Chapter 3 - Callie
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Callie
“Stop fidgeting. You look like you’re about to jump out of your own skin.”
I groan, itching to rip away the folded bandana Mabel has tied around my head just so I can roll my eyes at her. “Is it too late to cancel?”
Mabel doesn’t bother responding, but her camera starts clicking, and I know she’s snapping pictures of me . . . which only makes me squirm more.
“Oh my god, Callie. Relax.” Her voice gets louder as she walks closer. Her hand lands on my shoulder. “Breathe. You look absolutely beautiful, and today is supposed to be fun, remember? No pressure. Just fun.”
“Says the one not wearing a blindfold,” I mutter, trying to ignore the way my chest is tightening. I don’t want Mabel to know how close I am to freaking out, so I suck in a deep breath and slowly blow it through my lips.
I want this photoshoot to go well, if for no other reason than I think it might be good for her business, but I’m already counting down the seconds until it’s over.
People Magazine’s Sexiest Man of the Year could show up and I still wouldn’t be interested.
I just want to get today over and done with.
Mabel pushes the hair off my shoulder and repositions me.
“Stay just like this, okay?” The camera clicks a few more times.
These are the “before” shots and in just a few minutes, Mabel will be heading off to do the same with the guy I’m shooting with today.
She arranged to meet him in the parking lot and once she blindfolds him, she’ll drive him to this spot in her Jeep.
Then we’ll meet and pretend like we’re some couple in love while my cousin takes a thousand pictures of us. Because that’s not weird at all.
“So, where’d you find this guy again?”
“He’s a friend of a friend,” Mabel tells me. “He comes into the diner all the time.”
My brain immediately supplies me with a mental picture of all the regulars that frequent the diner, and it’s mostly a bunch of old, hunch-backed men or good ole boys who peaked in high school and still get together on Friday nights to relive “the big game.”
“Great,” I mutter. “Mabel, I swear to all that is holy that if you’re trying to hook me up with one of the Tomlin brothers or—”
“Calm down,” Mabel cuts me off. “He’s not from around here, okay? He’s a transplant. Moved to town a few years ago.”
Not a local, then. Interesting.
I open my mouth to ask another question, but a short three-note chime interrupts me.
“Okay, he’s in the parking lot. I’m going to go get him. You—” Mabel’s hand finds mine and gently tugs. “Sit here and don’t move.” She helps me sit down on a worn, wooden bench. “And no taking off the blindfold.”
“Fine,” I grumble, listening to the sound of her boots crunch in the grass as she hurries over to where she left her Jeep. She starts it up and drives off, leaving me alone, blindfolded, and feeling like this whole thing is a very bad idea.
Sighing, I rub the pads of my fingertips along the hem of my skirt.
I’d swapped the ratty sweats I’d been living in for a pretty, floral sundress.
It’s an old favorite of mine, one I haven’t worn in years.
I was surprised to find I even still had it.
My hair is hanging in loose waves around my shoulders, and I’ve paired the dress with a pair of dark brown cowboy boots.
It’s the most me outfit I’ve worn in a long time, which makes me feel good even if I am about to do the world’s most awkward photoshoot.
This is fine, I tell myself. Totally fine .
I’m way more nervous than I thought I would be when I agreed to this.
I have no interest in dating right now, but I also don’t want to embarrass myself either.
It’s been years since I’ve been on a date or even looked at another man.
I don’t know if I even remember how to talk to one.
Most of the men I’ve interacted with in the last year were Adam’s stuffy lawyer friends, and they never really took the time to talk to me beyond casual pleasantries.
My heart clenches a little at the thought of just how much time I’ve wasted the last few years, and I take a breath to steady myself.
Maybe, if I’m a little more open to the idea, something good will come from this.
Not just for Mabel but for me too. I don’t mean a relationship, of course, but maybe this is just what I need to help me shake things up, to propel me in a new direction.
Sometimes you have to take a step outside your comfort zone, right?
Even though it’s early out, the spring air is warm and fragrant.
The field Mabel chose to shoot in today is just on the outskirts of town near the river.
It’s a popular spot for picnics and swimming during the summer, but this time of the day, we’re the only ones here.
Mabel insisted the lighting was better first thing in the morning, which is why she dragged me out of bed before the sun had even come up to help me curl my hair.
When I hear the Jeep pulling up, I stand on shaky legs and flex my fingers, trying to expel the anxiousness through my fingertips. For Mabel. You’re doing this for Mabel.
My cousin’s laugh draws my attention, as does the deep rumble of a man’s voice as they come closer.
“Be careful, it’s a little uneven right here,” Mabel instructs, and I know she must be leading my date toward me. I have about five seconds to decide if I’m going to rip the blindfold off and bolt or if I’m actually going to go through with this.
A hand lightly grips my elbow. “You okay?” Mabel whispers.
Here’s my out if I want it. I know she won’t force me to do this if I really don’t want to, but that’s all the more reason to stay put. “Yeah,” I whisper back. “I’m good.”
She lets out an excited little chirp and walks me forward a few paces. “Almost there,” she says, but I’m not sure if she’s talking to me or him.
She pulls me a few more steps and then carefully spins me around, pushing me backward until I hit something solid.
My date. The warmth of his back pressed against mine permeates through the cotton of my dress.
“Um . . . hi,” I say, trying not to let my nerves get the best of me.
“I’m Callie.” I feel ridiculous introducing myself with a blindfold on, but it feels even weirder to not say anything at all.
“Hey,” my date replies, his voice deep. “I’m Jensen.”
Before we can say anything else, Mabel comes close and adjusts our position. “Okay, I want to get a few shots with the blindfolds on and then we’ll take them off,” she tells us right before she starts snapping photos.
I have no idea what to do with my body or if I’m even supposed to be smiling, so I just stand there hoping I don’t look as awkward as I feel.
“Hmmm,” Mabel moves close again, assessing us. “You two sorta look like a pair of bank hostages.”
I guess I’m not the only one who’s feeling a little weird about this whole thing.
“Why don’t you try holding hands?” Mabel throws out the suggestion. “And smile, okay?”
I sigh and move my hand slightly behind me. There’s a deep rumble of . . . nervous laughter maybe? And then I feel a large hand slide across my open palm and long fingers interlock with mine.
As our palms press together, I’m surprised by how good it feels.
Physical touch has always been a love language of mine, but Adam .
. . well, he hated any public display of affection.
He never held my hand in public, never rested a palm against my lower back as he led me into a room, and certainly never kissed me when people were around.
Even when we were alone, there was a chaste distance between us.
I’d gotten used to it over time and even convinced myself that I didn’t need such things, but there’s something so comforting about the feel of this stranger’s hand holding mine.
The intimacy—as simple as it is—is more than I’ve felt in a very long time. I like it more than I want to admit.
“Okay!” Mabel declares after another minute or two. “I think we’re ready. On the count of three, I want you both to turn around and remove your blindfolds. Ready?”
My heart flutters so wildly I’m sure it’s about to fly right out of my chest, but I shake my head.
“1 . . . 2 . . . 3!”
I don’t wait for my brain to even consider all the ways this moment could be a disaster, and instead, I spin quickly, ripping the blindfold over my head.
It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight, but when they do, every thought in my head goes silent. I stare at the man in front of me.
He’s tall with broad shoulders and tan arms that appear to be covered in colorful tattoos—at least from what I can see peeking out from under the shoved-up sleeve of his Henley.
He’s got dark brown hair that’s short on the side, longer on the top, with strands that hang just a little over his forehead, and there’s a line of stubble that covers his lower jaw.
His eyes are a dark, radiant blue. There’s a solemness about him that I notice instantly, but his expression is kind as he scans my face, his lips curling in a small smile.
He’s handsome in a way I’m not sure I could accurately describe, and I tear my eyes away from his as the blood rushes up into my face.
Mabel isn’t saying anything from where she stands nearby, but I can hear her camera whirring and clicking.
My date takes a step closer and a warm woodsy scent with just a hint of citrus floods my nostrils. “Hi again,” he tells me. “It’s nice to meet you, Callie.”
His voice is one of those deep gravelly ones, the kind you hear singing some soulful ballad in a bar, and my eyes lift to find his.
And there’s something about the way Jensen says my name that makes me shiver.
“Hi.” The words come out a little breathy.
I clear my throat and try again. “It’s nice to meet you too. ”
“You ever done anything like this before?”
“No, never. You?”
Jensen shakes his head. “My first time.”