“Because I do.”
“Then you will be very proud of my restraint.”
Proud? Restraint is the last thing I want from her right now. I swallow, my throat dry and scratchy. If she’s worried about the emotional connection, we have that. I care about her. Maybe we don’t know each other very well yet, but I definitely enjoy her company. I likeher. Callie is a good person. I would certainly call her a friend.
But how could I try to tempt her into anything when I know she has less than two weeks left in Scotland? It’s the hardest bloody thing I’ve done in a long time, but I take her gently by the wrists and shift her until she’s sitting up again. The space between us makes it easier to keep a clear head.
I stand while Callie bends her neck, looking up at me.
“Being mature is hard,” she mutters.
Do we have to be? I’ve had to be the adult in my own life for so much of it, the temptation to toss aside what I know to be the smart decision coils inside me like a taut snake. Her brown eyes are deep, reflecting the yellow light in the ceiling above us, and I have my answer. Despite what I want, I respect this woman too much to toy with her emotions.
Callie pushes off the desk until she’s standing right in front of me. Our bodies are so close I can feel her thigh press into mine. If she wasn’t leaning back to look me in the eye, I think we would be nearly embracing.
My heart kicks into overdrive. Can you have a heart attack merely from wanting someone?
“We’re still friends,” Callie says. “And friends hug.”
Can she hear my pulse? I’m certain it’s shaking the entire house. “Aye, that they do, American Sassenach.”
Her eyes flash. She slides her hands around my back and lays her head on my chest. Her ear is pressed beneath my collarbone. If she didn’t know how badly I wanted her before, she knows now.
“This feels nice,” Callie says.
She has no idea. I inhale the scent of her shampoo and memorize how perfectly she fits in my arms. We won’t be able to hug like this in front of anyone else, so I’m not going to waste this moment.
Breathing deeply, I hold her tighter, and she melts into me. This is what heaven feels like. It would be so easy to lean down, so simple to brush my lips against hers. There is nothing getting in the way of the smallest?—
“Thank you, Gavin,” she says quietly.
I glance down at her and smile, unsure what she’s thanking me for. “We should go.”
“Probably a good idea.” Her laugh is loose. When she steps out of my arms, I feel like I’ve lost something, and I immediately want to hold her again.
Och, for the love of all things. I think I’m falling for Callie.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CALLIE
Movingto Southern California was all fun and games until I realized that the eight to ten hour drive—depending on traffic—to see my parents wasn’t as quick or easy as it seemed when I first applied to UCLA. I couldn’t really jaunt to Geyserville for a quick weekend like I’d imagined myself doing. I still flew up to our local airport occasionally or drove out for longer stays, but I didn’t see my parents nearly as often as I’d like. Getting to spend almost two weeks with them in Scotland is the best Christmas gift this year.
Which is why nothing is going to ruin my day today, since I know my parents are flying in and will be joining us at Chateau de Gavin before lunch.
Not the fact that Gavin might have possibly—probably?—kissed me last night if I hadn’t been such an idiot and pretty much told him not to.
Definitely not the guilt that swallows me whole while I watch his parents sit at one end of the breakfast table and ignore the rest of our group entirely as they make their plans for the rest of the day. Plans that include a cute holiday market afew towns over between Inverness and Glenbruar, but not any of us. Not even their own son.
I mean, heaven forbid they invite him along after he gives up his bedroom for them. Buys their house to dig them out of debt. Parents himself every time they neglected him for the first eighteen years of his life.
My piece of toast crumbles in my hand. Okay, my bitterness is showing. Take a breath, Callie.
“That Christmas market sounds amazing,” Luna says down the table, chewing on her eggs. “I haven’t been to a Scottish one yet. Should we go too?”
Jean glances up, surprised.
I don’t respond either, because I’m just as taken off guard.
