Oh.
Oh my.
My face must have been painted with all of the overwhelmed emotions that were kicking up a tornado in my belly, because Cal stared at the ground for a beat, scrubbed a hand over his face, and stepped back.
That wasn't what I wanted. I wanted him closer, touching me, whispering those words that made me feel like the center of the universe. Even if the center of his universe wasn't mine to keep, I could steal that feeling for right now.
He returned to me when I shivered, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and kissing the crown of my head like I was small and precious. "Can I take you home now?" he asked. "Wrap you up in pillows and apologize for everything I've ever done? I'll take care of those panties too."
It wasn't lost on me that Cal really liked talking about my underwear. It was why I mentioned them. I liked throwing him those bones and pretending I didn't hear his pervy remarks. "I have to go to work," I said.
"I doubt you're wearing this to the office. Let me help you out of these wet clothes."
"I have to work," I repeated. "This is a hectic time for me, Cal. I have a high-priority client, the draft, I'm shooting for a big promotion, and I need to get my team ready to slay in LA. That's the mantra. Slay in LA. We're doing it. We fly out tomorrow."
He nodded, his chin bumping against my head, and he reached for the iPhone secured in my armband. I was amazed it'd survived two Cal collisions. He held it out.
"Unlock this," he ordered. He caught my expression—the one that summarized exactly how much of my girl power he was trampling at the moment—and managed a contrite frown. "Please unlock this so I can give you my information, Stella. I tried to call you when I was pulled into another emergency surgery this morning but then I realized that Istilldidn't have your number. Let me tell you, sweet thing, I fixed that heart real fucking fast when I realized I was going to miss you."
"I'm not sure how I should feel about that. Am I allowed to be flattered if you pulled a rush job on someone's heart? Or should I be worried for them?"
"I did that heart just fine," he replied. "I know how to get in, get out, get the job done. Sometimes I take my time doing it and close everything up nice and tidy. Others, it's quick enough to make sure everyone walks away happy and I leave the resident to close."
There was a promise in those words. A commitment.
I keyed in the password and handed it back to him. He set to typing one-handed, the other still tight around my shoulders, but it was far more than a few digits. I figured he was sending himself a text with some smart-assed comment about my skivvies that I'd enjoy later. He showed me the screen again and it revealed an entire page of his contact information.
"Here's my mobile phone, my house phone, my office at the hospital, my head scrub nurse's number, my address, my work email, and my personal email."
"That's very…thorough," I said, tucking my phone back in the protective case.
Cal pinned me with an arched eyebrow and the inkling of a smile. "That's how I operate, Stella."
Yeah, that was the truth. This man knew nothing short of all the way.
13
Cal
I didn't knowhow I did it but I scored another evening with Stella.
Instead of sitting down in a restaurant, she insisted on walking and ice cream. It was odd but I wasn't arguing. Not when I could get a few hours with this woman before she left me for the West Coast. Not even if it meant feigning an interest in ice cream.
"What do you think?" she asked, tipping her chin toward the chalk-scrawled menu board. The raincoat was back, and with it came an orange scarf printed with tiny red elephants. I had a newfound appreciation for the close-fitting leggings and tight t-shirts she favored for her morning routine. Goddamn, I loved those leggings.
"I, uh." I glanced between sundaes and frappes—which rhymed withtrapswhen in New England, I'd learned—and scoops and shakes. "It's all great."
"They have grape-nut," she cooed. "Have you ever tried it? Or heard of it?" Before I could respond, she turned to the server. "Can we get a sample of grape-nut?"
"I haven't," I replied. "Tried or heard."
She held out the plastic sample spoon. "Cal. You have to try this. I promise, it's really good."
When she looked up at me with those big, gleeful brown eyes and an expectant smile, it didn't matter how unpleasant the flavor sounded or that I didn't favor anything in the frozen desserts family, I was eating it. And how could I not?
I swallowed the spoonful down and it was fine. It was ice cream and that wasn't my favorite, but it was less horrible than it sounded and Stella was smiling. Honestly. I'd survived two trips through an actual war zone. I could choke back some weird cereal ice cream for the woman I was going to marry.
"What do you think?" she asked. "My dad is a grape-nut ice cream fanatic so I grew up debating the merits of one creamery's quality over another."
