Page 24 of Keeping Denver

"Lucas got tied up down at the courthouse, so I volunteered to bring you what you needed." The flirtation of Kelly's voice has me rolling my eyes.

"I bet you did," I mumble under my breath. Just then, Callan shuffles to the left, placing the documents on the table beside the door.

"What the hell is Denver doing here?" she screeches. Kelly makes eye contact with me, her face red, and her eyes like daggers.

"Denver is none of your concern. If I were you, Kelly, I'd tread lightly. You are my employee, not someone who shows up on my doorstep, asking personal questions. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have breakfast to finish and you have a job to get back to." Callan shuts the door in Kelly's angry, shocked face. Not giving a damn, I do nothing to hide the smile that takes over mine.

"I change my mind. I don't care who knows I'm here. Any rumors that go around the office will be worth it because of what you just did."

Callan strolls to the kitchen, and sits back down. "Kelly needed to learn her place."

"Kelly just wants in your pants." My thoughts spill from my mouth.

"You jealous, baby?” Callan smirks and I roll my eyes.

"No!"

"Liar." Callan has no problem calling me out.

"Whatever. You know I'm right."

"Just like Lucas wants to fuck you. Which, by the way, will never fucking happen."

"Callan," I sigh. "Lucas and I are only friends. I don't want to sleep with him." I level my eyes with his.

"That doesn't mean he's not going to try. The only man getting a taste of your sweet pussy will be me."

Callan says his last statement the same moment I take a swallow of coffee, causing the warm liquid to spew from my mouth all over him and the kitchen island between us. "You can't say things like that!" My face heats.

"Facts, baby. Only speaking facts." Callan retrieves a dish towel from a drawer near the stove, and begins drying himself.

Feeling a bit awkward, and not sure what to say, I remain seated, collecting my thoughts for a moment. I'm staring at my plate, pushing what's left of my eggs around with my fork. Placing a fresh mug of coffee in front of me, Callan sits, and resumes eating his meal. "Callan," I decide to speak what is currently on my mind. "You don't know me. Not well enough to say such personal things."

"I know enough to realize what I want." Callan places his fork on his almost empty plate, and focuses solely on me. "I want you."

I lean back in my chair. "Other than bringing you coffee, taking notes, and scheduling your dry cleaning, you and I know nothing about one another." Needing space, I stand. "You're moving way too fast for me, Callan."

Pushing himself from the counter, Callan makes his way toward me. Drawn to him, I take a step forward. He brushes my hair from my shoulder, and his fingertips graze the side of my neck just below my ear, causing my skin to prickle. "You telling me you want to ignore this pull between us, and the way your body reacts to my touch?" His hand falls as he runs his palm down my arm, before settling his hands on my waist

"I'm not denying anything." I swallow hard, trying to ignore the pounding of my heart. Before I have a chance to say more, Callan leans down, and kisses my forehead. I close my eyes as his lips linger for a moment, and completely forget what I was about to say.

"Good. Glad we're on the same page." Stepping back, taking his warmth and touch with him, Callan places our dishes in the sink.

I finally blink. Forehead kisses must be this man's superpower. How can one simple action have left me mute?

Later that evening, I'm lying on the couch with my head resting on a pillow after spending most of my day lazing around watching Callan work on his laptop and make phone calls. "How did you know where to find me last night?" I don't know why I haven't asked this question already.

Closing his laptop, Callan sets it on the table in front of him. "I had my driver turn around and attempt to follow you. You were so angry about having to stay late after work, and it continued to nag at me. At first, I thought you were acting irrationally, but quickly realized that's not you. In the weeks you have worked for me, not once have you complained." Callan shakes his head. "My gut was telling me something was off. I told myself to at least see you got home okay. By the time I had the driver turn around to find you, you were gone. We drove around for hours, until I caught sight of two men walking from between the two buildings where we found you. I wouldn't have given them a second thought until I recognized the bag in one man's hand to be yours."

My mind drifts back to the vague awareness of the men Callan may be referencing. "I remember hearing voices." I drop my eyes to my lap, "Whoever they were, they had stolen the only possessions I owned."

Callan clears his throat, and scoots to the edge of the sofa, leaning his elbows on his knees. "I don't want to be presumptuous, but why not get a hotel when you found you couldn't stay at the shelter?"

I hang my head. "I had found an apartment. It wasn't in a good part of town, but I liked it well enough. The guy who claimed to be the apartment manager seemed nice enough too." I wring my hands together, and sigh. "Anyway, I went back the next day with the key, ready to move in, only to find he wasn't the manager. He had taken my money and skipped town. I left with no money and no apartment. It's my fault really for being so stupid."

"It is not your fault you were taken advantage of, Denver. You're far from stupid," Callan growls, his anger over my admission apparent. Standing, Callan makes his way to the bar at the corner of the living room and fixes a tumbler of whiskey. "Tell me your story, Denver. I want to know everything there is to know about you. The real you." I watch him pour a small amount of white wine into a glass, before walking back to the sofa and handing it to me. Callan sits beside me, relaxing into the back cushion, and takes a sip of his drink.

Sitting up on the couch, I run my sweaty palm up and down my thighs. I don't trust easily, but with Callan, I feel I can trust him with all the ugly parts of me.