lip. He flinched at the sharp sting. “Ow.”
“Come on, tough guy. If you’re going to brawl like a sailor on leave, you can take a little sting.”
“I need you to kiss it better.”
She paused and gazed down at him, her lips curved, eyes warm. “I thought I already did that.”
His own lips lifted in a smile, his blood rushing hot at the memory. “No. I need a very specific kiss. Gentle. Right here.” He touched the place where his lip was split. “Or am I bleeding?” He glanced at his reflection in the mirror. Nope. He waited.
She bent over and feathered a kiss over his bottom lip. Heat surged to his groin. “Better?”
“Mmm. Some.” He tilted his head and caught her mouth in a longer but still gentle kiss. “That’s helping.”
She shook her head and opened another packet, then picked up his right hand. He looked down at her small smooth hand holding his big hairy paw with abraded knuckles. Jesus. He was such a yahoo. He endured the sting as she cleaned off drying blood. It felt much nicer when she smoothed antibiotic ointment over his wounded skin.
She was kneeling in front of him now and sat back. “I’m not sure if Band-Aids will stay on your knuckles.”
“It’s fine, darlin’.” He reached out with his left hand to smooth her hair back. “I’m fine. But thank you.”
“You were crazy as a loon, you know?”
“Nah.” Her hair felt so silky. He rubbed a strand between his fingers. “They were drunk and useless as a one-legged man at a butt-kicking contest. They were no threat.”
She burst out laughing.
Something shifted in his chest. “Callie…”