Austin scoffed, and I saw him slink back inside in my peripheral vision. I tore my chin away from Cal’s grasp. “Laying it on a little thick, don’t you think?” I snapped. My heart was beating too fast. I took a sip of my fresh glass of champagne and glared out at the boats.
“He wants to fuck you,” Cal growled.
I clicked my tongue and turned to stare at him. “Okay. And?”
His jaw bulged as he locked his teeth. Before either of us could answer, my mother appeared at the inner edge of the balcony. “There you are!” she called out, bustling closer. “Cal, honey, have you got your bags with you? I won’t hear of you staying at a hotel. You’ll stay at our house. Don’t take off early, now. I want as much time as possible with the man who captured my darling daughter’s heart.”
Darling daughter?
Cal turned, his face shedding its anger and transforming into a smile. “How generous of you, Mrs. Brand.”
“Will you call me Maryanne?” she chided, flapping her hands.
“He can’t stay with us!” I exclaimed, my voice squeaking.
“Nonsense, Deena,” my mother said, giving me a loaded look. “Stop being ridiculous.”
She and Dad had never let boyfriends stay over. Stacey hadn’t even been able to sleep over until after she and Brooks were married.
Cal put his arm around my shoulder, and I hated that his warmth felt like home in the chill of the outdoors.
“Not in the same room, of course,” my mother said, wagging her finger at Cal. “We’re decent people.”
“I wouldn’t dream of breaking your house rules,” he said, thumb stroking my shoulder. I looked at Cal, who looked back at me. His lips were set in a soft smile, but his eyes were hard as chips of ice.
The message was clear.Your move, Deena.
FIFTEEN
CALLUM
Deena’s childhoodbedroom was a good size, with a queen bed tucked into a corner. The furniture was all solid wood, and the bedspread was white with little pink flowers on it.
It surprised me.
Deena strode toward the closet, glancing over her shoulder as she pulled it open. “Aren’t you supposed to be in your own room?”
I smiled at her. “Probably. But I wanted to see this. I wasn’t expecting so many flowers.”
Deena scowled at the bed and huffed. “My mother redecorated when I moved out.”
“I see. What did it look like when you lived here?”
Clothes rustled in the closet a moment before a set of loungewear went flying toward the bed. “That’s none of your business, Mr. Frost.”
I hummed, moving toward the dresser. Deena had put a few cosmetics on top of it. I picked up a bottle of perfume and sniffed it. Smelled like her—but also not. I liked it better on her skin.
“Deena!” Maryanne called out.
“In here,” Deena replied, marching over to me so she could snatch the bottle of perfume out of my hands with a glare.
Her mother appeared in the doorway and beamed at me. “Oh, Cal!”
“Cal was just leaving,” Deena said, staring at me. “I know how you and Dad feel about guests in our bedrooms.”
“Don’t worry about that, honey bunch,” Mrs. Brand said, swatting at the air. “I know you two are just dying to catch up.”
“I know I am,” I said, relishing the way Deena’s glare intensified.
