“What about breakfast? He made it himself.”
“I’ll come down.” It’d be rude to refuse him when he’s gone to so much trouble, even though I haven’t made any decision yet. I was churning the pros and cons most of the night, going back and forth and feeding my headache. “Give me five.”
I brush my teeth, wash my face, and comb my hair before dressing in sweatpants and an oversized sweater and slipping my feet into my slides, and then I head downstairs.
Mom is laughing at something Callan is saying when I walk into the kitchen. His head instantly turns in my direction, and he smiles. “Morning, sleepyhead.”
“Hey.”
“I’m going to run a few errands in town.” Mom grabs her keys and purse from the counter. “I’ll pick up the girls and drop them at swimming, so you’re off the hook, sweetie,” she tells Callan, giving him a quick hug. “Where is your car?” she asks me. “Do you need a ride to work?”
“Gwen has it and no. I’ll go get it before work.” Gwen isn’t working today because her gran has a hospital appointment and she wants to go with her.
“I’ll bring you over to get your car,” Callan offers, and Mom beams at him, softly pinching his cheek.
“He’s a keeper!” She waggles her brows and hugs me quickly before leaving.
“Sit.” Callan points to the island unit where a placemat and silverware are already laid out.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I say, pulling myself up on the stool.
“I have to start groveling somewhere,” he quips, flashing me a cheeky smile as waves of thick, glossy brown hair tumble against his brow. Like always, he’s gorgeous, and he makes my heart race. He looks hot in jeans and a black hoodie over a white shirt. His favorite black and white Nikes are on his feet. His expression turns somber as he removes a plate from the oven. “I hope this is okay.” He sets the plate on the mat in front of me. “I don’t mean to seem pushy. I?—”
“It’s okay,” I reassure him, staring at the plate of whole grain toast with scrambled eggs with a tiny lump in my throat. It’s not a cordon bleu meal or anything close to it, but it’s the thought that counts. I grace him with a small smile. “Thank you.”
“Drink this first.” He hands me a glass. “I made it for you. It’s coconut water with a few added ingredients and electrolytes. It should help you to feel better.”
“Wow, you’re going all out,” I say, lifting the glass to my lips.
He shrugs. “If I was, it’d be a hell of a lot more romantic than this.”
“Like what?” I ask, curious now. “If you could romance me, how would you do it?”
He thinks about it for a minute while I drink my coconut water.
“I’d take you out on a luxury boat around the lake.” His eyes drill into mine. “I’d cook eggs Benedict, and we’d have them with mimosas sitting on the top deck with the sun beating down on us. After, I’d treat you to a massage on a lounger and then rub your feet while plying you with strawberries and chocolates or maybe cake.” He rubs his lips before spearing me with an intense look I feel all the way to my toes. “Definitely cake.”
“I like this plan,” I agree as I cut into my toast and eggs.
“Music would play in the background, and we’d doze in between sunbathing and reading before taking a dip in the lake.Later, we’d share the jacuzzi before I’d cook steak and gratin potatoes for dinner.”
I want to ask what’d happen after dinner, but I don’t want him to know I’m thinking about us like that. I meant it when I said I would think aboutus. I’m not rushing to make a decision. I can’t forget how much he hurt me, and I’m wary of sharing my heart with him now. “That sounds perfect,” I truthfully admit. “Except we might have to ditch the mimosas for mocktails.” My hand lands on my stomach. “The thought of alcohol makes me feel sick all over again.”
He chuckles. “I’ll bet.”
“I’ve never drunk that much before.”
“I didn’t think so.”
He clears his throat and pushes off the counter. “Did you remember anything else about last night?”
I shake my head. “I’m still drawing a blank.” I don’t like how I’m missing ten or fifteen minutes of my life, and I’m feeling way more uncomfortable about it in the cold, sobering light of day. “I want to talk to Joe. I need to find out what happened.”
His mouth opens and closes, and I continue eating while I wait for him to spit it out. “Let me come with you,” he says a couple of minutes later before quietly adding, “Please.”
An inner voice stops me from declining. If Joe did something to me, it’s not safe to be alone with him. When it comes to Callan Hunt, I’m unsure about a lot of things, but I know he won’t let any harm come to me. “Okay.” I chew slowly on my food. “We’ll go after I’ve finished eating. Get my car and then drop by Joe’s before work.”
“Are you feeling well enough to go to work?”
