Chapter Twenty #2
The stove slowly heated the water, but eventually it boiled. Callum turned down the dial so the pot wouldn’t boil over, and Grace dumped in the vegetables. He opened a can of condensed cream of chicken soup and cracked the cap on a small carton of milk, mixing them with a can of chicken.
After a minute, she strained the flash-boiled vegetables, dunked them in the ice bath, and drained them, giving the colander a couple of shakes. He took them from her, dumped them into his bowl, and scoured through the spice containers.
“What are you looking for?”
“No idea. A bit of everything.” Callum added dashes and shakes of whatever sounded good as she mixed.
Grace tapped the spatula on the bowl. “I should take pictures for Alicia. Really, she would be applauding at this point.”
They unrolled the pie crusts and pressed one into a tin.
He dumped in the soupy vegetables and slapped the second crust on top.
To be honest, the whole thing looked bland, but if he had to bet, Grace would like it.
He stabbed the crust all over with a steak knife.
“Alicia’s high opinion isn’t the one I’m after. ”
The way Grace’s smile curved until it made her eyes shine was going to get him in trouble before they’d had dinner. He tossed the pie into the oven.
“How long?” she asked.
He picked up the pie-crust box. “It says forty-five minutes to an hour.”
Grace flipped the oven light on and peeked at the pot pie. “That’s a long time. Thirty-five? Forty?”
“I’ve never made a pie.” He laughed as he cleared their trash. “I have no idea. Sure. That’ll give me time to check in with my office.”
“I’ll go work on a book cover.”
“Do you need to be on the internet for that?”
She shook her head. “Nope. Just a program on my computer. My client had just approved the concept, and now I’m playing with the proportions of the image in the background before I go much further.”
She settled on the well-worn couch, pulled a crocheted blanket over her legs, and booted up her device.
Years of remote work in a constantly changing setting had given her the ease to simply slide into a job.
She flipped the laptop screen so that it functioned like a tablet, removed a stylus from her bag, and dove into her work, completely relaxed.
Callum lingered. Her stylus swiped over the screen over and over again like she was shading a tiny spot. The book cover had her complete attention, and the way her hair fell over her face had his. If he didn’t call Vivian right that moment, he wouldn’t be able to let Grace work.
He pivoted from the living room and dialed Viv. Surely he’d given her enough time to handle the police and hunt down the motivation behind the firebomb through Alicia’s window.
Vivian answered on the first ring and got down to business. “It wasn’t Marino.”
He shut the bedroom door behind him and agreed. The MOs were different. Marino’s note was clear, if not creepy. The Molotov cocktail was messy and pointless. “How do you know?”
“Because Dominic Marino is furious someone is messing with his woman.”
His molars ground together. “She’s not his woman.”
“I know this. You know this. But a certain billionaire does not, and he and his people are blowing up every line of communication we’ve got a read on, demanding to know who put his wife in danger.”
“Ex-wife.”
“Again, Hale, I know. You know. He doesn’t seem to care, and he’s pissed. Want the good news?”
He paced. “Yeah, Viv. I want some good news.”
“He doesn’t know about you.”
Callum froze. “How’s that possible?”
“Maybe he’s not keeping as close an eye on her as we thought. Maybe he’s not putting the full weight of his resources on tracking her.”
“You sound like Dean with all of your ideas and no answers. Speaking of ideas,” he grumbled. “Grace and I talked, and I’m giving you an official heads-up: we don’t have a damsel situation. And you don’t have to butt into my personal life again.”
Vivian snorted. “Think you have that all sorted out, do ya, Prince Charming? It doesn’t work that way.”
“It’s different.”
“That’s what they all say.”
“Never mind.” He shouldn’t have brought it up. “If not Marino, then who firebombed Alicia?”
“And why did they firebomb her place?” Vivian mused aloud. “I have the same questions, and nothing yet. Before you jump down my throat. We’re working on it while you two stay low.”
“Staying low as we can. Don’t worry.”
“And make good decisions. Smart, level-headed, fully clothed decisions.”
He blew out his cheeks. “Gotta go, Boss.”
“Don’t blame me when this all comes crashing down,” she muttered and hung up.
The phone rang again. This time it was Dean, who proceeded to give Callum a more technical explanation of what Vivian reported. Interesting, but he didn’t walk away from the conversation feeling as though he knew more.
Callum opened the bedroom door. The hallway opened to the living room, where Grace remained on the couch, studiously sucked into her work. Her anxious energy had all but disappeared as if she were content so long as she wasn’t thinking about the fire at Alicia’s or her ex-husband.
Callum itched to do something. He didn’t have a mission objective—well, other than keeping Grace safe, and if he interrupted her now, she might bring up what he’d pushed off until they arrived: the reason he was no longer in the Army.
He wasn’t ready for that conversation yet. Soon. The right time would come to him.
Instead of bothering her, Callum checked on the chicken pot pie. The scent of baking dough warmed the air, but it needed far more than the thirty-five minutes they’d set the timer for. He reset it.
“It smells delicious.” Grace stretched her arms over her head. “How long until it’s done?”
“Maybe fifteen more minutes.”
“We’re going to starve to death.” Her smile warmed her eyes. “Want to see my cover so far?”
His body jumped at the chance to sit next to her, and if he hadn’t realized he was already gone for this woman, that would’ve been a bright sign.
He joined her on the couch. Grace scooted closer, brushing her hair off her shoulder as she removed the crucial inches between them. The crocheted blanket still covered her legs; her hands were on her computer, arms covered by the long sleeves.
“How are the cat scratches?”
She glanced at them. “Not bothering me since you gave me a couple of orgasms.”
His jaw fell before he caught it. Callum tipped his head back and laughed.
She didn’t tiptoe around anything. That had been how they had been years ago.
She always told him what was on her mind—except for that crucial part that he’d also been hiding—and he loved to see it again.
More and more of her shone through. “Good to know that’s a cure for pain. ”
She snuggled next to him. “Look. This is the cover. I love it.”
He put his arm around her.
“It’s a fantasy novel with fairies and wood nymphs. Lush greenery and stars that are visible during the day.” She zoomed the screen into the sky where she’d painted the tiniest details. A constellation reflected the vivid green trees. The minutiae wouldn’t be apparent when she zoomed out again.
Grace scrolled down and tapped the screen with her stylus.
“This is my favorite fairy. I haven’t read the story, obviously, but I’ve named her Evangelina.
That sounds like a fairy’s name, doesn’t it?
” She tipped her chin up and offered a gentle expression that held more of his attention than her book cover.
Callum nodded. His chest tightened as if invisible hands pressed against his lungs. The way she looked up made him ache to be closer. He wasn’t sure he could wait until after dinner to undress her. The next time he made her come, it would be with his tongue and then his cock.
Her attention returned to the screen, unaware that she was screaming his name in his mind, and zoomed in on the screen again. “I gave Evangelina a flower bracelet that no one will ever notice, but that I’m obsessed with.”
He tried to focus. Honest to God, he did. The idea that he couldn’t sit next to her without dirty fucking thoughts was ludicrous. “You’re really talented.”
She repositioned the illustration. “If you zoom below this tree, you can see a little kid fairy trying out their wings for the first time. Honestly, no one will ever see it, but I’ll know it’s there.”
She shifted against him. Her loose hair tickled his skin, and his cock twitched for more. The air between them was too warm. She didn’t seem to notice as she continued to point out invisible details.
Callum locked his attention on the illustration’s complexity. If he looked up, he’d kiss her. The timer beeped for the pot pie, and he jumped.
With a tilt of her head and a lift of her eyebrows, she laughed. “Wow, I really sucked you into the fairy’s world.” She swiped the screen, smiling and proud of her work. “It really is one of my favorites.”
He still had a lot to learn about her. Tech savvy. A talented artist. As he put physical distance between them, he wondered what else. Peeling back her layers gave him a new perspective on a woman he thought he already knew.
Callum checked their dinner. Smelled good, but he would have thought it should have been bubbling through the steam vents in the pie crust. He shoved it back into the oven. “Not ready.”
“How much longer?” Grace walked into the kitchen as she stretched. Her fitted shirt lifted and exposed the soft stomach that his hands had been all over. She was trying to kill him.
He punched another round on the timer again. “Not too much longer.”
She leaned against the counter. “Did your office have an update?”
“Kinda.”
“Well?” she prompted, assessing him. “Any news on Dominic?”
He hated Marino’s name on her lips. “Dean tapped into Marino’s communication channels, and he’s upset that someone put you in danger.”
Lines tightened at the corners of her eyes. Her arms crossed, and her lips pursed as though she’d sucked on a lemon. Gone was the relaxed woman on the couch. Her walls were going up before his very eyes. “I don’t understand.”
“I don’t either, but they’ll figure it out.”
She pressed her fingers to her temples as if fighting off a headache. “I just want to be rid of him.”
Empathizing could only go so far. She needed a distraction. Hell, he did too. They couldn’t sit around with nothing to do while waiting for dinner, or Grace would work herself up when all Callum wanted was for her to completely let go.
Should he ask her about the book cover again?
He scanned the well-lived-in house. Board games and puzzles were stacked on the lower layer of the coffee table.
A flat-screen television hung on the wall between the mounted bass and trout.
Come nightfall, there was a fire pit to sit around, though he wasn’t sure how much fun she would find in poking a fire with a stick.
Or he could just take her to bed.
Callum wrapped her in his arms and let her meld to his chest. Everything about holding her felt right. Apprehensions evaporated. Vivian’s disproven theory disappeared. This was the woman he was meant to hold. He dropped his lips to the top of her head.
“I need this,” she whispered against his chest. “You.”
He lowered his mouth to hers, and like a balm to a burn, she soothed parts of him that vibrated. Her lips fit on his as though they’d been born to kiss. Every part of him needed to be with her.
Callum swept her into his arms and returned to the couch, cradling her in his lap, his hand sliding up her thigh. Her mouth moved to his neck and set the world on fire—and he froze.
Her languid body tightened. “What?”
He focused on a stuffed fish on the wall, its head facing the living room, watching, and he remembered exactly why they were there in the first place. “Give me a second.”
“No.”
“Trust me.” There was a not-small chance of a live feed streaming into Dean’s office that very moment. Fucking Wes and Rhys would have popcorn by now. “There are security cameras.”
Her eyes went wide.
“It was just a kiss.” He brushed her hair off her cheeks. “We didn’t put on a show.”
Grace straightened and stared about the room. “Who’s watching?”
“I’m not sure, but Dean probably has a live feed he could pull up at any moment.”
Her jaw set, and he could see the tension simmering, but then she laughed. Grace tipped her head back and cried, “Come on. Do you know how long I’ve wanted this guy?”
Wanting to pull his hair out, he had to laugh, too.
“I’m being serious,” she managed.
“Believe me, you’re not alone in that frustration.”
“The cameras can’t be everywhere, can they? The bathroom?”
He liked the way her mind worked. “I’ll find out.”
The oven timer beeped.
“Okay, come on, universe,” she called.
“Sit still a minute.” He pulled the pot pie out of the oven so they wouldn’t forget and burn the safe house down, then turned toward the garage. There had to be tools in there.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting what I need to clear the security cameras from inside this house.”