Page 23 of Keeping Denver

I stop in my tracks. "Can we do that?"

"I'm the boss, remember. I can do whatever the hell I want."

"Why are we staying ho…I mean here?" I still can't let myself wholeheartedly believe what Callan said last night, about being where I belong.

Callan finishes pulling on his sweatpants and strides up to me, cupping my face. "I want you to say it, Denver."

"Say what?"

"Home." His eyes search mine. "This is home, baby."

I bite my bottom lip, not sure about this entire situation. Can I trust Callan? Does he mean all the words he has spoken? I search his eyes, looking for deception. Trying to find a single reason, or feeling why I shouldn't trust him. This whole thing is insane, but I find the word leaving my lips on a whisper. "Home."

Fifteen minutes later, after taking care of business in the bathroom, I dress in a pair of jeans, which fit me perfectly and the red sweater I spotted the night before. Then, follow my nose to the kitchen, where I find a shirtless Callan standing over the stove. "Something smells good."

"You like eggs?" he asks over his shoulder, where he pauses to drink in the sight of me. "You look amazing, as always."

As always? I find it hard to believe Callan Hawk thinks I have looked amazing. Nevertheless, his compliment has an effect on me. Ducking my head, I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. "Thanks. You'll have to tell whoever picked the stuff out I said thank you."

"That would be Maggie, my stylist. I'll tell her you said thank you. She'll be stopping by tomorrow with some more stuff."

"Callan, no. You've already done too much. Please. I don't need anything else."

"I want to do this for you, Denver. It's not enough. You deserve more." The grip on the spatula in his hand tightens and the set line of Callan's jaw tells me this is not an argument I'm going to win.

"So, who taught you how to cook?" I sit in one of the stools at the kitchen island.

Callan's body relaxes, and he smiles. "My mom."

"Where does she live? Here in the city?"

"No. She passed away."

"Oh. Callan, I'm so sorry."

He shrugs. "It was a long time ago. Anyway, she was a single mom who worked two jobs to make ends meet. I had to learn to cook. Mom wasn't always home in time to make a hot meal. When I was old enough, she taught me how to make a few dishes."

"Well, I think that's pretty special. Now every time you make those things, it's like having a piece of your mom with you." Turning the fire beneath the skillet off, Callan transfers the eggs to the plates next to him on the countertop. After buttering some toast, he turns, then sets my meal in front of me.

A few minutes later, Callan and I are in the middle of eating breakfast, when we are interrupted by a knock on the door. Callan stands. "That's probably Lucas. I asked him to bring some files from the office." Not wanting anyone at work to know what's going on with Callan and me, I make a move to get up. Callan senses I'm about to flee to the other room and barks. "Stay."

"Callan," I hiss. "I don't want Lucas to know I'm here."

Callan grinds his jaw. "Why is that?" If I didn't know any better, I would say Callan is jealous of Lucas. Looking back, that would explain his behavior toward Lucas anytime he and I were together.

"The last thing I want is for people to gossip about us; me specifically. I don't want to become a cliché. You know, the whole secretary sleeping with the boss."

"I don't give a fuck who knows about us. Least of all, Lucas."

I take a second to ponder Callan's response. Something about it causes a warning light to go off in my brain. "Wait a minute. Why did you want Lucas to bring you what you needed? Why not Frances or anybody else?"

When Callan doesn't answer, I narrow my eyes at him. "You did this on purpose. You wanted him to see me here with you. Is this your way of pissing on me or something?"

"If that's what you want to call it, baby." Callan shrugs. "I call it a man making it known to another man, what belongs to him." Callan's caveman rant spews from his mouth just as there is another knock at the door. Without another word, he turns and answers. Only it's not Lucas standing there; it's Kelly. Great. Kelly showing up is worse. There is no telling what kind of crap she's going to spread around the office. Especially since she's had it out for me since the moment I started working there.

Kelly's annoying voice rings out. "Hello, Mr. Hawk. I have those files you asked for." So far, Callan's large frame blocks Kelly's view of me.

"Why are you bringing them and not Lucas as I asked?" Callan's voice carries a hint of irritation. Folding my arms across my chest, I smirk. Serves him right for trying to be a jerk.