by Ruthie Knox
“It’s kind of you to defend him, but I’m sure we can agree the situation got a bit out of Caleb’s grasp. All those photographs in the papers! And some of them quite … compromising.”
“Well, I agree that having the world gawking at you when you’re wearing a Butter Cow T-shirt is less than ideal,” Ellen answered, knowing full well that wasn’t the kind of “compromising” Janet had in mind. “But there’s not much to be done about it except keep the guys with the cameras off the lawn and wait for them to go away.”
She fed Henry another bite. Caleb leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed.
“They should be forcibly removed from the village,” Janet said firmly.
“Can’t do that.” She popped a bite of lasagna into her mouth. After she swallowed, she added, “They have the right to assemble, just like anyone else.”
“But they’re dangerous! One of those people cut me off with his motorbike the other day, and I nearly had an accident. They don’t respect the pedestrian crossings. I should think you’d be worried. They’re endangering your son.”
Ellen sat up straighter at that. Janet Clark was now officially getting on her nerves. “No, they’re not.”
“Of course they are. He could be struck by one of their cars, or kidnapped for ransom by one of these crazy people. Anything could happen. Any of a hundred things. Why, I’m surprised you haven’t left town.”
That was when Ellen lost track of her polite restraint and all control over her tongue. “My son is not in danger, because your son has been protecting him. Busting his butt protecting him, as a matter of fact, day in and day out, with next to no cooperation from either myself or my brother, or even Henry’s own father.”
Building up steam, she tapped the table for emphasis. “If you could’ve seen him, you’d understand. He knew hundreds of people were going to show up before even Jamie did, and he got a fence up and barricades on the street in advance. He had people walking around my property all the time, day and night, for days, and he put a team of men over at Henry’s grandmother’s place to keep an eye on him. And the whole time, he let us live our lives, even when that meant letting Jamie do that stupid strip show for all the world to see, because that’s what Jamie had to do to get Carly back. Even when it meant organizing security on the fly to get Carly to the hospital as fast as possible when she was in danger.”
Janet frowned. “That’s hardly professional, taking Carly Short to the hospital. That’s what ambulances are for.”
“I disagree. And so does my brother, for that matter. He’s planning to fire those professionals from Los Angeles and bring your son in to take care of all of his security from here on out. I can’t say that I blame him. Caleb is really great at what he does, Mrs. Clark. As a matter of fact, he’s kind of incredible. And if you can’t see that, you have a serious problem.”
When she finally shut her trap, Henry was watching her, stunned into silence, and so was everyone else. Ellen met the eyes of every adult at the table, daring them to disagree with her. Nobody did. She focused on Janet and silently demanded a rebuttal.
Janet looked at Caleb for a moment and said, slowly and with great care, “No, I can see that. I’m not blind.”
Caleb gave his mother a small, warm smile that made Ellen’s chest tighten painfully with empathy. “Go easy on her, Ellen,” he said. “She’s a real sap, deep down. She just turns into a stubborn, critical pain in the keister when she’s worried about somebody she loves. Isn’t that right, Ma?” His smile widened as he said it, softening the criticism so that it sounded like an endearment.
His mother made an exasperated face, but she didn’t quite pull it off. “Honestly, Caleb. That’s no way to talk to your mother.”
“Yeah, but I think we need a new way of talking to each other. One where we say what we really mean. I think it’ll do both of us some good, don’t you?”
His mother didn’t answer. She glanced at her husband, looking slightly rattled. Derek smiled encouragement at her from across the table.
“We may need some coaching,” Caleb said, “since we’re new at this. But I think what you want to tell Ellen is that you’ve been worried about me, but you love me, and you respect and support my decisions.”
Janet looked back and forth between Ellen and Caleb, as if wondering how she’d gotten herself into this. “Of course I do,” she said. “You don’t need me to—”
“I do,” Caleb said.
She stilled, and they looked at each other. Ellen saw something pass between them—a moment of understanding, of honest exchange. “Oh,” Janet said. Almost a sigh.
“This is my life, Ma.” Caleb looked at Ellen and Henry. “This is exactly where I want to be. Exactly what I want to be doing.” He brushed his hand over Ellen’s shoulder, a touch that warmed her right through. “I want you to support me, and I want you to say so.”
Janet’s mouth quirked into a smirk remarkably like Caleb’s. “Well, Ellen, I am proud of him,” she said, looking right at her son. “I love him. I respect and support his decisions.” The statement came out wooden and awkward, but at least she’d said it. When she smiled at Caleb, she looked shy and proud at the same time.
“Me, too,” Ellen echoed. “I think your son is pretty wonderful, Mrs. Clark. And for what it’s worth, I’m not going anywhere, and neither is Jamie. This is where we belong. You may have to get used to a little extra craziness around Camelot.”
Caleb grinned at that, and Ellen lost her head all over again. It felt like an eternity since she’d seen him smile right at her. It made her giddy. She was vaguely conscious of the conversation continuing at the other end of the table, with Katie chiming in to defend Caleb’s skill and dedication, but most of her attention had been captured by the smile wrinkling the corners of Caleb’s eyes, and the rest of it jumped ship when he found her knee under the table and squeezed.
Carly and Jamie could have their crowds and the public declarations of love. Big gestures and drama had never been Ellen’s thing. One gesture, one moment of connection when her eyes met Caleb’s, and she knew. She wouldn’t trade what they had for anything.
Kind of incredible, she thought. My man.
She got a little dippy with it. Which was why she wasn’t at all prepared when Henry dumped an entire cup of ice water on her lap.
She was still mopping at it with a paper towel when Katie announced, apropos of nothing, “So, everybody, while we’re doing the confessions and Hallmark moments, I should probably mention that I’m married.”
After that, no one paid much attention to Ellen and Henry.
Chapter Thirty-two
Once the presents had been opened and the boys laid waste to the cake, the celebration wrapped up quickly. Caleb’s parents said their goodbyes, Amber rounded up her brood and hustled them out the door, and the decibel level inside the house dropped by a factor of ten.
Henry was playing in the detritus from the party, stomping on crumpled pieces of wrapping paper. Ellen sat on the rug, unsure whether she should take him home now or try to find a way to talk to Caleb. He and Katie had disappeared into the kitchen after clearing the table.
Just as she lost what nerve she had left and rose to go, Katie came out, Caleb behind her. “Hey, Henry?” Katie said. “I’ve been thinking an ice-cream bar from the bookstore sounds pretty darn good. You like ice cream?”
“Yas,” he said, jumping up and down. “Mama take you.”
Katie looked her way and smiled. “Mama’s going to stay here with Caleb. We’ll go get some ice cream, just the two of us, and give them a few minutes to talk. C’mon, I have something really cool to show you in the garage.”
Seduced by Katie’s warm manner and her promise of ice cream plus an exciting surprise, Henry followed her happily enough, and after the two of them shuffled out the door, the house fell silent.
Then there was only Ellen and the man standing in the doorway of his kitchen, a black column of lean muscle with an indulgent expression that made
her heart race.
“Hello, Ellen Sydney Callahan,” he said.
Oh.
He crossed the room and reached for her hands, pulling her right up against his body.
Oh, my.
“So that’s my family.” Caleb gripped her hips as if they were his to do with as he pleased. Which they totally were. “I think they like you.”
“I argued with your mom.” The memory of it made her flush with shame, and she looked down, unwilling to meet his eyes.
Stark against her white skirt, his left hand on her hip was a raw mess, yellow-green with fading bruises. Painful looking. He’d done that for her. She hadn’t even thanked him.
“Yeah, that was my favorite part. It was a long time coming. But I liked it when you explained eminent domain to my dad, too.” He glanced around the room. “You probably want a tour, don’t you?”
“Uh, sure.” She couldn’t really focus on anything but Caleb and the heat in his eyes.
“You’ve already seen the dining room and the living room. Kitchen’s over there,” he said, with a quick jerk of his head. “Bedrooms are this way.”
“Where’s the bathroom?”
He pointed with his elbow. “There.”
“Let me see.”
His brow furrowed, but he spun her around and walked her in that direction. When she took his good hand and led him inside, he said, “None of my fantasies about what we were going to do when Katie left included the bathroom.”
“Sit down.”
Caleb obediently lowered the lid and took a seat on the toilet. Ellen rifled through his vanity cabinet until she found a box of Band-Aids and some antibiotic ointment. She set them on the countertop and washed and dried her hands, then filled the sink with warm water and wet a washcloth she found on the towel rack.
“Give me your hand.”
He raised it, a near-smile playing over his lips as she rested his palm against hers. Her index finger brushed over the tender skin of the inside of his wrist, and she felt the beat of his pulse. It matched the pounding of her own heart.
Ellen reached for the washcloth, squeezed hard to wring it out, and brought it to his knuckles. She cleaned them off as gently as she could, but they wept all over again. Caleb didn’t flinch. He watched her work, accepting this fussy bit of tenderness with more solemnity than she would have expected. She hoped he knew what this meant to her, what she was trying to say to him. I want to take care of you. I want you to take care of me.
She patted his hand dry and smoothed ointment over his cuts before wrapping three of his knuckles in Band-Aids. An awkward job. Fingers were so easy to hurt and so hard to fix.
When she’d finished, she clasped his hand in hers and laid it over her heart as she leaned down to kiss him. Their eyes met and held, the soft, dry brush of their lips more significant than any kiss she’d ever offered him.
Caleb cradled the back of her head in his free hand and pulled her closer to deepen the kiss, transforming it from her apology into his own affirmation with the sweep of his tongue into her mouth. She sank into his lap, and he kissed her forever, deep and long. They apologized and confessed, forgave and made promises, all without saying a word.
When he let her go at last, she felt so much better that she wanted to cry, but she smiled instead.
Caleb lifted her off his lap and stood. “We haven’t finished the tour yet.”
“Shouldn’t we talk?”
He grinned. “You came to my house. You couldn’t shut up about how great I am to my mom. You babied me with Band-Aids. I think I’ve got your number, honey.” His hands moved up inside her shirt to her waist.
“How’s that?”
“I think you still have the hots for me.”
“Pretty flimsy evidence.”
He slid his hands up over her breasts, and she gasped when his thumbs found her nipples. “You’re letting me touch you,” he murmured. “You like it.”
Leaning over, he kissed her throat. “You look beautiful,” he said. “And ever since Henry spilled water on your lap, I’ve been trying to guess what you’re wearing under that skirt.”
She smiled as his mouth blazed a warm trail up her neck. “I came here to meet your family. I’m wearing the most boring white cotton underwear you can possibly imagine.”
He groaned and brought her hand to his crotch. “Doesn’t sound boring to me.”
At the feel of the hardening length behind his zipper, desire swept through her, familiar and strong, and she made a helpless noise as her hand tightened around him. “Caleb, I—”
“I was going to come over to your house,” he said, and he began backing her out of the bathroom into a wide, bright hallway. “As soon as the party ended. And I was going to insist that you give me another chance. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about that photographer, and I’m sorry I stuck my nose into your business with Richard. I know you can handle yourself, honey, and I promise I’ll let you. I know you probably don’t want me to love you yet, and that freaked you out. But give me some time. Don’t push me away.”
Her back bumped into a door, and Caleb lowered his head and kissed her, slow and sweet at first, then gradually harder, more aggressive. The low flame of desire between her thighs built to a bonfire. Ellen wrapped her arms around his neck and plastered her body against him, all her doubts burned up in the need to be as close to him as she could get.
He opened the door. “My room.”
“I want you,” she whispered. “The whole you, Caleb. I was lying when I said I didn’t.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I want to ask you questions. Find out … find out your stories. The good ones and the bad ones.”
“I’ve got some pretty bad stories.”
She reached out and rested her palm against the side of his head, brushing her thumb over his temple. His hair was prickly beneath her palm. “But you’re a good man.”
Caleb closed his eyes for a second, but not before she saw his relief. As though he’d been waiting for her to tell him that.
When he opened them, he smiled. The rake’s grin again. He closed the door behind him and spun her around against it. “I’m not all that good.”
He dropped to his knees and lifted her skirt. “Tell me I can touch you.”
“Please.” He stroked her with two fingers through the cotton, and when the moisture of her body soaked them, he moaned with pleasure and moved in with his tongue. The sensation of the hot, wet fabric rasping over her clit made her cry out. “You taste amazing.”
“Caleb,” she pleaded.
“Tell me what you need.”
“You. I want you inside me. I need to feel you close.”
He undressed her and led her to the bed, where she helped him out of his clothes. Then it was just the two of them, naked and needy, kissing and touching, and she wanted to tell him everything she’d been holding back so there’d be nothing left to keep them apart.
As he reached for a condom, she said, “I don’t want to be your lover.”
He hesitated, and she clarified, “I want to be your girlfriend.” She plucked the condom out of his hand and began rolling it onto him. “Only nobody says ‘girlfriend’ anymore. You’ll have to call me your ‘significant other’ or your ‘partner’ or something.”
Caleb smiled. “We have a problem, then. I don’t want a significant other.”
“You don’t?” It didn’t seem as though he meant it. He had the fingers of one hand in her hair while the other hand urged her knees up and positioned his cock at her entrance. “What do you want?”
His response was to move inside her, one slow, shallow stroke after another, deeper and deeper until he was all the way in.
“Christ, you feel amazing.” He let out a ragged breath against her neck and propped himself up on his elbows. His eyes were hot and shiny, sparkling with pleasure and something that might have been mischief. “I want you, Ellen. I want you to be my wife.”
She let out a weak laugh, so overwhelme
d she couldn’t begin to absorb such an absurd statement. “What is it with you and the big revelations right in the middle of sex? Like I’m not knocked flat enough as it is?”
He withdrew nearly all the way, then sank back inside her with a groan that she matched with an extremely unladylike oath. Caleb kissed her, deep and hot, and said against her lips, “I’m playing to my strengths. You don’t have so many defenses up right now. It’s kind of a sneak attack.”
“Very clever.”
“Thank you.”
He withdrew again, slid a hand beneath her to tilt her hips up, and plunged, harder and deeper. This time, the noise she made wasn’t even a word. But her lips found their way to his name, so she latched onto it, saying “Caleb” as he began to move faster, “Caleb” as he took possession of her in his own bed, passionate and intense. “Caleb,” watching his face as her climax approached, fingers interlaced with his on either side of her head. They came together, one blindingly sweet, hot flash, and she didn’t look away this time, because there was nothing to be afraid of. This was the man she wanted to be with.
As their breathing slowed, she stroked his back and kissed him everywhere she could reach. His mouth, his face, his neck and shoulders. He held his weight on his elbows and looked down at her.
“I’m pretty sure I love you,” she said. It was easy to tell him. Astonishingly, ridiculously easy.
Caleb grinned. “What?”
“I love you.”
He cupped one hand to his ear. “Come again?”
She smacked his shoulder. “I love you, you big goof.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Tell me some more. I’m not tired of it yet.”
“You first.”
This time, he kissed her mouth gently, almost reverently. “I love you, Ellen Sydney Callahan. I want to marry you and take care of you and help you raise your son. I know you probably think it’s too soon for me to be sure about all of that, and I’ll have to give you time to hem and haw and drag this out for about five years until you agree, and that’s all right. I can survive it. Just say you’ll think about it, okay?”