CHAPTER SIX
I wring my hands until a sting cries out to stop me. My sore knuckles are the least of my troubles. I turn on my heel and pace back to the fireplace. At this rate, I’m going to wear a path into the carpet.
The clock mocks me, ticking away time without a concern for my nerves. Ridge should arrive any moment. That only serves to send my pulse into a tailspin. I pivot to make another pass across the room.
My gaze whips from left to right while seeking a distraction. I need to occupy what’s left of this wait or I’m likely to faint. Our meal is already cooking in the oven. A page in my scrapbook is prepared for the event. It’s sure to be one of my best creations yet. Maybe we’ll take a picture together to capture the memory. That giddy thrill skips in my belly at the thought.
Hopefully Ridge will think I look nice. The dress I’m wearing accentuates my curves in a subtle sense—according to Harper, at least. It makes me feel exposed, but tonight is about pushing boundaries. I’m exiting my comfort zone.
I peek in the mirror to check if the makeup I applied is still on. My mascara hasn’t smudged and the red tint on my lips pops. Minimal and classy, just like the loose curls styling my hair. Harper’s reassurance is playing through my mind once again.
Nothing needs to be done other than the actual date itself. That term sets off a fresh buzz in my pulse. Doubt soon follows.
Maybe this was a bad idea. It’s too soon. I’m rushing into things. He’s going to be disappointed. The night will end badly.
My stride comes to an abrupt halt along with the trail of negativity. Those concerns feel wrong. The cramp in my stomach confirms it.
That’s when the doorbell rings. I just about leap to the ceiling from the sound. With a palm pressed to my chest, I rush to greet him.
The breath whooshes out of me as he comes into view. It takes me far too long to process that he’s actually standing on my stoop. A formal welcome is required. I shake free of the stupor, forcing a smile that wobbles.
“Hi.” That’s the limit on my communication skills in this instance.
Ridge’s mouth slants into somewhat of a grin. “Hey, Callie. You look”—he pauses to take his gaze over me in a slow caress that curls my toes—“like my dream come true.”
Warmth rushes through me and I’m suddenly lightheaded. The compliment breaks the barrier that held my voice hostage yesterday. “Oh, that’s… very nice of you to say. I like the way you look too.”
A raspy chuckle rumbles from him before he reveals something from behind his back. “These are for you.”
I gasp at the large bundle that’s clearly a bouquet. “You brought me flowers?”
Never in all my years at Billmoore did I witness such a romantic gesture.
“A pale comparison to your beauty, but I believe these will be adequate.”
With trembling fingers, I peel back the thick paper to peek at the arrangement. My knees threaten to buckle and I sway into the doorframe. “Chrysanthemums are my favorite. These ones in particular are stunning.”
“I chose well then.” His tone is velvet against gravel—an unlikely combination, which makes the gentle rasp more alluring.
The lump in my throat expands. “You picked these at random? I find that hard to believe.”
“Call it a hunch.”
“Mhmm. How did you know I’d like these?”
His stare bores into mine until I feel trapped, very willingly. “I pay attention. Besides, they represent optimism and happiness. Seemed more than fitting.”
“You’re very charming.” I bury my blush behind the bouquet.
A gruff noise shoots from him. “Not many would make that claim, but your opinion is all that matters.”
“There you go again.” My face flames hotter.
“I better cool it, huh?” Ridge inhales deeply. “Something smells tasty.”
“Oh! Where are my manners? Please don’t hold it against me.”
“Never.”
I step aside and sweep an arm forward. “Come in. Dinner will be ready soon.”
“My nose tells me I’ll enjoy whatever you’re making.”
“Well, good. I hope you’re hungry.” My heart flutters as I walk toward the kitchen.
“Famished,” he murmurs.
When I peek back at him, he’s following me closely. “I’ll just put these in water quick.”
After fetching a vase, I add the fertilizer and trim the stems. The green chrysanthemums add a fresh burst of color on the counter. A satisfied hum sweeps from me. In return, Ridge releases a pleased rumble of his own.
I glance over my shoulder to find his focus locked on me. “Shouldn’t be much longer.”
He remains standing near the table. “Can I help with anything?”
I blink at him and this unfamiliar territory. “Um, no. That’s not necessary.”
“You sure? I can be useful.”
The idea is outrageous, even after many months apart from those instilled values. A decade separated from Billmoore probably wouldn’t be enough. “You’re my guest. Not to mention a man.”
He quirks a brow. “What’s that have to do with it?”
I swallow the explanation that sits too heavy in my throat. “Just stay put.”
Ridge guffaws. “Telling me what to do?”
“N-no. I wouldn’t dare.” My chin dips on instinct.
He moves closer. “Hey, don’t get shy on me again. I was just teasing.”
That has me peeking at him. “Okay. Can I get you a drink? I’ll serve you.”
A low rumble rolls off his chest. “I’d prefer if we served each other.”
My thoughts race as I search his expression. Honesty and warmth reflect back at me. I slump against the solid surface behind me while soaking in the comfort he provides.
Sparks ignite when our eyes meet and lock. I shiver, but there’s no trace of chill. In fact, the temperature seems to spike. Most likely from his unwavering stare. Heat practically wafts from his smolder. That warmth sweeps through me, settling in my lower belly. I press a palm there to cradle the foreign sensation.
My gaze refuses to stray. Not that I’m trying to look elsewhere. I fall into a trance while getting swept away into the green depths that appear bottomless. He pulls me deeper under the spell as his lips part. At least until the unmistakable stench of burnt food filters into the air.
“Oh, shoot.” I whirl toward the oven and wrench open the door, my hands already wafting at the smoke in a futile effort. “No, no, no.”
His presence looms beside me as if offering unconditional support. “What’s wrong?”
I bite my inner cheek to stave off a cry of outrage. “Dinner is ruined. This was meant to be foolproof. I’ve made this dish dozens of times.”
“We can still eat it.” But the uncertainty in his voice is paired with a slight grimace while he peers at the charred lasagna.
“No, it’s beyond saving. In my flustered state earlier, I must’ve forgotten to set a timer.” I lift my hands to shield the threat of tears. The last shred of my dignity can be salvaged, even if a sharp cramp replaces the calm in my chest.
Suddenly, he’s lunging forward. His hurried motion stops just short of colliding with me. Ridge is towering over me, near enough to smell. I take advantage. My next breath is spiced pine mixed with reckless abandon. The scent is unique, fitting for him and this moment.
It’s only then I recognize our position. I’ve never been this close to a man who wasn’t family. Warmth explodes in my cheeks and quickly spreads like a wildfire. I fight the ingrained instinct to look away.
He lifts a palm to hover over my forearm to drag me back to the moment. “What happened?”
I lower my wrist to inspect the faded memory. “I burned dinner.”
“No, I mean this.” Ridge gestures to the inflicted area with his open palm, almost touching me.
“I burned dinner,” I repeat. “That was my punishment.”
Too many emotions flicker across his features. The kaleidoscope is almost fascinating to witness until he speaks. His tone lacks its usual vibrancy when he utters, “Someone did this to you? On purpose?”
I gulp at the prospect of pain, but manage a jerky nod in confirmation. It’s my fault and I’ll accept what he deems acceptable. “Are you going to teach me a lesson?”
“The fuck?” His voice borders on a roar. “Absolutely not. I could never hurt you. Please tell me you believe that.”
In any other circumstance, I’d shrink away from the curse launched in anger. Instead, my posture remains straight with renewed confidence. Ridge is responsible for providing that.
“I trust you to never hurt me.” My gaze admires the gleam that crosses through his.
“Who did this, Callie?” Now he sounds too calm. The steel of a blade preparing for battle.
“My father,” I whisper.
“Your—?” He sputters while struggling for a full breath. “Your father did this to you?”
“Yes, as he should have.”
His mouth opens and shuts twice without him uttering a sound. “How can you be so nonchalant about this?”
“I deserved the mark. It was a fair exchange after I burned our family meal.”At least according to them.
Ridge rolls his shoulders, standing to his full height. “Where can I find him?”
“Why?”
“I plan to teach him a lesson of my own.” His knuckles crack as he forms a fist. “He dared to lay a hand on you. That was a big mistake.”
“What’re you going to do?”
He takes several steps backward. “For starters? Burn his arm.”
“You can’t!” I reach out as if I have the ability to halt his retreat.
“How can I not? Your own father hurt you.” He turns away and my stomach drops.
“Are you ashamed of me? I’ve been bad.” A sob catches in my throat. “I’m scarred and damaged. Unfit to be a wife. I won’t blame you if you never want to see me again.”
Ridge whips around to face me before I can blink. There’s a storm in his gaze, but I’m not afraid. Never of him. Especially when his arms lift, inches short of embracing me. I almost beg him to close the remaining distance. But that’s too bold. Even for me on this night when I’ve been more brazen than ever before.
His thumb brushes over my ruined flesh. The touch is soft, barely noticeable. Yet I feel his finger along my skin as if he’s reaching into my soul. “You’re perfect, sweetness.”
“I’m far from it.”
“Not to me.” Ridge pauses and his wild heartbeat thumps loudly in the silence. “To me, you’re all that matters. Meeting you is the best thing to ever happen to me.”
Fuzziness clouds my brain and I’m unsure how to respond. “We only just met.”
“Doesn’t make it any less true. I’ve felt very… attached to you, from the first moment I saw you.”
My eyes lift to collide with his. “Then why would you harm my father?”
He drops his thumb from the permanent reminder of my error. I feel the loss of his touch like a physical pain.
“I’m very upset, Callie.”
“With me?”
“No!” Thunder booms in his expression, shaking his entire frame that’s already rigid. “Never with you. I’m furious at your dad.”
“But why? He was just doing what’s expected.” Which is just one of the many reasons I was desperate to escape. The emotional damage still impacts me to this day, but I’m getting better. “That’s just the way things are where I’m from.”
“It doesn’t matter what fake rules he’s using as an excuse. What he did is wrong. My fury is the least he deserves. It bothers me beyond reason to imagine you hurt, especially by someone who should be protecting you. Not that his position matters anymore. I’ll do the honors from now on.”
My breath hitches. “You want to… protect me?”
“Always.”
“Then stay. Don’t hunt the past. Let’s focus on the future.” I bite my bottom lip. “Together.”
“Ah, damn. Who am I to argue with that?” His focus slides to my mouth. “Are you giving me permission, as we move forward, to deal with anyone who’s careless enough to mistreat you?”
“If you insist.”
“I do. I’d also kick their ass regardless.”
“You’re charming and a brute,” I sigh wistfully.
His fingers flex, almost making contact with mine. “The second trait I’m very familiar with. I used to check guys into the boards for a living. Penalties didn’t stop me. My busted rotator cuff did.” A dangerous glint enters his gaze. “But I can still deliver a swift beating. They don’t call me Crusher for nothing.”
I wince. “Please don’t fight him over this. It’s old and healed. I’d rather you stay with me and forget about punishing my father. Let’s make new memories. This is our first date.”
“Fuuuuuck,” he groans. “I’m an asshole. An insensitive one at that.”
“You’re not. Trust me. It’s admirable that you want to defend my honor. That’s just not necessary.”
Ridge tips his face to the ceiling, exposing his thick throat that works with a swallow. “You make me weak, woman.”
“Is that bad?”
His eyes return to mine. “Nah, nothing you do to me could ever be bad.”
The slew of compliments has my head spinning. I glance to the side where our ruined dinner rests. “It’ll take me a while to remake the lasagna.”
He makes a disgruntled noise. “You’ve done enough already. I’ll order something instead. It appears you were in the mood for Italian.”
“I’ll never say no to pasta.”
“Pesto tortellini with broccoli?”
My jaw drops as my belly gives a very unladylike grumble. “That’s my favorite.”
“Is it? Interesting.” The sneaky tilt to his lips suggests there’s an interesting backstory to his knowledge.
My squint narrows on him, determined to get answers eventually. “I bet you know just the place to get it too.”
“Sure do.” Ridge digs his phone from his pocket and begins tapping at the screen. “Coming right up, sweetness.”