Chapter 10 #2
But something in the way his fingers curl around the wood… the tilt of his head… the slight flush to his neck…
I know.
He heard every word.
Caleb
I should let it go. Step back, change the subject, pretend I didn't hear what she said. But I did. And I can't unhear it.
She gives me a sheepish look as she ends the call. “Sorry. She was going to set up a blind date. I needed a scapegoat.”
I tilt my head slightly. “Ruggedly handsome, huh?”
She blinks. “What?”
“That’s what you told your mom.”
The look on her face is priceless. Pure panic mixed with embarrassment. Her mouth opens, then snaps shut. She looks like she’s calculating the distance to the window.
“I—” She huffs. “I didn’t know you were listening.”
“I was.” Just enough weight in my tone to pin her where she stands. “But I need to hear it again.”
Her brows shoot up. “What, exactly?”
I let the silence stretch until it pulls tight between us.
“That I’m ruggedly handsome.”
She crosses her arms, but she’s stalling. There’s a blush creeping up her neck, betraying the calm she’s trying to fake.
“You want me to say it again? ”
“I just need to be sure I didn’t imagine it.”
Her eyes narrow. “Some women might think you’re ruggedly handsome,” she says, chin lifting like a challenge.
“What else might some women think of me?”
She sighs, dramatic. “That you’re jacked.”
I have to bite back a grin. She’s trying to make this clinical, matter-of-fact.
Like she’s reading off a grocery list instead of describing the man she talked about with her mother.
But I can hear the slight hitch in her voice, see the way her eyes dart to my shoulders before snapping back to my face.
I arch a brow, one corner of my mouth twitching.
“And?”
“Charming,” she mutters.
Now I do smile. Can’t help it. The way she says it, like it’s an accusation, like she’s annoyed that I have the audacity to be charming, is the most honest thing I’ve heard from her yet.
I take another step, not touching her. Just near enough that she’d only have to lean in.
“I’m flattered you chose me over Mateo,” I say softly.
Her voice dips to match mine. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Sure am, sweetheart.”
And I am. More than I should. More than is smart or professional or appropriate given everything that’s happened .
She shifts slightly, but doesn’t move away. Doesn’t look away. Her guard’s still up, but it’s shaky now. Like she doesn’t know if she wants to defend herself… or dare me to keep teasing.
I’m hoping for the latter.
“What else did you say?” I ask, voice rougher now.
She tries to look annoyed, but it’s paper-thin. “That you’re infuriating. Bossy.”
I nod. “Fair.”
“Always five steps ahead,” she says.
“Six,” I murmur.
Her lips twitch. She’s fighting the smile, and losing.
“There were a few more,” I press.
Her gaze flicks to my arms and back up again. My pulse spikes, sending heat straight through me.
“Calm,” she says, breath hitching. “Capable.”
I step closer. Close enough that if I wanted to, I could reach out and touch her.
“Strong?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
She swallows. “Yes.”
The way she says it, soft, almost reverent, makes something tight and possessive unfurl in my chest.
“Anything else?”
Her voice drops to barely a whisper. “You love the Lord. ”
She’s not teasing anymore. And she didn’t say that to her mom just now.
The shift in her voice, in her expression, tells me we’ve moved past the playful back-and-forth into something else.
Her eyes lock on mine, wide and steady, like she’s bracing for something.
I could reach out. One hand. One step. That’s all it would take.
The moment tightens, just enough to snap?—
Knock knock knock.
We both flinch like we’ve been caught doing something we shouldn’t.
“Soy yo.”
It’s Mateo. Of course it is.
I don’t move. Can’t bring myself to step back, to break whatever spell we’ve been under for the last few minutes. She’s still looking at me like she’s waiting for something, and I’m still fighting the urge to give it to her.
In Spanish, I answer, “Impeccable timing.”
My gaze flicks to her, one more second. Long enough to make sure she knows this isn’t over.
Because it’s not. Whatever this is between us, whatever we’ve been dancing around, it’s not going away just because Mateo knocked on the door.
Brooke
Dropping onto the nearest plastic chair, I scramble to calm my racing heart as Caleb reaches for the door. My thoughts are splintering.
He can't be flirting with me. He wouldn't dare, would he?
Does he really have that much of an ego, or did he just want me to confess that I find him attractive?
The thought hasn't even finished unraveling when the door bursts open.
Mateo strides in, sharp and winded, eyes bouncing between us but never landing for long. "He got lucky—had to pull over for an ambulance. Tacoma ducked into a garage off Grant after that. I looped back, but no visual."
Caleb's body goes rigid, a wire-taut focus replacing the lingering warmth. He moves fast, sharp, all business, grabbing the notepad, pen already flying across the page
I watch him work, his movements surgical, controlled.
One hand writing, the other already reaching for the radio Mateo extends.
Every motion precise. Deadly efficient. I feel like I'm vibrating by comparison, every nerve ending raw.
He'd just been teasing me, pulling me in, and now he's this focused machine. The whiplash is jarring.
Mateo glances at me. "I’ll need your keys."
My brain short-circuits. "Sorry?”
Caleb finally looks at me again and gives me a crooked smile that's going to be my undoing if I'm not careful. My stomach free-falls. It's still there, the heat, the implication. He hasn't just switched it off.
"Mateo’s heading back to your house."
My throat goes dust-dry at the thought of him leaving us alone again. Just us. In this tiny room. After that?
I hand my keys over, still grappling. "Um—I don't… could you grab my laptop? And my emergency bag. It's in the hall closet. It’s a Wildcats duffel."
Mateo nods. "I'll see what I can do."
Caleb slaps his palm against Mateo's. "Thanks. If it gets hot, circle back here. Stagger entry. Use the side door."
"Copy that."
The door clicks shut behind us. The air still hums from whatever that just was—words unspoken, something raw left hanging between us.
Caleb turns slowly, then his gaze finds mine, steady and unreadable. "Want to know what I'd tell my mom about you?" he asks, voice low and steady.
I nod. Not sure if I trust myself to speak. My heart is fluttering wildly in my chest.
His jaw flexes once. "I'd tell her Christ shines through you."
I’m so stunned I just gape at him. Utterly bewildered.
No one has ever said anything like that to me. Ever. In all my years of trying to live right, of stumbling and failing and getting back up—no one has looked at me and seen Jesus .
"Caleb, I don't deserve—" I swallow hard.
I know I shouldn't, but my feet move anyway.
Slowly, I rise from the chair, my stomach flipping, my pulse climbing with every step.
He's leaning against the desk, arms crossed, and I have to step into his space to get close enough.
The boldness of it makes my heart race. He smells incredible. Like sandalwood mixed with gun oil.
It probably breaks every rule in the book, but I push up onto my tiptoes and press a kiss to his cheek. Soft. Brief. My lips burn against his skin.
I pull back just enough to meet his eyes. "That’s the best compliment anyone has ever paid me," I whisper.
His gaze searches mine, intense, unwavering. "We're going to catch him, Brooke," he says quietly. "And I'm not leaving Tucson until we do."