Chapter Eighteen
Calli
"Calli…. Psst, Calli.”
The whisper shout is new. Ruby rarely has an issue with calling out when she wants me.
“What?”
She moves closer, facing out toward the café while I have my back to it, cleaning the coffee machine. It’s almost closing time, and this is a chore that needs to be done ready for tomorrow.
“You won’t believe who came in.” Ruby tugs on my arm and I drop the cloth I’m holding beneath the steamer.
“Stop tugging me” I turn to her.
“Don’t look,” she hisses, her eyes are all crazy as she makes a repetitive jerking head movement, indicating toward the door. “I mean be subtle.”
“You are being the furthest thing from subtle, Ruby.”
“Turn around, slowly, like you’re gonna wipe the counter.”
“What on earth is wrong with you?”
“Oh…” she lifts her head and plasters a smile on her face. “Garrett, fancy seeing you here.”
Garrett? Shit. What is he doing here? It’s been ages since I last saw him. After he drove me home and kissed me senseless on my doorstep, then drove off into the night.
He never comes here. That I’m aware of. And aware of him I am. Now that I know he’s behind me, I recognize his scent. It’s one I’ve been intimately close to. The imperceptible grunt of response is so typically Garrett.
The last thing I want to do right now is let him see how he is affecting me. I got done with lying to myself a few days after our last night together. He’s been on my mind, a lot. Too much in fact.
Play it cool.
“Can I get you something?” Ruby asks, her voice slightly higher pitched than normal. “Coffee?”
She is doing a great job of not playing it cool. When I turn, he isn’t looking at Ruby. He’s looking at me. He moves closer, slow and casual but the look in his eyes says something different. He’s here for me. That enthralls and scares me all at once.
He walked through my door. Again. If anyone is counting.
Or if the pub and coffee shop count as my door.
Ruby leans over the counter, putting her elbows on the surface. His lack of response is confusing her. “We’re closing soon.”
“I’m here to see Calli.”
With great effort I resist the urge to glance at my friend. There will be a hundred questions when he leaves. For now, I sincerely hope she keeps her mouth shut. She’ll hate me for this, but I move to the other end of the counter, where customers wait for their orders. Garrett follows without a word, or a look in Ruby’s direction.
Is it hard for him always being so closed off? I resist the urge to fold my arms across my chest. On the one hand it can give off an air of annoyance, but mostly it’s a defensive stance. I may be confused as hell by Garrett. I’m not scared of him.
“What can I do for you today?” I ask with an arched brow.
His slow perusal has my cheeks heating. Ruby’s audible gasp means she saw it too. Why is he doing this? Isn’t he the one who tried to not let anyone know what is going on between us?
I’ve avoided Sin for the last week. As well as dodging her calls, she has been out of town at an event for one of Jericho’s family members. It hasn’t stopped her bombarding me with texts, but I refuse to tell her anything until we’re in person.
Now with Ruby witnessing this, there are going to be more questions to answer. I can already see a girl’s night happening. That thought fills me with warmth. I never had close girlfriends in San Antonio. The business and Jared took up most of my time. We usually hung out with his friends and their wives.
Life is so much different here. So much better, I’m coming to see.
And then there is Garrett. Okay, we’ve been staring at each other in silence for longer than is normal.
“Coffee, black.”
“Don’t go crazy or anything.”
“It’s a coffee house,” he replies.
“I thought you didn’t do caffeine?”
“Don’t push it.”
“One black coffee coming right up,” I hide the smirk.
He moves down the counter as I prepare the drink. Ruby is staring at me.
“What?”
She walks nearer so Garrett can’t overhear. “What was that ?” she hisses, not taking her eyes off him. “Seriously, Calli. You realize that man doesn’t talk to anyone other than the guys from Blackhawk Ink. What is going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Are you kidding me?” she whisper shouts.
“Nope, not kidding,” I say, grabbing a lid for the cup. Ruby watches me securing it and slotting the cup into a cardboard holder. “Remember that subtly you were talking about earlier.” I nudge her with my hip, and she grins.
“Okay. But you are not off the hook lady. This is not nothing. Do you know how many times he has come in here? Zero, zilch. He’s never graced our doors, not once.”
“I get it,” I squeeze her arm to shut her up.
This doesn’t need to be a big deal. Except he's never come in while I’ve been working here, or ever, according to Ruby. He said he doesn’t like coffee. I hide the smile at the thought of him purchasing it so he can see me.
At the end of the counter, he’s leaning against the wall, watching me as I walk toward him. He is so effortlessly sexy. It doesn’t help that I know what he looks like under all those clothes. Or what he can do to a woman.
I set the drink down. “Coffee for Garrett.”
He pushes off the wall and comes over. Our fingers brush as we transfer the cup. My heart thumps. I have such a visceral reaction to this man. Like in all the fun parts. The studs in my nipples throb as they tighten under his gaze.
From the way his eyes drop, he can see it through my white Swirl and Grinds T-shirt too.
“Can I get you anything else?” I ask him, my voice more seductive than I intended.
“What are you doing tonight?”
Surprised, I blurt out the truth. “Nothing.”
“Be ready at seven.”
“For what?”
“You’ll see.”
He picks up the coffee, turns and walks away. Watching Garrett walking away is almost as good as watching him walk toward you. It crosses my mind to be irritated by how rude he is. How presumptuous, like I’m going to go with him after his order. He didn’t even ask. Or pay for the coffee. Damn it.
“That was hot.”
“I’m leaving,” I undo my apron.
“I get it, you need to get ready,” she chuckles.
“No, it’s the end of my shift and…” I trail off, what is the point, really?
Pulling off my apron I set it under the counter then grab my jacket and satchel. In my hurry to avoid talking about Garrett, I drop the satchel, which of course isn’t latched properly, so everything spills out. My wallet, a chap stick, make-up and some tampons go rolling onto the floor.
“Oh my God, you are so affected ,” Ruby smirks.
“Shut up,” I mutter with no actual feeling behind it.
I gather everything up, only momentarily staring at the two envelopes that I’ve still not opened. The second one arrived a couple of days ago. Why am I even carrying them around with me? I should get it over with and open them to see what my lawyer wants.
I’m nervous about allowing an intrusion from San Antonio into my new life. But tearing up the letters without knowing what they’re about would be stupid.
I make sure the satchel is closed properly and throw the strap over my shoulder. Ruby is silently laughing at me. I give her a dirty look.
“You so owe me a long, long explanation tomorrow,” Ruby says.
“Fine,” I groan as I head for the door.
Foolishly, I’m showered, shaved and took over an hour deciding what to wear, all the while telling myself this is not a date. I’ve no clue what this is. Garrett doesn’t do dates. It’s all I’ve heard from the others when they talk about him.
After a pep talk in the bathroom mirror, I decide to go with it, whatever it is.
A few minutes before seven, the sound of a motorcycle alerts his arrival. As surreptitiously as possible, I sneak a look out of the window. Typically, he is making no effort to get off and come to the door. When it becomes apparent he has no intention of doing it at all, I head out.
A door down the hall opens as I’m locking mine. I pay no attention because my mind is on one thing and one thing only. Until my name is called.
“Oh, hi,” I say, pocketing my keys. What are the chances this guy is always leaving his apartment at the same time as I am? “I’m just heading out, a friend is waiting downstairs for me.”
“That’s what the sound was, the motorcycle.”
“Yeah, sorry if it was loud,” I pocket my keys.
I don’t have time for small talk tonight. I wave, having nothing more to say, and head to the stairs.
By the time I reach the front door, Garrett is off his bike and walking down the path. So he was going to call on me, or maybe he thought I was ignoring him. He stops when he sees me, giving me a quick look up and down.
That’s fine with me, because I do the same. I love how snug his jeans are and he’s wearing a leather jacket over his shirt.
His hair is all tousled from the helmet. Now this is a man who turns me stupid.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Where are we going?” I eye the bike and the spare helmet on the seat.
He lifts a brow.
We walk to the bike together. “You’re being even more non-verbal than usual.”
He grins but doesn’t answer my question. He does eye my skirt though. It’s still really warm, and I didn’t know we were going on the bike. Garrett hands me the helmet and gets onto the bike, using his thigh muscles to hold the huge machine steady between his legs. Damn that is hot.
A thrill runs through me at the thought of riding with him again. Not just for the buzz of the ride. The thought of being pressed up against him is making my lower stomach clench. In a good and bad way, depending on how you look at it. Please stop the blush before he sees.
Using his shoulder as leverage I climb behind him, careful to avoid the pipes. The slope of the rear seat means gravity takes me toward him, my thighs pressing against his and my center right up against his butt.
If the positions were reversed…
He starts the engine. “Ready?”
I put my arms around him in response. My stomach clenches when he puts his hand on my knee, then trails up my thigh. There are two men standing on the sidewalk chatting. They’re looking at us because the roar of the bike is so loud.
Before I can ask Garrett what he’s doing, he takes the hem of my skirt and pulls it down, tucking it between our thighs. Oh, he’s making sure they don’t see more than they bargained for. That’s kind of sweet, and completely unexpected.
He does the other side, all the while glaring at the two men until they look away. I’m not sure what to think about this show of possessiveness. The tingling sensation in my chest says I like it.
A lot.
My grip tightens as he turns in the road to head in the opposite direction. The sky is darkening, but the sun is still burning above the horizon. It’s a gorgeous night and instead of freaking out about being on a motorcycle, I hold on and enjoy the ride.
At a stop light, Garrett makes sure my skirt is still tucked in. His hands linger, which doesn’t help with the sensations spreading up my thighs to the hot place in between them.
All too soon the ride is over. Garrett slows the bike to a stop near a row of stores. There is a cobbled street stretching out ahead. I’ve never been to this part of Baltimore before. I know without him telling me it’s one of the historical districts.
Garrett reaches around and takes my hand to help me off the bike first. Stepping back, I watch him secure the bike and climb off. He takes my helmet off for me, then stows them both.
Whatever he sees on my face, it doesn’t deter him.
“Come on.”
“Where are we going?” I ask, without moving.
“To see a friend.”
“A friend?”
“Yeah,” he says it like I’m simple, or hard of hearing.
“You’re infuriating,” I mutter.
“Trust me, I’ve heard that a lot.”
Rolling my eyes, I follow him along the street. There are no cars allowed down here so we walk on the cobblestones. It’s charming, with old lampposts and flowers in baskets. Apartment doors are interspersed between the stores, and I can’t help looking up at the surrounding buildings.
It would be lovely to live here. Being surrounded by all this history and beautiful architecture. Even if I am a little pissed at Garrett for springing this on me, I’m also happy. He doesn’t need to know that.
Most of the stores are closed but there are few still open. A little bistro draws my attention, then an art store and coffee shop/bar.
Garrett doesn’t stop at any of them, he keeps heading for the street at the end of the block. The sound of a lot of voices becomes more prevalent.
As we round out of the street onto a long road, I let out a gasp. It reminds me of the festival a few weeks ago. There are tents set up along the pathway, with various vendors selling their wares.
I’ve never been to a place that has so many outdoor markets. This is less manic than the Harbor Festival, there is no music but there are food stalls to choose from different cuisines.
We walk along together, Garrett pausing when I do, to look at things that interest me.
“You hungry?” he asks after a while.
“I’m good for now but would like to try some of these dishes, they all look amazing.”
He nods and puts his hands in the pockets of his jeans. We carry on walking. This is so surreal. I mean, he’s being his usual closed off self, but there is a different air about him. Like he’s not annoyed about being here, or in my company. It’s nice, despite him not being forthcoming.
I’m not sure what to call what we’re doing. Sure, we’ve had sex twice but there is no talking between those moments. And both times it’s not been planned.
Now he’s taking me to meet a friend of his, and I’m curious about who it could be or why he wants me to meet them. When he veers off the path between two stalls I pause a moment, wondering what he is up to.
An older woman sits on a chair surrounded by canvases and is currently holding a sketch pad, fully focused on what she is doing. He heads toward her as I take in the paintings. They’re all for sale and are beautiful.
Now I know why we’re here. They’re all the local buildings. I can’t be angry because these are stunning. They’re fine line black pen drawings, but they have pretty watercolor washes over them. The splashes don’t follow the lines. They’re giving the impression of the canvas being wet and rainbow-like, but the actual image is crisp and architecturally correct.
Garrett leans down to kiss the woman’s cheek. I’m sure had she not been well into her sixties, with snow white hair, I might have gotten jealous.
“This is Ziva,” Garrett tells me. “She’s been painting around Baltimore for nearly thirty years.”
Ziva pokes him with her brush. “You make me sound old,” she jokes, then turns to face me.
“Calli,” I smile at her.
Of all the friends I imagined being introduced to, this was nowhere near the top of my list.
We chat for a while about the market and how long she has lived in the city. Garrett doesn’t intervene much and when he eventually says he is going to go grab a drink, offering us both one, he disappears into the crowd. Ziva offers me a seat beside her and draws while we talk.
He’s sneakier than I thought because after a while, Ziva offers me a fresh pad. I haven’t told her my history but have mentioned my love of drawing.
“Art saved my life,” Ziva tells me, as I look from the building before me to the pad and start sweeping pencil lines across the blank page.
“Really?”
“Yes, it was recommended to me as a form of therapy. I didn’t begin drawing until I was in my late thirties. I had a family, a husband and beautiful daughter. Unfortunately, I lost both of them.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” I touch her arm. She lifts her hand and rests it on mine, patting it a few times in thanks. A melancholy look briefly enters her eyes, but it’s fleeting and she smiles again.
“Who knew I could draw,” she says. “But it ignited a passion. I’ve never lost that need to be creating.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Garrett. He is sitting on a bench, watching us with an intense look on his face. I can’t find it within me to be mad at him. Ziva is amazing, far too incredible a person for me to regret meeting her.
“Well, that is beautiful,” Ziva says peering at my sketches. “And a perfect rendition of something incredibly easy on the eye,” she giggles like a young girl.
Despite my smile at her infectious laugh, my cheeks flush. I’ve drawn Garrett sitting on the bench. With the building in the background, but there is no mistaking who the focus of the picture is.
“We met five years ago,” she says. “This is the first time he’s brought a woman to meet me. It’s not like him.”
“I can believe that,” I smirk.
“You know him well,” she laughs softly. “Well, he is an acquired taste, that much is true. But at the heart of him, he is a good man. I’ve enjoyed chatting with you, you should come and see me again.”
“I’d like that.”
As I pack up my things, a couple of people come over to browse her pictures. I don’t want to impede any sales, but I also can’t let Garrett see this picture. When I try to give it to her, she shoos me away, then waves to Garrett. He gets up from the bench and heads toward us. If she makes me show him right now, I’ll fall through the floor.
When she tells him to watch out for me, I roll it up and shove it in my purse. Ziva watches us with a knowing smile on her face as we head away.
If Garrett sees it, he pretends not to.