“Shut up,” she said without looking at me.
“What am I missing?”
“Nothing, Captain.” I patted Callan’s knee, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, even though I also wanted to tease the living daylights out of my kid sister.
“It’s not what you think.” Elle set about putting the chicken fajita mix onto tortillas for us. “I … there’s a guy at school. He’s a huge Caley United fan, and he talks about Callan and Baird McMillan all the time.”
So she had a crush on a guy at school who liked Caledonia United?
“A guy at school?”
“Mm-hmm. He didn’t really talk to me much until you were pictured in the tabloids together …” She pushed plates toward us. “He thinks it’s cool you’re dating Callan.”
“You want an autographed shirt or something to give to him?” Callan offered.
“Wait, wait.” My protective big sister instincts kicked in. “He didn’t talk to you until he knew you were affiliated with Callan?”
Elle shrugged, plopping a huge dollop of sour cream on her food.
“Well, that’s not cool.”
“Maybe he saw it as his ‘in’ to talk to her.” Callan took a massive bite of fajita and swallowed before continuing, “It’s something I would have done if I liked a lassie but didn’t know how to approach her.”
“Oh, really? Because I thought you just glowered and grunted at a woman until she made the first move.”
He smirked, wiping salsa from his lip with his thumb. I wanted to lick it off. “Is that what happened? I don’t remember it that way.”
“What way do you remember it? Because I definitely remember some caveman qualities about your pursuit.”
“My pursuit? You were the one who made up a cock-and-bull story to get me into bed.”
“Pfft. Please. Like I needed a story.” I grinned, smug.
He grinned back. “Fair enough.”
“Um, enough flirting in front of the minor.” Elle drew our gazes back to her. “Do you really think it was only an excuse to talk to me?”
“Probably.” Callan nodded.
My sister was an absolute doll, so I wouldn’t be surprised if this kid she was talking about was looking for an in. “Would you take a selfie with Elle? She could show it to him as a conversation opener.”
“Oh, that would be amazing.” She gave Callan big wide puppy-dog eyes that only a callous man could say no to.
His lips twitched. “Sure. My way of saying thanks for the fajitas.”
“They’re good, ay?” I said, but it came out garbled and incoherent as I munched on a huge bite of yumminess.
In answer, Callan reached over and swiped guacamole off the corner of my mouth with his thumb and then sucked on it.
My womb clenched. His nostrils flared at whatever he saw on my face.
“Ugh, you two are as bad as Mum and Dad,” Elle pronounced and then followed it up with something I’d heard directed at my parents many a time over the years. “Get a freaking room.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
BETH
We did get a room. My old bedroom, to be precise.
