Chapter 23 Ivy
Steam clings to my skin as I step out of the bathroom, finally clean after mud found its way into places mud should never go. Cool water trails down my back as I adjust my towel, the chaos of this morning's bonding activities still spinning in my head.
The games had been a mess, but the look on Preston's face when Kristal declared "everyone's a winner"? That alone almost made the bruise on my thigh worth it.
I flip my wet hair forward, wringing out the excess water as droplets scatter across my shoulders. The towel shifts high on my thighs as I straighten, and I'm halfway to my suitcase when the bedroom door opens.
Caleb stops dead in the doorway.
One beat.
Then another.
His stare tracks a drop of water sliding from my collarbone like he's cataloging its path. He doesn't blink. Doesn't speak. Just shifts slightly, but it's enough to sharpen the air between us. The way he's looking at me sends a low current skimming beneath my skin.
"Sorry," I manage, very aware that this towel might as well be made of wishes and good intentions. "I thought you went down for dinner."
His throat works as his gaze travels up my body, slow and hot enough to leave scorch marks. When those baby blues finally meet mine, they're dark as storm clouds.
"Trust me, babe." His voice is low, frayed at the edges, and it lands somewhere deep in my spine. "Food is the last thing on my mind right now."
"I should . . ." I point toward my suitcase, but my hand stalls midair when he takes a step closer.
He shakes his head, dousing whatever had just sparked in his eyes. "Wear something comfortable. I've got a surprise."
"What kind of surprise?"
"Wouldn't be much fun if I spoiled it, would it?" He smirks, and I swear to God, whoever gave Caleb Miller those dimples needs to be tried for crimes against womankind.
"If this is another round of bouquet dodgeball, I'm throwing you in front of the roses."
He laughs, breaking the last of the spell we'd stumbled into, and I grab my clothes before my hormones can stage a full coup.
In the bathroom, I stare at my reflection—cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide—and make a decision. No more running. No more second-guessing every charged moment between us.
The signs are there —the lingering touches, the heat in his eyes, the way he flirts like it's second nature. I can't be imagining it . . . right?
I drag on my favorite denim overalls and a gauzy white top, my hands steadier than my heartbeat.
Maybe it's the wedding energy, or I'm just done pretending.
Done acting like my heart doesn't race every time he gets close.
Done being scared of ruining something that might actually be better if we stopped fighting whatever this is between us.
I braid my wet hair off my neck, the water soaking slowly into the cotton. Tonight feels different. Like we're standing on the edge of something new, and for once, I don't want to step back. I want to jump.
"You alive in there, Shortcake?" His voice carries through the door, snapping me out of my spiral.
I emerge to find him sprawled in the armchair, scrolling through his phone. The late afternoon sun strikes his profile, and breath catches sharp in my lungs at how effortlessly beautiful he is.
"Hey," I say, trying to sound normal, and not like I just spent ten minutes overthinking everything. "Mind if I call Vinnie first? Want to check on Salem and the ducks."
He watches me rifle through my bag. "Yeah, go ahead."
"Of course it's dead," I mutter, glaring at the blank display.
"Here." He tosses his phone to me without hesitation. "Use mine."
I catch it and the screen comes alive—right on an email I was never meant to see.
Re: Junior Developer Position. Pixel Dreams Gaming.
My eyes scan automatically: ". . . still interested in discussing your potential with our team .
. ." and "your innovative approach to environmental storytelling shows exactly the fresh perspective we're looking for .
. ." I quickly click away, but the words are already branded into my brain.
Something warm and proud blooms in my chest. Because of course Caleb's good enough for a gaming company to headhunt him.
He's always been brilliant, even if he's the only one who doesn't see it.
I look up and catch him staring. There's a rawness there, like he's bracing for me to say something.
"Are you having a moment with my phone right now? Should I leave you two alone?" he teases softly, then flashes that crooked smile. All dimples and deflection.
I pull up FaceTime, tucking the email away for later. Right now, I need the comforting chaos of my furry children, before I say something stupid like, "You're too talented to keep pretending you belong behind a pizza counter."
Vinnie's face fills the screen, her hair in a messy bun as she settles in for a night of pet-sitting. "Miller! To what do I—oh, Ivy!" Her smile widens. "Please tell me you pushed Virginia into the fountain after that lap dance display. Me and Amelia have a bet going on."
My entire face ignites. "That's not . . . I didn't . . ."
A low chuckle sounds behind me, and Caleb's there, leaning over my shoulder. "Hi, Vinnie."
"Hey, Caleb." She singsongs, her grin turning devious as she watches him settle next to me on the couch—his thigh pressed against mine, his arm stretched behind me, fingers toying with my braid.
The moment he touches the loose hairs at the nape of my neck, a shiver races through me. I try to stay still and ignore the goosebumps prickling up my arms.
"Salem's sulking because I won't let him eat your plants.
" Vinnie recovers first, but I catch the way her eyes track every casual touch like she's collecting evidence.
The camera pans to show my black cat sprawled next to her.
"And the ducks are . . . hold on." There's shuffling as she moves outside. "There we go!"
My heart melts as four fluffy bodies waddle into view. Seven weeks old, and already tiny terrorists.
"Look at them! They're getting huge."
"How's my guy doing?" Caleb leans closer, and I bite back a smile at his attempt to sound casual. For someone who claims not to play favorites, he checks on Ducky more than the others combined.
"Getting more punk by the day," Vinnie says, and his whole face lights up. "Though he and Quackie Chan have formed an unlikely alliance."
"No way." His breath tickles my ear. "The troublemaker duo?"
"Actually, Ducky's become his emotional support bird. They're inseparable." Vinnie's eyes gleam. "So . . . if Ivy's the mom, does that make you the dad? You did kind of co-parent them."
Heat floods my cheeks. But before I can stammer out a response, Caleb grins. "Shared custody. I get them weekends and during major sporting events."
"Plus alternating holidays," I add weakly, and heat blooms where he traces patterns on my shoulder.
"Hey, how's The Cozy Canvas?" I try changing subjects. "And Ethan's summer school program is starting soon, right? And—"
"Everything's fine, nothing new, totally boring," Vinnie rushes out, waving away my questions like they're fruit flies. "But you two should definitely enjoy your evening. Together. Alone."
"Vinnie—"
"Oh, would you look at the time!" She checks her bare wrist. "Salem needs his dinner. Take lots of pictures! Preferably with Caleb."
"Goodbye, Vinnie," I say pointedly, while he chuckles against my shoulder.
"Have fun! Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Which leaves plenty of options, by the way." She winks before ending the call, and I seriously consider whether it's possible to die from embarrassment.
When I hand Caleb's phone back, I'm about to ask about the email, but he's already standing, pulling me up from the couch.
"Ready?"
"For what?"
"You'll see."
"Wait, aren't we supposed to be at dinner with everyone?"
His grin turns wicked. "Live a little, babe. Rules are meant to be broken."
I don't know what tonight is. A surprise? A joke? A trap my heart's already caught in, even if my brain's still pretending we're just friends?
But for once, I want to see what happens next.