Chapter Nineteen
Cash steadied himself with a hand on the wall and met Beau’s eyes. Guilt smacked him in the face. “Hey, Beau. What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?”
“Painting, obviously.” He kept his tone light despite the emotion brewing in his stomach and his muscles twitching. “You here to help?”
“Uh…”
“What are you doing here, Beau?” Callie asked.
“Your parents told me about your shop. I had to see for myself. What the hell are you doing, Callie?”
Christ. Beau was still sucking up to Callie’s family.
She sighed. “We’ve already had this conversation. This isn’t your business.”
“Your parents are concerned.”
“Then they should come see the place themselves. And what are they concerned about? Oh right. They’re concerned I’m embarrassing them by ‘catering’ for people.”
Beau cast his gaze around, not denying that. Asshole. “You’re not a businessperson.”
Cash’s nostrils flared. He planted his feet wide, every muscle bunched as he gripped the paintbrush he held. “She’s got a solid plan.” He despised the way Beau was talking to Callie, but what the fuck could he say about it without giving themselves away?
Beau frowned at him. “I still don’t get why you’re here. You never said anything about this when we were at the office this morning.”
Shit. Cash resumed painting, turning to the wall to hide his face, trying to calm the hot anger flaring inside him. “Yeah, I just decided to stop by on my way home. Thought I’d offer my help.”
Tension hummed around them in the small room that would be Callie’s new office.
“Your mama would be shocked seeing you like this,” Beau told her.
She looked down at her paint-smeared clothes, then smiled at him. “I know.”
Cash grinned.
Then Callie sighed. “I’m getting tired of talking about this. Now, either pick up a paintbrush and help, or you can just head on out. Tell Mama and Daddy I’ll try not to embarrass them.”
Cash took in her faint frown of annoyance. This sucked. He should not have to stand by and let her be put down by anyone, even Beau.
“I’m not exactly dressed for painting.”
“You’ve probably never picked up a paintbrush in your life,” Callie added.
Cash hid his wry smile. That was probably true.
“Of course I have.” Beau scowled. “But I’d sure rather pay someone to do it.”
“See, I’m being fiscally responsible.”
Beau stayed a few minutes longer, watching them work, then with a shake of his head, he said, “Well, I tried.”
After he’d gone, Callie said, “I guess I should have locked the door after Kristy left.”
Cash blew out a breath, some of the stiffness easing out of his muscles. “It’s okay, Callie.”
“I’m sorry. I hope he’s not pissed at you for helping me.”
Cash found that the prospect of that didn’t dismay him as much as it once would have. Or should have.
He remembered the words he’d mumbled to Callie that night at her place…that he wanted to keep her. He remembered telling her in Chris and Rachel’s bathroom that she was his.
He remembered his dad asking if he’d ever been in love.
Lately he’d been imagining a future with Callie. Because honestly? Imagining a future without her was bleak, excruciating hell. It made him want to shout and rage and break things with his bare hands. But he shouldn’t be thinking about that. He was crazy and stupid to even entertain those kinds of ideas.
…
Monday morning, Cash and Beau met again about the Sutherland Industries refinery substation project to finalize the last details of their bid.
Cash sensed Beau’s tension. “I don’t like that arc flash analysis software,” Beau said.
“Why not?”
Beau shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Well, that’s a good reason.” Cash paused. “What crawled up your ass?”
Beau ran a hand through his hair. “I’m frustrated about things with Callie.”
Cash’s insides froze. “What does that mean?”
“It means I want her back.”
Time slowed, and the office blurred around him. “Seriously. You want her back?”
“Hell yeah. The divorce was a mistake. She was all dramatic about what happened, but it didn’t have to end our marriage.”
“You hurt her.”
Beau’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you care so much?’
“She’s a friend.”
“Right. That’s what you said before.” He studied Cash’s face. “You went to her divorce party.”
“Yeah.”
“And I heard you were at the breast cancer fund-raiser at the country club with her.”
Cash leaned back in his chair, his heart working in painful beats. “Yeah? So what? She didn’t want to go alone.”
Fuck, he hated lying. Hated it. It was true that he’d gone to that event with her because she didn’t want to go alone. But hiding what was really happening between them from Beau…that was lying. He swallowed.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be so friendly with her.”
“What does that mean?”
“People will talk. I ran into Sarah Cosmas. She mentioned seeing you and Callie at the fund-raiser, and the way she was talking, I got the impression people were curious about why you were there together and what happened with our marriage.”
Cash stared at Beau, his insides flash frozen. Fuck no.
“Also, we need this project. And Callie’s family owns the refinery. The family who wants Callie and me to be together.” He lifted an eyebrow.
What. The. Fuck. Cash kept his face impassive, staring back at Beau. Was he implying what Cash thought he was implying? Was that actually a…threat?
Did Beau suspect that Cash’s feelings for Callie were more than friendship? Or was he only worried about appearances?
Beau slammed his hand down on their proposal sitting on the table. “Don’t fuck this up for us.” Then he rose and walked out.
Cash closed his eyes. Jesus Christ.
Adrenaline punched through his system. His hands curled into fists on the table, and he ground his teeth.
Rage swelled inside him, but he wasn’t even sure who he was angry at. Beau? At goddamn people gossiping about Callie? Himself? Or at Callie for being so goddamn sweet and tempting that he couldn’t stay away from her when he knew he should. He’d told her they shouldn’t be together.
Hell. He couldn’t blame her. This was on him. All on him.
He opened his eyes and slowly shook his head.
It pissed him off that Beau was warning him to stay away from Callie, but it also pissed him off that Beau had a point—people were talking. The last thing he wanted was Callie’s reputation to be stained, especially when she was the innocent party in what had happened between her and Beau.
And it pissed him off that Beau had a point about them needing this job.
The people who worked for them needed this job. His mom and his sister needed them to get this job. Beau was apparently even more desperate for them to get this job. Why? Because he thought it was a way back to Callie? A way to stay connected to her family?
The Sutherland family was not one to mess with. They hadn’t built their huge empire by being nice guys. The entire family was smart, ruthless…and powerful. But even so—being smart in business meant making the best deal, regardless of personal feelings. Surely they wouldn’t let Callie Sutherland’s love life interfere with business? Would they actually give the job to someone else if they found out Cash and Callie had been sleeping together?
What the hell was he supposed to do now? He and Callie had been spending more and more time together. He’d been helping her get the shop ready. They’d been spending a lot of nights at either his place or hers. And Ginnie was starting her summer job working for Callie next week. The idea of ending things made his gut churn and his chest burn. It made him want to punch someone.
“Hey, Cash.” Jose poked his head into his office. “You coming to our meeting?”
He tamped down on the emotions raging inside him, gave his head a shake, and glanced at his watch. “Christ. Sorry. Be right there.”
“Okay.”
He had to clear his mind and focus on work. He set their bid on his desk. He’d take it over to Jed Crenshaw’s office later this afternoon. One day ahead of the deadline. Right now he had to focus on this status update meeting for the new transmission-line project.
Somehow he made it through the day. But he’d promised Callie he’d bring over Chinese takeout tonight and they could watch more episodes of Daredevil. She’d been working so hard the last few weeks getting everything ready at her shop. How much of this urgency to get the shop open had to do with proving to her parents that she could do this? Even though she said she didn’t care what they thought. Whatever her motivation, her work ethic and determination impressed him. When she wasn’t painting or building bookshelves, she was baking unbelievable cakes and cookies. And people were buying them like crazy.
He sat in his truck in front of Moon Empire restaurant, his head leaned back. He couldn’t cancel on her now. Could he? Should he? Christ. Helpless frustration rose inside him. He was screwed whatever he did. His chest tight and belly muscles rigid, he tried to breathe normally. Slowly. In. Out.
Damn.
Okay. She was expecting him with Chinese food. He’d do this and figure out something. Somehow.
He went inside and ordered spring rolls, dumplings, sesame chicken, and fried rice. “And some shrimp lo mein,” he added. He waited for the order, passing the time by scanning emails on his phone, replying to a couple of business ones. He swiped the screen to bring up Facebook, and of course the first thing he saw was a photo of one of Callie’s cakes. Amazing. He studied the image. Not only was the cake beautiful, with delicate flowers and what looked like pearls adorning it, but she was a pretty good little photographer. He smiled, scrolling through all the comments complimenting her. He was so fucking proud of her he could burst with it.
He gathered up the paper sack full of steamy, delicious-smelling food and carried it out to his truck. Soon he was pulling into Callie’s driveway. She’d given him a remote for the garage door, and he used it to enter the garage and park.
This had been their solution to anyone from her family, or God forbid, Beau, dropping over unexpectedly. He entered her kitchen from the garage with the key she’d also given him.
Yeah, this was getting way too serious.
For once she wasn’t in the kitchen. “Hey, Callie! I’m here with the food.”
“Be right down!” she called from upstairs.
He started unpacking cartons of food, setting them on her island. A moment later he heard her light steps running down the stairs, and she appeared in the kitchen. “Hi!” Her dark hair was damp around her shoulders, and she had no makeup on. She wore a pair of jeans rolled at the ankle and a flowy tank top. Her smile glowed.
She was gorgeous. His breath stuck in his throat. How could he do this? How could he end things with her?
“That smells fantastic,” she added.
He forced a smile, his stomach burning. “It does. You hungry?”
“Starving.”
Probably another day she’d forgotten to eat. She needed him around to feed her and make sure she didn’t starve.
Another bad thought.
She grabbed plates out of a cupboard, and they loaded up with food. “Sorry, I was just getting out of the shower when you got here. But everything’s looking good at the shop.”
“Good.”
She handed him a pair of chopsticks, and they carried their dinners into the family room. “Daredevil now?” she asked. “Or later?”
“Let’s watch the news first.”
“Sure.” She clicked on the TV. “How was your day?”
Shitty. I had a weird, uncomfortable, annoying conversation with your ex-husband. People are gossiping about us. We could lose the project. I have to stop seeing you. But he couldn’t bring himself to say any of this out loud. “It was okay.”
Two hours later, Callie was asleep with her head on his shoulder.
His chest filled with softness as he stroked her hair off her face. She was exhausted. She’d been killing herself to get the bakery ready. He’d done as much as he could to help her, but she was pretty determined to do it on her own, plus he had his own business to keep going. And his mom and sister to look after.
He turned off the TV and shifted her so he could pick her up. She made a soft noise and snuggled into him as he carried her upstairs to her bed. “Hey, darlin’,” he said softly. “Let’s get you out of your jeans.”
He’d already discovered she had no bra on, so with the loose jeans off, he tucked her into bed. He paused, looking down at her, the smooth curve of her cheek with her face pressed to the pillow, her silky dark hair around her shoulders, her lips soft. Once more he stroked her hair.
A fist squeezed his throat, and he straightened, devouring her with burning eyes. He clenched his fists and tried to breathe, his stomach threatening to rebel.
She’d expect to wake up with him in the morning. But he knew he had to leave.
Unable to stop himself, he bent down and pressed his lips to her hair, breathing in her scent, filling his lungs with it as if trying to hold it there forever. “Goodbye, darlin’,” he whispered, his throat thick.
His heart cracked wide open, jagged and bloody, as he jogged down the stairs. He turned out lights, made sure the front door was locked, and let himself out the kitchen door into the garage. With aching, wrenching regret, he backed out of her garage and drove home. Alone.
…
He got Callie’s text the next morning. He was already at the office with a huge coffee from Starbucks to keep him going after the sleepless night he’d had, tossing and turning and thinking about Callie, dreaming about her when he did get to sleep, stomach-knotting dreams where she was jumping off a cliff and he was trying to get to her and couldn’t.
Hey, where’d you go last night?
Home. You were asleep.
Her reply took ten minutes to come through.
Sorry. Didn’t mean to conk out on you on the couch.
Great. She thought he was annoyed about her crashing.
No worries. You were obviously tired.
He sent the message, paused, then typed again.
Too tired for some action.
Fuck, he was an asshole. He would have happily spent the night in her bed, snuggling her sleepy body and not having sex.
Again, her response was slow.
I guess I was tired. Sorry again.
No worries.
He tossed his phone onto his desk and scrubbed his hands over his face. Self-loathing rose up his throat, nearly choking him. But they couldn’t be together—this was how things had to be. Once again he needed to put her out of his head and focus on business.
He managed to do that for the morning, mostly, blocking out everything but work…although Callie was always there in the back of his mind. At noon he headed out to meet one of his football buddies, Eric, for lunch.
They caught up on professional and personal news, Cash resisting the impulse to say, “Hey, guess who I’m sleeping with?” Instead he asked, “Have you seen Tyler lately?”
“No, but we’re getting together next weekend. A bunch of us are going out to some beach house a friend of his has…it’s apparently pretty amazing. You should come with us. We’re gonna go golfing and party a little. If you come, that’ll make eight of us, perfect for two foursomes.”
“Yeah.” Cash paused. “Sure, that sounds like fun.” Getting away from Callie—and away from temptation—would probably be a good thing. Yeah, run away, you asshole.