Chapter 4
CALLAN
Dad raises his voice to be heard over the shrieks and squeals coming from the pool as the oldies talk.
Erin borrowed a swimsuit from Freja after we finished eating, and they’ve been messing about in the water ever since.
My “one hour” is well and truly served at this point, but I find myself lingering at the table with the adults and Astrid, unable to force my feet to walk away.
“Callan’s going to help,” Da says, dragging me from my head.
“Help with what?” I ask, having completely zoned out of the conversation.
“The work needed around the house.”
That’s the first I’m hearing of this. I wasn’t the one who bought a dated, run-down place, and I sure as fuck won’t be the one to fix it up.
“You know I won’t have a lot of downtime between homework, training, and matches.
” It’s the politest way I can say “go fuck yourself” without being rude in front of our new neighbors.
“I can help,” Astrid says, her gaze bouncing between me and my da.
“Astrid wants to be an interior designer,” her dad supplies.
“She helped me with the house and my pottery store,” Elsa says. “And all the flowerbeds in the front and rear yards are her work too,” she adds, sweeping a proud gaze over her eldest daughter.
“You did all that?” Mum’s eyes are shimmering with excitement.
“I’m sure Astrid isn’t going to have much downtime either,” I say.
“I’m good at juggling all the demands on my time.
” Astrid tucks her hair behind her ears.
“Though Callan isn’t wrong. Between school, my online design classes, and work at the resort, I won’t have a huge amount of free time, but what I do have is yours, Mrs. Hunt.
If you’d like my help.” Laughter bubbles up her throat.
“I can be a little pushy when it comes to stuff like this.”
“Not at all, Astrid. I would love your help if you can spare the time.”
“Great. I can add this project to my portfolio.”
“Astrid is applying to Bennington Turo for college,” Mark supplies. “She’s had her heart set on their Bachelor of Fine Arts in interior architecture and design program since middle school.”
“What an ambitious, enterprising young woman you are,” Da says, and I barely resist the urge to gag.
“Thank you, Mr. Hunt.”
“Call me Tony. Mr. Hunt makes me sound like an old fart.”
Astrid’s eyes pop wide the same time Da jolts in his chair, and I just know Ma kicked him under the table.
“If the cap fits,” I mumble under my breath.
“Are we ready for dessert?” Elsa asks, climbing to her feet. “I know I’m dying to try some of that delicious cheesecake.”
“Let me help.” Ma pushes her chair back.
“You sit, chat with Astrid about your plans. Callan can help.”
“Of course.” Not like I’ve been given a choice, but I don’t mind.
“How are you settling in?” Elsa asks when we’re in the kitchen, cutting slices of cheesecake and putting them on plates.
“Fine. Everyone’s been sound at school.”
“I imagine it’s been harder on you than Erin. She’s at the age where everything is a big adventure. Leaving everything you know behind at seventeen is more daunting.”
“Yeah, it wasn’t ideal.” I won’t embarrass my mum by admitting how pissed off I am to be here and not back home.
“Astrid will help. She knows everyone, and she’s well-liked.”
“Yeah, seems like that,” I say, holding out the last plate.
Elsa’s hand wobbles, and she drops the last slice half on and half off the plate.
“Fan ocks?,” she exclaims before sighing. “I’ll have the messed-up one.”
My lips twitch. I have no idea what she just said, but I can guess. “I can eat that one. I don’t mind.” I’m not planning on eating much of it anyway.
She beams up at me. “You’re sweet, but you’re a guest. I wouldn’t hear of it.”
The girls are all seated around the table when we return, wrapped up in colorful towels, talking excitedly like they’ve been friends for years instead of hours. We distribute the plates, and everyone wastes no time digging into Ma’s cheesecake.
“This is divine, Roni,” Elsa says, devouring the dessert. “I’ll have to get the recipe from you.”
“This is the best cheesecake I’ve ever tasted,” Astrid proclaims, in between bites, “and right up there with maple cake as my favorite dessert.”
“That is high praise indeed,” Mark says. “If Astrid could eat maple cake for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, she’d be in heaven.”
“Truth,” Astrid says, practically inhaling the cheesecake.
“I only tried that for the first time last week at a lovely little coffee shop in town,” Ma says. “It was delicious.”
“You should try it at the resort where I work. They make the best maple cake in all of Vermont.”
“That’s the resort and golf club on the outskirts of town?” Da asks, and Astrid nods.
“Don’t you like it?” Elsa asks, eyeballing my half-eaten plate as I push it away.
“Callan is very strict about his diet and exercise regime,” Ma explains before I can answer for myself.
“Professional athletes have to take diet and exercise seriously,” I explain. “I try to limit my sugar intake.”
“He gives himself a cheat day one day a week, but he’s so incredibly disciplined the rest of the time.” Ma licks the back of her spoon. “I wish some of it rubbed off on me, but I have zero willpower when it comes to cakes, chocolate, and other sweet things, and I have the hips to prove it.”
“I have the biggest sweet tooth,” Elsa says. “I couldn’t imagine life without cake.”
Astrid licks her lips as she finishes her dessert, and my gaze homes in on her luscious mouth as my mind spins fantasies involving her mouth and my cock. Her cheeks pink, and I fucking hope she doesn’t have a sixth sense about the thoughts in my head.
My phone pings, and my good mood disappears when I open the message from Louis. My mate came through, like I knew he would.
“Is that the video?” Astrid quietly asks, and I lift my head, nodding.
“You still okay to watch it with me?”
“Absolutely.”
“I’m gonna head home, Ma,” I say, turning to face my mother. “Astrid’s coming with me. We’re going to watch the match on my phone.”
Compassion splays across Ma’s face. “Are you sure that’s wise? It might upset you.”
Might? Is she insane? Of course, it’ll upset me! But I’m still watching it. “It’ll be fine.”
“Okay. You can give Astrid a tour of the house.”
“Sounds great.” Astrid gets to her feet, instantly gathering empty plates.
“Leave that, sweetie,” her mum says. “You have done more than enough today. Go have fun.”
“Keep your bedroom door open, Callan,” Ma hollers as Astrid and I walk off, and I about die of embarrassment.
For fuck’s sake, what the hell does she think I’m going to do?
She knows I’m not interested in girlfriends, and surely, she’s seen enough of Astrid today to know she’s not the kind of girl you fool around with and discard.
Her warning is unnecessary and humiliating.
I’m seventeen, basically an adult, and it did not need to be said.
“Oh my gawd,” Astrid whispers.
“Yep, welcome to my life.”
Our little sisters tease us as we walk side by side, and our parents’ laughter trails us off the deck and into the house.
“Let me grab a cardigan,” Astrid says when we reach the bottom of the stairs.
“Can I come up?”
“Ummm, sure.”
I follow her up the stairs, trying and failing not to ogle her ass and those gorgeous legs.
I think Thor was serious when he said she’s left a trail of broken hearts all over town.
I can totally see why. She’s stunning, sweet, smart, and ambitious.
Exactly the kind of girl I’d go after if I was in my mid-twenties, established in my career, and ready to settle down.
Ma has been getting on my case about girlfriends lately.
She thinks I’m too serious about everything, and I need to have more fun.
She doesn’t realize I’ve had plenty of fun with girls who are not, and will never be, my girlfriend.
I will only have one girlfriend in my life—the woman I’m going to marry.
Until I reach that point, casual flings are my thing. I’m not lacking for female company if I want it, and I see nothing about Ryemont that leads me to believe anything will change on that front now I’m in America.
“This is me.” Astrid opens a white door to a decent-sized bedroom. It’s neat and exquisitely furnished.
“You designed this?” I lean against the door frame as she stands awkwardly at the end of a large bed with a cream-colored headboard. The bed covers are white, but she has a ton of pillows in gold, beige, and pink on top of it, along with a soft pink quilt folded in half over the bed.
“Yeah. I upgraded my room two years ago. Did all the work myself, and I even made the quilt.”
“You’re very talented. It’s a beautiful room,” I add, stepping inside and roaming around her personal space. You can tell a lot about a person by their room. I’m not surprised Astrid’s bedroom is inviting, stylish, neat, and indicative of her interests and personality.
Inspirational quotes hang in gold frames over her bed.
A large potted plant is tucked into one corner alongside a desk and chair with a laptop and a neat stack of books on top.
I wander over to examine the pile of printed sheets housed on top of the books.
“You do technical drawing?” My eyes lift to meet hers.
“I’m taking an online class in technical drawing for interior design. It’s part of the degree curriculum, but I want to get ahead.”
“This is your passion,” I add, flipping through the drawings.
“Interior design is my football,” she quips.
“Think you mean soccer.” My lips curl at the corners.
“Thor would definitely be impressed.” She worries her lower lip between her teeth. “Look around. I’ll just grab a cardigan from the closet.” She disappears through one of the two doors inside the room, and I investigate the rest of her space.
On the far side is a bookcase that has been built around the two wide windows that look out over the view of the back garden and the woodland at the rear.
Window seats are built into the ledges, and it looks like a cozy place to read.
Her library is a mix of schoolbooks, romance and fantasy books, autobiographies, and sewing, design, and architectural guides.
I poke my head inside the other door, instantly envious of her small en suite shower room. “Dad hired a contractor to add the en suite,” she explains, appearing over my shoulder. “Thank God because sharing a bathroom with my two sisters was getting real old.”
“I’m jealous,” I admit, turning to face her. She’s holding a cream cardigan in one hand and her phone in the other. “I’m sharing a hideous green bathroom with my sister that I swear hasn’t been redecorated since the seventies.”
She giggles, and I could listen to that sound every day for the rest of my life.
“At least your parents are modernizing the place. I bet it’ll look amazing when it’s done. Your mom has lots of great plans, and I’m excited to help.”
“You really have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.” I rest my shoulder against the door. “She’s going to drive you insane asking your opinion on everything.”
“Trust me, I will love that.”
I stare at her pretty face, seeing no hint of a lie.
She means every word. I didn’t think girls like Astrid existed.
She’s unlike any other girl I’ve ever met.
And she’s so fucking gorgeous. Her skin is so smooth it looks like silk.
My fingers twitch with an urge to reach out and touch her.
To wind my fingers into that golden-blonde hair, twist the strands around my fist, and yank her kissable mouth to mine.
A stunning blush washes over her cheeks the longer I stare at her, and what the fuck am I doing?
Breaking eye contact, I avert my gaze and tell myself to get a grip.
Mooning over the pretty neighbor is so fucking cliché.
I don’t do girlfriends, and I’m convinced Astrid doesn’t do anything casually in her life, so there is no future for us as anything other than friends.
I just need to get with the program and remember my goals.
I’ve already been thrown the biggest curveball of all, and I’m fucked if I’m adding another of my own making.