Chapter 16
16
B est brown sugar latte I’ve ever tasted right here at Coffee Loft. I’m thinking everything on the menu is top tier. Thanks, CL, for the great experience ! ~ J.D. Webby
W ithout Peaches and Ridley barking the night away, Cal focused on wrapping up a proposal for a client. That photo Ginger sent him of her, Peaches, and Daisy was a sweet distraction. He kept pulling it up on his phone to stare at it and smile. Later in bed, he brought the image up again as he lay there in the dark, with Ridley snuggled against his side. With her dark hair fanned out against her coverlet, and smiling so hard her eyes were little slits above her plump cheeks, Ginger was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. His chest ached thinking about her.
Then he crashed hard.
He awoke the next morning without the perpetual headache that had plagued him the last few days. Coffee finally sounded good again.
He’d arranged the night before to pick up Peaches at Ginger’s place before she headed into work. He prayed during the drive to Coffee Loft that dog sitting hadn’t been too chaotic for Ginger, and that she was still speaking with him.
When he pulled into an empty parking spot a short time later, she wasn’t standing at her apartment window above Coffee Loft, waiting for him. A good sign.
Standing at the door, Ginger looked like a sunny, fall morning personified. She smoothed the burnt-orange sweater on her trim figure with both hands before opening the door wider. His heart did a little stutter-step when she grinned at him. A very good sign.
“I love this dog,” she gushed. “Did you know that she can balance a treat on her nose then snap it up mid-air?”
“Yeah? So, the sleep-over went well?” The Peaches-sized weight on his shoulders lifted.
“Daisy and Peaches love each other. I’m shocked,” she said. She opened the door wider for him to enter.
He gazed around the sunny room and found Daisy and Peaches on opposite ends of a futon, basking in the sunshine coming through the front window. Coupled with the literal small forest of plants scattered about, the brightly patterned pillows, framed floral prints, and the pale green gauzy curtains undulating from an open window, the room radiated happiness. It was a tangible vision of what his heart felt like at the moment. The uncertainty surrounding the shelter, Ginger’s willingness to help him with Peaches, and the news that the sleep over had gone smoothly made him feel… something .
“What’s wrong?” Ginger asked.
He stood rooted to the spot, taking it all in. A lump rose in his throat, and the sensation was so odd, so out of character for him, that he almost turned around to leave so he could regain his bearings.
“Cal?”
Ginger’s eyes held his with soft concern when he looked her way. She shifted and her hand reached for his forearm, but he grasped it instead on an impulse.
Seconds ticked by as she glanced down at their interlocked hands. Embers of desire steadily crawled up his arm and spread throughout his chest. It was near impossible to stand there, holding her hand, and not take a step forward. Her presence was a magnet to his iron-clad defenses. He’d fought his attraction to Ginger for so long that he’d grown accustomed to shrugging off her smiles and lingering looks as nothing more than a casual friendship. But this morning was different. His longing had finally worn away that armor.
What is she feeling? He wished he knew. She stood frozen, her gaze resting on their hands. He took a chance, his thumb grazing her knuckle.
Speak up before it’s too late .
“Ginger, I?”
She slid her hand away from his as she turned toward the kitchen.
No !
“You’re not feeling poorly again, are you? I have some more of that tea in my fridge already made, if you’d like some,” she said over her shoulder. Ginger was already in her kitchen, peering into the open door. She pulled out a pitcher. “Here, I’m just going to send you home with some anyway.” She talked fast like she tried to distance herself from their shared moment.
While Ginger flitted about the kitchen, opening cupboards, pouring tea, and rinsing the pitcher, he fought a potent urge to tell her how he felt.
But she’d pulled away. It was a clear signal she wasn’t invested in the moment, unlike him. He was no Romeo, but even he could read the signs.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
Charleen.
He hoped she was calling to say they’d fought off moving the deadline to vacate sooner than December.
He stepped out onto the stairwell landing to take Charleen’s call, keeping an eye on Ginger. Ginger, in turn, cast furtive glances his way, too, while she bustled around the kitchen.
“Someone wants a meet-and-greet with Peaches,” Charleen said as soon as Cal answered.
“That was quick. Didn’t her profile just show up on the site last night?”
“I’ve been working behind the scenes, because I know this situation is tough on her,” Charleen said.
He glanced at the couch where Peaches still lounged against an oversized pillow. Sunlight bathed her coat like warm butter. She shifted, exposing her belly as she rolled onto her back. One eye barely open, the dog didn’t look to him like she was traumatized at the moment .
“Do you want to give them my contact info so I can set something up?”
“I’ll do that,” said Charleen.
He stepped back into Ginger’s apartment after Charleen ended the call.
Ginger handed him a to-go cup of tea and Peaches’ overnight bag, meeting his eyes, but she hurriedly glanced away. It was as if he’d merely imagined holding her hand a few minutes ago. The lingering sensation of their touch was the only hint that it had happened in the first place.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, her voice taut.
Peaches hopped off the couch and stretched, hunching like a cat, before she sauntered over to them. He scooped her up.
“That was Charleen, calling about Peaches.”
Ginger’s brows lifted. “Oh?”
“Someone wants to do a meet-and-greet this afternoon.”
She looked at Peaches, nestled comfortably in his arms.
“That’s…good news, right?” she asked, crossing her arms.
If he didn’t know better, he’d swear Ginger’s expression held a bit of regret.