Argh. Stop thinking about him.
She’d just switched on the pod machine when a breeze ran over the back of her neck. Frowning, she turned to see the back door slightly ajar.
Shit. That freaking door. She’d known it would only be a matter of time before that happened. They’d had trouble latching it since moving in, and Aspen often went out there to work and forgot to lock it when she came back in.
Callie crossed the room and shoved it closed, making sure it latched before flicking the lock.
She needed to fix it, but there was no way she wanted to dump this on her dad. He had enough to deal with. Surely it wouldn’t be too hard to do herself.
CHAPTER 4
Lock swept the paintbrush over the living room wall.
Snowy Mountains Half. That’s what the shade of white was called. It was warm and homey, and for some damn reason, it reminded him of Callie.
His gaze shifted to the kitchen. To the curved wooden island. The floating wooden shelves. It was almost finished; just needed the concrete countertops and brushed copper sink and tapware.
The house was coming together slowly, but then, he’d known it wouldn’t be a quick job. He’d bought this house over two years ago, and even then, it had needed a complete remodel. But the vision of what itcouldbe had been there. It had always been there.
The only people he’d told about it were his team. His mind flicked back to that conversation.
Lock leaned forward on the log, his gaze on the flames of the fire in front of him. He was having one of those moments. Where everything felt pretty damn perfect. Maybe it was because he was with his team—men who felt like family. Maybe it was because they were between missions.
Or maybe it was because Callie was with him. She’d made the trip from Misty Peak to visit for the weekend.
His gaze shifted to the women on the other side of the fire. Callie’s eyes weren’t on him at the moment. She was laughing at something Amber was saying, her head flung back, little wisps of hair swinging in the evening wind.
Fucking gorgeous. She had the kind of beauty you could stare at for hours and never get tired of.
“Shit, you got it bad, man.”
He turned to look at Jesse, sitting beside him on the log. “I bought a house for her.” The words slipped from his lips. Shit, he hadn’t meant to say that.
His friend’s brows shot up. “A house? You couldn’t have just gone with a sweater? That’s huge! But you’ve only been dating for—”
“Less than a year. And the house is for the next sixty we’re going to spend together.”
“Damn. Guess when you know, you know. She must be happy.”
“I haven’t told her.”
He laughed. “Ballsy. I like it. I’ve gotta ask, though. What if she hates the place?”
It was a dump. Most womenwouldhate it. But Callie? “She found it. She just doesn’t know I bought it. It has everything we need.” Or it would, once he was done with it. He’d work night and day to make sure it was exactly what she deserved.
“You’re happy.”
He turned to look at his friend and said with not a shred of humor in his voice, “Happier than I’ve ever been.”
Because of her.
Lock pulled himself out of the memory, forcing his attention back to the painting.
Some days, those memories kept him going. Gave him the hope he needed to get out of bed and do another day without her.
Other days, they drowned him. Reminded him of what he’d had and lost.
Life had been good back then. And he’d been a naive asshole to think everything could stay that way.
