Page 45 of Nailed

And then he was off. I didn’t even realize how rigid my shoulders had been pulled until I heard the door slam behind me and my body sagged in response. Clara gave me a look, her mouth pulling at a corner as if to say “I told you so.”

Rafe came waltzing out next, his greeting even more abrupt and brief than Brock’s had been. He put his motorbike helmet on while still inside, then left with a quickness that seemed almost deliberate. Clara and I listened as he revved up his bike, then tore away from the apron as though it were on fire.

“Drama queens,” was all Clara said in the silence of the bar area.

“I have a Cabernet Sauvignon," I offered glumly.

“A woman after my own heart,” Clara replied.

We were about to walk to the kitchen, when a sound came from there that stopped us both in our tracks. It sounded like…singing? A deep, honey-sweet voice that was actually pretty on-key. The singer wasn’t exactly studio-ready, but they could certainly hold a note.

Clara and I looked at each other, puzzled, before wordlessly moving forward to investigate. I put a finger to my lips as we rounded the kitchen. The sight that greeted us was absolutely perplexing.

Callum, singing to himself softly while cooking up a storm in a floral apron that I certainly didn’t own. While I was trying to make sense of what I was seeing, Clara looked as though she was having the time of her life. Neither of us said anything, as though we were afraid a single word would break the image in front of us.

But Callum quickly turned around, pan in hand, and when he saw us, he shut up instantly, just as startled as we were.

“Oh, Miss Lauren, you’re back,” he said, sounding embarrassed. “I didn’t think you’d be home this soon. I know how stressed you’ve been lately and thought you might like a home-cooked meal you didn’t have to make.” He scratched the back of his head. “I should’ve asked first, right?”

“Oh no,” Clara jumped in. “No, Lauren was just speaking about how the day left her starving.”

When I glared at her, her mouth trembled with a laugh she was holding back. “So I think I’m gonna leave. I’ll take you up on that Cabernet some other time, okay?”

Then she made a speedy exit, not affording me the opportunity to say anything else as Callum smiled with that same old, charming grin of his.

I was starving, alright.

17

Callum

I was relieved to see the smile on her face.

I knew that I was taking a risk by using her kitchen without asking her first. For any woman as independent as Miss Lauren, that was a huge gamble on my part and I understood perfectly that she was completely capable of throwing me out if she wasn’t happy about it.

But instead, all she did was put her hair up in a bun and lifted her camera from around her neck. “Mind if I help?”

“It’s your house and your kitchen, ma’am,” I said, half jokingly and she giggled at the formality. But my throat was dry as sandpaper. Pieces of her hair fell out of the bun, brushing against a slender, soft neck I longed to kiss again. She set the camera to the side and made her way to the sink to wash her hands.

She looked so perfect. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt but somehow, I preferred it to the beautiful dress she’d worn at Clara’s party. It was more casual and relaxed, and just being with her, here in her kitchen like this, with her hair in a messy bun and her body language content and at ease, it made my heart stop in my chest.

“So,” she turned to face me, those beautiful big blue eyes filled with mischief. “What are we making?”

“Pizza,” I said almost apologetically. “I would’ve done something a bit fancier but I didn’t have much time. Even less than I thought I had, apparently.”

“Pizza is perfect,” she said reassuringly. Then her eyes went wide at the sight of the saucepan’s contents. “You make your own sauce?”

“My dad would kill me if I didn’t,” I confided, dragging a spoon through the silky tomato goodness and held it up for her to taste. “Try it,”

She pursed her lips playfully, raising an eyebrow as she considered it. Then she leaned forward and took the spoon in her mouth. I felt my body go rigid as she held eye contact with me, my fingers tightening on the spoon’s handle. I swallowed hard.

“Hmm,” she moaned, looking surprised, the seductive glint in her eyes disappearing temporarily. “That’s actually amazing! You really made this?”

“From scratch,” I said proudly.

“You’ll have to show me how to make that,” she said, looking so enthusiastic it made me chuckle.

“I will. But we do have to finish the second base first,” I said.