“All right, then, that’s good that you found them,” Ben said. He guessed that meant she’d be climbing in her car and driving away in a few minutes.
Which was just as well. Really.
The less temptation the better.
“So,” she said, having turned an about-face and was heading back toward where her car had been parked. “What were you saying about a drink?”
She beamed up at him as they walked, and despite all the blood-red streaks on her face, she looked much happier than a moment ago.
“Um…well, sure, of course. I don’t suppose we could get a table at Trib’s right now—”
“Not a chance. Besides, I can’t really go in there looking like Carrie at the prom, you know,” she said, gesturing to herself. “That would give Uncle Trib a heart attack. Isn’t your office nearby?”
“Oh, yeah, it is, but I don’t really have anything there to offer you—I mean, besides coffee or tea or bottled water. There might be a can of soda or some granola bars.”
“Oh.”
“But I’ve got some wine and beer at my house—it’s not far from here,” he said before he could stop himself. “You could get cleaned up there, you know, and—”
“Do you have a printer there?” she jumped in.
“Yes, of course.”
“Oh, that would be perfect. I’ve got to print off something and I was going to stop at Uncle Trib’s office and do it, but I don’t want to bother him. The restaurant looks like it’s bursting at the seams.”
And that was how Callie ended up at Ben’s house.
Which was really not a good idea.
But at the same time, it was thebestidea.
She followed him in her car the half mile out of the central area of town to the neat, white clapboard Cape Cod that was barely two blocks from the Lake Michigan shore.
As Ben unlocked the front door and stepped back to let her in, he did a quick mental and visual inventory as to what condition he’d left the place this morning. To his relief, the only disarray was his coffee cup and cereal bowl in the sink, and a laundry basket with clean clothes that he’d neglected to take back to the bedroom.
“Oh, Ben, that is soyou,” Callie said as she dumped her coat, handbag, and what looked like a briefcase on the nearest sofa and headed straight for his six-foot-tall fresh pine Christmas tree.
“What do you mean?”
She turned back to him, still wearing her soft, fuzzy blue hat. Tilting her head, she gave him such a sweet, affectionate smile that he nearly melted right there. “Well, it’s all color-coordinated, and the bulbs are all matching and spaced perfectly. It’s very organized. It’s just soyou.And I love theAvengersornament.”
She was beaming at him and although Ben didn’t know what was so funny, he didn’t mind because she was so darn pretty, and she was looking at him with those fathomless blue eyes—
And he was going to be in deep trouble if he wasn’t careful.
“Thanks. I really like having a real tree instead of a fake one, even though it starts to drop needles after a week,” he replied, trying to keep things casual. “So, uh, if you want to wash up, there’s the bathroom right down that hall.”
She disappeared into the bathroom while he hung up his coat, and no sooner had she closed the door than she shrieked.
“Callie? What is it?” He started down the hall, wondering if he was going to have to break into the bathroom.
“Oh, sorry,” she called back. “Oh, it’s nothing. I just saw what I looked like. Um.Yikes.” Her voice sounded awkward from the other side of the door, and he heard the splash of water.
“Okay. Uh, there are towels in the closet there.”
Ben finished hanging up his coat, and then because he didn’t know what to do next, and it was a structured, soothing task, he started stacking wood in the fireplace.
The blaze was roaring happily by the time Callie came out, her face damp and shining and little red—probably from all the scrubbing. He remembered how difficult it had been to get that red stuff off his face and hands sixteen years ago. To his surprise, she was still wearing her hat.
