Chapter 11
Callie
I wake to the roar of an engine mixed with a snowplow scraping against pavement.
Spooning me, Lochlan snores lightly with a heavy arm draped over my waist. For a moment, I wonder if I’m dreaming, then panic.
Oh my God. What was I thinking? I’ve never done anything so reckless. I just had sex with a man I barely know. This is not who I am. What about all my resolutions? To think with my left-brain and keep a tight lid on my overly-emotional nature?
Oh shit. He was so caring, so perfect, and so, so very wrong.
Imagine my mother’s face when I show her my engagement ring. “Here’s the man I want to marry.”
Marry? Where the hell had that thought come from? Now completely freaked, I roll out from under his arm, sit on the side of the bed, and stare at the sleeping god. Then, I search for the nearest thing to cover up my naked form.
His hoodie is closest so I slip it over my shivering body.
Why oh why is he so damn gorgeous? He looks more boy than man as he sleeps but it doesn’t fool me. I remember those full lips that found every inch of my body. I don’t know what magic he did but it wasn’t just sex. Hell no. It was some kind of mind-blowing, hallucinogenic Aussie voodoo.
Damn. I’m falling for him, aren’t I? How can I move on knowing a man like this exists?
Suddenly, his eyes pop open and brows crease. “What is it, luv? You regretting last night?”
They must teach mind-reading at those special military schools. Before I have to answer, I’m saved by my cell phone’s ringing.
Maybe it’s a survey or the chance to buy a timeshare but it doesn’t...
“Hello?”
“Calliope. Did I wake you? I just wanted to call and tell you how much I enjoyed your company the other night and make sure you made it home safely.” The European accent helps guide me to who’s on the other side of the line.
“Yuri? Yes, thank you, I did.”
When Lochlan’s eyes narrow, I move away from the bed. Yuri is just a friend, no need for Lochlan to go all caveman.
I compare the two men. True, Lochlan is an incredible lover but Yuri would make the more sensible husband. My mother likes him and he understands my work. Nothing could be worse than a lifetime of living with someone who will never get your passion.
A flash of one my parents’ many fights, that I haven’t recalled in years, comes to mind. Still groggy from sleep, I get lost in the sad scene I watched from the top of the stairs.
“I need a husband.”
“You don’t understand. The piano is my life.”
“What about me? Your daughter?”
“I can’t do this anymore...”
“...Would you like that?” Yuri’s question shoots me back to present and I have no idea what he’s been talking about.
This is awkward.
“I’m sorry. I, ah, just woke up and blanked out for a second. What was the question?”
“I said I’d be happy to go over your thesis. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
Did I agree to a date, some time to go over my thesis, or both?
“Was that Friday?”
