Page 64 of Protecting You

Fury clawed its way up her throat. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Callan’s eyes widened. He’d been putting on a show, but those last barbs had hit too close to home. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just my?—”

“Jealousy,” she snapped, getting back into character. “And I’m sick of it.”

“I know. You’re right. I’m…” He ran a hand over his short hair. “I don’t want to fight with you.” He lowered his voice. “I don’t like it here. I don’t like that guy. And I want to go home. I haven’t been at my apartment in weeks. And we’re going to Mom and Dad’s tomorrow. It’s not too much to ask that I get to spend one night in my own bed.”

Now it was her turn to cross her arms. “Go ahead. I’ll call you tomorrow when I’m ready to go.”

“Don’t do that.”

“I made a commitment, and I’m keeping it. Just like you keep yours. We both know your work is more important to you than I am. More important than your family is.”

He flinched as if she’d slapped him.

Whoops. Apparently, her words had hit a nerve.

This fake argument had turned painful, fast.

He clamped his lips shut.

Should she try to make it right? Or stick to her guns?

She wasn’t sure what her next line should be.

“I’m not leaving you here with him,” Callan said.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

They stared each other down another few seconds, and then Alyssa swiveled and headed for the door.

The housekeeper was sitting in the dim living room. She stood when Alyssa stepped in. She must’ve heard everything, but she plastered on a smile. “Do you need something?”

“We’re going up.”

“I’ll escort you, then.”

Of course she would. Because they wouldn’t actually get a moment of privacy in this house.

Not even in the bedroom they were about to share.

* * *

“Alyssa.”

Her name on Callan’s lips was a whisper against her hair, a breath in her ear.

A dream. No more than a dream. And this one was vivid. Dinner by candlelight. Dancing.

His warmth against her felt more real than the sheets beneath her.

She snuggled in, wanting more than anything to go back to sleep and pick up where she and dream-Callan had left off. His presence was more delicious than the dream tiramisu lingering on her tongue.

“Alyssa.”

This whisper was vehement, as if he were just on the other side of consciousness, drawing her back to him.

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