Chapter Three

Daley

No way.

I stare at the gorgeous, silver-haired man in a shades-of-gray suit as fury births, loud and screaming, in my belly. “Let me guess. You’re a friend of Matteo’s.”

He shoots me a confused look. “Yes, I am.”

He’s sexy as all get out and a very good actor, but that isn’t going to save his ass or Matteo’s from a Daley Cohen fire. I set the box of cards down on Xander’s counter reasonably gently, given how angry I am. Then I take the sexy man by the hand and drag him out of the gallery.

It’s raining cats and dogs, and he’s probably wimpy about getting wet, but I don’t care. He should have thought of that before he signed on to a harebrained scheme that involved coming to Crawford Bay in the winter. I steam around the corner of the building and in through the door at the back. Usually I knock, but today Matteo doesn’t deserve my good manners.

Two dark heads snap up from laptop screens as I storm in the door, dragging the hapless guy in a suit in my wake. I need to stop calling him sexy, even in my head. That’s giving an inch, and the two in front of me would use that and take a mile. I glare at Matteo. “It might have worked once, but you need to retire as the local matchmaker right now.”

Matteo looks at me like I’m speaking ancient Hebrew, but he’s smart enough to know it’s spitting-mad ancient Hebrew. He gets up slowly, keeping his eyes on me and his hands where I can see them. “Hey, Callum. Didn’t know you were dropping by.”

My fury goes nuclear. “Nobody just drops in around here. Don’t lie. Lies make me crazy.”

A throat clears behind me. “I actually did just drop by. They didn’t know I was coming.” The man I dragged in here like a misbehaving child steps forward. “I called this morning before I drove over from Nelson. The lovely young lady who mans your phones told me when you would likely be in the office.”

Matteo blinks. “Someone answers our phones?”

Callum nods, looking more amused by the second. “I believe her name was Janie.”

The absolute certainty that blasted me in here starts to wobble. Janie is Xander’s niece, and Matteo lets her come in and use his computers. She’s usually around after school, but Janie never does early what she can put off until the last minute. “She must have had an assignment due.”

“That she did.” Callum smiles. “A geography paper, if I understood rightly. I told her a little of my travels to the Andes and she told me about her new puppy.”

I sigh and close my eyes as the fury in my belly turns to ash. Really embarrassed ash. “You’re truly just here out of the blue? They didn’t know?”

Our still-joined hands lift up, and a thumb brushes my cheek. “They didn’t.”

Of course he’s kind. I sigh, but that doesn’t magically drop me into a helpful sinkhole. I open my eyes. I face the music, always. “I’m sorry. I made a wrong assumption, created an entirely embarrassing scene in front of your friends, and dragged you away from keeping several Crawford Bay artists in food this month on top of it.”

This smile is punctuated with dimples. “I’m not so easily distracted as that, although I’ll admit you’re a fine distraction.”

That green-hills-of-Ireland voice of his probably drops panties in all kinds of inconvenient places. Even mine, and I’m immune to charming, even when it comes with dimples.

Callum looks over at Matteo, still not letting go of my hand. “What terrible deeds have you done that she assumed you were playing matchmaker?”

My cheeks warm. I was hoping he might have forgotten that part.

Rafe grins. “He brought me here a few months back to discuss the idea of working together and then casually arranged an introduction to the jewelry maker who lives down the road.”

Callum looks an inch away from laughter. “And how did that turn out for you?”

Rafe shrugs and shoots me an apologetic look. “India’s my person.”

“Ah.” Finally, Callum lets go of me. He steps toward Rafe, arms out. “That’s really wonderful news, my friend.”

I watch as two men who don’t let any stupid notions of backslapping testosterone get in their way share a hug. I try to get my feet back on solid ground. He’s attractive, in ways sexy men in business suits usually aren’t, and I’m dangerously wobbly.

Callum gives Matteo a hug too. Then, in a move I’m not expecting, he returns to my side, his hand resting easily on my lower back. “I am curious. What set you off?”

I stare at him, trying to make sense of his question and coming up blank.

He tips his head in the direction of the gallery. “I was reaching for your art, and then I was being quick-stepped outside and around the building.”

I swallow. I know exactly what happened in between those two things, but I don’t know how deep his friendship runs with the two in this office, and I’m protective of my people. I try to phrase my answer as carefully as I can. “You said something about how important consent was to you. It reminded me of something I heard Matteo say once, and I jumped to a wildly wrong conclusion.”

An exchange of glances, and a nod from Matteo.

Callum turns back to me. “Not as wrong as you think. Consent matters deeply to all three of us, and for the same reason. I’m a Dom, as they are. You’ve good instincts.”

My belly starts stirring again, uneasy, and unhappy it doesn’t have a target.

His hand rubs my lower back. “Let me buy you some lunch. We’ll start over with a proper introduction, and you can tell me about this intriguing place and the trouble these two have surely caused.”

I raise an eyebrow, still trying to steady myself. “You seem quite sure of that.”

His dimples flash. “I am. They’re Doms, and good ones. Trouble follows them around like moths to flame.”

Matteo snorts. “Says the guy who’s been at this longer than either of us.”

Rafe winks at me. “And in the ten years I’ve known him, he hasn’t found a good woman to settle down with.”

Bless and curse him for naming the elephant in the room. “I would be happy to introduce him to Bee.”

Rafe laughs, which is a sound I’ve come to treasure. “Callum likes opera. He might already know her.”

I eye the new man in town, earnestly hoping my day isn’t about to get any stranger. “Beatrice Monk?”

His eyes register surprise—and pleasure. “I’ve never met her, but I’ve heard her sing. It was in Amsterdam and she was magnificent. She dared the whole audience to listen and let themselves be changed by her voice.”

That’s a compliment Bee would cherish. “You should meet her. She’d be thrilled.”

“That would make two of us.” Callum’s eyes don’t leave mine. “But it’s you I’d like to take to lunch.”

I can’t. I know it, but for the first time in a very long time, I can feel myself chafing against my self-imposed rules. Lunch with a sexy man isn’t normally a problem, but this time I’m quite certain it would open a door that needs to stay closed. Callum is too much of what I might want in a man, if I hadn’t sworn off of them. “I have work to do. Commissions that need to be done and mailed by Valentine’s Day.”

His head cants again. A man who truly listens. “Then perhaps we can pick up some food and you would permit me to watch you work.” His smile is gentle this time, the dimples barely there. “I didn’t manage to see much of what you brought into the gallery.”

I laugh, some at him and mostly at me. “You want me to invite you to see my etchings?”

His eyes twinkle. “Do you do those too?”

Damn him for being funny and adaptable and self-deprecating.

And damn me for wanting to feed him.