Chapter 13 - Callie
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Callie
My paintbrush slides across the canvas. The golden streak of amber isn’t a perfect match, and I wrinkle my nose at it.
I lean back on my stool, studying the sky above me.
The sinking sun has turned the sky into a breathtaking kaleidoscope of saffron and persimmon, but try as I might, I can’t quite replicate its exact hue.
Still, it’s nice to have a paintbrush in my hand again.
I’ve been painting most afternoons since I moved into the RV. Nothing fancy, just me getting reacquainted with an old friend, but it’s quickly becoming my favorite part of the day.
Something wet nuzzles against the palm I have resting on my lap, and a laugh bubbles up in my throat as I look down to see Peaches sitting next to me, her sweet little snout wiggling to get underneath my hand.
“You are such a little love bug,” I murmur, even though I know she can’t hear me.
I use both hands to scratch behind her ears, which makes her tail wag back and forth so fast, it’s like she’s one of those electric toys you wind up. It makes me laugh again.
I move off my stool and plop down in the soft grass next to her. Peaches immediately flops over, exposing her belly, and I give her all the scratches and rubs. She rewards me with several slobbery kisses.
“Oh you,” I tell her, booping her on the nose. “I wish you could stay, but you know if he finds you down here again, he won’t be happy.”
Jensen’s face fills my mind, and my smile fades.
The knotted feeling in my stomach returns—the one I’ve been fighting for days now.
Peaches must sense the shift in my mood because she lets out a little whine and practically crawls into my lap.
“I know, I know,” I tell her, running my fingertips along her back.
Jensen and I haven’t spoken much since I moved into the RV two weeks ago.
We’ve only seen each other a handful of times and every occasion has been more awkward than the last. Two days ago, he’d come home from work expecting to find his dog waiting for him.
Except she wasn’t. She was here at the RV with me.
It hadn’t occurred to me that he would mind. It wasn’t the first time I’d opened my door to find Peaches standing in the grass beside the door, tail wagging. It also hadn’t occurred to me to take her back to the house.
But when his truck pulled up, the look on his face made it very clear that he did mind. He’d minded a lot .
I thought maybe we’d turned some kind of corner when he agreed to let me rent the RV, but every time he looks at me, his expression is guarded. Not exactly unfriendly, but definitely standoffish.
It’s more than that, too. There’s something else behind his stiff posture and the way his cheeks always tug downward when he looks at me. Something much deeper in the way his stormy eyes stare into mine.
Even though I shouldn’t, I can’t help but want to know what it is, and thinking about Jensen takes up way more time than it should—especially given my official proclamation to swear off men in favor of becoming a cat mom.
I don’t want a relationship. I don’t want to put myself in a situation where I could end up heartbroken on Mabel’s couch again, but despite what my brain is saying, my heart keeps reminding me of the way Jensen held me during the photoshoot, so tenderly.
I can still feel his fingers tugging at my waist, pulling me closer.
And sweet magnolias, I still think about the way his lips felt against mine.
The way Jensen kissed me was unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
It was perfect, but poignant in a way that I don’t understand.
It was a hello and a goodbye all mixed in one, the opening of a door but the firm shutting of that same door.
It was free-falling, totally weightless, and then having your feet touch the earth again, solid and defining.
It was beautiful but sad at the same time, and I don’t know why.
Maybe that’s how it should stay. Adam took so much of me during our relationship, and now that I’m free of that and finding my way back to myself, the last thing I need is to be attracted to some broody, grumpy, impossible man.
“It’s time I listen to my brain for once,” I tell Peaches. She responds with a sneeze and a wag of her tail. I take that to mean she agrees.
“Yoo-hoo,” a voice calls out from behind me.
I swivel around, greeting the petite woman with rich brown skin, eyes that crinkle with laugh lines, and gray, curling hair shuffling over to me from the Spartan Manor parked about thirty yards away. “Hey, neighbor! What are you up to this fine afternoon?”
Ms. Dorothy gives me a sweet smile and indicates the saran-wrapped bundle in her hands. “I made a couple of pound cakes to take to Bingo at the senior center this evening, but I thought you might like a slice or two.”
“Oh, Ms. Dorothy, you spoil me.” I take the cake, my mouth already watering. Ms. Dorothy is one of the best cooks around, probably the best here in Clayton County. Since the day I moved in, she’s made it her personal mission to make sure I never want for baked goods. “Thank you. ”
“You’re welcome, hon.” She pats my arm with a wink before plopping down in one of the folding chairs I have set up near the water’s edge.
Peaches, who loves my neighbor as much as I do, immediately walks over and sticks her head within petting reach.
Ms. Dorothy’s gnarled fingers begin stroking the fur between her ears.
She eyes my painting. “You started a new one.”
“Yeah, I couldn’t get the composition right on the other one.” I furrow my brow thinking about the canvas I’d given up on this morning. “I figured it was better to just start over than try to make it work.”
“You know, I said the exact same thing about my ex-husband,” Dorothy quips, which makes me snort.
“Which one was that? Husband two or three?”
Dorothy shrugs. “Probably both.”
“But you finally found Mr. Right in the end,” I remind her. “Unless all those stories about you and Robert were fiction.”
“Oh no, those were the real deal.” The dreamy look she always gets when she talks about her late husband appears, lighting up her face. “That one was a love story for the ages.”
“From what you told me, it definitely sounds like it,” I reply, a little wistfully. “You’re lucky in that way. I don’t think everyone finds that kind of love in their lifetime.”
Dorothy considers this before nodding. “That’s true, I suppose. Although it definitely took a few wrong decisions before I finally made the right one. ”
“Was it hard?” I ask her. “To keep putting yourself out there?”
“Of course,” Dorothy presses a palm to her heart, “but I’ve never regretted being open to it, even if it didn’t always work out.
Love is scary and there are no guarantees.
Sometimes you just have to jump off the cliff first before you know if you’ll fly.
But if you do . . . ” Her face lights up again and her laugh lines deepen.
“Well, that makes it all worth it, doesn’t it? ”
“You sound like a Hallmark card,” I tease. “Besides, if my last relationship is any indication, I think I prefer my feet firmly on the ground.”
“What about that handsome landlord of ours?”
“What about him?”
Dorothy lifts a brow and gives me a “don’t even try to deny it” look.
“There’s nothing between me and Jensen. He can barely even look at me without grimacing.”
“That’s because he doesn’t want to admit his feelings. Trust me, I know the signs.”
My first instinct is to argue with Dorothy, to tell her that it’s not even slightly possible, but then there it is again, the memory of our photoshoot, playing on repeat in my mind.
There was something there that day, something happened between us out in that field, and as much as I want to forget about it, I can’t.
“But you don’t want to admit yours either, so there’s that. ”
I snort. “Ms. Dorothy, I don’t have feelings for him. He’s too . . . grumpy and . . . and . . . ”
“And a total dish?” Dorothy helpfully supplies. “I mean, good gravy, that man knows how to wear a pair of blue jeans.”
“Ms. Dorothy!” I laugh. I mean, she’s not wrong. Not in the slightest.
“What? I’m old, not dead!”
We’re both cackling when the sound of truck tires rolling up the lane gets our attention. Peaches perks up, the vibration in the ground waking her from the snooze she’d been taking at Ms. Dorothy’s feet.
All at once, the levity drains right out of me.
“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” I murmur under my breath.
The truck slows to a stop and I brace myself, for both the man and the emotions I’m about to experience.
But when Jensen steps out of the cab, his expression catches me off guard.
He’s not smiling, but he’s not exactly frowning either, and when his eyes meet mine, the usual stare doesn’t pierce through me.
No, his expression is more . . . thoughtful. Which is almost just as disarming.
“Callie,” he breathes, nodding in my direction. “Ms. Dorothy.” He gives her a small smile, and jealousy spikes through me for a split-second. It’s been a minute since he smiled at me like that.
“Sorry to bother you both. I just came to get Peaches.” He eyes the dog laying at Ms. Dorothy’s feet with exactly zero shame.
“Oh, you’re not bothering us at all, is he, Callie?”
My cheeks burn as Jensen’s eyes move to meet mine again. “Um, not at all.” I twist the paintbrush in my hand. “I was just messing around, and Dorothy stopped by with some dessert.”
“I’ve got some for you too, boy. Don’t you move now, ya hear?” She hurries to add, hustling for the door of her RV, leaving me and Jensen alone.
Jensen chuckles. “Yes ma’am,” he says, though his eyes never leave mine.