Them Back Dimples (Some Girls Do It #4)

by May Sage

  Her stomach recoiled, and she had to force herself to step in, her mind coming up with a thousand sinister reasons why the house could be occupied at eight o’clock. All of them revolved around Bruce finding out where she lived.

  She cursed herself for not having a phone – to call the police in case she needed to. Most people might have to at one point in their lives, but those who used to date an abusive asshat definitely needed one. How stupid of her.

  She walked on her tiptoes, and kept her shoes on, wanting to be ready if she needed to flee, but when she got to the lounge, all her worry disappeared, and her tense limbs relaxed.

  Wren.

  He was sitting on the breakfast table, a beer in hand. Cali had never seen him wearing anything as fancy as the shiny, dark grey suit and tie he had on today. Normally, he wore jeans, or just his scrubs, sometimes.

  “Hey,” she said, feeling weird because she couldn’t stop looking at him.

  She’d always known that the man was beautiful, of course, but now she realized how it was affecting her. She felt his dark green gaze penetrating her.

  “Hey back.”

  There was something in his tone; and edge that made her consider taking a step back. He was angry. Even when they hid it, she knew how to recognize angry men now.

  “Where were you?”

  Oh god. She’d heard that before. Her heart was beating against her chest at a thousand miles per minute.

  “I… Lucy took me out for dinner. She introduced me to a friend of hers. Piper,” she found herself clarifying.

  She didn’t like it; not one bit. Why couldn’t she help herself from justifying herself?

  Because when you don’t, you get punched, that’s why.

  “Girls night out, hm?” he replied, attempting a weak smile.

  “I guess. You were out, too?” she gestured to his suit, and he looked down, as though he’d forgotten all about it.

  “No, I guess… I got out of work early. Oh well. Never mind.”

  He got up and walked away, towards his room; before he’d reached the door though, he said, “I don’t have your phone number.”

  She bit her lip, wishing she’d bought that damn burner phone.

  “I don’t have one, yet. I don’t have a lot of spare money, so until I get a job…”

  “It’s not safe to be out and about without being able to call for help, Cali,” he told her, his tone nice, gentle even. “I’ll get you one tomorrow. For my own piece of mind.”

  Wren didn’t formulate it like a question and left without giving her the time to reply either.

  “You’re bossy!” she called after him, and he just gave her the finger, without turning back.

  Cali couldn’t stop herself from smiling at that point. Not that she’d accept the phone – she’d get one herself, now that she’d realized how important it was, but if she wasn’t mistaken, Wren hadn’t been angry at her. He’d been worried about her.

  Yeah, that probably wasn’t going to help that damn crush of hers.

  Wren

  He knew her too well, although they just had spent a few weeks together; Wren didn’t have the shadow of a microscopic doubt that Cali was going to be difficult.

  The morning after she'd unknowingly stood him up – mainly because he hadn’t had any way of telling her that he intended to take her out – she got downstairs, dressed and ready to go, first thing in the morning. There was a note in her hand, and she moved towards the breakfast bar to drop it there.

  Cali stared at him, caught off guard when she found him leaning on the kitchen countertop, smirking at her. He moved to take the note she was holding, and read it with some amusement. Just as he expected her to, she was telling him not to bother getting her a phone; she was going to get one herself. Of course she was.

  “You're quite predictable, you know,” he told her, crushing the paper in his hand and tossing it in the trash behind him. “All ready?” He asked, grabbing the jacket he’d dropped on the kitchen bar. “Let's go.”

  “Let's go where?” she asked, visibly confused.

  “Shopping,” he said, as if it was obvious. He even managed to prevent himself from wincing at the term. Shopping wasn’t exactly his favorite pastime, hence why he hired a personal shopper for the day to day stuff he needed. And basically, everything. Laura also grabbed his clothes, shoes, ties… He’d managed to avoid shopping since the day the hospital had hired him.

  “Shopping,” she repeated, dubious. “It's your day off?”

  “Week off,” he amended. “My next shift isn't before Monday.” In theory, if he didn’t get called in.

  “And you want to spend your first day off in about a year shopping with me?”

  Strangely, he did. His initial plan – sleeping as much as humanly possible with the occasional toilet and food breaks – had seemed like a brilliant idea the previous afternoon, but Wren had slept from eight o’clock, after Cali had come back for her girls’ night out, up until seven in the morning. Now he was completely refreshed, and ready for some fun.

  Fun meant spending some time with Cali, though he would have preferred to do just about anything other than shopping; but the woman needed a phone. Hell, she probably needed a lot of things, come to think of it. He’d noticed the small suitcase she’d brought upstairs with her the day she had moved in. There was no way she had enough clothes in there; which explained why he always saw her in larger t-shirts and PJ pants. The previous night had been the first time he’d seen her wearing jeans –and even then, she’d still been rocking the large t-shirt look.

  If he bypassed the lack of variety of her wardrobe, he also knew that his upper floor was dreadfully dull. Sure, she spent most of her time downstairs, and he didn't want to change that, but he still liked the idea of her feeling at home upstairs, in her space. Girls liked decorations, girly shit like throws and cushions; he knew that there was none of that upstairs, just a simple bed, a wardrobe, and a desk in her room; nothing at all elsewhere.

  “I need to go shopping to get some stuff for the house, you need a phone. We might as well go together,” he shrugged, making it sound as casual as he could.

  He knew she was going to argue when he made it clear he wasn’t going to let her spend a dime, but that was another battle for another time.

  “So how’s the job hunting going?” Wren asked, and her growl said just about everything before she even opened her mouth.

  “It's been a nightmare so far,” Cali confessed, her shoulders dropping, dejected. “I haven't had one response; not even one. I check my junk mail, just to make sure of that.”

  She tried to shrug it off, attempting to hide how much it affected her, and failing. Wren couldn’t say he was surprised; they’d talked about it, and she’d been open when she’d confessed to her lack of qualifications, or references. It was a damn shame; he knew she’d work hard, and it didn’t take an astrophysics’ degree to know how to operate a photocopier, dammit.

  Wren stretched his arm, wrapping it around her shoulders, and squeezed sympathetically. The poor woman really would have a hard time finding anything by herself, and she didn’t accept help. And she was so proud, he was surprised she'd even said yes to living with him in the first place.

  “You know Cali, I'm pretty certain that Patrick would be more than happy to take you on. Harris Toys is always expanding, and they’re looking for a new admin assistant every other week.”

  He felt her muscle contract under the arm he still hadn’t moved. The very idea stressed her out, for some reason.

  “I just can't. I need to stand on my own two feet. I need to be able to pay rent, find a place of my own, and I can't do that without a job - a job where I won't get fired after a week, because it turned out that my friend gave me a position I’m not qualified for.”

  Wren sighed, seeing her point, although, it annoyed him to no end. She didn’t need to pay rent anywhere, dammit. She lived at his place. There was zero reason why she should think about leaving so soon.


  Unless she didn’t like it there. His jaw set, he directed them towards the first home décor store. “What do you need here?”

  He shrugged. He needed everything she wanted.

  “Not sure? I’ve noticed my place is a little impersonal, I guess. Now I have some time, I’m thinking about sorting it out. You don’t mind helping me out?”

  Cali smiled, shaking her head.

  “Okay, this has to be said. Contrarily to what you assume, I’m not stupid, and every single time you try to manipulate me into doing something nice for me, I see through it.”

  Ugh, she’d had to point it out.

  “Consider it said. Now come pick some damn girly shit so we can get out of there as fast as possible, woman.”

  Cali

  Cali was having a blast; she’d never done this – the shopping thing with a male companion.

  “That’s pink,” Wren deadpanned, his disgusted expression revealing exactly what he thought of the pale salmon color she was pointing to on the chart in front of them.

  “Don’t they say that real men wear pink?” Cali teased him.

  “I'm fine with wearing it, I just don't want it on my wall,” he replied, leaning close to her – so close she felt his breath on her; her breathing hitched but Wren seemed entirely ignorant of the effect he had on her. “There,” he said, singling out another shade on the piece of paper. “That’s better. More manly; almost grey, really.”

  “It’s purple,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “How is that better than pink?”

  He playfully bumped her shoulder, “That’s called a compromise, woman. And that shade won’t make anyone question whether I have a vagina. Do you like it?”

  There it was again, that question he’d asked a dozen times. She nodded, and only then did he write down the code of the paint he’d picked out. He really cared about what she thought, although her stay at his place was just a temporary measure.

  When he’d taken her to the shop, at first, she’d assumed they were there for a quick fix – a few things here and there to make his house a little more homey, but he’d talked to a member of staff about delivering, and hiring a contractor to fix things; the walls, the light fixtures, the furniture. His entire house was getting redesigned; for the better. The white walls and grand chandeliers were getting a complete overall.

  “So, what have we got left?” he asked, “We have throws, way too many cushions, lights, that water fountain you couldn’t stop looking at, a new TV stand, comfortable chairs, stuff for your room… You sure you don't want anything else?”

  “You’ve bought more than enough. In fact, I’m wondering if you aren’t secretly enjoying this shopping trip.”

  “Nothing secret about it. It was fun,” he replied, smiling down at her, and throwing his arm around her shoulders again.

  Cali felt it, like she always felt it when anyone touched her, but she didn’t shiver; she hadn’t, even the first time he’d done it. His touch was… familiar. Which didn’t make sense.

  “Shall we go get lunch after this?”

  Glancing at his watch, she was surprised to see that three hours had already passed.

  “I could eat.”

  “What would you like?” he asked, and she immediately answered, “Burgers.”

  That made Wren frown, saying, “You don't have to pick the cheapest thing you can think of, Cali. You feed me all the time, let me take you out for lunch somewhere nice.”

  She vehemently shook her head, pointing down to her stomach, “I want burgers in my tummy. Preferably soon.

  Wren laughed, shaking his head. “You’re the best date ever.”

  Cali felt her damn cheeks fire up; this wasn’t a date, he was just throwing that out there because she wanted burgers like one of his buddies, rather than all the refined women he probably had relationships with. But telling herself that didn’t stop her from hyperventilating a little, thinking about ever dating Wren Richards.

  A girl could dream.

  “Let’s pay for all the crap, then we can go get some food.”

  Wren

  They were sitting at a little burger joint he knew in town, and Wren was staring at his companion, not even attempting to stop smiling; he couldn’t help himself around her. She was so damn easy to hang out with, now that she’d stopped being so skittish. The huge bruise on her face that had pissed the shit out of him had also faded, which made looking at her a pure pleasure. She was so freaking adorable. Actually, sometimes, like just now, as she pondered over the menu, head crocked, biting her plump lip, he didn’t think adorable cut it. Right now, she was downright gorgeous.

  Wren was caught between a rock and a hard place, so to speak. The hard part was doubly true. He crossed his legs to conceal the hard on he sported when he stared at her too long.

  Cali appealed to him in every respect, and if Patrick Johnson had just introduced them, he would have made a move on her ages ago; but they lived together. That made things so complicated because she didn't have anywhere else to go. If he tried to seduce her and she shot him down, she’d feel awkward as fuck, and she’d probably want to leave.

  Wren loved to have her at his place; coming home to a friend had done a lot of good for him. But if they’d met under different circumstances they could have dated like normal people.

  Dammit.

  “So,” he said, desperate for a distraction. “Might as well argue about it now. Mobile phone.”

  Cali immediately started to shake her head, expecting his next words.

  “No way am I letting you buy one for me – it costs a fortune, and you can’t even pretend that you’d benefit in any way.”

  “But I would,” he replied, interrupting her tirade. “I'll be able to know that you're safe. The idea of a pretty young thing like you walking in New York City without a phone aggravates me. That's how most horror stories start, you know?”

  She winced, unable to deny it.

  “Be that as it may, I will take care of it myself.”

  It was definitely none of his business, but he found himself pushing it.

  “How much money do you have?”

  She blushed and looked away.

  “You don't have a job right now, so the only disposable income you have is what you have in your account; how much is it?” He knew he was being an asshole right now, but if it made her cave, he didn’t care one bit. “I have seven figures sitting in my account, Cali. I rarely spend money, because I'm basically always working. After I pay my taxes, I send a lump sum to some charities – that’s all I do with what I have, because I’ve never had anyone to take care of. Let me do it.”

  She looked at him, not saying anything, at first; but after a minute, she said, “Did they tell you about my ex? Patrick and Lucy – did they explain…”

  He shook his head, “No, but it’s not hard to guess. I’m glad you got away.”

  She nodded, thankfully not giving him any details; he didn’t want to have to track down the guy and murder him.

  “Look, I let someone help me once, and it didn’t work out for me.”

  Wren had to laugh, and that seemed to surprise her.

  “Ah,” he said. “So, you’re a once bitten sort of gal. I’ve been bitten exactly nineteen times.”

  Wren didn’t often speak of it, but if it helped him get through to the stubborn girl, he needed to make a quick trip down memory lane. “Our common friends seem to respect our privacy so I doubt they told you my story. Not that they know much about it, anyway. You see, I never knew my parents. I was one of those kids who were given away too young to remember anything about the people who brought me to life. I went into the system when I was a toddler. You don't want to know about most of the houses where I had been assigned to – the nineteen – but each time, I had hope, although I went from one nightmare to the next. When I was fifteen, that hope was rewarded. I got lucky. I didn't get adopted, the Jefferson’s couldn't afford that; they didn’t have much and the money coming from the government was really help
ing them, and they couldn’t have cared for us without it. But they loved us – there was only me and another kid there, an older kid.” He stopped talking, closing his eyes as he thought about Ralph. “Anyway, the Jefferson’s decided to help me, instead of beating me down, and I let them. I went to college, and they paid what my scholarship and my part-time job wouldn’t cover. I’m a surgeon now. I earn a decent amount of money, and last year, on their anniversary, I bought them the boat they’d always wanted. Do you know how amazing it was to be able to do that? I wouldn’t have, if I hadn’t taken their handout. If I had stayed proud and distant, like my foster brother, I wouldn’t have made it where I am now. Refusing help is easy. It’s the coward way out. Opening up is giving someone the opportunity to hurt you, and trusting that they won’t. I guess the question is, do you trust me, Cali?”

  Cali

  Cali wondered if she was having lunch with an endangered specimen; she wasn’t sure whether a bunch of scientists should dissect Wren, or if they should clone him to make sure that every woman like her out there could have their own version of him.

  Trust him?

  In all honesty, not so long ago, she hadn't believed that she would ever trust anyone again, but then, Lucy had happened, restoring her faith in humanity. And now, she’d met Wren. The man gave selflessly, and always seemed surprised when she did something for him; he didn’t expect or demand it. The only thing he was adamant about was that damn phone they were discussing, and he insisted because of how important it was for her safety; how could she not trust him?

  It wasn’t only her pride that had led her to refuse his offer, though; the man was generous to a fault and she didn't want to take advantage.

  “I don't get why you want to do this,” she confessed. “You have no reason to spoil me the way you do. But you do want to do it. And I do trust you. So… What kind of phone are we getting?”