Engagement Rate (The Callaghan Green Series Book 1)

by Annie Dyer

  Seph smiled beguilingly. "Would either of you lovely people like a coffee?"

  "No. We'd like you to fuck off to the bedroom that's made up for you so we don't have to listen to your drunken drivel," Jackson said, his words and expression irate. I gave him a pointed look, feeling he was being harsh on Seph because he'd been upset by me.

  "Jesus, brother, way to show your true colors," Seph said. "I hope you can improve his mood, Van."

  "I'll try. 'Night Seph," I said as he trundled up the stairs, humming the same song. "There was no need to be that mean to him." I turned to Jackson who was now looking somewhat sheepish.

  He shrugged. "There's always a reason to be mean to Seph, but yeah, he probably didn't deserve all of that." His hands went on my shoulders, his eyes blowing a storm. "I'm sorry I got cross with you. I can't believe I made you cry – that's not what I ever wanted to do. There's only one part of you I should be making wet."

  My arms went around his waist, feeling his warmth and nearness, both of which I had been craving and I half laughed at his comment. "Yes, you upset me. But I'd already been upset after Richard left. No, not because he did anything." His expression had changed, looking like he wanted to kill someone. "Jackson, that's the last time I will probably see someone I lived with for six years. He has been a huge part of my life which is now over, and yes, that's a good thing, but it's also a big thing to get over."

  He stepped back, moving his body away from me. "Let's go and sit down. I could do with a coffee."

  I followed him upstairs, suddenly feeling that although I had lived in his home as if it was my own for most of the past fortnight, I was now very much the visitor. He moved about the kitchen, expression preoccupied. I went over my words, never having been in this situation before and assessed how he had interpreted what I'd said. It was obvious.

  "Decaff," he said, bringing over a pot of coffee and a jug of warmed milk. "No reason to keep ourselves awake."

  "Would you rather I didn't stay?"

  Jackson's eyes widened and he pushed a hand through the well-abused hair. "No, I didn't mean... fuck."

  "I'm over my relationship with Richard, Jackson. That was what I meant. I didn't mean that I was upset that it was over with him, just the realization that the chapter with him has ended. I feel like a weight has been lifted, and I feel sad too, because something has ended. Does that make sense?" I poured the coffee into both our mugs as he watched me.

  It was a few minutes before he said anything. Night had fallen over London, the ever-illuminated skyline underlining the fact that we were never alone. "I thought you meant that you were upset that it was over. I was assuming that I was rebound or you had realized that I was rebound. I don't want to be that, Van."

  "So, I'm staying over?"

  "You can fucking move in tomorrow if you want."

  I didn't think he was joking but didn't ask him to elaborate. "Do you want me to tell you what we talked about?"

  Jackson nodded. "Yes, but only if you want to. I don't want to be the type of - boyfriend, partner, whatever – that needs to know everything. My reaction before was unnecessary," he said contritely, drinking the coffee even though it was way too hot for me.

  "I should have told you. After seeing what an idiot Richard could be and knowing what has happened legally with the business and apartment, I knew you'd want to talk about it or be there. But I needed to see him one last time to put it to bed, for it to be over. But, yes, with hindsight, we should've had that conversation." I clutched my mug, wanting to put my head on his shoulder and curl in, but feeling that now wasn't the right time. We needed that space between us.

  "What did he have to say?"

  I smiled, as much as Jackson was trying to act cool about it, he wanted to know and I had a feeling it was to do with a worry that I might still have feelings for Richard. I had, but not the sort that a relationship or even a friendship was built from. "He apologized. For his behavior the other week at Simone's opening and in general. He's stopped drinking. He told me about an affair he'd had and the girl told him she was pregnant." I explained the rest of the story. Jackson listened but said nothing. "I could've felt sorry for him."

  "But you didn't?"

  I shook my head. "No. For a few minutes afterward I felt as if I owed him, that I would never have got to this position where I own a marketing company without him, his father and his contacts, but I spoke to Simone about it afterward and she helped straighten out my head."

  "I wish I'd been there for you afterward. I would've understood you needing to speak to him, Van. I'm not that much of a possessive fuckwit that I wouldn't have got it," he said, putting down his mug and standing up. He went over to the window, shoulders tense, looking out over the Thames. I watched him, still giving him space and time to think. I knew he was annoyed with himself that I had seen this side of him, a side that I knew was there anyway.

  "You were all I wanted afterward," I said after a few minutes. "That's why I texted you even though I knew you had your brothers and Killian over. I'm not used to needing people, Jackson, and I wouldn't say that I needed you; I could've managed, but you were what I wanted. You are what I want now."

  He didn't move, still standing there, made of stone. I went over to him, pressing myself against his back and wrapping my arms around his waist, feeling his abs through the t-shirt he wore. He relaxed, muscles easing, and I kissed his back, his hands landing on mine, and his warmth pulsating through me.

  "I'm worried that you're going to wake up one morning and realize that this was just a way to move on from your past, Van, and I'm not sure how I can handle that. I know most relationships don't have fairy tale endings – for fuck's sake, Claire's been giving me lessons in ways relationships can be fucked up since she was sixteen – but I'm not sure how I would handle this," he said, avoiding eye contact through the glass.

  "You're assuming a lot," I said, keeping my hands on him, chest pressed firmly into him. "You're assuming that I've not been over my break up with Richard – I was over Richard before I'd moved out. We'd stopped sleeping together nine months before we split; you're assuming that I'm in some way using you and you're assuming it's going to go wrong. Yes, when you take into account all relationships ever, most do end. But how do you know this will and is just the theoretical possibility of it ending a good reason to dismiss even trying?"

  He pulled my hands apart and turned around, grinning stupidly. "Do you think you're the first ever person to ever use the phrase 'theoretical possibility' in a discussion about the relationship?"

  I matched his grin. "It's quite probable."

  Tender fingers brushed my cheek and he ran his thumb across my lips, still looking amused. "So, we're trying this theory, are we?" he said, his voice low and husky.

  "I think it's worth a shot," I said, my fingers creeping under his t-shirt, feeling taut stomach muscles and the ladder of hair that led the way to one of my favorite things. "After all, you've got to give a website a go - to actually add to its engagement rate."

  Jackson frowned. "Are you bringing work into this again?"

  "It's a bad habit."

  "Then it's a good thing I find it sexy and endearing."

  He lowered his head to kiss me, the oxygen in the room thinning, all thoughts of past relationships melting into nothingness. I fell into the kiss and it felt new and whole, the last few months of battling with solely work, now just part of my life rather than all of it.

  Something was clicking, feeling like finally, I had all the pieces right there, only I didn't quite have the skill to fit them all together.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jackson

  Usually, when something was planned socially for a Friday evening and everyone wanted to finish early in order to leave for the weekend, there would be a crisis that involved approximately thirty phone calls and being reliant on someone who had already slipped away in order to dodge the possibility of said crisis. This Friday was an exception
. The crisis occurred in the morning when the need for an injunction occurred to protect a client from becoming newspaper fodder. Given how much we were looking forward to the weekend at our parents', Max, Claire and Seph rallied together to get it in place before anyone went for an extended lunch or took a sneaky half day's holiday. Or developed one of those Friday afternoon migraines.

  By nothing short of a miracle, we were all out of the office by three forty-five. I was home by a quarter past four, where Vanessa had turned my breakfast bar into a desk, spread with designs and plans and at least four coffee mugs. She'd not been back to Sophie's since before her meeting with Richard and part of me was becoming agitated at the idea of her spending the night away and what I'd do. It was strange when she wasn't there and evenings, where she had to attend a function or she, met Amelie or Sophie or Simone was half spent waiting for her to come home or text me that they were finishing and I'd meet them for the last half hour before we made our way back. Sophie had eyed me the night before and uttered the immortal words that we needed to talk, which I interpreted as she wanted to check my intentions. I would've done the same if one of my sisters was pretty much living with a guy.

  "How long do you need?" I said, raising my eyebrows at the volume of paper.

  She looked up, brow frowning. "I'm done. Not in the sense that I'm finished, just that this can be left until Sunday evening when I need to spend another hour getting the portfolio together for Monday. Do you mind if I leave it like this?" she said, straightening the piles into an ordered mess.

  "No. We won't be here to see it. Look, if it's convenient for you to work here sometimes, why don't I convert one of the bedrooms upstairs into an office? We could get a decent sized desk up there and a bookcase, plus a futon if a fourth bedroom was needed," I said. I was surprised I hadn't done it already, as there were occasions where I did work from home.

  She hesitated for a moment and I saw indecision in her eyes, knowing it stemmed from what it would mean if she agreed. "Honestly, I'm fine with working at the breakfast bar if you're okay with it. Don't change your house around for me although it's a good idea."

  I shrugged, expecting her response. "I could probably do with an area to work in too. You haven't seen it yet, but for nights before a big case, this area looks like paper recycling bin has been destroyed in here. I probably should've sorted an office a while ago – just haven't got around to it."

  "If it's going to be something you'd use too, then maybe we should have a think about it after the weekend?" she said tentatively. "How much have you done to it since you bought it?"

  I glanced around the room. "The grand total of nothing. That's why it's not very colorful. I don't really know what to get to make it feel more like a home. To be honest, it's only since I've been seeing you I've spent any time here."

  She pushed the stool under and smiled. "I figured as much. I've packed already for the weekend – I could just do with getting changed. I don't want to meet your father and Marie like this." She gestured down to what she was wearing: yoga pants and one of my t-shirts that had seen better days but still looked better on her than me.

  "They wouldn't mind, trust me. They deal with my sisters and have seen every sight known to human and beast. But you need to do whatever makes you feel better." I walked with her into the bedroom, needing to change out of my suit before we set off. Friday traffic was never brilliant, we weren't going to be leaving at a great time and I didn't want to spend two hours sitting sweating on the motorway.

  I caught her eyeing me as I stripped out of my shirt, waggling my eyebrows so she knew I'd caught her. She stifled a laugh and turned away. "Don't, Jackson, we need to set off and you're distracting me."

  "Does that mean you find me irresistible?"

  "No, I can resist you. Especially if you carry on and make us late so your parents have a bad impression of me. Then I'll be resisting you all weekend."

  I walked around the bed so I was standing behind her as she faced the wardrobe. She glared at me through the mirror and I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into my chest. "I'll be good, I promise," I said. "I have a hot tub to look forward to."

  She relaxed back into me and smiled as if I was a naughty child. "Yes, so put your clothes on and let's go."

  It didn't take us as long as I thought; we avoided any traffic jams which was nothing short of a miracle. Vanessa spent much of the journey on the phone to Alice and then Josh, going through the big meeting they had on Monday morning with the potential for a huge contract that would certainly elevate their company further. I listened in, realizing that I knew the firm's CEO and I wondered if I should put a word in, a reference.

  "Okay," she said, finally removing the phone from her ear. "That's going on silent for the weekend. Tell me about your father; what's he like?"

  The sudden change in conversation threw me momentarily. I'd told Vanessa lots about Marie but very little about my father, mainly because he was a complex subject and I didn't really know where to start. "He's sociable, especially when Marie's around. He'll like you; he'll probably want to chat business strategies and impart his wisdom."

  "What was he like when you were growing up?"

  "Honestly? He was a workaholic. Especially after Mum died and before he met Marie he just buried himself in the business. After Marie, he learned how to interact with us more and how to be affectionate, but he still spent most of his time at the office. Every so often he would abandon work for the weekend and have friends and family over, like this weekend, and he'd go a bit over the top, hiring bouncy castles and caterers, but we loved it," I said as we started down the road that leads to the house. A sporty BMW beeped as it overtook us, driving at speed. "Fucking Seph," I said. "I'm going to end up hurting him this weekend, driving like a fucking maniac, probably with Payton in the car too."

  Vanessa put a hand on my thigh and squeezed. "How did you drive when you were twenty-seven?"

  "Like Seph was just now." I hardly had wings and a halo either. "But that's not the point."

  "And was Claire a passenger?"

  "Yes, but Max was more reckless than me."

  "And that justifies it how?"

  "You look really pretty in that top," I didn't even try to hide the swerve in the topic. Vanessa laughed, her hand edging in towards my cock, which had been semi-hard since she put her hand on my thigh. "You'll look even prettier out of it too."

  "Nice dodge, Callaghan. Don't be too harsh on Seph. The split with his girlfriend was really hard on him," she said. "It's really dashed his confidence."

  I bit my tongue, knowing that Seph's ego could afford to take a hit. "Did he tell you about her when you had lunch the other day?" They'd met concerning the buyout of the business and combined it with a lunch that had lasted longer than necessary if all they'd been discussing had been work.

  "Yes. He was still worried about everything and everyone and questioning himself over the breakup. I know Payton being back has helped massively, but he's still a boy in a man's body. I agree with you and Max, he and his girlfriend needed to finish and he's on the verge of understanding that, but even so, it's made him question himself," she said, explaining without giving anything away.

  "Okay, I won't be too harsh about his driving, but I am going to say something. I'll try and be nice about it though," I mediated, wondering exactly how long my parents would give us to settle into our room before expecting us down for pre-dinner drinks. Vanessa had worn a fitted skirt that came mid-thigh, perfectly respectable but the inches of soft smooth skin was now driving me crazy and I wanted those thighs draped round me before I had to share her with my family for the evening.

  "How about I speak to him about it and you listen?"

  "You think he's that fragile?" I said, now worried.

  She looked ahead as we turned into the side road that leads to my parents'. "Yes. He also idolizes you even more than Max and any criticism from you at the moment needs to be given carefully."

  "Okay, but you need to tell
me more about the split as I think I may've downplayed it and thought he was being dramatic." We pulled into the driveway, the sky overcast, threatening rain. A car I knew was Max's followed behind; containing a very grumpy Claire as Killian was also with Max as a family friend, and Amelie.

  We parked and I opened the boot. Seph's car was already there, as was that of my parents' friends, Keith and Lydia, who were Ava's godparents. Vanessa jumped out and grabbed her bag before I could, causing me to glare. "If you don't let me carry that in, my dad will have something to say to me," I said, frowning.

  "I'm perfectly okay carrying my own bag," she said.

  "I'm aware of that. You could probably carry mine too. However, outside of the bedroom, I'm meant to treat you like a princess, please give me the chance to do that." I held out my hand, causing her to sigh and pass over the bag.

  "Caveman," she said under her breath.

  "You can't want me to be like that in bed and not anywhere else. I'm not some pansy-arsed metrosexual, Van, don't give me mixed signals," I said as the door opened and my dad and Marie stepped out, Seph and Payton behind them.

  "Jackson!" Marie rushed over, holding out her arms and capturing me in a large hug. "You look well, far less tired than usual. Have you been sleeping better?"

  It was a loaded question. The answer was yes, although I hadn't been getting more sleep, just better quality. And I had been working less, needing spare time for the woman who was watching me with my step-mum and smiling broadly. "Much better," I said. "This is Vanessa. I know you've spoken about dad's party. Vanessa, this is Marie."

  Marie eyed Vanessa approvingly and smiled. "Jackson's girlfriend. I'm so pleased to meet you. You know, when Jackson was eight he told everyone he'd never have a girlfriend because girls were mushy and disgusting. I did worry for a while that growing up with Claire and Amelie had completely put him off ever having a relationship, so I'm doubly pleased to meet you. This is my husband and Jackson's father, Grant."