24. Brant
Brant
It’s three o’clock on Thursday afternoon when I park my truck along the curb. Mixed emotions braid through me as I stare at Callie’s house.
The end of this job is near.
More distance will be paved between us.
I pluck my leather binder and rolled-up drawing from the passenger seat. My boots eventually hit the blacktop, and I make my way onto the stone pavers of the driveway.
I knock on the front door, and it’s a few moments before Callie greets me on the other end.
“Hi.”
“H-hi,” I stumble out.
My stomach soars in my throat at the simple sight of her. My eyes devour her navy dress and beige stilettos. There’s this adorable bowtie woven at the center of her waist, framing the hourglass curves of her hips.
Her elegance is breathtaking. Literally. But my adoration is short-lived when her princess-cut diamond shines from her finger.
I slightly wag my head, erasing my ill manners. “Sorry, I assumed Jesse was going to answer the door,” I explain, my stare dancing along her chestnut waves.
She hitches a thumb over her shoulder. “He’s in his office, but he’ll be out in a few minutes.”
It feels like I’ve been flying for the last few days after our hot encounters. But now? I’m crashing into a concrete wall.
To the pits of Hell.
My eyes stay on her sage-green gaze. I notice her lashes have been thickened with mascara, and her lips are stained with that familiar berry lipstick.
God, she’s so fucking stunning.
But I can’t win.
Because all I want to do is smear all that shit off her face and reveal her to me.
My Callie.
I nod once, pointing to her side where Jesse’s office is. “That’s fine. I’ll wait.”
“Okay,” she says, backpedaling along the marble of the foyer. “I just got home from work not too long ago. Can I get you something? A drink or a snack?” she asks, allowing me room to step inside.
“Sure,” I respond as I cross the threshold.
I’ll take anything she’s had her hands on.
Fucking pathetic, but so fucking true.
Her heels knock along the floor as she walks in front of me, her head peeking over her shoulder. “I don’t have finger sandwiches, but can I interest you in a mini quiche? Spinach and cheese?”
I smile, too entranced to pay attention to what she just said. “Yeah, sounds good.”
We cross the dining room, eventually steering right to enter the kitchen. She wastes no time opening the fridge door, and I poke my head behind me.
I place my supplies on the granite of the island, and when I realize the coast is clear, I walk over to her.
She plucks a dish from behind the stainless-steel door. Her head immediately dips when I’m an inch away from her, focused on the platter. “You’d be surprised how tough it is to find mini pie crusts,” she rambles while flipping the saran wrap over. “Here.”
My throat rolls. I reach for a tiny quiche, popping all of it in my mouth. The creamy filling bursts around as I munch, and my eyes never dodge her stare. “Thank you,” I mumble, stroking the inside of my cheek with my tongue.
“More?” she offers.
I shake my head. “No. I appreciate it though.”
Her chest gently swells as she pops her eyes up and down the length of me. She pivots to return the platter on the fridge shelf when she says, “Let me get you something to drink.”
She slips away from the appliance door, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her posture is more rigid, bundled with nerves that I’ve seemed to cause.
Callie buckles when my fingers meet hers on the cabinet knob. She falters, eyeing me when I continue to help. I drag the mahogany panel out, eyes resting on her as she sinks back on her heels.
I ignore the heat that snaps along my skin while extracting a glass. I hand her the cup, and she wears a suppressed smile before peeling away.
Her voice is slightly spent as she dips into the refrigerator again. “I have iced tea. Strawberry seltzer.”
“Water is fine,” I assure her, my hands slipping into my jeans pockets.
“Okay,” she breathes, almost flustered. The fridge door snaps shut, and then she’s pouring water from it.
The filter shuts off before she’s returning in front of me with a full glass of water.
“Cal—”
She hands the drink to me, planting her palm on my upper arm to lift on her toes. Her touch injects serenity through the material of my long-sleeve shirt, and her soft lips meet my cheek.
She pecks a kiss there.
Only for her to promptly exit the room.
Mumbling commences in the near distance. I stand motionless, my eyes tethered to the stainless-steel fridge Callie was just parked in front of.
My mind and heart race simultaneously.
Until their paths crash and burn.
“Brant. I hope you took good care of those drawings on the way over here.”
Jesse’s voice punches me from behind, his haughty intonation bolting my jaw.
I turn to find him rolling up his dress shirt sleeves, revealing a Rolex on his left wrist. “Absolutely,” I answer, drawing a sip of the cold water.
“Callie!” Jesse’s head angles to the side as he calls for her.
In the same breath, I avert my attention to the window over the sink on the opposite wall. I hear Callie’s heels stroll along the wood, and then Jesse’s voice after.
“Babe, I know you love to impress guests, but I asked you to get me a drink like twenty minutes ago.”
Rage pierces my skin.
Hooking into it until it gouges out my heart.
“What would you like?” she asks.
She doesn’t apologize.
“No, it’s okay. I’ll get it,” Jesse replies, his tone a friendly condescension. Manipulative. “Next time, just don’t forget your fiancé, okay?”
I pan my attention to peek over at Callie. Her gaze flings to me before landing on his. “Sure.”
Her voice is brisk, and then she turns to walk off.
Again, she didn’t apologize.
“When you’re done checking out my fiancé, you can hand me the drawings you finalized.”
If he wasn’t my client and my firm wasn’t getting paid by him, I would’ve laid this motherfucker out already.
I steer my head in his direction. “I wasn’t,” I simply state.
Jesse paints an arrogant smirk on his lips as he fires a breathy laugh. “Listen, when you get a dime like Callie, you don’t mind when other guys admire her.” Then he’s shaking his head. “I’m not offended.”
“Why’s that?” I ask, unamused.
“Every guy likes his ego stroked. You should understand if you ever get a fine piece like her,” Jesse answers, strolling up to the kitchen island.
A storm bustles inside of me. My hands flinch when he swipes the rolled-up drawing off the granite. He walks to the dining room, and I save an extra second for myself before following his lead.
If there’s one more off-color remark about Callie that spews from his mouth, I’ll lose my job and be sent to jail.
It’s not a question.
It’s a certainty.
“Shouldn’t both of you look at the finalized drawings?” I toss out, idling at the mahogany
table.
Callie’s body is a blur of movement in my left periphery, straightening up the living room. Surely, after Jesse’s fucking mess.
“You’re more than welcome to look, Callie,” I call to her.
It’s a bold move, but there’s not a chance I’m standing for this pathetic charade any longer.
Jesse looks over to Callie, his brows arched as he sinks into a chair. “You wouldn’t be interested, babe, would you?” he says.
Come on, baby.
Challenge him.
Come on.
Callie’s strutting closer as she motions a hand out. “I might be. Do you mind?”
Yes.
My attention turns to Jesse, knowing a cocksucker like him doesn’t value a woman’s opinion. No matter how much she asks to see the drawings, I know he’ll fucking shoo her away.
“I insist on both parties reviewing the plans,” I add.
“Alright.” His head bobs once before he’s rolling out the paper on the polished wood.
I swallow thickly, catching Callie’s timid expression. Then my attention pans to Jesse.
“I want to make sure this is everything I need. I won’t need to reach out to you anymore, right? Everything is going to be answered in the drawings you give me on paper and your flash drive?” he asks.
“There will always be questions because things are always up for interpretation. Perception of documentation,” I reply.
Jesse stands up, pocketing his palms in his slacks. “Instead of reciting a speech you probably say to all your clients, can you be specific? I’m not going to be happy if I have to contact you repeatedly when I’ve already paid you to do your job.”
I inhale through my nostrils, masking the swelling of my chest. “Working with existing conditions means there’s a lot of unknowns. Plumbing and electrical work can be tricky if certain setups are put in place that may cause interference with the drawings we planned.”
“The contractors should be able to resolve any issues that arise, yes?” Jesse inquires.
“Possibly. But they may need to cross reference with me. I know you’d like a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer, but unfortunately, I can’t say one or the other with one hundred percent certainty,” I admit.
“I promise to make the troubleshooting as time efficient as possible. The contractors I recommended are very flexible to work with too.”
“Wouldn’t you say that about any reference you give?” Jesse challenges.
“I wouldn’t give the reference at all if I didn’t believe the positive things I said about the work. I have pride in my job.”
Jesse nods, his lip tilted up at the corner like he’s impressed. “That’s good. Very good,” he answers. “I’m going to get the check for the final payment.”
“Great,” I clip.
He shuffles around Callie, and my eyes lock with hers. The sun rays slice through the sliding doors in the living room, casting a spotlight on the words left unspoken.
“Thank you for all you’ve done,” she says, her chin sinking to the drawing sprawled on the table. “This is nothing short of fantastic. I adore everything about it.”
“Yeah?” I ask, connecting my gaze to where she’s looking. “To tell you the truth, I was hoping you despised it.”
“Why do you say that?”
My fingers rub over my stubbled chin when I lower my voice. “Because I want you to leave.”
“All set.” Jesse’s voice pops our heads to him, and then he’s extending a written check to me. “Let’s just hope I won’t have to speak to you about this addition again.”
A small smile curves along my face, my hand stretching to his. “It was a pleasure doing business with you.”
I’d rather put my balls through a meat grinder than work with you ever again.
“Likewise,” Jesse says, cradling his palm in mine.
“I know you don’t want to hear from me, but if you have any other questions, never hesitate to call,” I offer, turning to grab my leather binder from the kitchen island. “You have my office number.”
“Sure,” Jesse says. I pluck the flash drive from my book to hand it to him. When he takes it, his head turns to Callie. “Guess we have more than just your birthday to celebrate on Tuesday night.”
Her throat bobs awkwardly. “Yeah,” she sighs.
Jesse turns to me. “Callie’s birthday is Tuesday.”
No shit.
“Oh,” I say, greeting Callie’s eyes. “What are you doing? Anything special?”
My eyes bounce up and down her gorgeous face. They practically bore into her soul. She knows I’m fishing for information, and she also knows I’ve trapped her. There’s no way she can lie in front of Jesse. And there’s no way she can refuse to answer me.
Sometimes, I’m just that good.
“Rastogi’s. It’s a five-star restaurant about twenty minutes from here in Southampton,” Jesse responds, his knuckles brushing her bare arm.
“I’m heading to Manhattan that night to visit with a big potential client, but I promised I’d celebrate with Callie and friends before I leave.
” He rotates his head, dipping his chin with a smirk.
Callie’s tiny grin wavers, and then she’s returning her attention to me.
“Enjoy your birthday, Callie,” I offer.
She barely nods, her stare lingering over my face. “Thank you.”
When the front door finally shuts behind me, I’m ducking into my truck to drive home. All the while thinking about my new plans for Tuesday night.