Be My Baby

by Airicka Phoenix

  Calla sighed and mentally shook her head.

  It didn’t matter how hard she tried not to be that snide, malicious person she used to be, it still crept up on her from time to time and it drove her fucking nuts. Why the hell would Jared want that girl back?

  “Oh, that reminds me.” Her mother turned to Sloan. “The lights in the storeroom are flickering again. Would you mind having a look when you have some time?”

  Uncle Sloan rubbed his jaw and frowned thoughtfully. “Sounds like it could be the fuse. I have to work tomorrow, but maybe afterwards—”

  “I can do it.” Jared waited until he had their attention before continuing. “I’m not on the clock tomorrow so it won’t be any trouble.”

  “Thanks, Jared,” Uncle Sloan said before anyone else could speak. “I appreciate that.”

  Jared inclined his head. “Not a problem, sir.”

  The rest of the table went back to their conversation. But Calla didn’t notice. Her gaze had superglued itself to the man sitting across from her, the one slowly lifting his eyes until they were snared with hers. His expression was unreadable, but there was an almost triumphant glint in his silvery gaze that made her heart patter just a little faster.

  Supper ended and Calla volunteered to do the dishes. It was the one chore she actually enjoyed doing. The running water, the methodical system, it was almost soothing. Everyone else ventured to the sitting room, except Damon and Willa, who took the opportunity to sneak off back up to Damon’s room. Willa had to leave before the sun rose the next morning if she were to make it back in time for her first classes, which meant they would see very little of her for the rest of the evening. Logically, she should have left Sunday morning, but none of them ever did.

  “Do you want help?” Beth set a stack of plates down onto the counter and turned to Calla.

  Calla shook her head. “No thanks.”

  The brunette hesitated as she wiped her hands on a dishrag. “Calla, about the things your mother and I said earlier…”

  “It’s fine.” She turned to the other woman. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you guys. I’m sorry.”

  “No.” Beth took a step forward and stopped. “We should be sorry. We raised you girls better than that and you were right, it was wrong of us to push you on a guy that was clearly taken.”

  Feeling naked and exposed, Calla nodded in discomfort. “It’s fine.”

  Beth crossed the space and pulled Calla into her arms. Her gentle hands stroked Calla’s back.

  “We are so proud of you.”

  Those six little undeserving words crushed her. They twisted like noodles around a fork and yanked until she could scarcely breathe. Her eyes burned with the pain and she had to squeeze them shut tight to keep the tears from escaping.

  She quickly pulled away and hurried to the sink.

  “I should get started.”

  It was a struggle to keep her voice even and she quickly filled the silence with the rush of water. She watched Beth leave in the darkened window above the sink and relinquished the choked little breath she’d been holding on to. Her fingers trembled as she adjusted the temperature and went about sorting out the dishes.

  She started by scraping the touched food into the compost. Then stacked all the plates in one row, the cups, silverware, and pots in another. She set them along the counter in an assembly line fashion from easiest to toughest. Then she went to work.

  Lost in the routine, she almost jumped out of her skin when warm fingers brushed hers in the retrieval of the plate she was setting into the second sink to be rinsed. Her head jerked up, her eyes wide in surprise.

  Jared met her stunned expression with an indecipherable one of his own. The plate was taken, doused under the running water and wiped dry. It was slid across the counter before he reached for the next one. After the third one, she turned back to the soapy water.

  They worked in silence through the plates, cups, and most of the silverware.

  “Mom said you were by the shop yesterday.”

  He scrubbed dry the spoon in his hand, set it down with the others on the counter before answering, “I was.”

  “Why?” She passed him a fork, careful not to let his fingers touch hers. “What happened to your date?”

  “You know why and I ended it.”

  Moistening her lips, Calla willed herself to turn her head in his direction. “You can’t do that anymore.”

  He stopped drying to meet her gaze head on. “Why?”

  Something dark and angry writhed inside her and she visibly blanched. “If you don’t know the answer to that, then you’re clearly not the man I thought you were.”

  Snapping off the water, she walked away.

  Chapter Four ~ Jared

  Jared spent the rest of that night tossing and turning, mentally kicking and berating himself for being the biggest fucking idiot on the planet. Why hadn’t he told her he wasn’t with Denise anymore? Things might have turned out a whole lot differently if she wasn’t stuck with the impression that he was a two-timing asshole. Instead, he’d stood there like a tool, asking her why they couldn’t be together when she thought he was with someone else. Granted, he had told her he’d ended things. But maybe he should have worded it better.

  With a groan, he heaved his weary body upright and swung his legs over the edge. The rough stubble along his jaw scratched his palm when he rubbed his hands over his face.

  Way to screw up, dude, the voice in his head mocked.

  “Fuck,” he muttered to himself.

  Well, there was nothing else for it. He needed to fix it.

  Jared woke up the next morning fueled by determination, and about six cups of coffee. He showered quickly and dressed in jeans and a sweater. He donned his boots, grabbed his tools, and set out to show Calla McClain that they were worth taking the risk. The roads were reasonably empty considering the time, but that probably had to do with the mountain of snow blanketing the town, making all roads nearly inaccessible. Those with trucks moved freely, but the rest were waiting for the tow trucks to unearth them.

  Calla was the only one at the shop when he trudged out of his truck and ambled to the front door. She stood behind the counter, her head bent over a folder of papers. Her hair was down in a silky, curly wave around her shoulders. It framed her delicately set features and tangled with the hoops in her ears. The gold circles matched the dozen metal bracelets glinting on each wrist and the fine chain around her throat. She wore a red, silk blouse tucked into a body molding white pencil skirt that was cinched around the waist by a thick, black belt. She looked like a woman just waiting for a man to rumple her up. Damn if he wasn’t going to be that man.

  Jared watched her a moment longer through the window before reaching for the door. The bell overhead jingled and Calla blinked and raised her head. Her eyes widened at the sight of him.

  “Jared?”

  He held up his toolkit. “I came to check the fuse box.”

  Her scarlet red lips formed an O before she caught herself. “It’s in the back behind the…” She clamped her mouth shut and sighed through her nose. “I’ll show you.”

  She moved with the grace and purpose of a dancer. The skirt gave very little room for hurried steps, but she hit the floor at a brisk pace. Ringlets of gold bounced over her shoulders and down her back with every step.

  He followed quietly behind her, his gaze tracing the lithe curve of her back, the dip of her waist, and the delicious flare of her hips. He watched their sway and almost groaned at how easily he could picture his hands gripping them, holding them steady as he bent her forward, gouged his fingers into the supple flesh and drove into her.

  “Jared?”

  It took him a moment to realize they’d stopped and she was watching him watching her ass. His gaze flicked up to her face and found her eyes on him, her cheeks flushed and her lips slightly parted. Against the front of her blouse, her breasts strained with her uneven breaths. Her unsteady palms ran the line of her hips before claspi
ng together in front of her. Her unsuccessful composure made him all the more ravenous with the need to violate every inch of her.

  “Where?” His barely collected growl struck between them.

  “Through there,” she whispered, motioning with a jerk of her pert chin towards a door tucked away behind a set of metal shelves.

  That hadn’t been what he’d meant. He didn’t give a flying shit about the fucking fuse box. He’d wanted to know where she wanted him to take her first. But her response was enough to remind him that seducing Calla McClain was a marathon, not a race. He would have her. There was no doubt in his mind of that.

  He’d never been to the back of the store before. Never had a reason. But he took a quick glance over the space and was almost amused to find it neatly organized and properly labeled. All the boxes were placed in neat columns by item. Skirts in one pile. Dresses in another. Tops in another. There were others, but he didn’t pay attention. He wandered around them, past a small sitting area housing a metal desk, a leather sofa, and a mini fridge and made his way to the shelves. The knob was cold in his grasp as he wrenched open the door to absolute darkness.

  “The light switch is just inside the door,” Calla told him.

  Setting down his tools, he reached blindly inside. His palm skimmed over cool plaster and nothing else.

  “Just inside,” she said again.

  When he continued to fumble, she stalked over, her black boots making a world of noise on the concrete floor. Then she was next to him. Her shoulder pressed into his chest as she reached past him. The back of her head brushed his chin and he instinctively lowered his face to the silky curls.

  She smelled like apples and cinnamon and woman. It took all his restraint not to press into her and lick the stretch of skin between her neck and shoulder to see if she tasted as good as she smelled.

  “I broke up with Denise.” His voice barely went above a whisper. His lips skimmed along silky strands of pale gold. “The night of the storm. I was going to tell you.”

  The slender back cradled against his chest tensed at his declaration. Heavy curls shifted over the silky fabric of her blouse as she raised enormous blue eyes over her shoulder and locked them with his.

  “Why?” She turned fully so they stood face to face, a mere breath-width away, so close that her scent continued to haunt him. “Why would you do that?”

  Fingertips no longer under his control ghosted the line of her temple, brushing back the curl resting against her cheek and following the curve over a flushed cheek. Her lashes gave a flutter of longing and nearly slipped over her darkened eyes. Her head tipped an inch into his touch before she regained control. But her initial response nearly destroyed him.

  “Because I couldn’t be with her when I was in love with you.” Calla sucked in a sharp breath, but he plowed on. “I know you said we had no chance, but you can’t possibly know that.”

  “I do—”

  “No,” he argued gently. “There’s no way unless you can see into the future.” He paused to search the uncertainty glowing behind her furrowed brows. “We deserve a chance, Calla.”

  “Jared…” The quiet murmur of his name breezed between them in a pleading whisper that he ignored.

  “I don’t want an answer right now,” he assured her. “This is me no longer playing by your rules, Cal. I want you. I need you. I’m going to have you. All of you.”

  Her eyes shimmered with pain and tears and something buried deep beneath both. He wanted to think it was joy, but he couldn’t be sure. All he could focus on was the fear whitening her face, making her lipstick seem like blood on freshly fallen snow. Her terror cut at him, confused him. He started to reach for her, and maybe it was his imagination, but he could have sworn she leaned into the hand he outstretched.

  “Jared—”

  The bell at the front of the store jingled loudly, signaling the arrival of a customer. Calla didn’t move. She stayed frozen before him, watching him like he held the threads binding her life and at any moment he could destroy her.

  “Go,” he murmured gently. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  It was a promise that only heightened her unease. She left quickly.

  Jared stayed, both hands fisted tight at his sides. He listened as Calla greeted the new arrival, listened to her sweet laughter and heard the sadness just beneath it. It amazed him how she could hold that wall up for so long when, under it all, he could see her slowly crushing to death. It infuriated him that she had a wall at all and hated the bastard that helped her build it. But that was going to change. It didn’t matter what he had to do.

  He knelt next to his toolbox and reached inside for his flashlight. His fingers curled around the first item they touched and a hammer was drawn out. A soft chuckle escaped him at the symbolism; she might have a wall around her, but he had a damn hammer. He was going to smash that motherfucker to the ground.

  Chapter Five ~ Calla

  The snow kept everyone locked up inside for most of that day. It was no longer falling, but the sight of it caking the streets warded away drivers from venturing too far into town until the plows had gone by, which was taking forever. Calla cursed the pretty white stuff mounding in front of her store. Part of her knew she should head out there and at least shovel some of it off the sidewalk, but it was cold and she had a deep hatred for cold things.

  “You need a new fuse box.” Breathtaking even in jeans and a sweater, Jared stepped out of the backroom, holding a small, black case no bigger than the palm of his hand. “These fuses all seem to be just fine, so it has to be the box.”

  Calla sighed. “Might have to wait until spring then.” She waved a hand towards the front. “No one is coming until that snow is cleared away. Maybe I should just close up for the day.”

  He walked to the glass doors and peered out. The pale morning light filtered through his hair and tinted the tips of his lashes a soft gold. His eyes became a soft, silvery white and seemed to glow. He checked his watch.

  “Do you have a coffee machine here?”

  Her eyebrows pulled together in confusion, but she nodded. “In the back.”

  He raised his head and fixed her with his gaze. “Can you make a pot?”

  She started to ask why, but he was fishing inside his pockets and a moment later, he had his cellphone pressed to his ear.

  Bemused, but having nothing else to do anyway, Calla stepped into the back and went to the fold out table her mother had set up with all the necessities like coffee, a small dish of teabags, a coffee machine, and a plug in kettle. There were several mugs, spoons, and stir sticks as well as boxes of cookies, donuts, and cakes. Calla had a suspicion her mother thought they would be having tea parties there on their free time. Nevertheless, Calla was eternally grateful someone was feeding her sugar habit.

  Jared was still standing by the door when Calla returned. His arms were folded and she took a moment to admire the beautiful workmanship of his back, the narrow taper of his waist, and finally that ass that drove her crazy.

  “Coffee should be ready in five minutes,” she told him.

  He checked his watch again. “That’s perfect.”

  Frowning, she walked over to stand next to him. “Perfect for what?”

  He said nothing. He didn’t need to. A moment later, a wave of snow was lifted off the street in an arc and plowed further down the street. A machine growled. A horn honked once and the figure inside the plow waved at them. Jared raised a hand and waved back. He didn’t lower his arm until the truck was out of sight. Then he turned to Calla.

  “Do you have a shovel?”

  Uncle Sloan had brought one over during the first snow fall and had left it against the backdoor. Jared grabbed it and returned, fully dressed in his jacket and gloves. Without a word to Calla, he stomped outside. She watched from the warmth of her store as he cleared a path all the way from one end of the block to the other, leaving a wide, clear path to that entire section.

  He returned almost thirty minutes
later, panting, face flushed from cold and sweat. He kicked the snow off his boots before stepping inside.

  “There.” He propped the shovel against the side of the door to yank off his wool toque. “No reason for anyone not to show up now.”

  Calla could only stare at him, no words enough to express just how thankful she was, or how touched.

  “Oh.” From his other hand, the one he’d kept tucked behind his back, he withdrew a rose. A single rose just starting to bloom. “Found this,” he said when she accepted it, still speechless. “Thought you’d like it.”

  Then he took the shovel, and himself, and disappeared into the back.

  “My goodness it’s a nightmare out there.” Georgia May Hadley burst through the shop doors a little after three. Her floral perfume filed in after her, filling the whole room with its sickly sweetness. With daintily gloved hands, she brushed at the fur collar of her coat. “This is the only part of town anyone can get to.”

  Calla bit back her grin. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Hadley. How are you today?”

  Beautiful in a theatrical way, Georgia May wrinkled her elegant little nose. “Did you not just hear me? Awful.”

  If there was anyone Calla truly despised, it was the woman standing in her shop. There was nothing good in her, nothing kind. She reminded Calla of those butterflies in the Amazon, beautiful, exotic, and a wonder to see, but poisonous and deadly to touch. Nevertheless, Georgia May was her biggest client and as much as she hated her…

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  Georgia May inhaled, puffing out her voluminous breasts and twisting her head over the selection. “What new things have you got for me today?”

  Georgia May was the trend setter of Willow Creek. Every woman wanted what she had, even if they hated her, and that made her a walking billboard for Calla. She made sure she kept her very best items in the back for the woman.

  “Well, since you asked…” With a grin, Calla ushered her to the settee she kept tucked next to the trio of change cubicles. “Would you like anything to drink while I bring out a few items?”