Truly Madly Deeply: Chapter 18

The doors to the Silverado slammed behind us. Cal immediately reached to turn on the radio. I covered the volume valve with my palm before she could touch it. “We need to talk.”

“Why?” she moaned. “We get along so much better when we don’t.”

“We get along best on different continents,” I grumbled, ready to be done with the conversation before we’d begun.

She cocked her head, turning her entire body to look at me, the seat belt clasped inside her little hand. She breathed out a tired sigh, letting her head fall backward. “Please don’t fire me. I just earned thirteen hundred bucks in tips and I think I might actually be able to afford renting some recording equipment when I get back to New York. I could finally start my business. I’ve been dreaming of starting a podcast since I wa—”

“Slow your roll, Little Miss Crapshine. One, I’m not gonna fire you. Two, I don’t care what you do with the money you earned. Waste it, burn it, donate it to Satanists in need. If we’re gonna work together, we need to set up some ground rules, though.”

“Oh.” She sat back, nibbling on the skin around her nail. “Sure.”

The engine roared to life, the vehicle purring as I turned to face her. She was a sexy trainwreck decanted into a cheap uniform. Her hair was tangled in disarray. Pink tips framed her face. Her cheeks matched them in color, and she looked so thoroughly fucked all I could think about was laying her down on my truck bed and fucking every single hole in her body until it was the shape of my cock.

Watching her waiting for my words made my dick hard. Come to think about it, watching her breathe made my dick hard. She could probably pick her nose and smear it all over my windshield and my dick would still go ramrod straight, awarding her with a standing ovation.

My issue was, there was no one else like Calla Litvin. I’d met plenty of sexy women over the years. Smart ones. Successful ones. Drop-dead gorgeous ones. But their qualities always carried that sameness that bored me. Cal was different. I never knew what was going to come out of her smart mouth. She approached everything she did with the enthusiasm and curiosity of a child…and the body of a very grown-up woman. It was time to douse her eagerness with a truth bomb.

“Not sure what you’re used to doing down in Manhattan, but in Descartes, you will not be playing charades, dancing to infamous nineties songs, or singing Adele ballads to customers. You’ve made a fool out of yourself under my roof, and I won’t tolerate it.”

She blinked rapidly, digesting the words that seemed harsh even to my own ears. There were better ways to drive the point home. I could’ve had Rhyland put in a word. Unlike me, he had the tendency not to offend entire nations every time he opened his mouth.

“I understand,” she said finally.

“You do?” My gaze swept skeptically over her face.

“Mm-hmm.” She forced a smile on. I hit the accelerator, scowling at the road ahead. Her eyes clung to my face like they were the glue to keep it from falling.

“Problem?” I growled.

“Several, actually.” She nodded. “Where shall I start?”

“How about telling me why I should care?”

“Because you have a conscience, and because, no matter what you say, you’re a good-hearted person who historically stands up for what’s right. When people’s feelings are involved, there’s—”

“Spare me the big Disney speech. Just spit it out.” I clutched the steering wheel in a death grip. “Use as few words as possible.”

“So I finally found out why everyone hates you. Suzanne, who owns the spa down the street, was one of my customers tonight. She filled me in.” She puckered her lower lip, pinching it between her fingers.

Here we go.

“Are you really going to do what they’re saying you’re going to do?” Cal asked worriedly.

“Yup.” I itched to light up a cigarette.

“But…why?”

Descartes was built over an old railroad that was no longer in operation. I’d bought the land—all five acres of it—for a pitiful price and restored the train station building, turning it into a dazzling restaurant. Gutted it and spent most of my savings on it. I had attracted tourists. Revived this shithole. And put Staindrop on the map. Six months ago, when I’d received a jaw-dropping offer from GS Properties, one of America’s biggest construction companies, to sell the land and everything on it, I hadn’t thought twice. I’d needed a way out and a fat paycheck for my next venture, and they’d needed space to build a luxurious monster mall attached to a hotel close enough to the Canadian border.

I wanted to get out of here, fast. I’d already achieved what I came here to do and saw no need to stick around in Buttfuck Creek. That was why the locals were angry at me. For cashing out and handing the town’s keys to a bunch of corporate suits who, in their eyes, were going to kill its quaint charm and small-town legacy and inject it with Botoxed designer stores.

“Why not?” I stroked my jaw. “Descartes was a vanity project. I came, I saw, I conquered. Time to move on. Selling the land is the logical thing to do.”

“For you, maybe. But what about the people in this town? The small business owners? The folks who grew up here and stayed because they love the old-fashioned lifestyle?” Her entire body was angled toward me. I had her undivided attention, and suddenly I felt like someone had poured lava down the pit of my stomach.

You’re not smitten. You’re horny. Which is a form of excitement that can be dealt with using your right hand and some shower gel.

“The local morons couldn’t spot a good idea if it hit them in the face with a Sub-Zero fridge,” I drawled. “Building a five-star hotel is exactly what this place needs. Employment is nonexistent, opportunities are scarce, and once Descartes shuts down, people won’t even make this a pit stop to get gas and take a piss. Whatever family businesses are still open here are struggling and would only benefit from the rush of tourism.”

“Even if what you’re saying is true, the station is the crown jewel of this town. It is the second oldest train station in America. It’s historical. It’s a holiday draw—”

“It’s dead.” I cut her off through gritted teeth. I didn’t usually give a crap about criticism, especially not regarding this subject matter, but being seen as the villain in Cal’s eyes didn’t sit right with me. “You haven’t been here in five years. Business is at a standstill, the population is in decline, the median salary is thirty percent lower than the national average. It’s mostly elderly people and poor folks forced to stick around who are left. If building a hotel and a mall means cannibalizing one drawcard, I’ll take my chances.”

“It’s not for you to decide though, is it?” She tilted her chin up courageously. “Let them vote. It’s a democracy.”

“The country is, my wallet isn’t,” I corrected her. “I’m selling.”

“They’ll never forgive you if you go ahead with it.”

I took a right turn and entered her street, with its manicured trees, white picket fences, and ice cream–colored houses. “Good thing I don’t give two shits about what people say, huh?”

“You think you’re cool because your hackles are so far up you can’t see past them.” She shook her head.

“Don’t patronize me, Dot.” What the fuck? What are you saying? “I’m a self-made millionaire and not even twenty-eight. The shit I’ve achieved, you haven’t learned how to spell yet.” I needed to shut the fuck up and do it as soon as possible. I didn’t like myself around her. The gap between Row and McMonster was insane.

Cal stared at me speechlessly. “Bite me.”

“Thought you’d never ask. Just say where.”

She looked pissed, but she didn’t look scared. And I didn’t know why, but it made me very fucking pleased that my sexual innuendos didn’t scare her.

I parked in front of her house and unbuckled. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

She undid her seat belt. “No thanks. It’s literally less than ten ste—”

“It was a statement, not an offer.”

She massaged her temples, drawing an exasperated breath. “You’re the only man I know who manages to be chivalrous and a complete jackass in the same breath. It’s a talent.”

“One of many—” The rest of the sentence died in my throat when I spotted Kieran fucking Carmichael loitering outside her door. At two in the goddamn morning. What was he doing here?

Was dying this week on his bucket list or something?

I didn’t want her to feel targeted by some huge jock. He was obviously going to be a threat to her, which meant I had a great excuse to finally beat him to a pulp.

I tossed my door open, advancing toward him. With each step, the anger inside me simmered hotter. His stupid face was illuminated by the blue light shining from his smartphone on Cal’s front porch. Probably rereading his favorite book—How to be a Dickface: The Full Guide.

“What’s even the point of walking me to my door when you run ahead of me?” Cal moaned behind my back. Kieran’s head snapped up from his screen, and his languid expression melted into wariness. “Casablancas. What are you doing here?”

“Was about to ask the same question. Channeling your inner Richard Ramirez?”

“Heard Cal’s in town.” Kieran leveled his gaze with mine. “Came to say hi.”

“In the middle of the night?” I got into his face, my toes brushing his. He wore a popped-collar polo and futuristic sneakers. All he had left was to tattoo the word douche across his forehead.

Cal appeared at my side, wheezing from running after me. She slid between us, blocking me. “Thanks for the ride and the truly riveting conversation. Especially the part where you made me feel like shit. I’ll take it from here.”

“I’m not leaving before he does.” I pointed at that asshole. I wasn’t being protective; I was being responsible. I didn’t want something happening to an employee of mine on my watch. Yes, I’ll go with that.

Cal pushed me away with a huff. “Kieran is here because I invited him.”

She’d invited him? I had no idea these two even knew each other. Kieran had graduated from high school the same year as me. They had no friends or hobbies in common.

You know nothing about her new life, shit face. They might be besties. With matching friendship bracelets and half-heart necklaces. For some reason, the last thought made me want to dip Kieran’s head in a bleached toilet full of piranhas.

I had been so comfortable in the knowledge she didn’t have a boyfriend, didn’t have sex with other people, didn’t date, that I forgot to factor in Cal was a liar. She could’ve lied to me as oBITCHuary. But no. That didn’t seem right. She was truthful with McMonster. That was what made it so fucking hard to stop talking with her—the idea that I was somehow saving her, becoming her lifeline.

What if she’d invited Kieran over for a hookup because McMonster had helped her overcome her fear of men? I was going to kill Kieran fifty times over.

“How do you know him?” I demanded. As if I had the right.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but he tutored me for English through middle and high school.” But as she said this, she folded her arms, shivering as she looked at him, and not from the cold. Was she uncomfortable? Had he done anything to her?

“Got extra credit for it.” Kieran winked.

This tracked. Even though he was a smug piece of work, Kieran wasn’t stupid. And he’d done a shit ton of extracurricular stuff at school to pad his CV.

“You don’t need another asshole, Cal. You already have one,” I pointed out. “Kieran, leave.”

Did you just comment on her rectum? Really? There was no rock bottom when it came to my attitude with Cal. Rhy was right. Maybe we did need to move her to do some filing in the back office.

“Still a charmer, Row.” Kieran’s lips twisted in a smirk. “The people’s prince. You know, Cal, he kicked me out of his restaurant last week.”

“His ego couldn’t handle a better-looking man sitting there,” Cal guessed, stopping a good ten feet away from him. Yeah, she was definitely wary of him, even if she tried to hide it.

“Are you saying I’m handsome?” Kieran arched a devilish eyebrow.

“I’m saying Row isn’t,” she quipped back, burrowing deeper into her jacket and taking another step back from him.

Seriously, what had I done in a previous life to deserve this kind of karma? Decapitated puppies and kittens in the town square?

“What’s he doing here?” I repeated, my tone cold. “You’re an employee, and I’m not leaving until I know you’re not in some kind of danger.”

Cal’s expression turned timid. “I’ve been having difficulties falling asleep since Dad passed away.” She clutched at her arms, hugging herself. The wind swept those cherry-blossom hair strands over her face, and her cheeks turned a similar shade. That sobered me up. She had just lost her father. “I need company. Someone to talk to, to keep me away from my own thoughts.”

“Could’ve taken you to Dylan’s.” I felt my nostrils flare.

“Dylan needs to rest.”

“Could’ve talked to me.” Seriously. No. Rock. Bottom. None.

“Sometimes I want to talk to someone who doesn’t scowl or berate me.”

“Specify next time, then. I’m not a fucking mind reader.”

“You aren’t? Well, then I won’t keep you guessing—I want you to go away. Now.”

The tips of her small, red mouth curved upward, and she brushed invisible lint from my shoulder. The touch was short-lived, but it was enough to make me swallow a hiss of depraved desire.

She. Touched. Me. Willingly. She never touched men. It had taken me a while to figure it out, growing up. She’d hidden it with her half-assed lies about hooking up with randoms.

“I’m okay. I swear. Kieran won’t hurt me.” She dipped her chin, holding my gaze seriously. But her eyes told me another story. Her eyes told me to stay. To fight. That she wasn’t feeling very safe at all.

Her eyes, or your delusions? Rhy’s voice inquired in my head.

“I can stick arou—”

“Row? Go.”

I didn’t want to leave her with Kieran. Didn’t want to give them the opportunity to reconnect, laugh, talk. But it wasn’t like I had a choice. And there was something else that pissed me off. The idiotic hope Kieran would make her feel better somehow.

Inhaling sharply, I turned around, descending her porch without a goodbye.

“Will you pick me up tomorrow?” Cal piped up behind my back.

I kept on moving toward my truck, not looking back. “If you’re at Dylan’s. Mom’s house is on my way.”

It wasn’t, but I clung on to the last shred of my self-respect like it was the edge of a cliff on Everest. She’d been here less than a week, and already I had hired her and driven her around like a chauffeur. Way to maintain fucking distance.

I swung the driver’s door open and started the engine, flicking the wipers on to get rid of a thin, icy crust on the windshield.

“Hey, Casablancas!” Kieran put his fingers in his mouth, whistling loudly before waving his hand. “Safe trip, buddy.”

I flipped him off as I drove past her house and into the night. I rounded the curb, then parked in front of an unfamiliar house, choking the steering wheel with my fingers and grunting in frustration as I glued my forehead to the horn, letting loose a long, continuous blare. I then took out my cigarette pack and smoked four cigarettes in a row, until I became dizzy.

Cal was back, and so was my fascination with her.

I was officially, royally, and completely fucked.