Chapter Seventeen
EMMETT
“This is my first time on a plane.” Callie wrinkled her nose in that adorable way I loved so much.
“Really? I figured someone as ambitious and adventurous as you would be a seasoned traveler.”
She shook her head. “I grew up in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere. My parents never wanted to leave. They thought seeing the world was a pointless waste of money.”
“But not you?”
She sighed. “I always dreamed of getting out, seeing new places, meeting new people. My parents expected me to marry my high school sweetheart and settle down. Become a stay-at-home mom. Cart the kids to baseball practice and have dinner waiting on the table at five o’clock on the nose.
Just like my mom. But that life looked so.
..suffocating.” Her eyes took on a faraway look.
“I watched my mom growing up. She seemed happy enough, but it never seemed like she was fulfilled, ya know? I wanted more for myself. A chance to build my own career, choose my own path. Don’t get me wrong—I love my mother.
I just don’t want to be her, and she doesn’t get that. ”
I gave her hand a gentle squeeze because I did get it. I’d spent years trying to step out of my father’s shadow, trying to determine what my legacy at Price Industries would be.
“Anyway.” She unthreaded our fingers, and I instantly missed the weight of her hand. “Enough about me. What do I need to know for this meeting tomorrow?”
“Uh-uh. No work talk. It’s Sunday.”
“But it’s a work trip.”
“You know, your idea of professionalism is very rigid.”
“And some might say yours is a little too lax.”
“Oh? And who might say that?”
“I don’t know. Probably Gene.”
“Definitely Gene.” I grinned, and Callie granted me the most mesmerizing smile in return. I unbuckled my seatbelt and stood.
“What are you doing?”
I peered down at Callie. Her face had gone the color of fresh paper.
“I don’t know? Stretching. Getting comfortable.”
“Can you please sit down and buckle your safety belt?”
I couldn’t help laughing. This woman could go from playful and witty to serious and rigid in the blink of an eye.
“It’s not funny, Emmett! What if there’s turbulence?”
“You’re adorable, you know that?”
She glared up at me.
I sighed theatrically. “If there’s turbulence, I promise I will return to my seat and put on my safety belt. Will that do, Miss Winters?”
She pursed her lips. “I suppose.”
“Good. Why don’t you come sit on the couch with me?” I inclined my head toward the cinema room.
“There’s a couch?”
“Yep. And a TV.”
“You’re grossly rich, aren’t you?” She fumbled with her seatbelt and stood on unsteady legs.
“It’s a corporate jet—not mine personally.”
“Right, but could you buy the corporate jet?”
I bristled, suddenly tense. “Probably. Never really thought about it, to be honest. You trying to uncover my net worth, Miss Winters?”
“Oh, God. Sorry, that was so rude. I was just curious if people owned these kinds of planes, or only companies. Maybe it’s a dumb question, but the idea of that kind of money is kind of…unfathomable? It seems like a very abstract concept to me.”
I made to interject, but she kept going, rambling in a way that outdid every other instance of it I had witnessed to date. She kept gesticulating as she moved toward the cinema room. I wasn’t even sure she knew she was doing it.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry into your personal finances.
It’s really none of my business. If you want, I can show you my bank account balance.
Call it even. Though I’d have to crawl under a rock afterward because it is shockingly low.
For someone with almost two business degrees, you’d think I’d be better with money, but I’m not.
Where does it go, you ask? Isn’t that the million-dollar question?
My guess is probably Target, though is a close second. This is my fatal flaw. It’s not even—”
“Callie, take a breath.” I was grinning now, all tension I had felt from her question had vanished.
She stopped and turned to me, wringing her hands. “Sorry. I’m nervous. I tend to ramble when I’m nervous. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but—”
“I’ve noticed.” My chuckle morphed into a hoarse whisper as I stepped closer and grabbed one of her warring hands. “What are you nervous about, Cal?”
Her breath hitched, and she stared at our joined hands. I was about to lead her the rest of the way to the couch when her reply came quietly.
“I’m nervous about how right this feels.”
She squeezed my hand, and I squeezed back. I knew exactly what she meant.
Because I felt it, too.
* * *
“Tell me more about your mom.”
“What do you want to know?”
I shrugged. “Anything. Everything.”
Callie looked out the window. I imagined her filtering through the hundreds of memories that had shaped her into the woman she was.
A powerhouse contained within a tiny body—the body now curled up on the leather couch next to me.
Her legs were pulled underneath her, and she had draped a blanket across her lap.
She looked comfortable, and it settled something inside of me to see her so at ease.
“When I was in sixth grade, I asked my mom if I could participate in Model United Nations. All my friends were doing it, and it seemed so cool. We would get to spend the weekend in a hotel and meet people from different schools. She just scoffed and asked me what for. She enrolled me in the Miss Teen Ohio beauty pageant instead. So, while my friends were presenting about apartheid, I was twirling a baton in front of hundreds of judgmental stage moms. I must have dropped that thing a dozen times.”
“You can twirl a baton?”
“No, Emmett, I can’t. That’s why I dropped it a hundred times.”
“You just said a dozen. Now I know you’re exaggerating.”
“Does it matter? One time, a dozen, a hundred—it was embarrassing. I hated those fucking pageants, probably because I never won.” She paused, eyes boring into me. “I really like to win, Emmett.”
When the topic somehow shifted to our favorite childhood toy, we discovered we both had the same bizarre obsession.
“Ohmygod! I had Funky Furby. She was blue and purple and pink, and I loved her so much.” Callie mimicked the unmistakable Furby blink.
We erupted into laughter. I had never felt more at ease with a woman. It was refreshing as fuck and only served to confirm what I had been speculating for weeks.
* * *
“Callie, I need you to tell me what happened the other night at the club.”
Over the last few hours, we had inched so close together that she was practically sitting in my lap. Her knees were still tucked underneath her as she sat sideways on the couch, facing me. She’d rested her head on her hand and propped her elbow on the backrest.
“I, um—what? You don’t remember?”
I had shifted to face her, my arm slung along the back of the couch so my fingertips could trace featherlight patterns on the soft skin of her forearm.
“Of course, I remember,” I said, grinning. “Making you come on my fingers? Highlight of my year.”
Callie blushed. “It’s only March. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of opportunities to surpass it.”
“Oh, I’m counting on it. But seriously. You pulled a 180 on me in the span of a few days, and while I am absolutely not complaining, I am a little confused.”
“Honestly, I don’t know what came over me. You were just there and looking like…that,” she gestured up and down my body. “Before I knew it, things had escalated.”
“And do you think things might escalate again?” I asked.
She stiffened at my question before letting out a sigh. “I don’t know, Emmett. This is …a lot. I’m feeling a little overwhelmed.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“No, it’s fine.” She placed her hand on my knee. “You did nothing wrong. In fact, you’re completely right. I pulled a 180 on you. I don’t blame you for being confused.” She paused, and I waited, giving her the space she needed to sort through whatever was going on in her head.
“I like you, Emmett, if that wasn’t obvious. But I’ve worked really hard to get here, and I just broke up with Hugh. I don’t know if I’m even ready for—”
“I get it, Callie. I do.” I cupped the back of her head, toying with the soft strands of her hair. “Take your time.”