Chapter 9
Oliver
Callie walks into my apartment with me to drop off Nacho, and I immediately wish I’d thought to clean up this morning. Not that I’m messy or anything, but you think about things from a different perspective when a beautiful woman is suddenly in your place for the first time.
Only time, I remind myself.
Following Nacho and I through the door, Callie takes timid steps inside and closes the door behind her. The overwhelming silence as I fill Nacho’s bowl with food in the open kitchen isn’t encouraging.
“What do you think?” I finally dare to ask.
Callie looks around as if she hadn’t thought to do so until now. Nodding, she says, “It’s pretty modern.”
A smirk slides into place. “You mean cold?”
“That’s not what I said.” Those large brown eyes meet mine. “Did it come furnished?”
“But that’s what you meant,” I say, ignoring her question.
Callie wanders into the living room, carefully examining the white leather seating set and white oak furniture. She takes in the white walls with nothing hanging on display, the dark rug and LED lighting.
“Well?” I try again.
“You could almost use it as a dentist’s office,” she muses. Based on her shocked expression, I don’t think that last thought was actually supposed to come out.
I don’t bother holding back my laughter. Shrugging, I move around the white granite counter. “Fair enough. And you’re right,” I nod, “it did come furnished.”
The relief is visible on her lovely face, making me chuckle again.
“You need art or family pictures or something. And a fuzzy throw.” Callie nods to the stark couch. “Either would help.”
“I’ll admit, I’ve never shopped for a fuzzy blanket before.” I smile at her.
“Maybe Blythe can help you. Her place is really cozy.”
Lifting a brow, I give her a playful grin. “I thought girlfriends were supposed to help decorate their boyfriend’s place?”
“Then maybe you should get a real girlfriend and she will.” Callie grins back. “You know, if you’re not careful, I may have to join you and your real girlfriend for Thanksgiving when you finally get one. Especially if it means getting out of having a full meal with my family.”
“What do you mean?” My brows knit together. “I thought we were having Thanksgiving dinner with your family.”
Callie shakes her head. “They eat the traditional meal for lunch. We’re joining them for dessert.”
Huh. “Will they be upset that you weren’t at the main meal?”
“I doubt they even noticed I wasn’t there,” she answers. Callie glances at her watch, her beautiful smile fading.
“Time to go?”
She nods as though the undertaker is on his way.
On instinct, I hold out my hand, which she willingly takes. “Well, if they ask, at least you can honestly say you’ve seen your boyfriend’s apartment.”
When we’re back in the car, Callie gives me the address to her parents’ home. While I can’t say I know the entire area surrounding Serenvale Springs, I know enough to understand that where the Rutherfords live houses only stately homes.
Minute after minute begins to tick by in silence. Finally, I can’t stand it any longer. “So, your family isn’t really a pack of wolves, right?”
Callie peeks over at me from the passenger seat, confusion marring every gorgeous feature. Okay, I guess we’re fully admitting that we’re attracted to her.
Not that I was really trying to avoid it before.
Grimacing, I clear my throat and try again. “I just mean, even my dad called them that.” Forced laughter chokes its way out. “And he basically lives in a cave with his woodworking. Literally, if you consider their garage a cave.”
The smallest smile graces her full lips, more polite than anything.
So I try again. “Anything I should be aware of?”
“Like what?” Her voice is small, nerves evident.
“Anything in particular they may try targeting you about? Weird habits or childhood stories they might use to embarrass you?”
Callie twists her fingers into a knot in her lap. Worrying her bottom lip, she answers, “They’ll probably ask you if this is real.”
Geez, who are these people? Doing my best not to show the rising frustration for these people I’ve never met, I work my fingers around the steering wheel, desperate for a distraction. “Have you brought many fake boyfriends around, then?” I shoot her a goofy grin, but it doesn’t land.
Instead, she looks like she could vomit at any moment. “Quite the opposite, actually. I’ve never brought anyone home for a holiday before.”
“Never?”
“Never. So it wouldn’t be a huge stretch for Chris to tease you about my hiring you. Don’t get me wrong—I’ve dated plenty. But no one’s ever, um … ”
“Made it to the family holiday test?”
She shakes her head. “In fact, they’ve only ever met one boyfriend.”
My brow lifts of its own accord.
“But that’s only because our fathers know each other,” she continues. “And he’s friends with Chris, who was certainly not happy when things ended. You can add that to the list of reasons he provides such a wondrous familial experience.”
“Your brother sounds like quite the gem,” I grumble. “Is he worse than the older one? Prescott, right?”
Callie straightens in her seat. Eyes wide, she grips her seat belt. “Wait a second. We’ve never discussed payment.”
My hand takes on a life of its own, reaching across the console and enveloping hers. The subtle squeeze is meant to be reassuring, and it occurs a little too late that she may think I’m being creepy.
Blythe always talks about how it freaks her out if a guy randomly touches her. Especially if they’re not dating.
And while Callie and I are technically together, that still doesn’t give me the right to just assume anything, even if I have touched her before now.
But when I try to pull away, Callie places her free hand onto our intertwined ones, squeezing right back.
“I promise I’m not worried about that, Callie.”
She nods. “We’ll deal with all of that later.”
Discomfort lodges itself in my throat. Trying anything I can to swallow it, I continue, “Anything else?”
Callie shrugs. “Mom likes to be the bride at every wedding and the corpse at every funeral.”
I bark out a laugh. “Quite the attention-seeker, got it. What about anything secret I may need to know that would give us away?”
“Don’t get me coffee when it’s passed around. My family loves their java jolt, so it definitely will be offered at some point.”
Lifting a brow, I give her my best look of innocence. “Why would I do that when my girlfriend only likes hot chocolate?”
Callie smiles to herself. “Imogene … she’s pretty standoffish.
Don’t be surprised if she just ignores you for the most part.
She’s kind of Prescott's minion, but she’s really smart.
And I don’t know that she would be rude, except to make Prescott like her.
She’s constantly making sure she has his approval.
” Her cheeks pinken, and I assume she’s leaving things out.
For whose benefit, I’m not sure. “But Prescott’s little girl is precious,” Callie gushes. A brilliant smile brightens her face.
My brows raise. “Prescott has a kid?”
Callie nods. “Marigold. She’s seven, and my favorite person in the family.”
“Other than Connie?”
She doesn’t respond immediately, but the smile leftover from mentioning her niece doesn’t fade, either. “I think Connie and I could be close. Maybe.”
“If it wasn’t for Chris?”
She nods, that burst of sun slipping.
Considering my next words, I phrase my next question delicately.
“Why does Chris seem to be so antagonistic toward you? Of all your siblings, you seem to have the most difficult relationship with him.” I give her hand another squeeze for courage.
Her cheeks pinken at my gesture, which brings me more pleasure than it really should.
So I do it again just to be sure.
This time, Callie tucks her face toward the window as her lovely blush deepens.
Something inside me stirs, making me wish I had a good reason to reach out and touch her cheek. To see if it’s as warm on my fingertips as I imagine it is.
“He and Connie were the youngest,” she starts, still facing the passenger window, “and they never seemed to need anyone but each other. I always teach my students independence at the beginning of each year, but any attempt to help Connie gain a little distance from Chris has never gone over well. I’m already seen as the interloper in my own family, and Mom and Dad have always made it clear they expected to stop after four, anyway.
‘We already had two of each, Calloway. Why would we need more?’ That’s my dad’s favorite answer when asked if he wanted any more kids.
” Bitterness seeps in, tainting her sweet voice.
“Prescott is the oldest—your standard overachiever. Mom and Dad doted on him, but they always pushed him so hard. With Imogene, they often pitted her against her brother. Pushed her to be better, faster, smarter. A couple years later, they had the twins. Connie had some medical issues at birth. There was a collapsed lung and she had to stay in the NICU for weeks. So, while Mom and Dad pushed the oldest two, Connie got all the coddling. Still does, really. And Chris … ”
“Feels unappreciated and like he doesn’t receive the same attention,” I finish for her.
Callie nods. “From what I’ve gathered, yeah.
Then, I was a surprise. And while I never got the coddling the youngest child tends to receive, I think he feels like I got away with so much more.
It’s really only because Mom and Dad never actually paid me much attention.
He feels like I got off easy. Picked an easy profession. That kind of thing.” She shrugs.
I don’t bother taming the snort that comes out. “There is nothing easy about being an educator, Callie, and you shouldn’t let them make you feel like there is.”
“If you truly believe that, then you’ve got your work cut out for you today.” We may only be two feet apart, but her thoughts are years away.
“Callie?”