Chapter 15
The Mayor
WES
Callie Callahan is doing some light stalking of her own, and it’s adorable. It shows me she doesn’t mind a little innocent obsessing.
Plus, she’s gorgeous. I sip my coffee and let my eyes roam her face. Those dark, sharp eyes, a few freckles across the bridge of her nose, long dark hair in a braid lying over her shoulder. Her pink winter jacket is bunched up on her chair, and she’s wearing another long cardigan, this one red, a snug white t-shirt, and long black skirt. She’s perfect.
“What’s your last name?”
“Winters.” I only hesitate for a split second.
“Wes Winters?” Callie raises her eyebrows.
“Are you judging me? Because your name is Callie Callahan.”
“Hey, I didn’t choose it.”
“It’s adorable.” I press my lips together.
“I’m a little surprised you shared your last name so easily.”
To be honest, I usually wouldn’t, but the woman hasalready been to my cabin, so it’s not like she can’t figure out who I am via real estate records—if she can remember where I live. And I don’t want to do anything to push Callie away. Not yet, anyway. Not when I’m so drawn to her.
Callie takes the last sip of her coffee, then tilts her head and narrows her eyes. “So nothing at all to share about Shane?”
I cock my head and consider if I should. I don’t involve clients in the process aside from asking questions that help direct me here and there. There are often dead ends and leads that fizzle out. I push my hoodie sleeves up to my elbows before leaning lean back in my chair and linking my hands behind my head. Her eyes flit to my forearms.
“Shane was in Boston when he called you.”
“Fucker.” Her response is immediate and deeply annoyed. “Is he still there?”
“Nah.” I shake my head. “I’ve been looking at security footage and haven’t spotted him. But more so, he hasn’t used his phone since that day.”
“Think he’s dead?” Callie almost looks hopeful, and I smirk. She rewards me with a small smile.
“It crossed my mind. But no. I’m guessing he’s using a burner phone.” If this was another case, I’d probably already be on the ground in Boston trying to sniff Shane out. But I want to take my time with this one. To get things right. I breathe deeply and admit it’s also to spend more time with Callie.
“How much do you know about fight clubs?”
Callie’s spine stiffens.
“I hate fight clubs.” She picks up her coffee cup, remembers it’s empty, then puts it back down and looks out the window at a man walking by the coffee shop. He’s an Irish dude who is owner of the little bookstore in town.
I wait for her to continue.
“Dad ran the fight club in Boston. He asked me to work there multiple times over the past few years. As if I’d fit in.”
I glance down at Callie’s hot as hell librarian getup. She definitely doesn’t belong in a fight club. Not dressed like that, anyway.
“Shane got involved. He gave me so much shit for not helping. Shane loves that stupid place.”
“Is that what made you want a divorce? Him pressuring you to work for your family?”
“No. We had problems from the start.”
I want to ask what kinds of problems. On one hand, I like hearing about how wrong her soon-to-be-ex-husband is for her. On the other hand, it makes me furious.
