Chapter 4 Emma #3
He then smoothly launched into how Colburn Restorations planned to raise money for the local charities, saying that they were thrilled to have this be their tenth year of doing so, and when he finished talking and walked away from the podium, everyone jumped to their feet, clapping.
Damn. He was amazing, and…I resented the hell out of him for being better than I was at…everything.
Music came on, and a whole bunch of people made their way to the dance floor.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement.
Caleb was moving through the crowd toward our table.
He kept getting stopped, and he gave each person a moment of his time, smiling, even laughing at whatever was said.
It tugged at something in me, the way he moved so effortlessly in any circumstance.
He could make anyone feel comfortable in his presence, could bring a smile to a perfect stranger’s face.
Even the very air seemed to just be waiting for him to inhale.
Finally, he folded his massive frame into the chair next to me, letting out a barely audible pained breath that told me maybe his leg was bothering him more than he wanted anyone to know.
“I didn’t know you had your master’s,” I heard myself say. The MC had mentioned it while introducing Caleb.
“I went straight to grad school after we graduated.” His mouth twisted to one side. “Instead of going pro.”
Because of his hockey injury. Was that the reason he limped, all these years later? “I’m sorry about what happened to you.”
He shrugged. “It changed the course of my life.” He paused. “And you? What did you do after graduation?”
I stared at him. Did he really not realize?
All these years I’d managed to hold a grudge against him, and he didn’t even know what losing that scholarship and summer internship—to him—had cost me.
Still costs me. “I took a job at a small firm in Santa Rosa,” I said vaguely, not explaining that it had been little more than grunt work, but I’d slowly—painfully slowly—been making my way to actual design, because if he looked at me with the slightest bit of pity, I’d have to dump his drink in his lap.
“Nice,” he said quietly, simply. “Congrats.”
“You can congratulate me if I get hired on permanently.”
He smiled with empathy as Marty returned and held out his hand to me. “Let’s do this, chickie.”
Did I want to dance? No. Did I want to keep sitting here talking to Caleb and forgetting that he’d ruined my life?
Also no. So I rose to my feet. Bonus: Rosalind was out on the dance floor.
Maybe I could catch her gaze and exchange a smile.
I’d read somewhere that a person had to lay their eyes on something seven times before they bought it. Maybe the theory would apply here.
Luckily, the song wasn’t a slow one, but Marty pulled me into him anyway with a gallantry that had me playing along. He stepped on my toes five times, and I was sliding his hand off my ass for the second time when someone said, “May I cut in?”
“Sure,” Marty said, pulling back. “She’s not exactly a live wire.”
“Hey!” I said, but Marty had walked away.
Caleb smiled. “You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t need saving.”
“I know. I was talking to your toes.”
I rolled my eyes as a new song came on, a slow one.
Caleb cocked his head in question. Since Rosalind was still dancing, I nodded.
He offered me a hand, large and warm, a comforting weight against mine.
Pulling me into him, he slid an arm around my waist, his free hand now entwined with mine and pressed between us.
My pulse kicked, which I ignored. This was a political move.
That was all. I’d be counting each and every second until the song ended.
As the music swelled, as we moved with it, the scent of him, some blend of wood and spice, overcame me, and I closed my eyes against the urge to press my nose to the crook of his neck.
And maybe take a nibble before working my way down—
“You good?”
I tipped my face up to his. “Yes, why?”
“You just moaned.”
I narrowed my eyes, and he laughed. He was yanking my chain. “Keep it up, and I’ll step on your toes,” I promised.
He just grinned, and oh boy, had I made a tactical error.
He enjoyed riling me up, and I just kept walking right into his trap.
I tried to lose myself in the moment, but it didn’t help that Caleb danced totally unselfconsciously, fluid, smooth, and…
very, very sexy. I tried not to give myself away with a blush as I wondered if a man who danced with such ease and lack of inhibition might bring that same uninhibited magic to the bedroom.
I opened my eyes, my heart pounding in my chest.
He was watching me.
I lifted my chin.
A barely there smile curved his lips. “You’re trying to hate dancing with me.”
“Well, you are terrible at it, so…”
He grinned, the arrogant bastard.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I don’t think anyone’s noticed how bad it is. I mean, it’s pretty embarrassing, so—”
He tipped his head back and let out a laugh that rumbled in his chest, the sound as warm and inviting as a crackling fire. “I knew something good would come from being forced to be here tonight,” he said.
“Forced?”
“Ryder was supposed to do this, but he decided he’d rather stay home and do unspeakable things to Penny, the love of his life.”
“You sound a little envious.”
He shrugged, neither denial nor confirmation.
I was an only child, so sibling dynamics had always fascinated me. “Is it hard working for your brother?”
He never missed a beat as he guided us around the dance floor, holding me close, his body warming mine.
“Working with family is kinda like Thanksgiving dinner. You get your buttons pushed in ways that only people who’ve known you since birth can do.
But Ryder’s a good boss. He’s talented, smart, and encourages us all to shine, so it’s not like I’m slumming it. ”
The music slowed, and our bodies closed the gap between us. His big palm skimmed up my bare back, giving me a shiver. Not wanting him to smirk about that, I spoke before he could. “Is this killing you? Dancing when your leg hurts?”
“It’s your dress that’s killing me.”
He lowered his head so that his mouth was once again near my ear when he laughed softly. “Damn, Emma. You smell so fucking good…”
I ignored my second full-body shiver and the butterflies taking flight in my belly.
“And I really like the way you move,” he murmured.
I bit my tongue before I could admit I liked the way he moved too. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Pretend we’re friends.”
His smile was wry. “You haven’t changed, you know. Still like to hand me my balls.”
“And you still like to show off. Your speech had them eating out of the palm of your hand. You’re comfortable in front of a crowd.”
“Playing hockey in front of ten thousand-plus people beats the shy out of you.”
“I bet.” The song ended, and the lights came up. I blinked like I was coming out of hibernation as I watched Rosalind walk off the dance floor. Chance lost.
Caleb held me for an extra few beats, our bodies swaying gently. I felt like I was in a trance until he sent me one of those charming but oh-so-smug smiles. “Go ahead,” he said. “You know you want to.”
“Want to what?”
“Grill me about Rosalind.”
Ugh. But he was right. I took his hand and led him off the floor to a quiet corner, adding a light push that might have been more of a shove.
He laughed, going willingly until his back was to the wall, but he held on to me, so I ended up making a Caleb sandwich, pinning him between the wall and my body.
“If this is how you grill someone, please continue.”
I pointed at him and backed up a step. “Stop playing with me and talk.”
“You sound all stern, like Ryder.”
“I mean it,” I said.
“Oh, I know. He always does too. He forgets that his irritation amuses me.”
I stared up at his tall-ass self. “How did you survive without him wanting to kill you on a daily basis?”
He flashed a smile. “I’m quick on my feet.”
I drew a purposeful deep breath. “Rosalind.”
“Right. I told her that you were going to be the best thing that ever happened to her firm, though your need to be bossy and right all the time was going to be a problem. But possibly, with some psychiatric help, you’d be fine… Oh, and I told her how you cheat when you’re on a mission.”
I waited for him to laugh. He didn’t. “Ohmigod. Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Maybe…though I did say the first part, about you being the best thing to happen to her firm.”
His eyes sucked me right in. “I hate that I can’t tell if you’re being serious. What did she say?”
“Eh.” He shrugged. “You know Rosalind.”
“I don’t! Which was the whole point of attempting to sit next to her!” I drew a breath, which only brushed my chest to his. “Do me a favor and please never mention me again. To anyone. Ever.” I turned to walk away, but he caught my hand, then slowly reeled me in.
And then he reversed our positions so that I was the new sandwich. Distracting, since Caleb’s body was nearly as hard as the wall, but much warmer. Real. Alive… I felt my body soften and decided it was because it had been too long since I’d been touched.
“Rosalind can be single-minded,” he said, eyes on mine, voice low, as if maybe he were also surprised what the physical closeness had made him feel. “But she’s shrewd and calculating as hell. She won’t get rid of someone who’d benefit the company.”
I nodded, then slid out from between him and the wall and walked away, hoping that was all true because suddenly the room felt too crowded, too warm, and I was exhausted. I kept moving, heading out the front of the ballroom and the hotel entrance, right into the blissfully chilly summer night.
Overhead, dark clouds churned, brewing up a summer storm. My nerves jangled. I didn’t like storms, hadn’t since childhood for a very good reason—but the fear had turned into a full-blown paranoia after the storm-caused fire that had taken out the apartment building where I’d been subleasing a room.
A gust of wind had me shivering, and I quickened my steps to my car, before sliding gratefully behind the wheel. But when I turned the key, nothing happened, just a click click. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I blew out a breath, knowing what it meant.
It meant I was screwed.
I got out of the car, sucked in some air against the wind that had goose bumps covering my every inch, and raised the hood to stare into the engine compartment. Like I knew what I was looking for.
Footsteps in the distance had me whirling. The only self-defense move I had was a knee to the balls, but the dark outline of the man coming my way was much bigger and badder and muscular than I was.
He passed under one of the lights, revealing a well-fitted tux, pristine white shirt now open at the collar, then his face, and I blew out a breath of relief. “I nearly unmanned you.”
Caleb smiled at the thought, body language relaxed, hands in his pockets, like he was trying to look harmless.
As if.
“Problem?” he asked.
“Nope.”
He tilted his head. “Sounds like a dead battery.”
I let my shoulders sag. “Fine. I’ve got a dead battery.”
“Roadside service?”
“Nope.”
He shrugged and turned to walk away. I stared after him in utter shock. About ten cars from me, he beeped a truck unlocked, climbed in, and…drove off. I was still standing there in complete disbelief when the blast of a horn had me turning around.
Caleb had pulled his truck into the empty spot in the next aisle, nose to nose with my car. He ambled out of his truck, munching on an apple like he hadn’t just eaten his share of a four-course meal, along with a good portion of mine.
He popped open his hood, then put the apple in his mouth so he could hook up cables from his battery to mine.
Still bent over my engine compartment, his tuxedo pants stretched taut over his unfairly amazing butt, he said around the apple, “When you’re done staring at my ass, start the car. Take your time.”
Ugh. I slid behind the wheel and turned the key.
And my car started.
Caleb disconnected the cables, shut my hood, and gave me another chin nod through the windshield that I assumed meant I was good to go.
I hadn’t shut my car door, so I leaned out. “Thank you.” And I really, really meant it. I’d been dreading dipping into my apartment fund to buy a new battery.
“Don’t lose me,” he said.
I blinked. “What?”
“I’m following you home.”
My blood pressure spiked. “No, you most definitely are not.”
“It’s late. I want to make sure you get there safely.”
“No.”
He assessed me through my windshield like he was trying to figure out my problem. It was no secret—my problem was him.
“You sure?” he asked with absolutely zero of his usual smugness.
Feeling vulnerable, I nearly caved and told him the truth right then and there, but I’d locked this secret away for too long to let it out needlessly. “Very sure.”
He lifted his hands. “Okay. Don’t stop anywhere on your way home, and keep the car running for at least fifteen minutes so it can charge.”
“Thank you.”
He saluted me, and I drove away quickly on the off chance he planned to follow me regardless. Seemed like something the overprotective alpha might do. I repeatedly checked my rearview mirror, but if he was following me, I couldn’t catch him at it.
I was stopped at a red light when my phone pinged. I pulled it from my clutch and stared at the unknown number, my stupid and suddenly perky nipples telling me exactly who it was.
Unknown Number:
You home ok?
Me:
How did you get my number?
Unknown Number:
It’s on the business card you gave me at the jobsite. Now you have my number too.
Me:
Merry Christmas to me.
Unknown Number:
Snark. I like it. See ya next time Edgy Emma.
Against my better judgment, I added his number to my contacts, then stared at his name for a long beat, which did something weird and annoying to my pulse. So I changed Caleb Colburn to DON’T EVEN.
Much better. And when he texted again, which I didn’t look at until the next red light, the contact name made me laugh out loud.
DON’T EVEN:
You busy next Friday night?
Me:
Yes.
DON’T EVEN:
Saturday night?
Me:
You’re a bad idea.
DON’T EVEN:
Bad ideas are the best ideas. So is leaving the past in the past.
I stared at my screen. What did that mean? I shoved my phone in my purse and decided no answer was the best answer.