Keeping Denver

Iwake the next morning feeling warm, and the sun’s light shining on my face. My cheek is currently pressed against a hard chest, and a leg draped over one of Callan’s thighs. The moment I attempt to move, a strong arm wraps around my middle, keeping me in place. Feeling totally out of my element, I try pulling away once more, and his arm tightens. Callan’s warm breath skirts across the side of my face. ‘Relax, baby.’

Relax? How am I supposed to relax when I’ve never slept next to a man before? I was alone going to bed last night. Callan said he would crash on the couch. ‘Uh…Callan?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Why are you in bed with me? You were supposed to sleep on the couch. If that was a problem, you could have said something, and I would have traded places with you.’

‘I won’t have you sleeping on the damn couch. I checked on you a few times, finding you restless, so I waited until you finally fell asleep before climbing into bed.’

‘Why?’

Callan nuzzles his nose in the crook of my neck. ‘Because of how you’re acting now. I knew you’d freak out when I only wanted to comfort you. I had no other intentions than wanting to make you feel safe and not alone.’

‘I’m not freaking out.’ I lie. I’m totally freaking out. Callan’s chuckle tells me he knows I’m full of crap.

‘Baby,’ his voice vibrates in his chest.

Oh god. There’s that word again.

‘Even in sleep, your body knows what it wants. That’s why as soon as I laid down in the bed, you tucked your body close to mine. Right where it belongs.’

‘I did not!’

Callan chuckles again. ‘Baby. You slept on me all night and didn’t move an inch.’

I open and close my mouth, looking for a reason to protest. ‘I’m so embarrassed.’

‘Nothing to be embarrassed about.’ Callan starts stroking my hair.

‘I think things are moving a little too fast.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Callan,’ I breathe a sigh of frustration as I move away from him. This time he doesn’t stop me.

Callan climbs out of bed, revealing he’s wearing nothing but a pair of white boxer briefs, fitting him so well, they leave nothing to the imagination. I don’t know how long I’ve been staring at Callan’s impressive package, but it was long enough for me to miss whatever he just said.

‘My eyes are up here, Denver.’ Callan’s amusement is evident.

I snap my head up, feeling my cheeks heat. ‘What?’

‘I said I’m going to make some breakfast. Would you like coffee?’

‘Oh. Yeah,’ I stumble over my words. ‘Coffee and food.’ Callan tries suppressing a smile, clearly amused.

Suddenly, I remember what day it is. ‘We’re going to be late for work!’ I leap from the bed, and rush toward the bathroom.

‘Denver, relax. We’re working from home today.’

I stop in my tracks. ‘Can we do that?’

‘I’m the boss, remember. I can do whatever the hell I want.’

‘Why are we staying ho…I mean here?’ I still can’t let myself wholeheartedly believe what Callan said last night, about being where I belong.

Callan finishes pulling on his sweatpants and strides up to me, cupping my face. ‘I want you to say it, Denver.’

‘Say what?’

‘Home.’ His eyes search mine. ‘This is home, baby.’

I bite my bottom lip, not sure about this entire situation. Can I trust Callan? Does he mean all the words he has spoken? I search his eyes, looking for deception. Trying to find a single reason, or feeling why I shouldn’t trust him. This whole thing is insane, but I find the word leaving my lips on a whisper. ‘Home.’

Fifteen minutes later, after taking care of business in the bathroom, I dress in a pair of jeans, which fit me perfectly and the red sweater I spotted the night before. Then, follow my nose to the kitchen, where I find a shirtless Callan standing over the stove. ‘Something smells good.’

‘You like eggs?’ he asks over his shoulder, where he pauses to drink in the sight of me. ‘You look amazing, as always.’

As always? I find it hard to believe Callan Hawk thinks I have looked amazing. Nevertheless, his compliment has an effect on me. Ducking my head, I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. ‘Thanks. You’ll have to tell whoever picked the stuff out I said thank you.’

‘That would be Maggie, my stylist. I’ll tell her you said thank you. She’ll be stopping by tomorrow with some more stuff.’

‘Callan, no. You’ve already done too much. Please. I don’t need anything else.’

‘I want to do this for you, Denver. It’s not enough. You deserve more.’ The grip on the spatula in his hand tightens and the set line of Callan’s jaw tells me this is not an argument I’m going to win.

‘So, who taught you how to cook?’ I sit in one of the stools at the kitchen island.

Callan’s body relaxes, and he smiles. ‘My mom.’

‘Where does she live? Here in the city?’

‘No. She passed away.’

‘Oh. Callan, I’m so sorry.’

He shrugs. ‘It was a long time ago. Anyway, she was a single mom who worked two jobs to make ends meet. I had to learn to cook. Mom wasn’t always home in time to make a hot meal. When I was old enough, she taught me how to make a few dishes.’

‘Well, I think that’s pretty special. Now every time you make those things, it’s like having a piece of your mom with you.’ Turning the fire beneath the skillet off, Callan transfers the eggs to the plates next to him on the countertop. After buttering some toast, he turns, then sets my meal in front of me.

A few minutes later, Callan and I are in the middle of eating breakfast, when we are interrupted by a knock on the door. Callan stands. ‘That’s probably Lucas. I asked him to bring some files from the office.’ Not wanting anyone at work to know what’s going on with Callan and me, I make a move to get up. Callan senses I’m about to flee to the other room and barks. ‘Stay.’

‘Callan,’ I hiss. ‘I don’t want Lucas to know I’m here.’

Callan grinds his jaw. ‘Why is that?’ If I didn’t know any better, I would say Callan is jealous of Lucas. Looking back, that would explain his behavior toward Lucas anytime he and I were together.

‘The last thing I want is for people to gossip about us; me specifically. I don’t want to become a cliché. You know, the whole secretary sleeping with the boss.’

‘I don’t give a fuck who knows about us. Least of all, Lucas.’

I take a second to ponder Callan’s response. Something about it causes a warning light to go off in my brain. ‘Wait a minute. Why did you want Lucas to bring you what you needed? Why not Frances or anybody else?’

When Callan doesn’t answer, I narrow my eyes at him. ‘You did this on purpose. You wanted him to see me here with you. Is this your way of pissing on me or something?’

‘If that’s what you want to call it, baby.’ Callan shrugs. ‘I call it a man making it known to another man, what belongs to him.’ Callan’s caveman rant spews from his mouth just as there is another knock at the door. Without another word, he turns and answers. Only it’s not Lucas standing there; it’s Kelly. Great. Kelly showing up is worse. There is no telling what kind of crap she’s going to spread around the office. Especially since she’s had it out for me since the moment I started working there.

Kelly’s annoying voice rings out. ‘Hello, Mr. Hawk. I have those files you asked for.’ So far, Callan’s large frame blocks Kelly’s view of me.

‘Why are you bringing them and not Lucas as I asked?’ Callan’s voice carries a hint of irritation. Folding my arms across my chest, I smirk. Serves him right for trying to be a jerk.

‘Lucas got tied up down at the courthouse, so I volunteered to bring you what you needed.’ The flirtation of Kelly’s voice has me rolling my eyes.

‘I bet you did,’ I mumble under my breath. Just then, Callan shuffles to the left, placing the documents on the table beside the door.

‘What the hell is Denver doing here?’ she screeches. Kelly makes eye contact with me, her face red, and her eyes like daggers.

‘Denver is none of your concern. If I were you, Kelly, I’d tread lightly. You are my employee, not someone who shows up on my doorstep, asking personal questions. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have breakfast to finish and you have a job to get back to.’ Callan shuts the door in Kelly’s angry, shocked face. Not giving a damn, I do nothing to hide the smile that takes over mine.

‘I change my mind. I don’t care who knows I’m here. Any rumors that go around the office will be worth it because of what you just did.’

Callan strolls to the kitchen, and sits back down. ‘Kelly needed to learn her place.’

‘Kelly just wants in your pants.’ My thoughts spill from my mouth.

‘You jealous, baby?” Callan smirks and I roll my eyes.

‘No!’

‘Liar.’ Callan has no problem calling me out.

‘Whatever. You know I’m right.’

‘Just like Lucas wants to fuck you. Which, by the way, will never fucking happen.’

‘Callan,’ I sigh. ‘Lucas and I are only friends. I don’t want to sleep with him.’ I level my eyes with his.

‘That doesn’t mean he’s not going to try. The only man getting a taste of your sweet pussy will be me.’

Callan says his last statement the same moment I take a swallow of coffee, causing the warm liquid to spew from my mouth all over him and the kitchen island between us. ‘You can’t say things like that!’ My face heats.

‘Facts, baby. Only speaking facts.’ Callan retrieves a dish towel from a drawer near the stove, and begins drying himself.

Feeling a bit awkward, and not sure what to say, I remain seated, collecting my thoughts for a moment. I’m staring at my plate, pushing what’s left of my eggs around with my fork. Placing a fresh mug of coffee in front of me, Callan sits, and resumes eating his meal. ‘Callan,’ I decide to speak what is currently on my mind. ‘You don’t know me. Not well enough to say such personal things.’

‘I know enough to realize what I want.’ Callan places his fork on his almost empty plate, and focuses solely on me. ‘I want you.’

I lean back in my chair. ‘Other than bringing you coffee, taking notes, and scheduling your dry cleaning, you and I know nothing about one another.’ Needing space, I stand. ‘You’re moving way too fast for me, Callan.’

Pushing himself from the counter, Callan makes his way toward me. Drawn to him, I take a step forward. He brushes my hair from my shoulder, and his fingertips graze the side of my neck just below my ear, causing my skin to prickle. ‘You telling me you want to ignore this pull between us, and the way your body reacts to my touch?’ His hand falls as he runs his palm down my arm, before settling his hands on my waist

‘I’m not denying anything.’ I swallow hard, trying to ignore the pounding of my heart. Before I have a chance to say more, Callan leans down, and kisses my forehead. I close my eyes as his lips linger for a moment, and completely forget what I was about to say.

‘Good. Glad we’re on the same page.’ Stepping back, taking his warmth and touch with him, Callan places our dishes in the sink.

I finally blink. Forehead kisses must be this man’s superpower. How can one simple action have left me mute?

Later that evening, I’m lying on the couch with my head resting on a pillow after spending most of my day lazing around watching Callan work on his laptop and make phone calls. ‘How did you know where to find me last night?’ I don’t know why I haven’t asked this question already.

Closing his laptop, Callan sets it on the table in front of him. ‘I had my driver turn around and attempt to follow you. You were so angry about having to stay late after work, and it continued to nag at me. At first, I thought you were acting irrationally, but quickly realized that’s not you. In the weeks you have worked for me, not once have you complained.’ Callan shakes his head. ‘My gut was telling me something was off. I told myself to at least see you got home okay. By the time I had the driver turn around to find you, you were gone. We drove around for hours, until I caught sight of two men walking from between the two buildings where we found you. I wouldn’t have given them a second thought until I recognized the bag in one man’s hand to be yours.’

My mind drifts back to the vague awareness of the men Callan may be referencing. ‘I remember hearing voices.’ I drop my eyes to my lap, ‘Whoever they were, they had stolen the only possessions I owned.’

Callan clears his throat, and scoots to the edge of the sofa, leaning his elbows on his knees. ‘I don’t want to be presumptuous, but why not get a hotel when you found you couldn’t stay at the shelter?’

I hang my head. ‘I had found an apartment. It wasn’t in a good part of town, but I liked it well enough. The guy who claimed to be the apartment manager seemed nice enough too.’ I wring my hands together, and sigh. ‘Anyway, I went back the next day with the key, ready to move in, only to find he wasn’t the manager. He had taken my money and skipped town. I left with no money and no apartment. It’s my fault really for being so stupid.’

‘It is not your fault you were taken advantage of, Denver. You’re far from stupid,’ Callan growls, his anger over my admission apparent. Standing, Callan makes his way to the bar at the corner of the living room and fixes a tumbler of whiskey. ‘Tell me your story, Denver. I want to know everything there is to know about you. The real you.’ I watch him pour a small amount of white wine into a glass, before walking back to the sofa and handing it to me. Callan sits beside me, relaxing into the back cushion, and takes a sip of his drink.

Sitting up on the couch, I run my sweaty palm up and down my thighs. I don’t trust easily, but with Callan, I feel I can trust him with all the ugly parts of me.

‘Tell me about your family. How did you end up homeless?’ Several questions slip from Callan’s lips.

I take a sip of the wine he handed me and think back to the last memory, one of the only memories I have of my mother. ‘My mother was beautiful. One of the few memories I have seems more like a polaroid picture that I keep filed away for safekeeping.’ Closing my eyes, I see her standing out in the rain on a sunny day, with her face lifted to the sky. ‘From what I can remember, I look a lot like her; long red hair, fair skin, the same blue eyes.’ Sadness washes over me. ‘She seemed to be sad all the time.’

‘What about your father? Remember anything about him?’

I shake my head. ‘Nothing. I have no recollection of him.’ My mind drifts back to the final moment I shared with my mother, and the last memory she left me with. Dropping my head, I stare at the wine glass in my hand and run my fingertip around the thin rim. That day plays like snippets of a pieced together home movie as I try to explain. ‘I was almost five years old, or at least that’s what I was told. I remember sitting on a wooden bench in a hallway, and my mother kneeled in front of me.’ I feel tears stream down my face. ‘Be a good girl for mommy and stay right here. Can you do that for me?‘ I repeat the final words my mother spoke to me. I continue, ‘I nodded, smiling at her. Then remember reaching out, brushing my tiny fingertips over the freckles on her face. My mom smiled back at me, but her eyes held the same sadness they always did as she told me she loved me.’

‘Baby,’ Callan says sympathetically, and I give him a brief smile and a shrug.

‘I watched her walk down that long hallway as I played with the tattered dolly in my lap. She turned one final time, smiling at me before she disappeared around the corner.’ I pull in a shuddered breath. ‘That was the last time I saw her. She left me there and never came back. Turns out, the Children’s Home she left me that day, would become my home for a while until I started getting shuffled from one foster home to another.’ I take another sip of wine and take a deep breath to collect myself.

‘Did you ever learn why your mother left you there that day?’ Callan questions, and I wish I had the answer to give him.

‘No. And I’ve never had the means or resources to find out on my own.’

‘And there’s nothing more you can remember?’ the genuine concern in his voice warms my heart.

‘Nothing.’ I pause. ‘Maybe it’s just my mind’s way of protecting myself.’ I lift my eyes to Callan’s. ‘I never had time to feel sad for myself, and I won’t start now. My memory of my mother may not be the best, but I do know I loved her, and she loved me. I felt it that day. My life has never been easy, but I’ve survived, Callan.’

After a few moments of sitting in silence, I continue to tell him the rest of my story, telling him about all the foster homes I experienced throughout my childhood and teen years—how I became homeless. I dumped it all on him, sharing everything as he sat silently next to me, listening to every word. Turns out, purging my thoughts and life story proved to be therapeutic. ‘It was Lucas’s grandfather who helped me get the job as your assistant. He helped me fill out applications and everything. It was the first time in a long time someone had been so nice to me.’ I feel my eyes water, but hold back my emotions and continue. ‘At first, I said no. I never thought I’d get the job in the first place. Then I came in for my interview and met Frances.’ I smile. ‘I was sitting in a chair right outside your office. You came out and didn’t even see me sitting there. You walked by me as if I were invisible, and kept right on going.’

‘Baby,’ Callan sits his glass of whiskey on the coffee table, then drops to his knees in front of me. ‘Shit. I’m sorry I did that.’

‘Oh, Callan. I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty. I’m telling you this, so you understand where I’m coming from. I want you to understand my perspective of things. I’ve been overlooked my whole life. Growing up in the system has made it clear that it’s easier for people to pretend people like me don’t exist rather than fix the problems and how the system fails many of us every day. Roland was the first person in a very long time to look at me and treat me like I was human, just like him. Then, there is you. The way you look at me. You don’t see through me anymore like you did that first day. It feels like you see inside me, and it scares the crap out of me, Callan. I’m afraid to trust it—in you.’ Those last two words cause Callan to flinch a little. ‘I’m afraid that we are rushing into things. That you will wake up tomorrow and realize I am not what you want; that I am not good enough.’

Callan cups my face and wipes the tears flowing down my cheeks. ‘I see you.’ He gently kisses me before he takes my bottom lip between his teeth. ‘So, fucking beautiful. I see you, baby.’