In Good Company: Chapter 3

I’m delicately balancing a tub of cooking utensils and my bag with additional supplies while I walk out to my car when a shadow pushing off the side of Laurent Hughes’s house takes me by surprise.

I stifle a scream. “Oh my God.” I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. If my hands weren’t full, I think my fist would’ve connected with a face out of sheer panic and surprise.

“Need a hand?” Callahan asks, already taking the tub from my grasp before I can even respond.

“I’ve got it,” I snap, trying to pull it back against my body.

What’s worse is he doesn’t even apologize for coming out of nowhere and scaring me. He lets out a low sound of amusement as he effortlessly tugs my things out of my hands completely.

“Callahan!” I yell, watching him walk down the driveway, acknowledging nothing I said to him. “Give me my stuff back.”

“Which one is yours?” he calls over his shoulder, pointing to the cars parked neatly up the driveway.

Annoyed he’s ignoring what I’m saying, I stop. My hands find my hips as I wait for him to realize I’m no longer trailing behind him. It gives me the chance to take a few calming breaths. My heart still races in my chest from the way he took me by surprise.

It takes him a few more seconds, but eventually, he glances over his shoulder. He sighs as he stops and turns around. “Lucy? Which one’s your car?” he asks, his tone firmer this time.

I take a moment to look at the man in front of me. His hair is so dark it almost looks black. He’s over a head taller than me, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He wears a white, crisp button-down and a navy sport coat with a pair of chinos. Every item of clothing he wears is perfectly tailored to his body. The light from the moon catches on the expensive gold watch on his wrist. Everything about him screams wealth.

He looks good. But no matter how good he looks, right now, he’s getting on my last nerve. I’m tired, my feet hurt, and the last thing I want to be doing is dealing with Callahan.

I let out a slow sigh, trying to pull my gaze away from the frustrating man in front of me.

It’s been years since I last saw Callahan Hastings.

Well, sort of.

Sometimes late at night, I’d look up the Hastings family to see what they were up to. Not because I missed Callahan’s brother, Oliver, who also happens to be my ex-boyfriend. Our year together was fun, but there’s something about your ex breaking up with you and immediately dating who you thought was your best friend that quickly makes you fall out of love with someone.

Or realize that you were never really in love with them at all.

But naturally, I’m a curious person. It isn’t a sin to google your ex after a breakup. Everyone does it. It’s a right of girlhood.

And sometimes…I’d stumble upon pictures of Callahan. Sometimes I couldn’t help but be more interested in what he was doing than what Oliver was doing. Oliver didn’t speak much about his older brother. Callahan seemed like some mythical creature in the year Oliver and I were together. Even at family functions, my ex-boyfriend did everything he could to not be in the same room as his brother.

Which only made me want to know more about the mystery that was Callahan Hastings.

Time has been kind to him. He looks even better in person than any photo I could find of him online. Seeing him seated at Laurent’s dining table tonight was something I didn’t expect. Finding him still here long after the dinner ended is even more surprising.

“Were you waiting for me?” I ask before I can stop myself. The thought just occurred to me.

Callahan’s lip turns up in the cockiest of smirks. “Yes.” One word. So simple, yet for some reason, it sends a shiver down my spine.

“Why?” The night feels way too quiet as my question lingers in the space between us. Can he hear my racing heart? I blame it on the fact I’m still recovering from him taking me by surprise in the dark. My heart definitely doesn’t beat erratically because I’m standing alone in the dark with Callahan Hastings.

He adjusts his grip on the tub, reminding me he’s still waiting for me to tell him which car is mine. The cocky smirk on his lips disappears before he opens his mouth to speak. “Because I felt like it. Now, which one is your car? Don’t make me ask again.”

My cheeks heat at the commanding tone of his voice.

Because I felt like it.

I try not to read too much into his answer. Instead, I point to my parked car. “Right there.”

A slow laugh rumbles deep in his chest. “I like the baby blue.”

I can’t help but smile, following him to my car. “I wish I could say it’s mine, but I’m only renting it for the summer. A little treat to myself before I have to return home.”

Callahan balances my work supplies in one hand as he opens the trunk. I try to rush and close the distance between us to help him, but he beats me to it. Instead, I just end up standing too close to him as he slides my items into the back.

I’m immediately hit by the smell of him. Bergamot and sandalwood. It’s incredibly masculine and makes me want to inhale deeply and bask in the richness of his scent.

“It was a surprise to see you here tonight.” Callahan’s deep voice breaks me from analyzing what other notes I’m getting from his cologne.

I let out a nervous laugh before taking a step back. Now that my supplies are safely tucked in the back of the Bronco, it doesn’t seem necessary to stand so close to him. “Yeah. You were the last person I expected to see tonight.”

His head cocks to the side. “Did Ollie not tell you we summered in the Hamptons?”

My teeth dig into my bottom lip as I try to decide how honest I want to be with him. “It seems there were a lot of things Oliver didn’t tell me.”

Like the only reason he ever talked to me in the dorm dining hall was not because he was interested in me…but because he wanted to talk to Sophia. She didn’t give him the time of day, and I did. He dated me because I was convenient. The entire time, he was still interested in Sophia.

Callahan stares at me for a moment, his dark eyebrows drawn in. I fidget underneath his intense gaze. I wish I knew what was going through his mind. Does he think it’s pathetic that I dated his brother for an entire year and feel like I barely knew him at all?

“Are you looking for a full-time position for the summer?”

I blink, trying to catch up with his total change of subject. “What?” I figured he was going to ask me another question about Oliver or even stick up for his brother, but instead, he took me by surprise with his line of questioning.

“Do you prefer splitting your time between Pembroke and dinner parties, or are you looking for something more stable this summer? Like what Thomas and Rina were asking?”

I think about his question for a moment before answering. “I’d prefer not to split my time if I didn’t have to. Cooking is what I want to do this summer. Waiting tables at the club is just a way for me to make a nice paycheck.”

“What if you could make a better paycheck doing more private chef work? And it’d be more stable? Would you want that?”

I nod slowly, wondering why he cares so much. Thomas gave me his card before they left the dinner party, so there’s a chance I’ll be able to do a test cook for them and see if it’d be a good fit. I’m hopeful they were serious about wanting to hire someone for the summer, but I can’t be sure. I don’t want to get too excited about the prospect and get disappointed in the end.

“The entire reason I came to the Hamptons was to get a more permanent position.” I laugh, pushing stray pieces of my hair out of my face. “Well, as permanent as something can be when I only have a summer left here.”

Callahan is quiet for a moment, his eyes scanning my face. The intensity of his gaze makes me shift on the balls of my feet. What is he thinking, and why does he have to be so intense about it?

I don’t know how long we stand there quietly when he finally clears his throat and keeps his striking blue eyes pinned on me.

“Become my private chef for the summer.” His words don’t even come out as a question. They come out like a demand, as if he’s already decided on my answer without my input. Maybe that’s normal for him. It’s possible he’s used to always getting what he wants. He’s going to quickly find out that it won’t work with me.

“What?” I ask, trying to read his features to see if he’s joking. He doesn’t seem like the joking type with his rigid posture and brooding stare. “No,” I add, shaking my head. The idea of working for him is crazy. “Absolutely not.”