For a moment, I think she might turn me down, but she nods and trudges up the steps like the weight of the world is on her shoulders.
I hold open the front door, ushering her inside. Her arm brushes mine as she passes, and that simple touch sends an electric current sparking through me.
This. This is why I care. This innate pull that draws me to her.
It’s been months since I’ve been with a woman. Having Callie in my space is a test of my fortitude, that’s for damn sure.I take care of myself just fine. I don’t need anybody else to help satisfy my needs, but if Callie offered, I’d get down on my knees right then and there.
I pull down my tea organizer and set it on the counter. When my grief got really bad, Mama used to come over and sit with me. We’d have tea, and neither of us would speak, but having her with me was enough to quiet the noise.
“Pick your poison.”
“You know, I read somewhere that someone’s choice of tea can say a lot about a person,” she says. “What’s your favorite?”
“English breakfast.”
“Classic. Decisive. You know what you want and how you want it.”
I want you, Callie. Every which way.
I lean my elbows across the island, putting us almost nose to nose. “And what doyoulike?”
She searches through my collection, plucking out a small pink packet. Hibiscus.
I take it from her hand and set it in her mug, pouring steaming water over it. A sweet, floral scent wafts from the mug, not unlike Callie’s perfume. “What does that say about you?”
She wraps her hands around the porcelain, peering blankly inside. “I like pretty colors.”
It seems she’s still not ready to open up to me, and it stings knowing she unknowingly gave a piece of herself to a different version of me without reservation. For the briefest moment, I consider telling her, but something stops me. Uncertainty or worse—insecurity.
“I'll get a real answer out of you someday.” I take the mug from her hands and carry it into the den along with my own, setting them on the coffee table.
She curls up in the corner of the camel-colored sectional, her legs tucked under her and the cup of tea resting on her thigh, as if that spot were made specifically for her.
I get the fire going and join her, positioning myself a few feet away on the opposite end of the sofa. For a while, we sip our tea in companionable silence as the fire crackles in the stone fireplace.
“So, Jaxon Hayes,” she says. “What keeps you up at night?”
I blow out an exaggerated breath. “I'll show you mine if you show me yours.”
She stares down into her mug, her gaze unfocused. I watch her, transfixed, as she takes a sip of her tea, her tongue flicking out to lick her lips. Does she know how goddamn beautiful she is?
“I'm not sure we have time to unpack all of my baggage.”
Fuck. Who hurt you, Callie baby?
“Your family is great,” she says, swiftly changing the subject. “Are they always so…”
“Intrusive?”
She laughs. “Yeah.”
“For as long as I can remember, but it’s always out of love. You can tell them if they're making you uncomfortable.”
I follow her line of sight to the photo on the mantle. It’sthe newest one of our entire family at Emmy’s birthday party last year.
“It's not that,” she says. “I’m just not used to people taking an interest in me or my life, I guess.”
“What about your family?”
