Page 20 of Keeping Denver

That's when my memories come flooding back. The alley. The freezing cold. The two men stealing my bookbag, the very bag carrying my only possessions: my ID, clothes and what little money I had. And finally, the memory of being scooped up into Mr. Hawk's arms. "What's going on? What am I doing here, and whose bed am I in?"

"I brought you here, and you are in my home and that is my bed." Mr. Hawk's voice is eerily calm as he takes a sip of the dark liquid from the tumbler in his hand.

I take a shuttered breath, asking my next question. "Why am I naked?"

"I undressed you," he answers.

"Mr. Hawk…"

"Callan," he cuts me off. "I want you to call me by my name."

I pull the blanket tighter around my body and swallow. "Where are my clothes, Callan?"

"I threw them in the trash."

"Why would you do that!" I cry. "And, why would you find the need to strip me of my clothing in the first place?"

"I undressed you because you were on the brink of hypothermia. I threw them in the trash because that's where they belong. I'll buy you new clothes," his voice raises with irritation. As if I shouldn't be asking all these questions.

"Those are the only clothes I own, Callan. You had no right to throw them away!"

Callan rises from his chair, turns as he throws his glass across the room, and it shatters against the wall, landing in tiny shards on the wood floor of his bedroom. "I had every right!" he booms his chest heaving. "Tell me," he demands, taking a step in my direction.

"Tell you what?" I try not to shrink away from his looming presence as he approaches.

"Tell me why I found you nearly frozen to death on the city street."

"I…I think you have figured that out by now."

"I want to hear you say it, Denver. No more hiding."

Tears start to stream down my face, and I begin to shake.

"Why, Denver?"

"Because I didn't have anywhere to go!" I sob. "Because I'm homeless and the shelter was full. That's why I was sleeping in the alley. That's why I put up a fight when you wanted me to stay late at work. I knew if I stayed, I'd have zero chance at getting a bed for the night. If you had just let me leave when I was supposed to, none of this would have happened. I don't need your charity. I don't belong here."

"You are exactly where you should be." Callan takes another step. "Where you don't belong is in a shelter. And you sure as hell don't belong sleeping in a fucking alley beside a dumpster and a pile of garbage, Denver."

"Why are you doing all of this, Callan? You're my boss and most of the time, I don't think you even like me. Now, suddenly, you care? Then, you follow me, bring me to your home, and take my clothes off." I pull at my hair in frustration. "Jesus! There aren't enough words to describe how messed up this situation is. I mean, I woke up naked. In my boss's bed."

"As I said before, you are right where you belong." Callan closes the distance between us, leans down to where his face is inches away from mine. "And I like you just fine, Denver."

Callan's whiskey scented breath washes over my face with his declaration, and I lick my lips. My anger seems to diminish the longer he holds my stare. His nose flares, and for a moment I think he's going to kiss me. I want him to. I want his lips pressed against mine so badly I hold my breath waiting for it to happen, only he doesn't.

Disappointment settles in my stomach as he backs away, putting space between us. I instantly miss his warmth when he does so. There is something about this man that makes me feel safe and at home. He infuriates me, yet at the same time, I find myself wanting him more and more each day that passes. Which is something I can't explain since we hardly know each other. The only Callan I know is the gruff asshole I work for. This Callan, well, he's still an asshole but is also strangely possessive of me, and my wellbeing. This side of him has my head spinning and my stomach doing somersaults all at the same time. I'd be lying if I said I didn't like it.

"Why don't you take a hot bath? There's shampoo, conditioner and lotion I had picked up for you on the bathroom counter," Callan nods toward the door behind him. "I also had some clothes brought over. They're in the closet."

How long was I asleep?

"Dinner should be here by the time you finish."

With that, Callan turns and walks out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind him, leaving me more confused than I was moments ago.

Tossing the sheet and blanket aside, I climb out of the most comfortable bed I have ever slept in. As I do, a sickening thought comes to mind, and my lip curls in disgust. How many times has he had sex with Joslyn in this very bed? Just thinking about that woman sets me off, and I fist the bedsheets in anger. Pushing those thoughts away, I pad across the room to the en-suite bathroom. My eyes widen when I flick the light on and take in how massive it is. It's almost as big as the bedroom itself. The bathtub is what dreams are made of. Sitting on the counter is an array of lotions, soaps, bubble bath, shampoo, and hair conditioner. There are also some razor blades and an unopened pack of toothbrushes.

Feeling overwhelmed, I choose the honey lavender bubble bath, twist the cap off and lift the bottle to my nose. We have a winner.