5. Callum
Callum
“I like long walks, especially when they are taken by people who annoy me.” ― Noel Coward
I must’ve lost my damn mind, or what little I had left of it after it was already halfway into the grave from my recent decision making.
I look over my shoulder where the petite firecracker stands, frowning at me. “I said, come,” I repeat, and that frown deepens as she crosses her small arms, drowned in that oversized jersey.
That goddamn jersey.
“I only take commands in the bedroom, and even then it’s a stretch.”
I stop dead at her comment, grateful that my back is to her. Because apparently my dick doesn’t care that she’s a little menace, a growing pain in my ass and not someone I’d ever take to bed.
And I’ll blame him for the next thought that pops into my head. Oh, you’d take every command that I give you, baby, and say, “Thank you, Daddy” at the end. At least my brain still works and I have enough sense to keep my mouth shut.
I swear, this girl is testing me in every fucking way ever since I showed up here. From her clothes to her smart mouth to this ridiculous obsession with hockey. Which is what got us in this predicament in the first place.
Not to mention she is mess personified! Something I can’t stand. Where did she even come from? A tourist?
I sigh again, mentally willing my cock to simmer down, careful to only turn my head to look at her. “You’re the one who’s in a rush to catch your hockey game, but if you’d rather stay here, be my guest.”
I shrug and take one step before she yells out, “Don’t you move another inch. I’ll come in thirty seconds. Ha, look at that, it’s something my ex would say.” She snorts at her own joke.
Thirty seconds…I’d take fucking hours to punish that brat. Fucking hell…not what I should be thinking. At-fucking-all. I slap the palm of my hand over my face.
Menace, little fucking menace. That’s who she is.
True to her word, she comes out of her apartment no more than thirty seconds later, wearing that same Outlaws jersey with number 13 on the back, her hair still in that weird half ponytail but it’s too short to be in a ponytail and the tips spill over the top of her head like a fountain.
At least now there is a pair of baggy yellow sweatpants with daisies on them covering her bright pink lacy underwear.
I grunt in approval, but my dick decided to send me another unwarranted thought: We liked the look before better .
Too bad, so sad , I mentally reply.
Trust me, it’s not lost on me that I’m talking to my own organs like a lunatic.
There is one thing you need to know about Loverly Cave. If you live here long enough, you catch the crazy disease. Clearly, I’m showing the symptoms already. That’s the only explanation for these thoughts, or the fact that I’m taking her with me to the station to watch her damn hockey game .
“What about my door?” she asks, looking at the splintered wood around the lock, and I wince again. Okay, so that was a little too overzealous of me, but I had to make sure no one was getting hurt. And I’m not apologizing for that.
“I’ll take care of that too,” I grumble, not knowing who I’m angrier with. Myself or her.
Somehow, we make it all the way downstairs without another word but that’s where my luck ends.
“Oh, oh, oh.” She jumps up like a toddler hyped-up on too much sugar, holding the bottom of her jersey with one hand. “Can I ride shot gun?”
I shoot her a look. “I don’t even know your name…so, no.”
“It’s Sophie! There, now that’s settled,” she says brightly, and before I can respond, the girl—Sophie—is already opening the front passenger door and sliding herself into the seat.
With just a shake to my head, I follow and start the car. At least I know her first name.
“This is so much better than riding in the back,” she says, grinning wide.
“I’m afraid to ask how you know that.”
“I’ve been there, obviously,” she says matter-of-factly.
“Obviously,” I deadpan, not half as amused as Sophie is. “Care to tell me willingly or do I have to do the hard work myself?”
“Are you going to buy me a drink?”
I pause, getting caught off-guard by this girl once again but then say, “Why would I buy you a drink?”
“Because that’s what guys do when they want to get to know a girl. So?”
“No.”
Sophie shrugs like she didn't care either way, and for some idiotic reason, that bothers me. Okay, maybe it's indigestion from all that coffee. Yeah, that's it.
“Then, hard way it is. Now, would you mind hurrying up? We only have like three minutes before overtime starts.”
“How come you’re so into hockey? ”
She quirks an eyebrow at me. “Again, are you going to buy me that drink?”
I purse my lips. “Again, no.” I have no idea why I’m even bothering to ask her all these questions. It’s not like I’m ever interested in people of any kind, yet for some reason I can’t keep my mouth shut.
“Then there’s your answer.”
Thankfully, we’re back at the station before I get any more brilliant questions in my head and Sophie jumps out of the car, still clutching her jersey like it’s about to fall off her body… okayyy.
I’ve known this little menace for all of twenty minutes and already I understand that there is no logic to her behavior. It’s pure chaos and crazy. Two things I despise with all of my heart. I head inside and she follows, bouncing on her feet.
“Well, who do we have here?” Marsha’s voice greets us. “This doesn’t look like an arrest since she’s not in handcuffs.”
“Psh, Sheriff Hot Asshole wishes he could put those on me,” Sophie snorts, and I happen to agree.
In more ways than one.
“Sheriff Hot Asshole, huh?” Marsha seems way too amused, and I start pushing Sophie toward the breakroom before they can get all cozy in here and find new ways to torture me.
“Sorry, Marsha, no time for chit chat. We have a game to catch.” I stuff the girl into the room and hand her the remote. “Here, have at it and let me know when it’s done. I’ll take you back home.”
She snatches the remote out of my hand without saying another word and promptly finds the right channel. It looks like the game is just about to resume, and I let out a sigh of relief because I just know if she’s miss it, I wouldn’t hear the end of it.
Leaving Sophie to watch hockey, I return to my desk where I still have a fuckton of files to go through.
“So?” Marsha starts before I get a chance to sit down. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”
Just at that second, a string of colorful curses comes from the breakroom. My gaze swivels from Marsha to the door and back to Marsha again. “No.” I give her my favorite answer and pick up the next file I need to go through .
She chuckles under her breath but leaves me to it.
Not two minutes later, the shouting resumes. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Go, baby! You got this!” A pregnant pause and then, “NOOOO! You fucker! Can’t you just move out of the way so we can score and call it a day?”
After another wild shriek, I snap the file I was looking through shut and sit back in my seat, my arms crossed as I glare at the door. People are trying to work here! Can’t she keep it down? There’s too much of her everywhere.
A second later, Sophie flings the door open, holding her hands up with a joyous expression on her face.
Jesus, you’d think she just won a fucking lottery, not watch some hockey. “We WON!”
“That’s it? That is all you needed to watch?”
“Mm-hmm.” She brings her hand to her mouth and that’s when I notice the bottle.
“Is that beer?”
Sophie picks up the bottle to her eye-level, as if inspecting it. “Technically, it’s cider, but sure.” She shrugs. “We can go with beer.”
“Where the fuck did you get a beer at a police station?”
“I brought it from home, duh.” Suddenly, it clicks. She was holding her jersey…
“Jesus Christ, you smuggled beer into a police station?”
“Yep!”
I squeeze my eyes shut and rub my face hard. “I need this day to be over, like now.”
“Would you like a beer?” I open my eyes to see her hand outstretched with a new bottle.
“Just how many do you have in there?” I gesture to her jersey, and she rolls her eyes at me.
“Just these two. What? I never leave the house unprepared.”
“When did you even have the time? You were out in literally thirty seconds.”
“I’m happy to demonstrate my skills to you when we get back.” Sophie bats her eyelashes at me, and just like that, my dick stiffens, thinking about a whole other set of skills .
No! Hell no. There is nothing to get hard over. We don’t like criminals . Or little menaces in bright pink panties.
“Let’s just go.” I sigh, grabbing my keys once again. “Marsha, I’m out for the night but—”
“I know, I know, call you if anything comes up. You got it, Sheriff Hot Stuff.” She salutes me.
I groan, shooting a look to Sophie who already has that gleam in her eyes from hearing Marsha’s nickname for me.
But upon seeing what must be bloody murder written over my face, she pretends to zip her mouth with her fingers and strides out of the station, calling, “Bye, Marsha. Let’s go out for drinks sometime! ”
“I like that idea. See you soon, kiddo.”
“If only wearing handcuffs,” I mutter.
“Let’s turn on some music,” she says as soon as her butt touches the seat, and without waiting for my response she starts going through every station.
“Sure, make yourself comfortable,” I grumble and start the car, but I guess I’d rather listen to some pop instead of talking, so whatever. I’m officially over this day, this week, month, and overall, life.
With Sophie humming and dancing to the two songs we were able to listen to on the way—because clearly the woman is incapable of peace and quiet—we finally park in front of the building.
I may not like her, but fuck, this tiny thing has an ass on her and for some ridiculous reason I decided to walk behind her as we ascend, making this already horrible situation, far worse.
I may not like her, but I am still a man with eyes and a dick.
“Well, I didn’t take you for a gentleman, walking me all the way to my door,” she says when we come up to her door.