Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Callie
Istumble into the freshly aired-out Bluebonnet Café the next morning, sunglasses firmly in place even though it's overcast outside. My head is pounding like someone's using it for drum practice, and my mouth tastes like I licked the dance floor at Pete’s.
God, I can’t believe I stupidly thought fake dating Luke would make Harper angry.
Instead of being furious that I might be attracted to her older brother—something she clearly took issue with back in high school—she looked happy to see us together last night.
Kirk, on the other hand, didn’t. Not that I care one iota about him.
I’m long past mourning that relationship.
The events of last night play through my mind in a humiliating highlight reel: the awkward conversation, the even more awkward dancing, the tequila shots, that horrible kiss on the dance floor, and then...
That unexpectedly perfect kiss in my car.
The best kiss I’ve had in… since kissing Luke in the back of the truck.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Ruby calls from behind the counter, her voice carrying across the nearly empty café. “Rough night, honey?”
I wince at her volume. “Something like that.”
“Coffee's fresh. I'll bring you a cup and my hangover special.”
I slide into a booth near the back, keeping my sunglasses perched on the end of my nose despite the dim lighting.
The last thing I need is for anyone to see the dark circles under my eyes or the remnants of last night's mascara that I didn’t thoroughly scrub away.
Caffeine better than I can make at home is my priority this morning.
As I wait for my salvation, I notice Martha and Gloria at a nearby table.
Martha's pinched expression screams disapproval as she whispers, “Dancing like that in public? Bless her heart.”
Gloria checks something in her day planner. “Did you sign up to bring cookies for the church social? Anna might need the business.”
Seems they’ve switched sides.
They avert their eyes when I catch them staring.
“Heard you were at Pete's last night.” Ruby sets down a steaming mug of black dark roast and slides a plate of greasy eggs and hash browns in front of me.
“With Luke Caldwell. Martha's been in here clutching her pearls about ‘decorum in public places,’ while Gloria was more concerned about whether you'll both be volunteering for the summer reading program. Those two never miss a beat.”
I take a long sip of coffee before answering, the fragrant brew burning the back of my throat as I swallow. “News travels fast.” Even my voice sounds like it’s been through the wringer.
“Sure does, honey.” She drops into the bench seat across from me, her shrewd eyes taking in my disheveled state. “Martha arrived at six this morning, practically bursting to tell me all about it.”
Of course, she was. Martha's probably coordinating a neighborhood watch program to monitor our relationship status, while Gloria's already penciled us into the Christmas pageant committee as 'Callie-and-Luke' like we're a single entity and hoping we’ll get our ‘decorum’ in order before then.
“It wasn't a big deal,” I say, lifting a fork and picking at my food. “Just two old friends catching up.”
Ruby's one eyebrow arches so high it nearly disappears into her black and grey hairline. “Uh-huh.”
I'm saved from responding when the bell above the door chimes. Hopeful that the newcomer will pull attention away from me, I start to breathe a sigh of relief.
But it’s short-lived, choked off before it’s even completed. The sudden silence that falls over the café is enough to spill the beans.
I wait. I don’t turn around. I don’t glance at Ruby because I know she’ll be watching much too closely. I simply sit, take another scorching sip of coffee, and pretend all is right in my world while I listen to the fall of his boots on the tiled floor, inwardly cringing as they draw closer.
I don’t glance up when he stops at the end of my table. He’s staring at me, though. The intensity of his gaze must be burning a hole through my skull. I sniff the air, surprised I don’t smell burning flesh.
Curiosity finally gets the better of me, and I turn my head slightly, just far enough to realize I’m looking straight at his crotch. And the bulge behind that zipper is… prominent. And the longer I stare at it, the bigger it seems to get.
He clears his throat.
Ruby kicks my foot.
Finally, I can’t stand it anymore, and I slowly raise my head, my gaze slowly travelling higher an inch at a time.
Apparently, I'm a glutton for punishment today.
He's in uniform today, wearing dark pants, a light tan shirt with the Sheriff's badge gleaming over the pocket on his upper torso, his gun holstered at his hip. The sight of him in that outfit does things to my insides that have nothing to do with my hangover.
Huh. When did I develop a thing for men in uniform?
He nods politely to Ruby as she snickers and stands so he can gracefully take her place.
Oh, God, he smells good. Fresh. Clean. Straight from the shower. The ends of his hair are still damp, curly up slightly.
Another gulp of my coffee snaps me back to the moment.
“Morning.”
Is he keeping his voice deliberately low for my benefit or for our audience?
“How are you feeling?”
“Like I've been hit by a truck,” I mutter, immediately regretting my word choice when I see a flash of memory in his eyes. “I mean—”
“I know what you meant.” He signals to a hovering Ruby for coffee. Thankfully, he waits until she walks away to continue. “About last night.”
“Can we not?” I interrupt, glancing around at the not-so-subtly eavesdropping patrons. “Everyone's watching.”
A slow grin spreads across his face. “Isn't that the point? For everyone to see us together?”
I blink at him, confused. After last night’s disaster, I figured he'd want to call the whole thing off. “You still want to do this?”
He leans forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I've been thinking. Maybe we went about it the wrong way.”
“How so?”
“Small towns like stories that unfold naturally.
Gossip that has to be pieced together is more valuable than what's handed to them on a platter.
If we approach this as a slow-burn romance rather than a headline announcement, people will invest more.
They'll want to see the bakery succeed because it's part of our story. They’ll see you in a relationship and begin to forget about Harper and Kirk.”
His words make more sense than I want to admit. But is he talking about more than just our fake relationship strategy? Or is he trying to make amends for disappearing from my life the way he did?
“We tried too hard. Made it too obvious.” He accepts the coffee Ruby brings over with a grateful nod and again waits until she walks away. “Real couples don't announce themselves. They exist together.”
I consider his words, remembering how awkward and forced everything felt last night. “So, what are you suggesting?”
“That we take a more subtle approach.” His hand slides across the table until his fingers are just barely touching mine. “Small gestures. Real moments. Build it up gradually so it looks authentic.”
The vinyl booth creaks beneath me as I shift, hyperaware of where his fingers touch mine. I’m not altogether shocked when I turn my hand over and we link our fingers together as though we’ve done so forever. I swallow past a sudden lump in my throat. “Like this?”
“Exactly like this.” His thumb traces a small circle on my hand. “And maybe I stop by the library sometimes. Bring you lunch. You visit me at the station. That kind of thing.”
It makes sense. A gradual approach would seem more natural than our forced performance at Pete’s. But there's something else in his eyes, something that makes me wonder if he has ulterior motives.
“And this would help the bakery how?” I ask, trying not to be distracted by those seductive circles.
“Already is.” He gestures subtly toward the window, and I turn to see a small crowd gathering outside Sweet as Sin.
“News rides a bullet train in this town, remember?
They might be gossiping about our disastrous date, but they're also wondering if there's something real brewing between us. And they’re probably hoping to get the deets from Harper.”
Sure enough, when I look closer, I see that Martha and Gloria have left the café and are now hovering near the bakery's entrance with others. A few of them are even going inside.
“Huh,” I say, genuinely surprised. “It actually worked?”
“It’s a start. Harper wasn’t totally wrong. People do love a comeback story. The bad boy returns home, falls for the town sweetheart.” He shrugs. “It's irresistible.”
I don't like being cast as the town sweetheart, but I can't argue with the results. “Fine. We'll try it your way.”
“Good.” He releases my hand, drains his coffee, and stands. “I should get back to work. Meet you at the library later?”
“Sure.” The word comes out more breathless than I intended as I move my bereft hand under the table and rub it on my thigh.
He leans down, his mouth next to my ear. “By the way, bedhead suits you. It’s cute.”
Before I can respond, he's walking away, leaving me flustered and fighting a grin. The remaining customers are openly staring now, but for once, I don't mind the attention.
I finish my breakfast with renewed energy, leave Ruby a generous tip, and head back out into the morning sunshine.
My hangover has receded to a dull throb, and I find myself looking forward to the day ahead.
The library is quiet when I arrive, giving me enough time to clean myself up before I start any work.
Rachel looks up when I enter, her eyebrows rising at my slightly disheveled appearance. “Late night?”
“Not like that.” I set my bag down at the desk. “It was just dinner.”
“Uh-huh.” She waddles over, one hand supporting her growing baby bump. “That's not what I heard.”
I sigh. “What did you hear?”