Charlotte
“Have I told you, you look beautiful tonight?” Callan asks as we climb the stairs to the hotel in the Denver Tech Center, and my stomach flutters yet again.
“You might’ve mentioned it,” I tease, looking at the modest emerald-green dress I chose to woo investors.
The man hasn’t stopped touching me or complimenting me since I walked out of our bathroom twenty minutes ago.
I have no doubt that tonight will end with me naked, riding some part of his anatomy.
I’m hoping tongue. Or cock. Fuck, his fingers are good, too.
“What are you thinking about?” Callan’s voice drops to a whisper, the glint in his eyes suggesting he knows exactly where my thoughts went.
“Long division.”
He leans close. “You’re such a liar, Princess. I know you’re thinking about what’s going to happen when we get back to our place.”
Our place. Calling things ours happened so naturally that I’m not sure when it started, and I can’t find it in me to correct him.
It feels like ours. I know letting myself live in this fantasy is going to make it hurt more when March comes, but I can’t seem to stop.
Maybe because I’m beginning to believe it doesn’t have to end. Maybe this could be real.
“And,” he continues, “I need you to know that, whatever you’re thinking, it’s definitely not dirty enough.”
I choke slightly at the thought, but have to quickly pull myself together when we run into Preston Hale, looking like the wealthy businessman he is in a black suit, starched white shirt, and a watch that, if I’m correct about which model it is, costs more than most of Callan’s vehicles.
“Callan Devine, I was hoping you’d be here.” He shakes Callan’s hand in greeting before turning to me. “And Ms. Langford. So good to see you both again.”
We make pleasantries for a few minutes before I decide it’s time to up my game.
We’re already in November; I need to start moving things forward with these sponsorship prospects.
Even if I end up not getting the company, it’s necessary for the Stallions’ long-term success, and I won’t let Chris or the team down by not getting this done.
“Mr. Hale, Callan and I were wondering if we could take you out for dinner sometime. I know it’s a busy time of year with the holidays, but I have a business opportunity I think you’d be interested in.”
Preston turns his shrewd eyes on me, almost like he’s sizing me up.
“I’m headed out of town for a bit, but if you reach out to my office, I’m sure we can get something for the three of us on the calendar when I get back.
” I don’t miss the way he emphasizes three of us, like he’s making it clear he only wants to be there if Callan is.
Which is fine. Callan is a famous quarterback.
I’m sure it has nothing to do with what he thinks about me or my ability to conduct business.
“That would be great,” I reply. “I’ll have my people contact your people.” The joke falls flat, but luckily Callan jumps in like the amazing teammate he’s come to be.
“Have you been able to make any of our games, Mr. Hale?” I take the opportunity to watch Callan, to take in this man who is so handsome, hardworking, and kind.
“Oh, please. Call me Preston. And yes. I made both home games last month. Tough loss to OKC.”
Callan’s smile fades from his eyes, but I don’t think Preston noticed. I did, however, notice that I didn’t get the same okay to call him by his first name. Which is fine.
Callan and Preston talk about the games for a few minutes before we finally excuse ourselves to get drinks. Badly needed drinks on my part.
Callan takes a sip of his soda water and lime as he takes in the room. “Do you want me to beat someone up?”
I bump my shoulder against his. “Maybe. Is it a general offer, or did you have someone in mind?”
He leans closer to me. “You look like you’re itching for a fight. I wanted to see whether you needed me as your enforcer or just backup in case they have a friend.”
I twist my earring, not wanting to confess the ugly truth, but knowing Callan won’t judge me for it anyway. “I’m not used to having people not care about who I am, is all.”
His head tilts slightly, an amused expression tugging at his lips. “Are you jealous of how popular I am, Princess?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know,” I huff out. “It feels like when we’re in these rooms, searching for potential sponsors, the only reason I’m even getting to talk to them is because I’m with you.
And I hate that feeling. I’ve never wanted to be dependent on a man to get what I wanted in life.
But it’s always been about my dad, or now you.
At least in the entertainment space, they knew I wielded the power, so people wanted to connect with me.
Here, it’s like I could be anyone. I guess I’ve never felt inconsequential before. ”
His gaze sweeps over my face before he leans in, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
“You are a tornado of energy, directed by one of the most brilliant minds I’ve ever met.
You work so hard that success is the only possible outcome when you set your sights on something.
You, Princess, could never be inconsequential. ”
My heart thunders as I gently press a kiss to his lips. Breaking it off far earlier than I’d like, I rest my forehead on his strong chest. “That was the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
He rubs his hand down my back soothingly. “Even nicer than when Marlee said you were her favorite aunt last week?” he whispers.
Rolling my eyes, I shove him gently in the chest and step away. “I’m her only aunt. Kim’s brothers aren’t married. She at least picked you as her favorite Stallions player. There’s competition there.”
“Well, if you remember correctly, she actually chose me before the mascot horse, but after the real-life horse who runs before the games.”
I narrow my eyes and tap my lip. “That does feel like the correct answer.” I nod like I’ve reached a major conclusion. “I’m going to have to agree with her.”
He turns to face me fully, his jaw dropping. “Take it back. You know you like me more than that horse.”
“He’s a stallion, Callan.” A laugh bursts out of me, drawing the attention of the people at the nearby tables. I bite my lip and turn into the protection of Callan’s body, hiding from the interest.
Callan leans close, his breath tickling my ear. “I’ll show you a stallion.” His voice is husky as he whispers it into my ear.
“Promises, promises,” I goad him.
The sinful smile that crosses his face really is full of promise. “Can we go home yet? I have a horse to upstage.”
I snort again. “Not yet. We at least have to wait until the program starts. Plus, you’re good, but…” I trail off.
“Realized you were getting too close to the line of bestiality, didn’t you?” The mirth in Callan’s expression makes me want to say fuck it and ditch this place. Unfortunately, there are two more men who are supposed to be here tonight who I need to talk to.
I nod. “It was going to get weird.” Pausing, I consider it. “But I’m sure there is a hung-like-a-horse joke in there somewhere.”
Callan leans his elbows on the high-top table between us. “I’m here all night. You let me know when it comes to you.”
The event passes quickly after that, both men I need to talk to arriving within minutes of one another.
Since this is the first time I’ve talked to either of them, I use Callan as bait once again, the lure that only a professional quarterback can provide, calling them both over to us during the cocktail hour.
Watching him hobnob with people should be a turnoff—it’s the exact things about him that used to drive me crazy—but now I see it for what it really is: sure, he loves the attention, but he also genuinely cares.
He wants to hear people’s stories. He wants to chat with them.
And he wants them to like him. But not for the sake of his ego.
Because, deep down, I’m starting to realize there’s still that little boy who was left behind by his parents, time and time again.
And that little boy wants to do everything in his power to make sure people aren’t leaving because of him.
And for some reason, it makes my chest light up, as if I’ve found the place in my body where love lives.
Not that this is love. Right?
“Nice event, isn’t it?”
I’m startled from watching Callan by a tall man standing next to me. He’s not as well-built as Callan, but he has that I-express-myself-through-my-art vibe to him that I used to chase after like catnip. From the tattoos sneaking out of the top of his dress shirt, I’m guessing drummer.
“It is,” I agree. “Have you tried the bacon-wrapped dates they’re passing around? So good.”
His laugh is deep and throaty, and it… does absolutely nothing for me. I wonder what’s wrong with me. I should be all about this guy. Instead, I’m barely able to focus on him, wanting to find Callan again. Shit. I might be in deeper than I thought.
He leans closer like he’s confiding a secret. “I tend to prefer the appetizers at these things to the main courses. I can only eat mass-produced mashed potatoes and cooked carrots so many times.”
I shake my head. “The limit does not exist for how many mashed potatoes I can eat.”
“Orion Baker.” He extends his hand in greeting, the way his eyes are tracking me letting me know that he, at least, is interested.
I shake it. “Charlotte Langford.”
“Are you here with someone tonight, Charlotte?”
“She’s mine.” Callan rests his arm around my waist, his gaze burning through Orion as if it could burn him to the ground. And there’s that attraction I’d been missing a second ago.
“Hi, Princess.” He kisses my cheek.
I smile at him, my insides warring between complete arousal and a tightening in my gut at his claiming.
Gesturing between the two, I say, “Orion, meet Callan Devine. Callan, Orion Baker.”
We chat for a few moments, Callan’s arm never leaving my waist, his fingers stroking gently over the side of my hip, until eventually, Orion says goodbye to go talk to someone else he knows.
I decide not to ask Callan what his claiming me meant. Because it felt real. And I don’t want him to tell me any different. Instead, we make our way to Conrad Ferguson, chatting with him about his work and his most recent trip to his private golf course in Wild Bluffs, Colorado.
Finally, we’ve talked to all three men on my list for the event, plus Orion, who I mentally catalog as a maybe. Turns out, he’s not a drummer, but a chef. I’ll have to do more research on his company, spending power, and regional influence before I can truly list him as a candidate.
“Ready to go?” I whisper to Callan as the people around us start moving to take their seats for dinner.
He yawns as he nods, but doesn’t make a move toward the door. “You’re sure we don’t need to be at the dinner?”
“I told the coordinator yesterday that we wouldn’t be able to stay. They didn’t even seat us at a table.”
“What? Why?” The confusion in his voice is evident.
I grab his hand and start making my way toward the door.
“Because you’ve had a crazy week and have certainly not gotten enough sleep lately.
Though that is partially my fault. Or it’s your fault because you’ve started sleeping without a shirt on.
And that’s not playing fair.” I catch the pleased grin that crosses his face as we make our way through the hotel.
Callan turns to face me as we wait at the valet stand for his car to be brought around. “You didn’t have to cut your time short tonight because of me. I know how important this is to you.” His jaw is tight, his dark green eyes full of something that looks like regret.
I squeeze his hand. “I mean, I fully plan on taking advantage of the extra time tonight with you, but also, I knew how tired you would be.” Giving him my most innocent smile, I offer, “If you want, we can go back inside. I didn’t realize you’d want to stay.”
“That’s not—” He’s cut off by the arrival of his vehicle.
“I get to pick the music,” I call as soon as my butt hits the seat. It’s our new rule: Whoever calls it first gets to pick. Though I’m not sure he understands the game since I always win.
I scroll through, knowing exactly what playlist I want tonight. The music starts playing, and Callan grabs my hand before putting the car in drive. “Are you sure you didn’t need to talk to anyone else?”
I shake my head. “That was everyone. I think Preston Hale is our best shot. Particularly since he wants to marry you and have your babies.”
Callan snorts, shooting me a look that’s torn between amusement and annoyance.
I shrug. “He does. We both know it. I don’t think Snyder or Newson are good fits.
The guy who owns Hillyard might be, but probably as the official sports bar of the Stallions or something.
I still need to look the company up, but I can’t imagine a regional restaurant chain is pulling in the profit to be the level of sponsor I’m looking for.
I’ll likely hand him over to the team to see what makes sense. ”
He runs his thumb over mine. “You’ll get it figured out.”
I kiss the back of his hand. “Thanks.”
He lets out a breathy chuckle. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
He darts a soft glance at me. “For thinking about what I needed tonight.” The confusion lacing his tone makes me want to punch so many people.
Starting with his parents, moving on to his friends, and then ending with every woman he’s ever been with.
And I might throw in Nan, for good measure.
Not that I’ll be telling him that, or that I think she doesn’t put Callan first. She certainly does.
Maybe too much. Not that I have much to go on.
I’ve avoided Sunshine Hills like the plague since my first visit. No need to do that again.
“You’re worth changing plans for, Callan.” I mean every word of it. In fact, he’s already changing my plans for this to be fake.
Which means my plan to stay single will fall right behind it.