“Always,” I blurt without thinking. It’s the second time he’s asked, and the second time I blurt out the same answer without thinking better of it.
How does he do that?
My toes are curling under his stare. “Where are you planning to go?” he asks.
“Navy Pier. I went there with Wynn but I’d love to go again.”
Lights of mischief spark up in his eyes. “You must really love that Ferris wheel.”
“Oh, of course,” I laugh.
He leans closer. “I’ll take you to the Pier tomorrow.”
“What? I don’t think it’s a good idea. I really think—”
“Pick you up at five.” He presses the button to shut the doors and as they do, he raises his brows in challenge, and the doors shut.
He’s downstairs, behind the wheel of his black-on-black Range Rover. I hurry to the car even as he steps out to open the passenger door.
I greet him with a nervous, “I brought a hat.”
He takes his seat behind the wheel and shuts the door behind him. “Preventing freckles?” One brow goes up, along with the corners of his lips.
“Clusters of freckles on my face, yes.”
I slide the cap over my head, and Callan reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear that had ended up flat over my eye.
The touch flits across my skin and down my entire body, making me shiver.
He smiles, noticing my shiver.
I gulp and lift my hand, fingering and readjusting my Dallas Cowboys cap in nervousness.
We start driving and I watch his hands on the wheel as he steers. I try to look away because I’ve been brainwashing myself that this is only a friendly outing. Having Callan catch me staring at his hands like some ogling, adoring idiot won’t do.
“Are you up for some excitement?” he asks me.
“Speed and altitude? Are you trying to get rid of me?” I mock frown.
“Nah. I might miss the excitement of anything outrageous you want to share. I’m selfish like that.”
“Oh, so you won’t murder me because I’m entertaining to you.”
He smiles and parks his car, and we head toward the long, bustling corridor of Navy Pier. I point to the colorful horse carousel. “I’d go on that.”
“Go to Disneyworld. Better fit for you.” He lifts my cap, rumples my hair, and laughs as he sets it back down. I’m smiling as I fix my hair and we head down the corridor and I take in the scenery of restaurants, shops, and entertainment stands, and the imposing Ferris wheel in the distance.
“Now I feel like I’m in Chicago.” I stick my tongue out at him.
“Ah. You thought you were in Texas all this time.”
“No, I thought I was dreaming.” I laugh. “I wasn’t very smart, grade-wise. I always had to put in double the effort than others in my class.”
“Most of the time, effort trumps talent.”
“True.” I nod, my lips curving. “So you built Carma on your own?”
He nods.
“I can’t believe what you’ve accomplished on your own, you’re still too young.” We take a seat on a bench, and I glance around the Pier. “That’s what I plan to do the next couple of years. Work. I’ve never been so exhausted in my life, though. It’s like my whole life has been taken over by you and Carma.”
He laughs softly, and takes my cap and turns it around.
“No!” I laugh. “I’ll get freckles this way.”
“That’s the plan.”
I scowl and notice the heat in his eyes, blushing as I quickly straighten the brim.
“Are you like this with all the women you know?” I narrow my eyes.
“Like what?”
“I’m not going to say it.”
“Come on, say it,” he dares, shifting in his seat to stretch his arm out behind me.
“Only because we’re out of the office and you’re wearing a polo and you look like you.”
“I am me.”
“You look a little untouchable in a suit. You don’t invite conversation when you look all stuck up and harsh.” I inhale. “This attractive. All week, Janine apparently answers calls from your girls. ‘Is Callan in? Please tell him x, y, and z called.’ They’re all hopelessly in love with you.”
“I assure you, they’re not. Many are friends. Others, acquaintances—no strings.”
I nearly snort.
He crosses his arms, eyeing me in speculation. “Think I should call them back?”
I start at that, mute.
“Olivia.”
I lift my head. His eyes are studying me intently as one sleek eyebrow goes up. “Think I should call them back?”
“I suppose if you want to.”
“So you’re telling me I should do exactly as I want.”
“I mean if you want to talk to them.” I’m so jealous I feel literally green.
“Let’s see.” He pulls out his cell phone and dials.
I inhale painfully—when suddenly, my phone buzzes and NOT DRAKE appears on the screen.
I’m puzzled but pick up, scowling at him. “What are you doing, Drake?”
“Not Drake.” He disconnects the call with a press of his finger, looking at me.
“Not the mail guy either,” I whisper.
“That’s right.” He takes my chin and turns my face to his, forcing me to look into his beautiful copper eyes, which seem to see right through me. “Just me.”
I turn my head a little bit and busily tuck my phone away. Nervous.
Callan just stands and shoves his hands into his pockets and watches me with this smile on his face. “Olivia.”
“Hmm?”
“There’s a giant cluster of freckles on your face.”
“Shut up!” I groan, laughing because I’m blushing.
We walk down the pier in silence.
I want to kiss him and hold his hand; I want to do many things. I’m surprised by how much I want them.
“I sometimes worry I’ll end my life doing nothing that I wanted to do,” I say as we keep walking along the corridor.
He steals a look at me that clearly says, “Oh, are we talking personal again?” And it’s an amused look, so I just grin and fall quiet for a moment.
“So what do you want to do?” he asks me.
“Be my own boss one day. Travel,” I admit. “I want to help businesses, but I worry about choosing the ones I could most make a difference for. I’ll be no use to anyone if I run my own business into the ground.” I shoot him a soft smile. “I want to enjoy my grandma, too, you know. I mean, I know I don’t have her forever. I want to enjoy my parents and form a family like they have, but that needs a partner, and sometimes it feels like things going the way you hope isn’t even in you or your partner’s hands. . . it’s sometimes not meant to be.”
His eyebrows pull together into a frown. “I wholly disagree. I don’t leave things to chance. You want it, you make it happen; if not, you won’t.”
“That’s not true. So many people want things they strive for their whole lives and they’re always elusive; other people don’t want things that they take for granted. Like my family, for example. Living with them, I felt safe all my life, all my problems solved, yet it still felt like my life was a series of little dramas, from the slight of a friend to Daniel Radisson not wanting to hire me, and the tree house, and me saying the wrong things. I always had their love but I forgot the little dramas. Being away from them I’ve realized how much I depend on them to feel safe. Even my fear of heights. Or the one where I’ll die young and never be anyone’s wife or mother. I console myself I’d at least be buried with my parents.”
“I don’t go thinking about my fears—hell, I don’t base my decisions on them.” He gives me a wink. “So the saying goes, there are two dogs barking over your shoulder, fear or determination. Which one wins? The one you feed. Never feed the dog who’s afraid.”
“But you’re feeding the dog that tells you relationships don’t last. That dog will always win until you stop feeding it.”
How does he do that?
My toes are curling under his stare. “Where are you planning to go?” he asks.
“Navy Pier. I went there with Wynn but I’d love to go again.”
Lights of mischief spark up in his eyes. “You must really love that Ferris wheel.”
“Oh, of course,” I laugh.
He leans closer. “I’ll take you to the Pier tomorrow.”
“What? I don’t think it’s a good idea. I really think—”
“Pick you up at five.” He presses the button to shut the doors and as they do, he raises his brows in challenge, and the doors shut.
He’s downstairs, behind the wheel of his black-on-black Range Rover. I hurry to the car even as he steps out to open the passenger door.
I greet him with a nervous, “I brought a hat.”
He takes his seat behind the wheel and shuts the door behind him. “Preventing freckles?” One brow goes up, along with the corners of his lips.
“Clusters of freckles on my face, yes.”
I slide the cap over my head, and Callan reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear that had ended up flat over my eye.
The touch flits across my skin and down my entire body, making me shiver.
He smiles, noticing my shiver.
I gulp and lift my hand, fingering and readjusting my Dallas Cowboys cap in nervousness.
We start driving and I watch his hands on the wheel as he steers. I try to look away because I’ve been brainwashing myself that this is only a friendly outing. Having Callan catch me staring at his hands like some ogling, adoring idiot won’t do.
“Are you up for some excitement?” he asks me.
“Speed and altitude? Are you trying to get rid of me?” I mock frown.
“Nah. I might miss the excitement of anything outrageous you want to share. I’m selfish like that.”
“Oh, so you won’t murder me because I’m entertaining to you.”
He smiles and parks his car, and we head toward the long, bustling corridor of Navy Pier. I point to the colorful horse carousel. “I’d go on that.”
“Go to Disneyworld. Better fit for you.” He lifts my cap, rumples my hair, and laughs as he sets it back down. I’m smiling as I fix my hair and we head down the corridor and I take in the scenery of restaurants, shops, and entertainment stands, and the imposing Ferris wheel in the distance.
“Now I feel like I’m in Chicago.” I stick my tongue out at him.
“Ah. You thought you were in Texas all this time.”
“No, I thought I was dreaming.” I laugh. “I wasn’t very smart, grade-wise. I always had to put in double the effort than others in my class.”
“Most of the time, effort trumps talent.”
“True.” I nod, my lips curving. “So you built Carma on your own?”
He nods.
“I can’t believe what you’ve accomplished on your own, you’re still too young.” We take a seat on a bench, and I glance around the Pier. “That’s what I plan to do the next couple of years. Work. I’ve never been so exhausted in my life, though. It’s like my whole life has been taken over by you and Carma.”
He laughs softly, and takes my cap and turns it around.
“No!” I laugh. “I’ll get freckles this way.”
“That’s the plan.”
I scowl and notice the heat in his eyes, blushing as I quickly straighten the brim.
“Are you like this with all the women you know?” I narrow my eyes.
“Like what?”
“I’m not going to say it.”
“Come on, say it,” he dares, shifting in his seat to stretch his arm out behind me.
“Only because we’re out of the office and you’re wearing a polo and you look like you.”
“I am me.”
“You look a little untouchable in a suit. You don’t invite conversation when you look all stuck up and harsh.” I inhale. “This attractive. All week, Janine apparently answers calls from your girls. ‘Is Callan in? Please tell him x, y, and z called.’ They’re all hopelessly in love with you.”
“I assure you, they’re not. Many are friends. Others, acquaintances—no strings.”
I nearly snort.
He crosses his arms, eyeing me in speculation. “Think I should call them back?”
I start at that, mute.
“Olivia.”
I lift my head. His eyes are studying me intently as one sleek eyebrow goes up. “Think I should call them back?”
“I suppose if you want to.”
“So you’re telling me I should do exactly as I want.”
“I mean if you want to talk to them.” I’m so jealous I feel literally green.
“Let’s see.” He pulls out his cell phone and dials.
I inhale painfully—when suddenly, my phone buzzes and NOT DRAKE appears on the screen.
I’m puzzled but pick up, scowling at him. “What are you doing, Drake?”
“Not Drake.” He disconnects the call with a press of his finger, looking at me.
“Not the mail guy either,” I whisper.
“That’s right.” He takes my chin and turns my face to his, forcing me to look into his beautiful copper eyes, which seem to see right through me. “Just me.”
I turn my head a little bit and busily tuck my phone away. Nervous.
Callan just stands and shoves his hands into his pockets and watches me with this smile on his face. “Olivia.”
“Hmm?”
“There’s a giant cluster of freckles on your face.”
“Shut up!” I groan, laughing because I’m blushing.
We walk down the pier in silence.
I want to kiss him and hold his hand; I want to do many things. I’m surprised by how much I want them.
“I sometimes worry I’ll end my life doing nothing that I wanted to do,” I say as we keep walking along the corridor.
He steals a look at me that clearly says, “Oh, are we talking personal again?” And it’s an amused look, so I just grin and fall quiet for a moment.
“So what do you want to do?” he asks me.
“Be my own boss one day. Travel,” I admit. “I want to help businesses, but I worry about choosing the ones I could most make a difference for. I’ll be no use to anyone if I run my own business into the ground.” I shoot him a soft smile. “I want to enjoy my grandma, too, you know. I mean, I know I don’t have her forever. I want to enjoy my parents and form a family like they have, but that needs a partner, and sometimes it feels like things going the way you hope isn’t even in you or your partner’s hands. . . it’s sometimes not meant to be.”
His eyebrows pull together into a frown. “I wholly disagree. I don’t leave things to chance. You want it, you make it happen; if not, you won’t.”
“That’s not true. So many people want things they strive for their whole lives and they’re always elusive; other people don’t want things that they take for granted. Like my family, for example. Living with them, I felt safe all my life, all my problems solved, yet it still felt like my life was a series of little dramas, from the slight of a friend to Daniel Radisson not wanting to hire me, and the tree house, and me saying the wrong things. I always had their love but I forgot the little dramas. Being away from them I’ve realized how much I depend on them to feel safe. Even my fear of heights. Or the one where I’ll die young and never be anyone’s wife or mother. I console myself I’d at least be buried with my parents.”
“I don’t go thinking about my fears—hell, I don’t base my decisions on them.” He gives me a wink. “So the saying goes, there are two dogs barking over your shoulder, fear or determination. Which one wins? The one you feed. Never feed the dog who’s afraid.”
“But you’re feeding the dog that tells you relationships don’t last. That dog will always win until you stop feeding it.”
