Page 29 of Holiday Hopefuls
“Oh, absolutely.” I flash her my toothiest grin. “Look, I know things didn’t go too well on Tuesday.” The way her face drops at the mention of my poor behavior is like a knife to the gut. “But I really do think we could help each other.”
“I dunno … ” Rolling her lips inward, she glances somewhere behind me.
“I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but who knows? If it gets our families off our backs, even for just a little while, wouldn’t that be worth it?”
Callie takes a drink of the water while I try not to think about how my lips once touched where hers now deign to grace. Cautious eyes flit back toward my table. “Do, um, they know?”
Ah. “Yes,” I answer matter-of-factly. “But it can actually be to our advantage.”
This piques her interest. A raised brow gives away her every worry.
“They can help us build a backstory. Corroborate our story if needed, that kind of thing.”
Callie nods, more to herself than me. Thinking. “And they’d do that? Go along with it, I mean?”
“They’ve already agreed.” Not really, but I highly doubt they would object.
Callie raises her brows.
I merely shrug.
She considers this for a moment. But the amount of relief I feel is annoying when she answers, “We’d need to come up with a game plan. If we were to do this.”
“We can do that.”
She bites down on her full bottom lip. “It’s Friday.”
Slowly, I nod. “Yes … ” Not that I looked too hard at my calendar today, but I believe her.
“Thanksgiving is in less than a week,” she finishes.
Got it. “Would you want to grab lunch this weekend to hash out the details?”
Callie shakes her head. “Sorry. I already have plans.”
“With your other boyfriend?” I tease. Mainly because I’m trying to ignore how much her rejection stings.
Callie smirks. “Oh, absolutely.” But she laughs a glorious, carefree laugh. “No, I’m helping Ian move.”
“How about early next week?” I offer.
“I have school through Wednesday,” she says, eyes downcast.
Shrugging nonchalantly, the words are out before I can even truly consider them. “I could come and have lunch in your classroom. How about Monday?”
Callie’s brows shoot up, clearly unfamiliar with the concept of a lunch date at school. “Fair warning, you may get glitter on you.”
I playfully roll my eyes. “I doubt it’d be any more than you left in my office earlier this week.”
Somewhere in the background, the band starts up again for their next set.
Callie casts a quick glance back toward her group, raising the water glass to whomever she’s sending a message. “Well,” she says, turning back to me, “I’ll see you Monday? Eleven AM?”
“See you Monday, Ms. Rutherford,” I murmur.
Hope blooms in her features for the first time since I’ve met her. Curious eyes roam my face as a small smile plays on her rosy lips. Without another word, Calloway Rutherford turns and wanders back into the crowd.
7
