Callum was acting…different. For almost two hours, while he’d sat on his usual stool, she’d been trying to put her finger on what was making him seem odd. Finally, after she’d closed the shop and climbed into his truck, she couldn’t take it anymore.
“What?” It probably wasn’t the most diplomatic leadoff to a discussion, but she was tired and tense and ready to get home—his home—and change into flannel pajama pants—her only pair now—and his weirdness wasn’t going to allow her to get comfortable, warm pj’s or no.
“You and Derek are friends,” he stated. Since he hadn’t really asked a question, she waited for him to continue. When he was silent for too long, she decided to give him a verbal prompt.
“Yes.”
“And…?”
She turned in her seat so she could stare at him. “And what?”
His lips tightened in annoyance. “Are you…anything more?”
“More?” It was a little like having a conversation in pig Latin. She could pick up the gist, but it was maddening and made her want to smack him. “More than friends, you mean?” At his short nod, she blew out a breath. “No. Even if hell froze over and he broke up with Artie, I’d never be tempted. He’s like the brother I never wanted. How could I date that?”
Although he didn’t smile, at least his mouth relaxed slightly. “Rob.”
“Oh, for the love of Pete, just spit it out! What about Rob?”
That slight easing of his tension was gone. “Are you interested?”
“In Rob? Romantically? No. Sure, he’s hot in a sexy-but-damaged kind of way, but there’s no zing between us. And can you imagine me as a stepmother to a teenager? The poor kid would be traumatized.” With a mock shudder, she purposely did not mention that the sheriff had implied his interest. Sharing that would not be helpful during the current discussion—or any discussion with Callum, actually. Instead, she asked, “What’s with the line-up of possible love interests?”
Adjusting his baseball cap, he stared through the windshield with more attention than the mostly cleared road required. “I’m trying to understand,” he finally said.
“Understand…?”
He flashed her an irritated look, which made her realize how few of those he’d been sending her way recently. Honestly, she hadn’t missed them. “You.”
“What about me?”
“Earlier, at the coffee shop…” He lifted his cap again and resettled it on his head. The amount of fidgeting was a sure sign he was off balance. “You didn’t want me touching you.”
“Is that it?” Flopping back against the seat in relief, she turned her head and grinned at him. “Jeez Louise, I thought you were breaking up with me or something.”
“Break up with you?” He frowned. “I’m not the one turning away when you try to kiss me.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not the one using PDA to mark his territory.”
“What?”
“The only reason you kissed me was to prove a point to Derek and Rob.”
“That wasn’t why,” he grumbled.
Ignoring that, she continued, “We haven’t even really talked about it. What we are, I mean. We’re basically living together, but we haven’t even dated.”
“We’ve gone on dates,” he protested, totally missing the point. “We went to Levi’s.”
“Fine. We’ve gone on one date.”
“Plus, we went to the bar together.”
“Uh, that was to talk to the coroner about a dead person.”
“Still counts.”
“Does not.”
“Does.”
“Whatever. Two dates then. So, we’re dating?”
“Yes.”
“Are we exclusive?”
“Yes.”
“Okay then.” She smiled at him. “Are we good?”
Finally, he smiled back. “Yeah. We’re good.”
* * *
Lou decided that Callum’s cooking more than made up for his lack of communication skills. After dinner, though, she couldn’t settle. She did the dishes and cleaned the kitchen just for something to do. When Callum discreetly checked the cleanliness of the countertops before wiping them down again, she rolled her eyes and wandered around the living area.
He watched her over the breakfast bar as she roamed the space. Lou sat on his very comfortable couch and almost immediately popped back to her feet. Watching television was not going to happen. She was much too twitchy to sit still. If she stayed in one place too long, then she would start thinking about how someone—Brent—hated her enough to try to kill her. That would just lead to being petrified and sad, so she decided the solution was to keep moving.
Her gaze stopped at the woodstove, and she headed in that direction. The fire didn’t really need attention, but she figured that poking at it would allow her to pretend to be useful.
“Stop,” Callum ordered. “The fire is perfect. Do not mess with it.”
Months of obeying that commanding tone during trainings and on calls made Lou stop in her tracks. “Sorry. I’m being irritating.”
“I’m just not used to people being in my space.” He looked relieved that his fire was no longer in danger of being assaulted.
She pivoted away from the stove, and the whiteboard caught her attention. “Can we talk about HDG? I just need to do…something.”
“I can think of something to do.”
It took her a moment of staring at him to realize he was flirting. “Oh! Um, better not right now. That’s not very calming.”
He stalked—actually stalked!—around the breakfast bar toward her. “We don’t have to be calm.”
“I…uh.” Her mouth was suddenly dry, making it hard to swallow. She backed up as he advanced, and the image of an antelope being hunted by a mountain lion popped into her head. When her legs bumped into the back of the couch, she jumped, startled. He was just inches away from her, and he put both hands on the top of the couch, trapping her and reminding her of their kiss in her kitchen the night before. The memory brought back the reason that kiss was interrupted, and her hand flew to his chest, stopping him as he leaned closer.
When he went still, looking at her with an unreadable expression, she studied him, taking in the hard planes of his face and the concern in his eyes. Despite his predatory advance, it’d taken only the smallest amount of pressure against his chest for him to stop. It made her feel powerful and safe and so incredibly turned-on that she closed her hands, grabbing two fistfuls of his shirt so she could yank him toward her.
A rare look of surprise crossed his face before her lips crashed into his. It didn’t take him long before Callum’s stunned moment passed and he took over the kiss. There was no teasing this time, and little finesse. Their embrace was sheer raw need that had been building since their first real kiss in her kitchen.
She fumbled for the buttons on his flannel shirt, wanting to skip the fastenings and just rip and tear until he was naked. Her teeth closed on his lip, and he jolted. For a second, she felt guilty, worried that she’d been too rough, when his fingers threaded through her hair, and he yanked her closer.
Groaning against his mouth, she sank into him. She needed him, needed this, needed the sensations crashing through her body to prove that she was still alive. Even as she fell deeper into the kiss, however, Cal eased back, his hands slipping to her shoulders and gently holding her away from him.
“What’s wrong?” Her voice was still husky from smoke and want. “Is your phone ringing again?”
“No.” He moved his hands to cup her cheeks. “But I don’t want to take advantage. You’ve had a rough few days. Are you sure you want this?”
“Yes.” Biting the inside of her cheek, she dropped her gaze to his chin. “Maybe?”
Leaning closer, he pressed a kiss to her temple and then stepped back, his hands dropping to his sides. “We’ll wait until you’re sure.”
Now that her desire for him was settling back to its usual simmer, Lou knew he was right. It was too soon. She shifted awkwardly, looking anywhere but at Cal, much too aware that she’d just jumped the poor guy. “So…what would you like to do instead?”
His exhaled sigh was resigned. “Want to talk about the dead guy?”
“Can we?” she asked hopefully, her gaze returning to him.
He gestured toward the whiteboard, creating an opening for her to escape his too-tempting nearness. She took the out gratefully, hurrying over to the board and focusing much too intently on choosing a marker color. Magenta pen in hand, she looked over at Callum, who was still standing where she’d left him by the back of the couch.
“So,” she said, underlining Ian Walsh’s name. “Should we tell him about the evidence that might implicate his motorcycle club?”
Callum looked at her for a long second before circling to the front of the couch and sitting. “What do you think?”
Tapping the end of the marker against her pursed lips, she considered the question. “I want to tell him,” she finally said, “especially after last night. My reasons are more emotional than logical, though. I mean, he braved a burning building for us. It just strikes me as wrong that we’re keeping this vital information from him, you know?”
Leaning back against the sofa cushion, Callum looked thoughtful. “What are the cons of telling him?”
She turned toward the whiteboard, picking an empty corner and writing “pros” on the left and “cons” on the right. Under pros, she put Need to look out for fellow rescuer. After a short hesitation, she added, Ian risked life for us—should treat him with equal respect.
“Okay,” she said. “Cons.” She scribbled, Sheriff warned Lou to keep her big mouth shut. and Do we want to give MC this info (especially if they did it)?
Taking a step back, she eyed what she wrote before turning to Callum. “I care more about the second con than the first. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not very good at following orders.”
His lips twitched. “I’ve noticed.”
She grinned at him. “So, we’re basically looking at whether we want to risk indirectly sharing this information with the club, then.”
With a nod, he leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees. “What could they do, if they did know?”
“You’re being very Socratic-Methody tonight with all these questions,” she observed, tilting her head to the side as she eyed him.
The lip twitch turned into a small grin. “Just trying to help organize your brain.”
After considering this for a moment, she gave him a nod. “Actually, it is helping. Thank you.” She paused. “What was the question again?”
“I can tell it’s helping,” Callum said dryly. “The question was, what could the MC do with this information if they did have it?”
“Ooh, good question. They could make the evidence disappear.”
He changed an amused sound into a cough when she narrowed her eyes at him.
“We’re brainstorming,” she said sternly. “There’s no laughing allowed in brainstorming sessions.”
“Sorry.” He gave her an impressively somber nod. “The evidence is safe in the state lab. I don’t think this small, local MC has the reach to make it”—he cleared his throat—“disappear.”
“Okay.” She tapped the marker against her lips again, stopping when Callum gave her an odd look. “What?” Glancing down, she realized she had the marker upside down, and there was probably magenta ink all over her face now. “Shoot. Oh well, at least it’s not a permanent marker. So, if the club has prior knowledge of the evidence, they’ll be prepared when Rob interrogates them about it. That could mess up the case.”
“It could.” He didn’t sound too convinced. “It’s a stretch, though. They’ll already know something’s up, just because the sheriff’s bringing them in for questioning.”
“But they won’t know what, specifically, he has on them, unless we spill the beans to Ian.”
“Will that actually affect the outcome of the interview?”
Opening her mouth to answer, she closed it again to reconsider. “I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “They could have excuses prepared, I suppose. It’s all so hypothetical, when the reasons I should tell Ian are so visceral.”
“So what do you want to do?”
“Tell him.” It just popped out of her mouth without her having to think about it.
After considering her for a long moment, Callum nodded. “Do it.”
With a little bounce of excitement, she asked, “Now?”
He glanced at his watch. “It’s pretty late, and you probably want to do it in person?” She nodded. “Tomorrow morning, then.”
“Okay.” Looking at the whiteboard, she said, “I think I’m going to start calling the diabetes and amputee support groups tomorrow, too. Unless you think I should visit in person?”
“No.” Standing, he stretched his arms toward the ceiling. Distracted by the play of muscles visible even under his shirt, Lou temporarily forgot the question she’d just asked until he continued. “More snow’s coming, and it’s too dangerous to be driving that far. Most of the towns where the groups meet are over an hour from here.”
Frowning, she replaced the cap on the marker. “Plus, I’m currently truckless.”
He walked to where she was standing and rested a hand where her neck and shoulder met, massaging the muscles there. “Did you hear anything from your insurance company?”
“Not since I called them this morning.” Leaning into his touch, she closed her eyes as his fingers dug into a particularly tight spot.
“Things will get settled quickly,” he assured her, but she was too blissed-out to really listen. “I’ll help you shop for a new truck.”
When that penetrated, her eyes popped open. “That’s okay,” she said, slipping out from underneath his hand. “You’re busy. I can do it on my own.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Callum gave her a heavy frown. “What’s the problem?”
“No problem.” She rubbed at a pink smudge the marker had left on her hand so she could avoid looking at him. “It’s just that I can shop for my own truck.”
He was quiet long enough that she gave in and met his gaze. It gave nothing away. Stubbornly, she stayed silent in what felt like an extremely awkward round of the quiet game.
“Are you regretting it?”
“What?”
“What we talked about earlier.” He ran his hand over his shorn head, as if he were reaching to adjust his baseball cap and was surprised to find it missing. “Us.”
“No!” For this conversation, she couldn’t stay still. Crossing to the breakfast bar, she started arranging the apples and bananas sitting on a plate. “I just…” Balancing a banana on top of two apples, she sighed. “Moving here was really hard.”
He grunted.
“It was the first time I decided what I wanted to do. Once I got here, I had to learn everything from scratch.” She turned another banana into a teeter-totter by balancing it over a single apple and then rocking it back and forth. “I hadn’t even mowed my own lawn back in Connecticut, and here I had to learn how to take care of my solar batteries and how to fix my generator when it wouldn’t start and…just everything. I didn’t even know how to start a fire when I first moved into my cabin. I thought it was a matter of throwing a lit match at a stack of logs.”
When she risked glancing at him, Callum was still expressionless, but he was looking at her with an intense focus that made her shiver. She took that as a good sign and continued.
“It was really hard and scary, but I did it. Now, you make everything easy.” Frowning, she spun the teeter-totter banana in a circle before it wobbled and fell off the apple. “And that’s even scarier, because I just want to dump everything in your lap and lie on a fainting couch while you fan me with palm fronds and feed me grapes.”
His slight choking sound brought her head around, but his expression hadn’t changed. Turning back to the plate, she made a happy face out of two apples for eyes and a banana for a mouth.
“I don’t want to go back to that helpless, weak person I was before.” She flipped the banana over so it created a frown. “And I’m really tempted when I’m with you.”
Although she didn’t hear him cross the room to stop behind her, he was close enough to reach out and reflip the banana to a smile. “I worry about you all the time,” he said gruffly, and she whirled around to face him.
“I don’t want you to worry. I want to do such a good job taking care of myself that you don’t have to worry.”
“You’re not the problem.” He shifted closer, never taking his gaze from hers. “It’s snowstorms and killers and fires and that fucking stalker. When you’re not with me, I’m constantly thinking about you.”
As she stared at him, nerves and something else—something amazing—bubbling inside of her, she said quietly, “I think about you all the time, too.”
“I do want to protect you. I do want to do things for you, to make your life easier.” He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. “Whatever I do, you could never be helpless. And you definitely could never be weak.”
“But—”
He silenced her with a short, hard kiss. “Does discussing the HDG case with me take away from what you’re doing?”
“No.”
“Did having me help you last night and stay with you this morning in the aftermath of the fire make you weaker?”
She considered the question. “Not really. But I think I wanted you there too much.”
With a shake of his head, he told her, “It’s okay to have help. When we go on dive-team calls, we are never alone. We’re stronger together, safer together. Getting a second opinion on what truck you should buy won’t change what you’ve accomplished by moving out here and surviving.”
When she was quiet for several moments, he added, “Okay?”
“I think so.” He’d given her a lot to consider, and her brain chose that moment to go from full speed to a crawl. “Can I chew on what you said and let you know in the morning?”
Hooking an arm around her neck, he pulled her into a hug. “Of course.” He kissed the top of her head. While she was debating whether to give in to the hug or pull away, her body decided on its own, sinking against his heat and strength. Giving her a final squeeze, he gently pulled away. When his hands left her shoulders, she swayed with exhaustion.
“Bed,” he ordered, narrowing his eyes at her.
“Only if you come too.”
Callum considered her. “Deal.”
She didn’t obey him because she was weak or helpless, her fuzzy brain decided, but because she was dead tired and longing for his cloud-soft bed. Turning to the stairs, she headed to the bedroom without even tossing back a flippant comment, and she couldn’t help a pleased smile when he followed right on her heels.