Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
CALLUM
Iwake up with Nadia sprawled across my chest like she owns it.
Her braids are a mess, half undone and fanning across my shoulder. One of her legs is thrown over mine, her hand resting directly above my heart. She's drooling slightly, which I find unreasonably endearing.
This is dangerous.
Not the physical intimacy. I can handle that. I've had lovers in my bed before, have woken up tangled in warm limbs and satisfied exhaustion.
What's dangerous is how right this feels. How the weight of her against me fills a space I didn't know was empty. How I'm already dreading the moment she wakes up and the spell breaks and we have to go back to being two people with an expiration date.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I reach for it carefully, trying not to disturb her.
Declan
County cleared the main road. You alive up there?
Alive. Plowing out now.
Declan
Heard you have company. Town's talking.
Of course the town's talking. Silas probably had the news spreading before we finished our first drink.
Mind your business.
Declan
Never. Bring her to Sunday dinner. Your brothers want to meet her.
I set the phone down without responding. Sunday dinner is three days away. By Sunday, Nadia will be back in Chicago, and this weekend will be nothing but a memory I'll spend the next eight years trying not to think about.
She stirs against me, making a soft sound of protest as consciousness intrudes.
"What time is it?"
"Just after seven. Roads are clear. We can make the rehearsal dinner if we leave by four."
"Mmm." She burrows deeper into my chest. "Five more minutes."
"Take as many minutes as you need."
She's quiet, and I think she's fallen back asleep until her fingers start tracing patterns on my skin. Lazy circles around my nipple, wandering lines across my collarbone.
"I should check my phone." She doesn't move to do it. "Yasmine's probably sent a hundred messages."
"Probably."
"And my mom. And my dad. And the family group chat that I muted six months ago but still shows notifications."
"Sounds exhausting."
"It is." She props her chin on my chest, looking up at me with those dark eyes still soft from sleep. "They're going to ask about you. My family. They're going to want to know how we met and how long we've been together and what your intentions are."
"We met at The Velvet Antler two nights ago. We've been together since then. And my intentions are to be the best fake boyfriend you've ever had."
Her smile is small but genuine. "You're already the best fake boyfriend I've ever had. Low bar, considering you're the only one."
"Then I'll aim higher. Best boyfriend, period."
The words land heavier than I intended. Nadia's smile fades into something more searching.
"Callum..."
"I know." I brush a braid back from her face. "We don't have to talk about it. Let's just get through today."
She nods, but something in her expression tells me we're both thinking the same thing. That getting through today means getting closer to the end. That every hour together is also an hour less.
I kiss her forehead and extract myself from the bed before I do something stupid like ask her to stay.
The morning passes in comfortable domesticity that makes the dangerous feeling worse.
I plow the driveway while she showers. She makes coffee while I clean up.
We eat breakfast together at the kitchen island, her feet hooked around the rungs of my barstool while she scrolls through her phone and reads me the most unhinged messages from her family group chat.
"My aunt Patricia wants to know if you have a brother. She's very interested in the timber industry apparently."
"Tell her all three brothers are single. All terrified of women like your aunt Patricia."
"Smart men." She grins at her phone. "Oh, this is good. My cousin Marcus is bringing his new girlfriend and my mom is already worried she's a gold digger because she asked what kind of wine would be served at the reception."
"The audacity. Wanting to know about wine at a wine country wedding."
"Right? My family is insane." She sets down her phone and looks at me.
"Fair warning, they're going to be a lot.
My parents will be passive aggressive with each other all night.
My sister will be stressed and taking it out on everyone.
And someone will definitely make a comment about my job situation because keeping secrets in the Smith family is physically impossible. "
"I can handle your family."
"You say that now."
"Nadia." I wait until she meets my eyes. "I've spent twenty two years managing a timber company, three younger brothers, and every busybody in Crimson Hollow who thinks they know what's best for me. Your family doesn't scare me."
"What does scare you?"
The question catches me off guard. I consider deflecting, giving her something easy and surface level. But we're past that now. Whatever this is between us, it deserves honesty.
"Losing people. Letting someone close enough that losing them would break something." I hold her gaze. "I've gotten very good at keeping people at arm's length. It's easier that way."
"Lonelier though."
"Lonelier," I agree. "But safer."
She's quiet, processing. Then she slides off her stool and crosses to stand between my knees, her hands coming up to rest on my shoulders.
"I'm scared of the same thing. Of letting someone in and having them decide I'm too much.
Too demanding. Too difficult." Her fingers trace the line of my jaw.
"Every relationship I've had, I've been waiting for them to leave.
So I push first. Test them. Make it impossible so I can blame them when it falls apart. "
"Self-fulfilling prophecy."
"Exactly." She leans in and presses her lips to mine. Soft. Sweet. Nothing like the hungry kisses we've shared in the playroom. "I don't want to do that with you. Whatever this is, however long it lasts, I don't want to be the one who ruins it."
I pull her closer, settling her against my chest. "You're not going to ruin anything."
"You don't know that."
"I know you." I tip her chin up. "I've seen you surrender and I've seen you fight and I've seen you cry in my arms because you felt safe enough to let go. That's not a woman who ruins things. That's a woman who's been waiting for someone strong enough to hold on."
Her eyes are bright, suspiciously close to tears. "That's a very romantic thing to say for a fake relationship."
"Maybe it's not that fake anymore."
The words hang there, undeniable. She doesn't look away.
"Maybe it's not," she whispers.
I kiss her then, deep and thorough and full of all the things I'm not ready to say out loud. She melts into me, her fingers threading through my hair, her body pressing close like she's trying to climb inside my skin.
We don't make it to the playroom. I lift her onto the kitchen counter and she wraps her legs around my waist and we fuck right there, slow and intense and nothing like the games we've been playing.
Just two people trying to get as close as physically possible, chasing something that feels a lot like the beginning of forever.
She comes with my name on her lips. I follow her over the edge with my face buried in her neck, breathing her in like I can memorize her scent.
After, she laughs against my shoulder.
"I can't believe we just did that on your kitchen counter."
"I can't believe we waited this long to do it on my kitchen counter."
"It's been two days, Callum."
"Longest two days of my life."
She laughs again, and the sound burrows into my chest and makes a home there.
We spend the afternoon getting ready for the rehearsal dinner. Nadia borrows my shower because she claims the water pressure is better, and I spend twenty minutes watching her through the glass door, making mental photographs I know I'll return to long after she's gone.
She's beautiful. Not just physically, though that's undeniable. But in the way she moves, confident and unselfconscious. In the way she hums off-key while she rinses her hair. In the way she catches me watching and doesn't look away, just smiles like being seen by me is exactly what she wanted.
"You're staring."
"I'm admiring. Huge distinction."
"Is that right?" She shuts off the water and reaches for a towel. "And what exactly are you admiring?"
"Everything." I hand her the towel before she can grab it herself. "The curve of your hip. The way you hold your shoulders. The little birthmark on the inside of your thigh that I spent a significant amount of time getting acquainted with last night."
"Significant amount of time." She wraps the towel around herself. "Is that what we're calling it?"
"Would you prefer I be more specific? I can describe exactly what I did to that birthmark in great detail."
"Save it for later." She rises on her toes to kiss my cheek. "We have a rehearsal dinner to survive."
The drive down the mountain is easier than I expected. The county crews did good work, and the roads are clear if still slick in patches. Nadia spends the drive on her phone, texting her sister and fielding increasingly frantic questions about her mysterious plus-one.
"She wants to know your net worth."
"Tell her it's enough."
"She wants to know your political affiliation."
"Tell her I vote for whoever will leave me alone."
"She wants to know..." Nadia pauses, reading. "Oh god. She wants to know if you're good in bed. She says, and I quote, 'You've got that post-orgasm glow and I need details immediately.'"
"Tell her I'm adequate."
Nadia snorts. "I'm telling her you're exceptional. Which you are. False modesty doesn't suit you."
"Nothing false about it. I'm just aware that exceptional is subjective."
"Trust me." She reaches over and squeezes my thigh. "Not subjective. Objectively, verifiably, repeatedly exceptional."
I catch her hand before it can wander higher. "Save it for later. We have a rehearsal dinner to survive."
"Using my own words against me. Rude."