12. Callie
twelve
Callie
The song ends, and the room erupts in applause, making my cheeks burn.
“That’s a wrap. Great work, Callie.” DJ Reigns grins and claps along with his crew.
“Thank you so much, Reigns. I truly appreciate all your hard work.”
This might not be all my music, but I enjoyed working with him and his team. Reigns is an extremely talented music producer, and when I suggested a few changes to the music and lyrics to the last song, he was receptive to my ideas. Some producers take offense, but Reigns was encouraging. I’d like to work with him again. On my own music.
“My pleasure. Maybe next time, we can work on more of those in there.” He nods at my journal sitting on the desk by the soundboard.
There are very few people who know I write music. When I started my career, I was too young to have a say, and as I got older, I stopped caring. Stopped standing up for myself. Eventually, my love for music fizzled.
Until a couple of weeks ago.
Of their own volition, my eyes search for him. His mismatching blue-green eyes find mine, and a jolt of heat hits me in the stomach, sending it into freefall. He quirks a brow at me before quickly glancing toward my journal. His questions are loud and clear, and he hasn’t said a single word.
Eli has been quietly listening and sitting in the background for the last session of recordings for my album that will release after the tour.
DJ Reigns looks at Eli and smiles before leaning in and giving me a quick side-hug. “You did good. This one is the hit. I can feel it.”
I shake my head. “No way.”
“You’re being modest, Callie. Eli, did you know our girl here can write some bangers?”
Eli approaches, and out of instinct, I go to his side, putting space between me and Reigns. Never mind that the man has been nothing but kind and respectful, but my body’s first reaction is to be as close to Eli as possible.
“Of course she can. She’s extremely talented.” Eli’s admission is like a cozy blanket wrapped around me.
A soft warmth fills my chest and cheeks. Not too long ago, Eli only saw me as a snooty pop princess with hardly enough talent to soar, but lately, I’m not so sure. I think he’s starting to see the real me.
“That, she is.” Reigns shakes Eli’s hand. “It was nice meeting you, Miller. Maybe we will cross paths again soon. Trade a favor? You never know. Now, if you don’t mind, since it’s an early night, I’m going to head home to the wife. You all have a good night.”
Trade a favor? What is that all about?
The room quickly clears, leaving me and Eli standing side by side in the empty room, thoughts of favors long gone.
“So …” It’s embarrassing how I keep losing the ability to speak near this man. I’m a strong, confident woman, but then Eli comes around and I feel like a teen girl with a crush.
He’s my agent. I’m his client, I remind myself, despite the desire to make us more than colleagues.
“So…” Eli repeats, rocking back on his heels—a habit he does when he doesn’t know what to say.
I take solace knowing I’m not alone in this awkwardness.
We stare at each other, neither of us willing to break the connection, until my stomach growls.
My face is about fifty shades of red as I mumble, “Sorry.”
Eli chuckles and places a hand on his stomach. His very hard and defined stomach. A stomach I would very much like to lick. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”
My eyes jump to his, surprised at his suggestion. “Um. Just the two of us?” I inwardly cringe at my dumb question.
Of course. He’s asking you to dinner, dummy.
Eli smirks as he looks around the room. “Do you see anyone else here?”
Even though I know there is no one in the room with us, I mimic him and glance around. “No.”
“Then I guess it’s just us. Grab your stuff.” Eli bends over, giving me the view of a lifetime, and grabs his jacket.
His butt is absolute perfection. Round. Muscular. Biteable. Visions of me leaving my teeth mark on that ass have me biting my lip to stifle my moan.
A warm palm on my lower back sends a bolt of electricity through my body and brings me out of my dirty daydreams.
What were we talking about? Oh, yes. Dinner.
“Are you sure? We don’t have to. I’ll be fin—.”
“Stop.” Eli cuts off my rambling, and my pulse beats between my thighs at the rumble of his demanding tone. “Would you like to have dinner with me?”
My brain short-circuits while my eyes follow his tongue as it swipes across his lip, the moisture shining in the light. If I pressed my lips against his right now, would they feel as soft as they look?
His mouth twists up in a devilish smile, and my cheeks heat at being caught staring like a horny, lusting hoe. “Callie?”
“What?” My eyes dart to his mirth-filled gaze.
“Dinner?”
Trying to find a single cool bone in my body, I take a deep breath and answer, “Yes. I’d like that very much.”
“Then let’s go.” He gives me a little nudge, and I jump into action.
I gather my journal and my purse before meeting Eli at the door. I can’t believe I’m about to have dinner with him. Just the two of us. My heart races, and my palms sweat.
When we reach the front door of the studio, Eli stops. “Do you mind waiting here? I want to tell Mike I’m taking you to dinner and he can follow.”
I nod like a puppet because my words have left the building.
This is real. I’m going out with Eli. For dinner.
It’s not a date, m y brain sings like the realistic bitch she is. But the whisper in my heart overrides all logic and says it’s also not “not a date”.
This could be an opportunity for us to really get to know each other. Then, I’ll know. Maybe he’s a giant jerk. My crush will die, and I can move on. It would make my life so much easier.
Or he’s exactly what I imagine him to be—everything.
I’m so lost in my head, over-analyzing, that I don’t notice Eli until he’s at the door, holding it open for me. “Ready?”
My head bobs again because, apparently, I don’t know how to speak anymore.
Eli flashes me that sexy, smoldering smirk of his and escorts me to his waiting car. Once I’m settled in the front seat and buckled in, Eli closes the door. I stare ahead as the back door opens and closes before Eli slides in beside me. His clean, woodsy scent fills the cabin, and my head spins.
I watch him unbutton the cuff of his sleeves and roll the fabric up, revealing his toned forearms. My mouth waters, and I can practically feel myself drooling. My core clenches air, and my breaths are choppy.
He has got to stop doing that in front of me.
“So, what are you hungry for?”
I drag my gaze from his arms to his face. “Um, what?”
“To eat. You know, for dinner?” he muses, tapping the steering wheel.
“Oh, yeah, duh,” I mumble. “Um, I don’t know.”
“Is there anything else you’re allergic to that I should know about?”
“No.”
“Do you eat meat?” he asks.
Your meat, my lust-addled brain screams. Grateful Eli doesn’t have the power to mind read, I pull my thoughts out of the gutter and reframe his question because he should never say “eat” and “meat” in the same sentence around me.
“Are you asking if I’m a vegetarian?” I know that’s exactly what he meant, but I’m tired of the distance he keeps. I need answers. Is this electricity between us all in my head, or is this real?
His unexpected double entendre lands, and realization finally dawns on Eli. His jaw ticks, and his eyes widen before he clears his throat. “Yes.”
“Then, no, I’m not a vegetarian.”
Eli nods.
Because I can’t help myself, I add, “I like meat very much.” I need to know if he’s as affected by my presence as I am by his.
At my response, Eli’s face turns pink, and he chokes on nothing. Coughing uncontrollably, he places a hand on his chest and tries to catch his breath. “Good to know.”
Oh, he’s affected alright. I can’t help myself from grinning at him.
“So, what did you have in mind?” I ask, throwing Eli a bone.
“Do you trust me?”
His question is a slight dig at my refusal to let him in. If he only knew how badly I want to tell him everything. About my mom, my past, Silla.
A sharp pain in my ribs hits me below my heart. I hate the thought of keeping secrets from Eli.
Baby steps, and they start right here. “I trust you.”
Not sure why, but Eli provides me with this unexplainable sense of security whenever he’s around. Since he started shadowing me for the last few weeks, that perception has only grown.
Aside from my parents, no one else has ever made me feel safe in their presence. Even when he’s not around, I can sense his eyes on me, filling me with a sense of protection.
“Good.” Eli picks up his phone and sends a text before putting the car in reverse and exiting the studio parking lot.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” He shoots me a flirty wink, ruining my panties.
“Alright. I trust you,” I repeat, leaning back into my seat and enjoying the view of the city passing us by.
Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse Eli adjusting himself in his seat, and something dangerously close to “fuck” leaves his lips.
Twenty minutes of Eli driving carefully through the streets of downtown Los Angeles, we pull up to the curb of a white building with a red and blue neon sign overhead.
“A sandwich shop?” I read, looking over at Eli, who has a wide smile on his face.
“Not just any sandwich shop. This place has the best French dip sandwich and pie in LA. And don’t let anyone tell you any different.” He looks at the white building in wonder. Nostalgia swirls in his eyes, and another piece of the puzzle falls into place.
This place means something to him. My chest fills with warmth at the thought of him sharing a sliver of himself with me.
“I’ll take your word for it.”
At my words, Eli’s lips curve up in acknowledgement at my slowly building trust in him.
“Shit.”
My heart jumps at his groaned curse. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I just realized we need to disguise you before we go in.”
“Oh.” My lips part on a perfect O as my heart rate steadies and a deep ache builds in my chest.
Such a simple act, but when he finds a way to take care of me and put my safety first, it’s like he’s taking a sledgehammer to my resolve, breaking my fortified walls until they are dust.
“All I have is a baseball hat in the glove compartment. Will that work?” The muscles in his forehead crease in concern.
“Perfect,” I whisper.
He leans across the center console and reaches into the glove compartment. My eyes close as his rich woodsy cologne fills my nose, and takes me to places I’ve only dreamed of going with him. My thighs clench, and my clit pulses at his nearness.
In a flash, his body heat is gone, and my eyes open to him placing the blue Evaders’ hat in my lap. Pushing away salacious thoughts of my very off-limits agent, I wrap my hands around my long hair and twist it into a bun at the nape of my neck. I let a few strands fall around my face before placing the hat on my head.
“How do I look?” I turn to Eli.
His tongue swipes across his bottom lip, and a look of what I can only describe as desire flashes in his eyes. The hazel-brown spot in his left eye glints, and my nipples turn to diamonds at the flash.
Eli clears his throat and grunts. “Perfect.” His voice is scratchy and rough.
I can’t stop from thinking if that’s how he would sound if he were inside me.
The car gets ten degrees hotter as we stare at each other. I need to get out of here before I do something stupid—like straddle his lap, place my hands in his hair, and kiss him.
Don’t go there, Callie.
I nod and reach for the door handle. Eli’s warm hand lands on my leg, stopping me. Heat pools between my thighs at his palm’s nearness.
“Let me get your door. Can you stay put?”
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“Good girl.”
Oh, fuck me now .
Why does he have to say “good girl” like that? It’s like he’s purposefully trying to turn me into a puddle of need, ready to beg for him to touch me—something I know he won’t do, no matter how much I plead.
My gaze stays glued to Eli’s ass as he gets out of the car and walks around to the passenger side, where I’m obediently waiting for him. He opens the door and extends his hand for me to take.
Bracing myself for the inevitable fire that rocks through me every time he touches me, I place my palm in his. I sway on my feet as he drops my hand and places his palm on the small of my back, leading me into the restaurant.
Side by side, we make our way towards the line of people preparing to order. My eyes eat up the dining room in amazement. Sawdust covers the floors of the open-seating dining room, loaded with people eating, talking, and laughing around wood tables and stools. The place smells old but not offensively. It’s more like vintage nostalgia, memories, and the most delicious, mouth-watering food I’ve ever smelled.
How have I never been here?
“You wouldn’t be the first.” With a knowing smirk, Eli answers what I thought was a silent question as we get in line.
I pull the brim of the hat lower, and my cheeks heat with embarrassment. I can feel his eyes on me like a heated caress blanketing my body. As best as I can, I ignore the way my nerves tingle along the surface of my skin and focus on my surroundings. Not the sexy man making my body go haywire with his larger-than-life presence.
It’s our turn to approach the long, refrigerated deli counter filled with sides, pies, and garnishes. I see bags of chips on the counter, a weird jar filled with purple juice, and white … eggs?
“What in the—” I point at the jar.
“Pickled eggs. Want to try one?” I make a face, and Eli laughs. “I’ll take that as a no.”
“Definite no. But…” My head bounces back and forth at the menu, and the food displayed before me. Everything looks amazing, and my stomach growls again. “There is no way I can decide on what to try first.”
“I got you.” Eli orders our food like a professional.
He pays the woman behind the counter—dressed in a cute, vintage diner uniform—and she gets to work. She’s incredibly fast as she pulls out a brown tray, slaps it on the counter, and then fills it with our order until it’s overflowing with food.
“Follow me.” Eli grabs the tray and leads me through the restaurant.
It’s a relief when no one bothers looking my way. Everyone is too busy enjoying their meals and each other’s company to notice me.
I follow Eli up a flight of stairs. At the top is a smaller, more intimate dining room with white walls and similarly old furniture.
Eli places our food on a table at the far back, away from the other diners, then pulls out a stool across from me.
“Okay.” He points at various dishes as he rattles off what he ordered for me to try. There’s potato salad, a bowl of chili with shredded cheddar cheese, lemon meringue pie, and dill pickles. “And this is the roast beef sandwich you never knew you were craving.”
“Is it now?” I smile, loving this softer side of Eli.
His guard is down, and he’s stashed the professional facade he always wears away. This is the real Eli.
“Without a doubt. But you need a little of this specialty mustard first.” He lifts the top crusty bread and lathers it with a layer of the condiment before sliding it over to me. “Now, try.”
I lift the sandwich and inhale the savory scent of meat before taking a big bite. The bread is both crispy and light, the sliced beef melts in my mouth, and the combination of the salty meat and the spicy horseradish mustard is an explosion of flavor. I hum in approval as I chew and swallow, going back for another bite.
“Good, right?” Eli bites into his sandwich, digging into his meal.
“So good,” I agree. I place the food down and lick the juice from my thumb before grabbing a napkin and wiping my hands.
I glance at Eli, frozen mid-bite with his sandwich in the air. He looks like he’s in pain.
My instincts kick in as I reach across the table and grab his arm. “Eli, are you okay?”
His pupils are wide, and the eye with the golden-brown spot in the blue-green depths of his iris gleams at me again. The heat in his gaze lasts longer than it ever has between us, the seconds stretching. The unmistakable desire I feel for him snakes up my spine and furls in my belly. The air shifts between us, and sparks shoot through my hand where it lies on his body.
As much as I want Eli to lean across the table and kiss me, now isn’t the right time. He deserves to have all the information should we take that step. I slowly slide my hand down his arms and back across the table.
A look of disappointment flashes across his face before he takes a bite of food, in a not-so-subtle attempt to disregard what just happened between us. Brushing my hair behind my ear, I do the same and reach for the potato salad. I shove a forkful in my mouth.
We eat through the tray of food, making small talk about the tour.
“Okay, I have to give it to you. The food is delicious.” I toss my napkin on the table and take a deep breath. “And now, I’m full.”
“I’m glad you liked it. My dad used to bring us here before heading up the hill to the stadium, where we’d watch Evaders’ games. It was one of my favorite things to do as a kid.”
I tilt my head to the side, picturing a young Eli—with his mismatching eyes shining bright and a dimple on his cheek—as he jokes around with his brothers. I can see it. A more playful Eli. All laughs and teasing.
“What happened?”
“What do you mean?” he asks, his mouth turned down in misunderstanding.
I shrug. “I don’t know. It just sounds like you don’t do this anymore.”
Eli chuckles. “No, nothing happened. We still come here.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. My baby brother is a pitcher on the team now, so it’s a little different. My nephew tags along when he’s in town, and we take leftovers to Cameron for after the game.”
That’s right. I keep forgetting his brother is a baseball player. Eli’s used to having someone he cares about constantly in the spotlight. “That’s sweet. Did you want to be a baseball player too?”
“Nah. I never had the heart. Baseball movies? Now, those get me. I still cry when I watch Field of Dreams .” Eli leans back in his chair.
As his dress shirt stretches across his chest, I imagine the buttons popping open and giving me a better view of his ripped torso.
“I’ve never seen it.” I look away, hoping my cheeks aren’t red and giving away my every lewd thought.
“That’s a travesty. We should fix that.” He takes a sip of his canned soda.
My heart races at the thought of snuggling on the couch next to Eli as we watch movies.
“What’s it about?” I ask, not wanting to make our conversation awkward, but also because I’m curious why this movie means so much to him.
“It’s about a farmer who hears a voice in his dreams that says, ‘If you build it, he will come.’. So, he builds a baseball field in the middle of his corn fields. Then, the ghosts of great baseball players that have died show up and play baseball.”
“Ghosts? Are you sure it isn’t a horror movie?” I tease.
Eli chuckles, shaking his head. “The ghosts aren’t scary. It’s all symbolism. The farmer is grieving for his father, who loved baseball. When he finishes building the field, his dad comes out to play. He gets to talk to his dad one last time and realizes that, like his dad, he’s not living his dreams. It’s a wake-up call for him to forgive his dad and move on by living a fuller life. No regrets. It’s beautifully written and directed.”
The story of this movie pierces my heart. Everything Eli just told me resonates with me, down to my soul. Losing my father has caused similar feelings of regret and dissatisfaction to haunt me.
My throat closes, and tears sting my nose. I can’t stop the tear that rolls down my cheek.
“Hey, Callie. Are you okay?”
I wipe away the tear with my fingers and smile. “Yeah. It’s just. I…” My voice cracks, and my chest tightens at the sharp pain poking my ribs.
The need to tell him is so strong that more tears fall. Maybe if I let Eli in, the weight I carry will lessen and it will be easier to tell him the full story later.
“I lost my dad,” I spit out before I lose the courage. The words taste like acid, and I would give anything for them to be untrue. To bring my dad back.
“I didn’t know. I’m so sorry, Callie.”
“Thank you. Very few people know. It was a long time ago, but I feel his loss every day.” I twirl my thumb ring, thinking about how I lost my dad and my mom on that tragic day.
Eli gets up from his seat and takes the stool beside me. He wraps his arm around my back. I lean my temple onto his shoulder and breathe in this comforting.
“Tell me something about him.” He rubs my arm in a soothing pattern, making me feel safe.
His comforting touch tugs at something deep inside me, and it encourages me to keep going. “My dad always called me Calliope. He said my name meant ‘beautiful voice’ and shortening it was completely unacceptable. He was ridiculous.” I sniffle, remembering how I loved hearing him say my name. “But in a good way, you know? He was the best dad. Dorky but awesome.” I choke on a sob as the grief hits me. I can’t remember the last time I spoke about him to anyone, let alone cried for him.
“He sounds like my dad,” Eli says. He squeezes me to his side, and the hat on my head takes a tumble.
I bury my face in his dress shirt, breathing in his masculine aura and absorbing his calming warmth. “You must have a really great dad.”
“I do. But he also says inappropriate things sometimes,” he admits.
With a watery chuckle, I keep my face buried into his side. The last thing I want is to break the spell of this moment. “That’s kind of funny. Like, dirty jokes and stuff?”
“Yeah, like dirty jokes and stuff,” Eli hums, and I swear I can hear the faintest sniff coming from his nose.
Is he smelling my hair? The idea of him sniffing my hair sends chills rushing down my spine.
“Thank you for sharing.”
“Thank you for listening.” Eli holds me tighter.
I sink into his hold, soaking up his affection like a sponge. It’s been a while since someone has hugged me for comfort’s sake.
His lips move against the crown of my head as Eli whispers, “Anytime.”
I sit curled into his side for another minute before he untangles himself, places his hat back on my head, and returns to the other side of the table. My body feels the loss of more than just his heat.
He slides a slice of lemon pie in front of me. “Eat up.”
Picking up a fork, I scoop off a chunk and take a bite. “Okay, you’re right,” I mumble around the sweet, tart filling.
“I’m always right,” Eli says, taking a bite. He wipes his mouth clean with a napkin, and I force myself to concentrate on my food, not imagining my tongue wiping off the meringue instead. “But what am I right about this time?”
“That this was the food I didn’t know I was craving. So, thank you. For dinner, for sharing this wonderful place—and a piece of your childhood—with me. It means more than you know.”
“You’re welcome.”
We both finish our pie while exchanging stories about our dads. I listen to his every word, laughing along with him as he regales me with tales about growing up with three brothers. Like Eli can read my thoughts, he avoids the topic of moms and offers me a glimpse at the real him, further building my trust and my belief in the honorable man he is. Making me fall just a little more.