Chapter 6 #3
I may as well be under a microscope with how hard my friends are staring at me.
My face flames, but I employ every facility to ignore it.
“I mean, she never actually asked me anything.” Based on all the blinks I’m receiving, I’m doing a splendid job of explaining myself.
Sighing, I try again. “She got there and, from what I gathered, Mrs. Lanahan was trying to get her to make an appointment when I came in. Callie tried to leave when Mr. Klosten arrived and bumped into her, dumping her purse contents all over the floor, including the flyer, which I found. When we got back to my office, I asked if her family was truly bad enough that she’d come looking for what the paper offered. ”
John snorts. “If the brother we saw tonight is any indication, the answer is yes.”
“Yeah, well, she didn’t really give an actual answer. Just something about them having their challenges.”
“Talk about an understatement.” Rindy elbows her wife. “I mean, yeesh.”
“So,” John sends his sister a playful warning, “how did you leave it?”
“She ran out of my office, man.”
“Okay, that’s not great.” He nods. “But that explains why she pretended not to know you tonight.” Yeah, that wasn’t my best work.
Running a hand through my hair, I watch with an annoying amount of nerves as the three look between themselves. “What?” I ask wearily. Though I’m not sure I really want to know the answer.
It’s like they’re holding council among themselves. It’s unnerving.
“I think you should do it.” If Rindy didn’t have that look she gives each and every patient, I’d think she was kidding.
I snort. “Excuse me?”
“Come on, what’ve you got to lose?” she presses. “And you could always just agree to Thanksgiving. That would give you both an out in case it’s too weird.”
“You know,” John starts, a little too slowly for my liking, “the poster’s message was one-sided.”
“But?”
“But”—he hesitates again—“what if it was reciprocal?”
Jo and Rindy both look a little too excited at that particular prospect.
“What, like she comes to my family’s Thanksgiving, too?” I am now all too aware that the music has stopped and wonder what, if anything, anyone listening in would think our group is discussing.
“Yes, Oliver. That’s exactly what that means.” He waits for me to process before continuing, “Think about it. It would help you get your folks to cool it for a bit.”
“Which is apparently how all this started,” Jo laughs. “I think it’s perfect.”
Rindy nods in the direction of the bar. “Look, she’s over at the bar. Just go talk to her.” She shrugs. “If anything, it’ll be great entertainment for us.”
“Lovely,” I grumble, since I don’t really want to admit that I already knew Callie had gone to the bar, and was being watched by no less than two potential suitors.
John makes a shooing motion.
Rolling my eyes, I push back from the table, a half-full glass in hand.
I weave through the throngs of sweaty people waiting to be served and step right up behind her.
She hasn’t noticed me yet and man, does that make me feel like a creep.
Blythe always says she prefers when a guy announces himself so she’s not startled.
Since I don’t have a fancy man in a robe and scepter to proclaim my arrival, I stick with clearing my throat.
Callie doesn’t so much as look up from her phone, but a young man about her age standing next to her does. Cutting a judgmental gaze my way, the guy tries to puff his chest to stake his claim. Pulling out my withering glare, it doesn’t take long for him to scramble away with his fresh drink.
I don’t waste any time taking the open space next to her.
Fully engrossed in looking at pictures of strange plants on her phone, she goes on unaware of my presence.
Here goes nothing. “I noticed you didn’t say that I could call you Callie.”
She freezes, thumb mid-scroll.
“Of course, I’m happy to call you whatever you’d like,” I continue, “but if we do this, I should probably call you something less formal.”
Delicate ruby brows knit together as Calloway Rutherford turns my way. How does a human being smell like chocolate and sweat? “If we do what?”
“You know, pretend to date while I convince your family they’re crazy.”
Throwing a panicked gaze over her shoulder one way, then the other, that long ponytail barely misses slapping me square in the face. “Shh!” She glares back at me.
“What?”
“Could you please not say that so loud?”
“Which part?”
“Any of it.”
Now it’s my turn to frown. “Sorry, are you not still interested? You did come to see me, after all.”
“Everything okay, Callie?” the bartender asks her, eyeing me suspiciously.
“Oh, yeah.” She gives him a breathy laugh, waving him off. “He’s just a friend. But I’m fine.”
The bartender nods to her before setting a giant glass of water down in front of her and heading to the next patron.
I quirk a brow. “Just a friend, huh?”
Callie rolls her warm brown eyes, the same color as the light dusting of freckles coating her nose. “Look, Dr. Rhodes—”
“You should really call me Oliver.”
“Dr. Rhodes—”
“Is that how you’d introduce me to your family?” I ask, gaining far too much enjoyment from the lovely blush spreading over her cheeks.
“I mean, not if we … you know—” she sighs “—but we’re not. So it’s a non-issue.”
“Sorry, when did we decide we’re not? May I?
” I nod to the water sitting in front of her.
“John has a habit of ordering me beers that are a little too dark for my liking.” Callie hands over the water without a moment of hesitation.
I waste no time taking a large swig before replacing it on the counter.
“I thought the flyer was a joke?” Callie crosses her arms as she leans the side of her frame into the bar.
I shrug. “Originally, yes.” Watching her every movement, I choose my words carefully. “But I think we could both benefit from it.”
She scrunches her tiny nose. “Both of us?”
“Yep,” I nod. “Thanksgiving. You come with me to my parents’ house and convince them I can have a steady relationship. In return, I’ll go to yours and fulfill the duties listed out on the poster. You introduce me as your serious boyfriend all while I use my professional training to your advantage.”
“I’d introduce you as my boyfriend,” she repeats, “and you’d basically convince them I’m really a functioning adult.”
“That everything they believe to be wrong with you is actually their doing,” I correct.
Skepticism coats each angelic feature of the woman’s face. “I have a hard time believing your family needs convincing of anything,” she finally says.
A laugh bursts from my chest. Her shock, punctuated by widening eyes, isn't lost on me. “My parents think I work too much. And neglect a love life for time spent with my dog.”
Callie brightens. “You have a dog?”
I nod. “Nacho.”
A musical giggle tumbles from her lips. “What a name.”
“She’s a golden retriever I rescued when she was just a baby. I can’t believe she’s three now.” A smile I didn’t even feel form widens. “My mom wanted me to name her something like Daisy. When my sister suggested Nacho, my mom begged for it to be anything else. And it just stuck,” I shrug.
Grinning, Callie shakes her head. “So, you’re quite the rebel, then?”
“Oh, absolutely.” I flash her my toothiest grin. “Look, I know things didn’t go too well on Tuesday.” The way her face drops at the mention of my poor behavior is like a knife to the gut. “But I really do think we could help each other.”
“I dunno … ” Rolling her lips inward, she glances somewhere behind me.
“I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but who knows? If it gets our families off our backs, even for just a little while, wouldn’t that be worth it?”
Callie takes a drink of the water while I try not to think about how my lips once touched where hers now deign to grace. Cautious eyes flit back toward my table. “Do, um, they know?”
Ah. “Yes,” I answer matter-of-factly. “But it can actually be to our advantage.”
This piques her interest. A raised brow gives away her every worry.
“They can help us build a backstory. Corroborate our story if needed, that kind of thing.”
Callie nods, more to herself than me. Thinking. “And they’d do that? Go along with it, I mean?”
“They’ve already agreed.” Not really, but I highly doubt they would object.
Callie raises her brows.
I merely shrug.
She considers this for a moment. But the amount of relief I feel is annoying when she answers, “We’d need to come up with a game plan. If we were to do this.”
“We can do that.”
She bites down on her full bottom lip. “It’s Friday.”
Slowly, I nod. “Yes … ” Not that I looked too hard at my calendar today, but I believe her.
“Thanksgiving is in less than a week,” she finishes.
Got it. “Would you want to grab lunch this weekend to hash out the details?”
Callie shakes her head. “Sorry. I already have plans.”
“With your other boyfriend?” I tease. Mainly because I’m trying to ignore how much her rejection stings.
Callie smirks. “Oh, absolutely.” But she laughs a glorious, carefree laugh. “No, I’m helping Ian move.”
“How about early next week?” I offer.
“I have school through Wednesday,” she says, eyes downcast.
Shrugging nonchalantly, the words are out before I can even truly consider them. “I could come and have lunch in your classroom. How about Monday?”
Callie’s brows shoot up, clearly unfamiliar with the concept of a lunch date at school. “Fair warning, you may get glitter on you.”
I playfully roll my eyes. “I doubt it’d be any more than you left in my office earlier this week.”
Somewhere in the background, the band starts up again for their next set.
Callie casts a quick glance back toward her group, raising the water glass to whomever she’s sending a message. “Well,” she says, turning back to me, “I’ll see you Monday? Eleven AM?”
“See you Monday, Ms. Rutherford,” I murmur.
Hope blooms in her features for the first time since I’ve met her. Curious eyes roam my face as a small smile plays on her rosy lips. Without another word, Calloway Rutherford turns and wanders back into the crowd.