Page 67 of Holiday Hopefuls
“Now the question is, what does someone like you want with someone like Calloway?” Chris finishes, a stupid smirk leaking across that smug face.
Prescott rubs his temples, sighing. “Oliver. You seem decent enough. But you and Calloway? You don’t match. There has to be something in it for you.”
Beside him, Chris scoffs, turning to his brother. “More like he’s too good for Calloway. The only benefit is the money and status he’d get from being with her.”
“Excuse me?” I don’t bother keeping the anger from seeping into my tone as heat floods my cheeks.
Immediately behind me, the classroom door squeaks open, Imogene and Connie’s voices whispering to one another. And both come to a crashing halt once they gauge the temperature in the hall.
“Look, man, just be straight with us and we’ll try to help you out with as little collateral damage as possible,” Prescott finishes.
“No, you look—” I straighten to my full height, narrow eyes searing into these two assholes “—I couldn’t care less about anything that comes with your family name, no matter what you two seem to think. There is no amount of money or connections that would begin to tempt me. The moment I met Calloway Rutherford, I knew that she was it. That she’s the one for me. Callie is the best person I’ve ever known. She is thoughtful and unyieldingly loyal. Her kindheartedness knows no bounds and she cares for these kids every single day, showing up with nothing but her best, without fail. Callie deserves absolutely everything and, if I’m the one who gives it to her instead of her family, then that’s fine by me. I’m lucky she ever looked my way, and I’ll be by her side as long as she’ll let me.” Blood pounding in my ears, I turn on my heel and march past a shocked Imogene and Connie and back into the classroom. Right up to the amazing woman I haven’t been able to take my eyes off of all night.
Callie smiles up at me. “Guess what, Connie?—”
Wrapping one arm around her waist, the other slides up her back so my hand can shroud itself with her long ponytail.One tug of her hair and my lips crash into hers, violent and demanding. Desperate.
Callie kisses me back just as roughly. She wastes no time running her hands up my biceps before wrapping them around my neck, pulling me closer. Crushing her chest to mine. Those flawless lips mold with every kiss I offer, and when they part, I take whatever access they’ll allow.
If I could think of anything rational, I’d be thanking her idiot brothers for finally giving me the excuse to do what I’ve been thinking about for weeks. But tasting this much of Calloway Rutherford all at once has every sane thought making a run for it.
Callie’s tongue tentatively looks for mine as her hands find my hair.
My heart pounds in my ears as my tongue coaxes hers into a dance, causing her to moan and lean fully into me. Hands sliding to her waist, my fingers press into her skin, branding her as mine.
Even if no one will know but us.
Only when we’re both out of breath do we finally break apart, chests heaving and begging for air. Grinning down at her, I pepper a few more kisses across her cheeks and nose for good measure.
Her giggles fill the air around us, encouraging me to continue. I only stop when her tender fingertips graze my cheek. Pulling back, I can’t quite remember why I haven’t kissed her like this yet.
Not until our predicament comes flooding back.
A lovely blush heats Callie’s face as she searches mine for an explanation I don’t offer.
But in the recesses of my mind, I admit to myself how thankful I am to have a little more time pretending she’s mine.
13
Oliver
“What did you get for Mom again?” Blythe digs through the eight different shopping bags in her hand. “It was that new mixer, right?” The rustling of tissue paper mixes with holiday jingles playing overhead.
With only a couple of shopping bags in my own hands, I guide my sister through the bustling department store. Our annual shopping trip the weekend before Christmas is one of my favorite traditions, even if I always end up cursing us for not making it earlier in the month thanks to the added crowds and stress. “Yeah, the red one.”
Flinging her hand free from the bag, my sister manages to barely miss smacking some guy square in the face. “Okay, cool. The knife block I got her will match perfectly, then.”
“Do you need any help?” I ask, watching her resituate the bags for the fourteenth time in ten minutes.
Blythe pretends not to be sidetracked by a high-end yoga mat bag on display. “Nope.” Performing a quick drool check, shelooks back my way. “Excited to go pick out the Rhodes family Christmas tree tomorrow?”
“Always.” I grin. “Even if no one will be there to use it for long.”
“Mom and Dad aren’t leaving until you do. The day before Christmas Eve. What’s that, Wednesday?”
I nod. “True, but you’re all leaving the day before that. So really, there will only be a few full days for people to enjoy it.”
“Hm,” Blythe grimaces, “maybe we should convince Mom and Dad it’s nicer to the tree if we just enjoy it at the farm, instead. We could go and see the lights, drink hot chocolate. You know, that kind of thing.”
