Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The July heat off the Bozeman pavement hit different than Larkspur—more of it, bouncin' off storefronts and concrete instead of just bakin' into dirt and grass. Calvin had her sunglasses on and was movin' at whatever pace she felt like movin', which was slow, and I had zero complaints about that.
She stopped in front of a shop window. Looked at somethin' inside. Moved on without sayin' what it was.
I followed as we made our way toward our dinner spot.
The restaurant was Rhett's suggestion, which I'd never admit to Calvin because she'd give me endless shit about not bein' able to find a place on my own.
Cloth napkins. Three different forks. A candle on the table doin' its level best to set a mood.
Calvin looked at the table setting when we sat down, looked at me, and said which fork?
in a tone that was less question and more accusation.
"Outside in," I said, with full confidence.
"You don't know."
"I really don't."
She picked up the smallest fork and pointed it at me. "If you embarrass me in front of these cloth napkin people—"
"Calvin, darlin', I'm a farrier from Larkspur, Montana, with horse shit on my boots seventy percent of the time. I already embarrassed both of us just by walkin' through the door."
She looked at my boots. Back up. "Fair point."
She ordered the scallops—somethin' she'd never had—without so much as a waver, with the kind of easy confidence that told me she'd spent a lifetime not lettin' on when somethin' was new to her.
I ordered the ribeye and we talked, which was still somethin' that got me every time—how easy it was with her.
No effort. No performance. Just Calvin with her chin in her hand and her eyes on mine and the occasional string of words that made me want to clear the table and say fuck dinner.
She worked through her plate with focused appreciation, not takin' a single bite for granted. I watched her do it more than was strictly polite.
"How's the food?" I asked.
She considered. "Best thing I've ever put in my mouth." Her eyes cut to mine, deliberate as anythin'. "Present company included."
I set my fork down. "Check, please."
She cackled loud enough that the cloth napkin people at the next table looked over. I didn't care even a little bit.
We split a slice of cheesecake, and when the waiter set the bill in front of me—which I quickly picked up before my viper got any ideas—Calvin looked pained.
"What's wrong?" I asked, voice low.
"Was this a… date?"
"Sure as shit was. Just like I am your boyfriend."
Wildest fuckin' thing happened after that.
Calvin Jennings blushed, and fuck me if it wasn't the most satisfyin' thing I'd witnessed in all my thirty-five years.
So quiet I barely heard her, Calvin said, "I've never been on a date before."
That confession damn near broke my heart. Thirty-four years old and never been on a date.
"Well, I'm honored to be your first," I said, hopin' like hell I telegraphed the sincerity enough for it to really soak in.
Instead of gettin' all sentimental—which was sure as shit not a thing Calvin did—a shit-eating grin spread across her face.
"I was honored to be your first, too," she said with a quirk of her brow.
And just like that, my dick was hard.
"Alright, troublemaker," I said, makin' to stand. "Let's get outta here before I bend you over this table and get us kicked out."
We made our way back out to the sidewalk along Main Street, Calvin lookin' inside storefront after storefront.
"I take it you never been downtown Bozeman," I said as I reached out and grabbed her hand.
I didn't interlace our fingers.
Only monsters walked holdin' hands that way.
Instead, I wrapped my hand around hers—palm to palm, my thumb sweepin' across her knuckles. I'd held hands a lot in my life. Hell, all Sassy and I had done for what felt like years was hold hands.
This felt different. Satisfyin' in a way I hadn't expected.
I hadn't thought twice about doin' it, mostly 'cause I didn't think twice about much of anythin'. There'd been a damn good chance she'd'uv pulled away.
But she didn't.
And that had my heart hammerin' against my sternum.
Maybe she was too distracted by the sights and sounds of the city to notice.
Then, she squeezed my hand and looked at me. "Nope. Where to?"
"Depends."
"On?"
"How you're feelin'."
"I'm feelin' like havin' some fun."
"You ain't havin' fun already?"
"Meh," she said with a shrug.
Little shit stirrer. I reached over and poked her in the ribs, makin' her laugh.
"Alright, I got an idea." I led us toward a crosswalk. I didn't come into Bozeman often these days, but Rhett, Sassy, Luke, and I had come enough times over the years that I knew a few good spots.
The orange hand gave way to the little white man, and we took off. I stopped dead in my tracks, accidentally yankin' Calvin back when she kept movin'.
She turned back to me, brows furrowed.
But I wasn't lookin' at her. I was lookin' at my brother headed my way. "Lu?"
His head whipped up from where it was buried in his phone—the same one he musta seen all my texts on but chose not to answer—and his eyes bugged.
"Uh, hey, Bro."
The three of us stood in the middle of the crosswalk, as the orange hand began to blink, countin' down from ten. Luke shoved his phone in his back pocket. He still looked like a damn deer in headlights.
"What're you doin' in Bozeman?"
"Oh, I'm,"—his gaze darted around—"uh, shopping."
Calvin cut in. "We better get goin' before we all become roadkill."
Luke spit out a quick see ya, and darted past us.
Really fuckin' weird.
"You're so fuckin' bad at this," I laughed, doubled over. We'd been at it for over half an hour, and Calvin had yet to sink the axe into the wood wall, let alone come anywhere even close to the target.
She set the axe in its holder, laughin' herself. She shoved me in the shoulder and I nearly toppled over. Calvin stepped up to our high-top and took a big gulp of her beer. I squared up to the board and let the axe loose.
It hit dead center.
"Fuck," Calvin gritted out behind me. "I clearly have a competence kink."
I stowed my axe and whipped around as quick as I could manage, stalkin' her way. She was wearin' that look on her beautiful face—the one that said she was ready to swallow me whole.
I crowded her, thumb and forefinger grippin' her chin while the rest of my fingers wrapped around her throat. "Like what you see, baby?" I asked against her lips. I felt her swallow before her shallow nod.
I kissed her soft and sweet, which was nothin' like the hold I had on her face, tiltin' it up toward mine.
"Ready to go?" I asked when I pulled back.
"I can't wait 'til we get home, boy scout. Need you now."
I toyed with the idea of fuckin' her in a bathroom, but that sounded kinda gross. Then a brilliant idea hit me.
"I won't make you wait that long, viper." I kissed her again and released her. She tipped forward a bit, hands planted against my chest.
"Give me two seconds," I said, pullin' out my phone.
She watched me type with narrowed eyes. "What are you doing?"
"Bookin' us a room."
She paused a beat.
"Brody—"
"Done." I pocketed my phone. Genuinely could not believe how easy that was.
Ten years ago you had to call some lady named Debra at a 1-800 number and listen to hold music for twenty minutes.
Now I'd just dropped more money than I wanted to think about in approximately forty-five seconds.
Technology was an amazing, terrifying thing. "Seventeenth floor. Mountain view."
Calvin stared at me, eyes narrowed.
"Already paid for it. Can't let it go to waste," I said, and held out my hand.
She looked at it for a long moment.
Then she put her hand in mine and let me lead her out into the Bozeman evening.