Page 23 of The Other Side

Brant shifts as he withdraws his cellphone from his back pocket. “I want you to have my number.”

“Bran—”

“In case you have any questions about the addition,” he interrupts. “You should be as involved as Jesse is. If you have a suggestion, I want to know about it.”

I exhale through a smirk, licking my lips as I glimpse over my shoulder. “Okay,” I breathe, plucking my phone from my crossbody.

We trade tender expressions as I create a new contact. He reads off the numbers for me to input, and then I’m sending him a simple text so he has my information.

I offer a tight-lipped smile, tucking my phone in my bag. I inch forward, and Brant steps aside when I reach the door of my SUV. But just as my left palm curls around the handle, he grabs it.

My head whips to him, electric sparks crackling between our flesh. In a flash, he connects his lips to my knuckles, the grate of his stubble lighting goosebumps up my arm.

His calculated eyes poke over the princess-cut diamond on my ring finger.

And then he releases me.

“You have a good night, Callie.”

He walks around me, and my right palm instantly cradles my tingling hand. My gaze follows his journey back into the tap room. Presumably, to close out his tab.

Shit.

Chapter 8

Callie Rae

I’m sipping my Cabernet when Lindsey pipes up from across the dark, wood table.

“How’s the wedding planning going?” Her posture is prim in the rich, leather seat. The swells of her augmented breasts peek out of her lace bustier, and it’s nearly impossible not to stare.

I shuffle to cross my legs, my fingers tugging the satin hem of my long-sleeve mini dress. The bold flavor of the wine trickles down my throat when I’m about to answer.

But Jesse’s voice interjects from beside me.

“I’m allowing Callie to take the reins from this point.” His finger grazes the underside of my chin, and my head turns toward him. I meet Jesse’s dark eyes as he wears a smirk over his smooth jaw. “I promised to give Callie whatever she wanted. And that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

The corner of my mouth spasms, discomfort knocking into me before it curls up in compliance. Jesse’s words are sweet, but there’s always this dramatization in front of guests.

Specifically, Roger and Lindsey Wellis.

“Well, I’ve been thinking about it,” I start, pivoting my attention back to Lindsey. Her shiny lips carefully hug the rim of her wine glass, her blue eyes expanding with curiosity inside her thick lashes. “I’m growing a little nervous about having a huge, extravagant wedding.” My gaze dips from hers when I set my drink down. Then I’m slightly scrunching my nose. “I don’t know.”

“I’ve never heard that one before,” she teases. “What other kind of wedding would you want?”

My fingers tuck a few soft locks behind my ear. Jesse has his right calf resting on his left thigh, and I reach for his hand in his lap. His palm flips upward to welcome me, injecting me with enough confidence.

“I suppose I’m just the type of person who believes less is more,” I add.

I weave my fingers between Jesse’s long digits. I cement my stare to our hands on top of his black slacks, and my gaze eventually drags up to his. I’m silently pleading for his support. Not just to rub it in his business partner’s wife’s face, but to prove to me that our wedding is more than just a money showcase.

“Oh, honey,” Lindsey chimes in playfully. “When you have the kind of money Jesse has, you make the most of it. Not many people are lucky enough to get that opportunity. Trust me. Own it and enjoy it.”

I rotate my attention to her, a stale smile on my face. My eyes peek over her blonde head of hair, and the floor-to-ceiling windows of the restaurant display the panoramic view of the bay.

The fascination of it all begins to haze over.

“She’ll come around.”