Page 40 of Shades of Grey & Gold

“You do. Cause you’re here. With me.”

“Or are we just both here with Bart?”

“Convenient excuse.”

“I’m a legal professional. I can deny things with confidence.”

He laughs again, and I look away, but I’m smiling so hard it hurts.

Bart trots ahead as we start back towards the house. Cal’s hand brushes mine once. Then again. And the third time, he stops pretending it’s accidental and lets his fingers catch mine.

He looks down, then up at me, waiting for a sarcastic remark, but he just smiles and looks at me like…

God, like I’m everything.

Like this is normal. Like this is what we do.

Like maybe we aren’t falling at all; just picking up exactly where we left off.

Chapter Fourteen

Max

Callan’sphoneringsfromits place on the desk, but he just looks at the ceiling of his office and stands up, turning to face the window while running a hand down the back of his neck.

We’ve been going over the Halbrook case all morning, trying to sort through the witness list one more time. Bart is curled up next to me on the couch and I have a notebook open to a list of names.

The ringing stops. A beat goes by, and the ringingstarts up again.

“Are you…” I pause for dramatic effect and pop my lips, “gonna get that?”

I eye the phone still sitting on his desk as he sighs heavily and turns back around. He pushes his chair out of the way and places his hands, palms down, on the desk, leaning forward and staring at me with those golden green eyes of his. He looks tortured, like he’s trying to solve a problem in his head.

It’s been two weeks since our first non-date dinner date. We’ve had three more actual dates where he has been a perfect gentleman and taken me out—and then kissed me on the cheek on my porch at the end each time. Which is lovely, however, all I want to do is put his mouth on mine, among other places.

And I think he knows it.

I’ve enjoyed every second of the doors being opened for me, him always making sure I’m walking on the inside of the sidewalk, holding my hand while we walk down Main Street, and little secret touches during the day at the office. His hand on my back on the elevator, his pinky grazing mine when he leans in to look at something he absolutely does not need to look at on my computer screen. The way he presses his leg against mine while we sit in the conference room and he nods at whatever fresh idea Richard has for bringing in more business. Every touch sends a zing of something delicious up my spine.

But today, he’s been a little short and the circles under his eyes are darker than normal. He said earlier his brother has been calling every night with business issues and kept him up late last night. I haven’t pushed on getting more information because he seems especially frustrated when he mentions his brother. Nico, his brother, is in Providence, and I think he’s trying to be a good big brother by helping how he can.

I focus on his eyes and smile, looking back down pointedly at the phone that has started its third attempt at getting him to answer.

He sighs again and drops his head in what looks like defeat.

He stands up, rolls his shoulders back and walks over to the coat rack behind his desk. He slides his arms in his long, black coat.

Something in his eyes darkens when he glances back at me, his face is no longer the happy-go-lucky Callan who was just telling me about a case with a dog rescue the other day. His lips are in a tight, straight line as his hand pulls a phone from his coat pocket.

“Yeah.” He answers the phone with a grunt instead of a greeting.

I frown at his cell phone still sitting on top of his desk, then back to the second one against his ear.

“I’m gonna—” I whisper, confused and feelinglike I’m intruding.

I stand up to give him privacy.

“Yeah, I get it,” he says abruptly to the person on the other end of the phone, and in two long strides he beats me to the door. Stretching his arm across the doorway and blocking me from leaving, his eyes on mine, he says into the phone, “I heard you.”