“Holy cow,” she said.
He straightened. “That’s the best you’ve got?”
She just stared, her eyes now wide. She licked her damn lips again, but he knew that she’d be tasting him this time.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get some dinner. I think Hannah left stuff in the fridge.”
He didn’t touch her as he turned away. Looking over his shoulder, he said, “Coming?”
“In a minute.”
“Then we can watch a good movie for a change. If Hannah makes me watch another sappy movie, I might cry.”
He jogged up the stairs, leaving Callie to consider his kiss and where else it could lead.
…
Callie’s head was spinning. How could Trevor initiate a kiss like that in the basement and now sit next to her on the couch, watching one of the Die Hard movies, acting as if nothing had changed?
He sprawled over his side of the couch, still wearing nothing but a pair of shorts. He should be a little more courteous to her. Seeing him sit like that made her want to crawl over him and have a repeat performance. And maybe more. She stole glances at him and tried to process what was happening between them. But she came up with nothing.
When the credits started to roll, he turned off the TV and then stood. “I’m heading to bed. I have a ton of estimates to do tomorrow.”
She stood and stretched, wondering if he was extending an invitation.
He slid an arm around her waist and kissed the side of her head. “Good night. See you tomorrow.”
Then he slipped past her.
Wait. What?
“That’s it?” she asked.
He turned back and looked at her. “What do you mean?”
“You planted a hell of a kiss on me downstairs, and now nothing. Shouldn’t we at least address that?”
He came back toward her, looking like an animal stalking its next meal. His eyes darkened as he neared.
Her pulse thundered.
“You seemed a little skittish after the kiss. Make no mistake. I want to do that again, and I have every intention of doing so, but I thought you needed some time to wrap your head around it.”
She swallowed hard and tried to focus. What answer had she been looking for? She’d half expected him to back off the way she had the first time their lips had touched, to tell her he shouldn’t have and they shouldn’t. But he made no such move.
She was glad.
“This is weird, isn’t it?”
“Not how I would describe it.” He reached out and pushed her hair from her shoulder, his fingers caressing her skin. “Fucking hot. Memorable.” He licked his lips. “Delicious.”
She began breathing fast again.
“Not weird, though,” he continued.
“But—”
“Sleep on it, Callie. If you never want to kiss me again, say the word.” Then he walked to his room and closed the door.
She stood in the living room and considered everything. They had some hot chemistry. There was no denying that. They had a long history, not all of it good. But the bulk of the bad revolved around his drinking and his relationship with Lisa, both of which were gone.
Over the last month, they’d become more than friends. In many ways, they did everything a couple did, except sleep together.
Maybe that was her problem. She hadn’t been on a date since coming back to Chicago. Although she’d been meaning to update her dating profiles, she hadn’t done anything. She’d been using Trevor to fill that void in her life. He’d taken care of those empty, lonely spaces, and now he’d offered to satisfy the last area.
She turned off the lights and went upstairs to the spare room. Using her phone while she lay in bed, she logged into her profiles and updated them one by one. Her picture was old, but she liked it. Did she need something sexier?
After fluffing her hair, she looked at herself in the camera. No makeup and the lighting wasn’t great. She snapped a couple shots. Then sighed. She was too old for this shit. She decided to leave her picture the same.
Satisfied that her profile was good enough—and really, how good did it have to be?—she scrolled through her prospects. Moments later, she had a ping. Craig had sent her a message.
Hi – I love your profile pic. You like to travel?
She typed her response. Yeah, but I travel mostly for work.
What kind of work?
Points to Craig for not immediately asking to hook up or sending a dick pic. I’m a photographer. How about you?
Insurance agent. Not too exciting, I know.
We all need to pay the bills.
They continued to chat for a while, even though it was getting late. In between messages, Callie scrolled back to check out Craig’s profile. He lived in the suburbs, but not too far. He listed his hobby as craft beer. Was that some way of saying getting drunk was his hobby?
He asked for her number to be able to text. They continued the conversation via text, and Callie had fun. They joked about work and the weather, of all things. Then he asked if he could take her out to dinner tomorrow.
Just like that. A real date. She agreed and said good night. As she turned off the light, she thought about her date. It was a good move. Testing the waters would help her get her head straight about Trevor.
…
Trevor went to work in the morning with a smile on his face. While he generally enjoyed his job, he rarely walked around with a grin. But his night with Callie had been better than normal. While he always enjoyed his time with her, their kiss had been hot. She wanted more with him, she just had to come to terms with it.
He brewed a pot of coffee for her before he left because he knew she liked to have a cup before she did anything else with her day. He drove to the suburbs to get to his first appointment. He pulled up at the house for the estimate.
Given that they weren’t out of the basement yet, he normally wouldn’t look to book another residential job, but since this was a deck job, he wanted to look. Decks were easy money, and it was something he could put Evan on without too much hassle.
He preferred commercial work, but depending on the job, he’d have an issue with Evan working. It would only take one superintendent asking Evan how old he was to cause trouble. Plus, being out in the sun building with wood was how he’d spent all his summers as a teenager. It would give Evan a taste of the good and bad of manual labor.
He rang the bell, and a woman answered the door wearing workout gear. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Trevor from Booth Construction to give you an estimate for a deck.”
“Of course.” She cracked the screen door open a few inches and pointed to the corner of the house. “If you just go around back, I’ll meet you there.”
“Okay.” Trevor inhaled deeply. He understood people not wanting him in the house if he was doing outside work, but this woman looked afraid to open the damn door. He walked around back. The yard was huge with a neatly manicured lawn, the grass a bright green. A garden ran along the fence on one side. Attached to the back of the house was the ugliest deck he’d seen in a while. No one had taken care of it.
He stepped up and felt the lumber give far more than it should. The wood was spongy. He grabbed the rail and shook. As he suspected, it wobbled.
The patio door opened, and the woman came out. “Sorry about that,” she said. “My dog is an escape artist. As soon as the door opens, he shoots through.”
He nodded. At least she wasn’t afraid of him. “Is it a big dog?”
“Not yet. She’s a Lab puppy.” She looked at the deck. “As you can see, it’s in bad shape.”
“Yeah, it is. What were you looking for?”
She handed him a piece of paper. On it was a computer-generated sketch of a deck. She’d obviously gone to the home improvement store and had this done.
He took a moment to study the drawing. “I assume you need me to do the demo. Will you need me to haul away the debris, or will the village pick it up?”
“I honestly don�
��t know. It might be better if you just got rid of it. My neighbors can be picky.”
He snapped a picture of the sketch and emailed it to himself. “Will you be ordering the material and having it delivered, or is that something you want me to provide?”
“We’ll order it. If you can just make sure the list is accurate, we’ll have it delivered. We’re looking for you to bid for doing the labor.”
“Okay. I’ll take a few measurements to make sure this is accurate, and I’ll have the estimate ready for you by tomorrow.”
“Excellent. You have my email address?”
He nodded.
“I’ll be inside if you need anything else.”
He walked to her with his hand extended. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Wilson.”
“Rebecca, please.”
“Rebecca. I’ll be in touch.”
She went back into the house, leaving Trevor to take his measurements. Everything on the drawing matched exactly, which was a good sign. An even better sign that Rebecca gave him the information he needed and then went back in the house. Hopefully, the rest of his estimates would go as smoothly.
After logging about a hundred miles driving to and from estimates, he was more than ready to go home. Yet another reason he preferred commercial work. For those jobs, he usually received a print and could do the estimate from the comfort of his house.
The heat wave still hadn’t broken, so his shirt was stuck to his back even with the AC blasting in the truck. Of course, it didn’t help that he kept thinking about Callie, which kept him hot. He stopped to get an iced coffee, and after parking the truck, he texted Callie.
Dinner tonight? He immediately added, I’m thinking ice cream.
For dinner?
I’m an adult. I can have ice cream for dinner.
I’m gonna tell the kids.
You wouldn’t rat me out. What kind do you want?
As much as I’d love to join your night of no adulting, I can’t. I have a date.
Wait. What? She has a date? The air in the cab of the truck thickened with the heat. What was he supposed to say to that? He filled his lungs with the oppressive, moist air. He’d told her to think about them. Callie had a habit of running when things got hard. He’d let her run to figure out what she wanted. Okay. Have fun, he texted.
He grabbed his drink and stopped at the grocery store on the way home to pick up some double chocolate fudge brownie ice cream. Just in case.
…
Callie took a cool shower and stood in her bathroom applying makeup. Nerves fluttered in her gut. It was at times like these that she would’ve gone to Lisa for advice or a pep talk. She had no one who lived nearby that she could go to. Picking up her phone, she went to Twitter and posted that she had first-date jitters.
Her online friends would get it. Within moments she had her pep talk. People chimed in with well wishes and warnings. Others offered to be her emergency call should she need an escape. Whoever said online friends weren’t real friends had no idea.
She slipped into her favorite summer dress and sandals. Craig had suggested going out to dinner, but hadn’t said where, so she wasn’t quite sure how dressed up to get. Glancing in the mirror, she liked what she saw. This dress had always made her feel confident, because she knew she looked good in it. For some reason, tonight she needed the added boost.
At seven on the nose, a knock sounded. She appreciated a man who showed up on time. She shoved her phone and keys into her purse and opened the door.
Craig stood at the threshold, hand tucked into his pants pockets. He wore a crisp button-down but no jacket. He looked pretty much the same as his profile picture, which was a relief because she’d been afraid that some seventy-year-old dude might show up. But unlike in his photo, he had a beard. Kind of. It was more like a wannabe beard. Just a tuft of fur jutting out from his chin.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi. You look beautiful. Your profile picture doesn’t do you justice.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek.
The fur tickled. And not in a good way.
“Am I dressed okay? I wasn’t sure about where we’re going.”
“What you’re wearing is fine. We’re going to Tucker’s. It’s one of my favorite places. They have a great variety of craft beer.”
“I’m not really a beer drinker.” Even before she’d started practically living with Trevor, she’d rarely drunk. Pulling the door closed behind her, she smiled. She walked ahead of Craig through the yard, and movement in the kitchen caught her eye. Was that Trevor spying? Oh, she was totally going to call him on that later. She smirked all the way to street.
Craig hit his key fob, and the lights of a BMW lit up. It sat in front of the house, facing the wrong way in front of a fire hydrant. I guess Craig’s too special to park like everyone else.
He opened the door for her. “Sorry,” he said. “I normally don’t park like a jerk, but this car is my baby. I wasn’t sure if you’d be ready, so I wanted her to be in the shade.”
Callie had no freaking clue what to say, so she just smiled and climbed in. While Craig walked around the car, she scanned her memory for which friends said they could bail her out. You know, just in case.
At the restaurant, which was a glorified bar, they ordered burgers, and he insisted on getting some samples of craft beer for them. He wasn’t horrible. Just horribly boring. All he’d done from the moment they were seated was talk about craft beer.
She initially reminded him that she didn’t drink beer. But it didn’t dissuade him. It was as though he thought he was going to convert her.
When the samples arrived, she tried to be polite. She lifted one of the mini glasses and sipped.
“No. You have to get the full experience. This one is hoppy with hints of nutmeg. Press your nose into the glass and get a real feel.”
She gave a perfunctory sniff and sipped again. It wasn’t any better the second time. It tasted like some third-grader’s science experiment. She pushed the glass toward him. “Not for me.”
“Okay. Try this one.”
“Should I cleanse my palate first?” she asked.
“Your taste was really small, so you’re probably fine.”
Her sarcasm had been completely lost on him. “I’m sorry. I don’t enjoy beer. And this tastes funky.”
“No need to apologize, we just haven’t found what works for you yet.”
He really didn’t get it. She was beginning to regret not meeting him here so she could drive herself home. She waved the waitress over and ordered a Coke.
“That’s not a good way to cleanse your palate.”
“I’m not cleansing my palate. I’m drinking pop with my burger.” She picked up her burger and took a big bite so she wouldn’t have to talk to him anymore, which was just fine for Craig, because he continued to fill the air.
He talked about his first batch of home brew. Callie just kept shoving food in her mouth so she wouldn’t have to do anything other than smile or nod. The food was decent but she couldn’t help but think she would’ve enjoyed ice cream more. It didn’t help that Craig’s damn beard thing kept distracting her. It was like he’d bitten into a gerbil.
She’d never had a huge preference for or against facial hair. Some guys wore it well. Like Trevor with his constant I’m-too-lazy-to-shave scruff. But Craig looked ridiculous with that thing sticking out of his chin.
Then he dripped ketchup onto it and just kept talking. She made a point of wiping her own mouth a couple of times hoping he’d get the hint, but he didn’t. She ate in record time, and as soon as she swallowed the last bite, she set her napkin down.
“I hate to rush, but I have a long day tomorrow. I should be getting home.”
“Sure. No problem.” After finally wiping his faux beard, he paid the check, waving off her offer to pay half.
They drove back to her place in blissful silence. Craig parked a few houses down, on the right side of the street and not in front of a hydrant. He cut the ignition and s
aid, “I’ll walk you home.”
She stepped from the car and waited while he reached into the back seat. He came around the car holding an insulated lunch box.
When he saw her looking, he said, “I have a surprise for you.”
Callie tensed every muscle in her face to stop the cringe. Surprises were supposed to be good, and there was nothing about this situation that was.
They walked toward the house, and Callie scanned for lights. It looked like the kitchen light was on. Maybe Trevor was there, ready to spy again. Then he could interrupt. If only she could be so lucky. But she saw no movement.
At her door, she faced Craig. “Thanks for tonight.”
“It doesn’t have to be over yet.” He lifted his lunch box. “I brought you samples of my latest brew. It’s rich with notes of chocolate and chili peppers. I thought we could share.” He looked at her with wide eyes. Then he added, “Just a drink. I don’t expect to sleep with you after our first date.”
As if. “It was thoughtful of you to want to share, but like I said at the restaurant, I don’t like beer. Especially craft beer.” Definitely when created by a craft beer guy who doesn’t listen.
“Maybe you would if you’d give it a chance.”
He leaned forward as if to kiss her, and all Callie saw was the furry chin approaching. She pressed her back into the door and held up a hand to stop him. “I don’t think this will work. You’re obviously passionate about craft beer, and I’m not into it.”
He eased away at the same time her door opened and she fell into a hard chest.
“Hi, Callie.” Trevor’s hands landed on her hips to steady her. “I’m sorry. Am I interrupting?”
“Trevor,” she said. Damn. Why was she so breathy? “What are you doing here?” Thank God you’re here.
He flicked a thumb over his shoulder. “I got you a new air conditioner, so I installed it.”
“Thanks.” She looked up at him and prayed he could read her face and not leave.
Smiling, he said, “If you want, I can run you through how it works.”
Turning back to Craig, she said, “Thanks again for tonight. Good luck.” She waved and backed into her house.
My Best Friend's Ex (Daring Divorcees) Page 12