“Just like I remember it.” My voice is low, barely a whisper, as my heart thumps a little harder against my ribcage.
His throat makes a sound as he swallows. “Don’t mind the mess. I’m not much of a housekeeper.”
“It’s homey,” I say to him and he gives me a grateful smile.
“I hire a nanny for Kaitlyn in the summers. She starts when Kaitlyn gets back from her week at her grandparents. She tidies up while she’s here, but for ten months of the year, it’s a bit of a mess.”
He gives me a smile, but that’s when it occurs to me. He might look put together, but underneath it all, the man is held together by frayed stitches. God, I didn’t even know what kind of shape he’s been in. My heart sits heavy in my chest. What kind of friend have I been, not to know Callan was living in a time capsule, and simply going from day to day?
“Who takes care of Kaitlyn during the school year when you’re on shift?” I follow him to the kitchen and he removes a stack of papers from the chair and gestures for me to sit.
“She does the Boys and Girls club after school, but on the nights I’m working, she usually goes to one of the grandparents’ places.”
“You have a great support system.” There isn’t a lot of stability for Kaitlyn, going from home to home, but I guess they’re doing what they have to do to get by. A measure of guilt gnaws at me. I should have been there for him over the years. Well, I’m here now. Maybe I can help him move on with his future.
“Yeah, I do,” he says but it’s what he’s not saying that tightens my throat. While he has numerous people there for him and Kaitlyn, no one can take the place of his wife, and I have to agree.
“Drink?” he asks as children’s laughter trickles in through the open windows and fills the house. A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. When Brad and I first got together he was so damn charming and I used to dream about having a family with him. Now that I’m single, recuperating from an abusive relationship, I just want to keep a low profile and try to find myself again. As much as I want kids, I’m not sure I see it happening.
He opens the fridge and leans in. “Wine or beer?” I stand, unable to sit idle while someone serves me and step up behind him to see what he’s offering.
“If we’re having pizza, I think that calls for a beer,” I say.
“I knew there was a reason I always liked you,” he says and turns around, bumping into me again. I stumble backward, but he slides his free hand around my waist. The other is holding two beers. He pulls me to him and I become acutely aware of the strength in his body as it presses against mine. “Sorry, Gemma. I didn’t know you were standing there.”
“We have to stop meeting like this,” I tease, but dammit, my voice holds a hint of arousal that I pray he doesn’t pick up on.
He laughs. “You’re kind of stealthy.”
“It’s always been one of my finer qualities. It’s at the top of my resume, actually. Bachelor of education, pianist, stealthy,” I tease. Why isn’t he letting me go? Better yet, why don’t I want him to? “It’s a skill that helped me get a job teaching English to seventh graders.”
“The school needed a stealthy teacher for that, did they?”
I open my eyes wide in mock surprise. “You clearly have no idea how sneaky teenagers can be with their phones, especially when it comes to cheating.”
He arches a brow, and his clean soapy scent fills my lungs. “Ah, so you have the ability to sneak up on that and catch them in the act.”
“That’s right.”
“You’ll have to teach me that. Kaitlyn is six going on thirteen.”
I chuckle, but it comes out rough and hoarse. “I’m sorry to say it’s not teachable. You’re either born with it or you’re not. Sadly, I think you lack the skill, Callan. You’re too big to be stealthy.”
“Too big, huh?” He angles his head. “Wait, is that a sideways compliment, like the hippo?”
His heat moves through me, trickles through my blood and settles between my legs. My God, what is going on with me? This is Callan. I can’t go there with him. He’s not over his late wife, and never will be—which is unfortunate because everyone deserves happiness—and the last thing he’s likely looking for is a relationship. A brief affair, however.
Wait, what?
“Not a sideways compliment, Callan. It’s a compliment. I remember every girl wanted to be with you back in high school.”
Myself included.
His hand slides from my back, leaving cold where there was once warmth. Okay, Gemma, that’s your cue to move backward, put a measure of space between our bodies.
Why the hell aren’t I moving back?
Because Callan is sweet, hot and fun, and I haven’t been around a man like that since...Callan. Still, he’s my late friend’s husband—a widower—and I shouldn’t be thinking inappropriate thoughts, like putting my hands on his hard, naked body, touching his flesh and caressing his hard muscles with my fingertips. Or him touching me in return. Since I broke things off with Brad, I’ve not looked at another man, haven’t wanted to. But there’s something so incredibly safe and warm about Callan. I don’t know. Everything about him draws me
