Page 54 of Highball Rush
Like a knee-jerk reaction I couldn’t control, I stood and walked a few steps away. Why the fuck was she analyzing my life? I needed a dog? I was doing just fine. If I needed anything, it was to bury my fist in someone’s face.
Damn it, I needed to stop. I didn’t want to yell at her when she hadn’t done anything wrong. And I was still a little bit afraid she’d up and disappear again.
Another reason I was on edge. Every time I left, I kept wondering if she’d be gone when I got back. Or if I’d imagined the whole thing, and she’d never really been here at all.
I clenched my fists and took a deep breath. “Why do you want to know if I’ve thought about getting a dog?”
“Just wondering,” she said, her voice casual. She either couldn’t tell I’d been about to snap at her, or it didn’t bother her. “Like I said, you seem like a dog person.”
I turned toward her and rubbed the back of my neck, but didn’t sit down. I felt like I couldn’t get too close to her right now. It was hard enough just breathing the same air. If I kept smelling that lavender scent, I was going to lose my mind. “I like dogs fine. Just don’t know if I’m cut out to take care of another living thing.”
“Really? You’ve been taking excellent care of me.”
Turning away, I grumbled something incoherent, but hearing her say that made a warm, contented feeling spread through my chest. “I need to go into town. Wanna come?”
“I’d love to. Do you mind waiting, though? I need a shower.”
I had to stop myself from groaning.No, it’s fine, I’ll just be out here dying of this perpetual hard-on while you’re naked in my shower.“I can wait.”
She finished her coffee and went into the bathroom. I paced around the house, listening to the water run. I felt guilty for the way my dick ached with unrelieved tension. Callie was a friend. Even after everything she’d been through, she trusted me. I couldn’t let all this shit I was feeling mess that up.
I thought about calling Jonah to see if he wanted to go for a run today. It was a testament to how keyed up I was. I hated running. But maybe it would help me burn off some of this fucking energy.
After she came out of the bathroom, I took a quick shower and threw on some clean clothes. By the time I finished, she was ready to go. Her colorful hair was wavy and still a little damp and she’d put on a tank top and denim shorts. Her purple toenails matched her hair.
She was all smiles and idle chitchat on the way into town. I still felt like I had a seam about to burst open. She looked good and smelled good and as soon as we were in public, I’d be reminded that she felt good too, even if it was just her hand in mine.
Sure enough, we got out of the truck, and she slipped that soft little hand of hers into mine. The skin contact was both soothing and arousing.
I didn’t even think about letting go. I wanted to surround her—cocoon her in my arms so I could protect her. Being in public made me edgy, like I half-expected the Kendalls to pop out around every corner.
She squeezed my hand. “How about this. I want to stop in and say hi to Leah Mae, then go grab a few things I need at the Pop In. Girl stuff.” She winked. “If you’re still busy when I get done, I’ll wait for you at Moonshine.”
My brow furrowed and unconsciously, I pulled her a little closer to me. I didn’t like this plan.
“I have my phone,” she said, as if she could read my thoughts. “I’ll be fine.”
“All right,” I grumbled. “I’ll walk you to Leah Mae’s shop.”
Reluctantly, I left her at Boots and Lace. Leah Mae had other customers, but Callie still wanted to stay. Maybe the upside was that she might buy another dress. The one she’d worn the other night had looked damn good on her. Nothing wrong with a beautiful girl in a pretty dress.
And there I went again, thinking about her all wrong.
I had a meeting with a client around the corner. Betty Sue Wheatfield owned a little bookstore, tucked in an old storefront that had once been someone’s house. She and her husband were looking to fix up the place. Wanted me to make built-in shelves to replace the rickety freestanding ones they had.
I pushed open the door and inhaled the scent of old paper and leather. Bookshelves crowded the tiny space, books packed tight. There was a shabby old armchair below a four-paned window, the glass so old it was starting to warp. A small digital screen sat on the counter where the cash register used to be. The modern device looked odd in this throwback of a store.
Puck, the shop’s cat, came around a corner to eye me curiously. He was all black except for his white feet and a patch of white on the end of his long tail. I crouched down to scratch him behind the ears.
“Hi, Gibson,” Betty Sue said, her voice cheery. She was in her fifties, with smile lines around her eyes and graying blond hair pulled back from her face. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”
I straightened, leaving Puck to rub up against my legs, probably looking for more attention. “I just need to take some measurements.”
“Have at it.”
I pulled the tape measure off my belt and got to work. It was tough to get around all the existing shelves and clutter, and Puck kept trying to walk under my feet. But I got what I needed, scrawling numbers on my little spiral notepad. When I finished, I tucked my pencil behind my ear and clipped the tape measure back on my belt.
“All done.”
