But he’s also dangerous. How easy has it been for him to drug me and tie me up? He’s clearly an expert. A shiver runs down my spine. I haven’t hated any of it. Which bothers me. I’m so eager to get away from my criminal family yet I’mdrawn to Wes, who must have criminal leanings. No one knows how to drug someone and tie them up so well without having some previous experience executing it.
“How about you? Have a girlfriend?” I choke the word out, and he raises an eyebrow. “Ever been married?”
“No.” Wes shakes his head, a tinge of sadness on his face. “I’m not good in relationships.”
“Why not?”
“I can be, uh, kind of a lot, so I don’t normally even get to the relationship phase.”
“Is it the following? Tracking? Stalking? Breaking into women’s bedrooms in the middle of the night?” It’s an attempt to make him smile, but there’s an unsettled look on his face.
And I absolutely hate the idea of him sniffing around some other woman’s body in the middle of the night.
“Most women cannot look past that kind of thing. And I don’t blame them.”
“Yeah, well, most women must not understand you.” I lean over to set down the mug and pull my legs underneath me. I’m not sure why I’m feeling defensive of this man, but I am. How dare other woman judge him for his uniqueness and passion? Dedication? Loyalty?
Wait, am I saying thatIunderstand him? Lordy.
“So what else do you make out of book pages?”
I explain to him some of my creations, my face warm with embarrassment at first, but he seems legitimately interested. Then I ask him questions about his pie baking, and he tells me more about his five-year history of ribbons at different pie competitions around Maine.
It’s only when the view of the frozen lake and pine trees becomes visible with the first light of the day that I realize we’ve been talking for hours. And that I’m exhausted.
“Do you want to crash here for a while, Calliope?” Wes asks when I yawn widely.
I consider it for a second, but I think I need a moment to process. It feels like every time I come in contact with this man, I need time to figure out what the hell just happened, and this time is no different.
“No, thank you.” I shake my head. “I’m gonna go home to feed Honey Bunny and get some sleep in my own bed.”
He nods. “I’ll drive you to your car.”
Fifteen minutes later, he hands me a hot coffee in another non-disposable travel mug—I really need to bring them back—and lets me leave as my car is warmed up and at the top of his neighbor’s driveway.
“Calliope.” Wes leans against his driver’s side door as I slide into my car.
“Wesley.”
“Thanks for stopping by.” He grins at me.
I shake my head and pull out of the driveway, glancing in my rearview mirror until I round a curve and he’s out of sight.
Last night was amazing. Wes listens to me, cares what I have to say, and seems to want to know me. I don’t know why. He’s all wrong for me, so I need to keep reminding myself that this is just a job for him and we are at most friends. But even as I think that, I know that it’s not quite true. There’s more happening here. What, I don’t know.
Maybe he’s helping me move on from my marriage so that by the time Shane signs the papers and returns my mom’s ring, I’ll truly be free. Maybe that’s all this is. Maybe I’ll look back on this weird in-between time of my life like it was some kind of fever dream.
Because it doesn’t seem real.
Chapter 19
Field Trip
WES
Ireally wish Callie would’ve let me drive her to Boston for our fight club visit, but then Noah and I wouldn’t have been able to come in early and stake out Chad Smith, target number one on his list.
“We can grab him when he’s with a sex worker,” Noah says, taking a long swig of his beer. We’re at a high-end bar that’s busy with men and women in business casual mixed with groups on their way out for the night.
