Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Callie
Midway through organizing books for next month's young adult reading circle, the familiar rumble of Luke's motorcycle can be heard approaching from down the street. I’ve stopped trying to suppress my happiness whenever I see or hear him.
The past few days have been nothing short of magical.
When we’re not working, we’re together. When we do venture out of the safety of my little house, we’re inevitably spotted by Harper, by old classmates, by people who love nothing more than good gossip.
Nikki is still a little wary, but that’s because she worries about me.
I sneak a glance in the hallway mirror, securing my ponytail and smoothing stray hairs. I know he doesn’t care if I’m picture-perfect, but the truth is, I want to look nice for him. Maybe because every time his eyes land on me, it feels like sunlight breaking through a cloudy sky.
A soft knock at the door startles me from my thoughts.
I hurry to open it, and there he is, broad shoulders filling the frame, his uniform shirt unbuttoned at the top, revealing just enough skin to make my mouth go dry.
His hair is a little messy, like he’s been running his fingers through it all day, and there’s a shadow of stubble along his jaw that makes my fingers itch to touch it.
“Hello, beautiful,” he says in that sexy, low rumble that curls through me like a just stirred fire. His smile reaches his eyes, softening that sharp, chiseled face in a way that always knocks the breath out of me.
My voice is light, teasing, even though my pulse is hammering. I step back to let him in. “You know you don’t have to knock anymore, right?”
He doesn’t answer with words. He closes the door behind him, then in one smooth motion, slides an arm around my waist and pulls me flush against him.
His kiss starts slow, coaxing, before it deepens with a hunger that steals the air from my lungs.
My fingers clutch at his shoulders, sliding up into his hair as heat blooms low in my belly.
When we finally part, I’m breathing like I just ran a mile.
“Maybe I want to give you time to change your mind about letting me in,” he murmurs, lips grazing mine.
“Never,” I manage, though it comes out embarrassingly breathy.
He chuckles, kissing me again, gentler this time, like punctuation to a thought. “I’ve been thinking about doing that all day.”
“Just that?” I tease, trailing my fingers along the back of his neck, playing with the short hairs there.
His eyes darken, and his fingers grip my hip. “Among other things.”
The thing between us burns hot, and for a second, I consider letting him carry me straight to the bedroom. But my practical side kicks in. Barely.
“Coffee?” I offer, stepping back before we end up on the floor in the entryway. “I just put the kettle on for tea, but I’ve got fresh coffee pods for the machine.”
“Sure.” He follows me into the kitchen, his presence filling the small space, grounding me and yet setting me completely off-balance at the same time.
I busy myself getting a coffee brewed for him while he leans against the counter, watching me like there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be. That look makes my skin prickle and my breasts ache in the best possible way.
“How was your day?” I ask, reaching for the sugar.
“The usual.” His lips quirk in that crooked half-smirk that kills me every time. “Couple speeding tickets. Rescued Miss June’s cat, again.”
“My hero,” I say, fluttering my lashes dramatically, while he laughs a deep, rich sound that warms me all the way to my toes.
When I turn back, I notice he’s holding something behind his back. “What are you hiding?”
His smile turns slow, mysterious. “Maybe nothing. Maybe something.”
“Luke Caldwell, are you being coy with me?”
“Patience, Cooper. Good things come to those who wait.”
I roll my eyes, but curiosity buzzes through me like static.
Then the kettle whistles, saving him from further interrogation.
I pour the water, letting the scent of chamomile drift in the air, and when I turn back, he’s holding a rectangular package, wrapped in simple brown paper and tied with a piece of blue ribbon.
“What’s this?” My voice catches, because something about the way he’s watching me seems hopeful, almost nervous.
“Open it and see.”
I take it carefully, the weight solid in my hands making me think it’s a book. The paper crinkles as I remove the ribbon, slowly, savoring the anticipation. The deep green leather cover emerges, worn smooth with age, gold letters embossed across the front and the spine.
Anne of Green Gables. But not just any copy. A genuine first edition.
My hands tremble. “Luke…” My voice breaks on his name. “How did you know?”
“You mentioned it was your favorite,” he says quietly. “That your mom used to read it to you. I noticed you had other Montgomery books, but not this one. Not a special copy, anyway.”
Emotion swells, so sharp and sudden it almost hurts. “Luke… this is… oh my God.”
He shifts, rubbing the back of his neck, like he’s suddenly unsure. “I had to call a few specialty shops. Found this one in San Antonio. Drove down last weekend to pick it up.”
My head jerks up. “Last weekend? You said you were helping Travis fix the fencing.”
“White lie,” he admits with a crooked grin. “Wanted it to be a surprise.”
He drove three hours. For me. For this.
I set the book down gently, reverently, and then launch myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck as I press my mouth to his. The kiss is fierce and full of everything I can’t seem to put into words.
When I sit back, happy tears streak my cheeks. “Nobody's ever done anything like this for me,” I whisper, cradling the book like it's made of glass.
His hands come up to frame my face, thumbs gently brushing my cheeks. “Then everybody else is an idiot,” he says simply, his voice gruff with emotion.
My laugh is shaky, watery. “Thank you doesn't seem enough.”
“Your happiness is thanks enough.” He kisses my forehead softly. “I just want to make you happy.”
“You do.” I rest my cheek against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear. It's the most comforting sound I've ever heard. “Every single day.”
We stay like that for a while, the cooling mugs forgotten on the counter, the quiet between us rich and full of everything we’re both feeling.
“I can't believe you remembered that story about my mom.”
“I remember everything you tell me, Callie. I always have.”
I reach for the book again, carefully opening it to the first page, where Anne Shirley's story begins.
“Mom would read this to me whenever I was sick or sad.” I run my finger along the familiar words.
“She loved to do different voices for the characters. She’d get so animated that sometimes Dad would peek into my room to watch her performance.
I used to imagine I was Anne, with her wild imagination.
” Memories take over and I’m quiet for a few moments.
“After my parents died, I couldn't bring myself to read it again. Our copy got packed away somewhere during the move, and I just... never replaced it.”
Luke’s arm tightens around me. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”
“No, don’t be sorry. This…” I meet his eyes, and my throat constricts. “This feels like having a piece of her back.”
“You know what I always loved about that story?” he asks, his voice thoughtful.
“What?” I'm genuinely curious. I hadn't expected him to know anything about it.
“How Anne found a home in a place she never expected. With people who didn't even know they needed her.” His thumb brushes my cheek, his gaze holding mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. “Sometimes the best families are the ones we find along the way. The ones we choose.”
The meaning behind his words sinks into my bones, and I understand what he's really saying.
He's chosen me.
He kisses me then, deep and slow, like he's trying to memorize the taste of me, how my body fits with his. He slides his hands down my back, pulling me tight against him until there's no space left between us.
“I was thinking,” he murmurs against my lips, “that we could read it together. A chapter or two each night.”
The suggestion is so unexpectedly sweet that it catches me off guard. I rear back enough to see his face, searching those steady blue eyes for any hint of teasing. “You want to read Anne of Green Gables with me?”
He gives a half shrug, his mouth quirking in that way that always undoes me. A faint blush creeps up his neck, and I swear my heart melts right there. “Why not? I’ve never read it, and it obviously means a lot to you. I want to know why.”
“Luke Caldwell,” I whisper, shaking my head in wonder, “you are full of surprises.”
“Is that a yes?” His grin tilts boyish, but there’s something earnest underneath it that steals my breath.
“Yes,” I laugh softly, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “But fair warning, I might cry at certain parts.”
“I think I can handle it.” His arms band around me, holding me tight to his solid body. His voice dips lower, brushing over my skin like velvet. “Besides, it’ll give me an excuse to hold you while you read.”
My pulse pounds. I roll my eyes like I’m unaffected, but my voice is husky. “You don’t need an excuse for that, you know.”
“Good to know,” he says, and then his mouth finds that sensitive spot below my ear. A soft sigh escapes before I can stop it, and his lips curve against my skin. He glances at the clock on the wall. “What time do we need to head over to your sister's tomorrow for the pre-festival dinner?”