Claiming Callie: Part three Page 5

  She says nothing, just nods. This silence leaves him more nervous than he was just minutes before, and it occurs to him like it has the last week that Jinny may be wrong about Callie’s feelings for him. “Should we go somewhere private?” he asks, hoping this will give him some clue as to the seriousness of the conversation they are about to have.

  “Yeah. That’d be great.”

  Shit. Drawing in a deep breath, Dean gestures toward the door. “We can sit in my car, if you want.”

  “Sure.” Callie moves to the door and Dean follows, then takes the lead as they walk out into the crisp, late-February air and onto the sidewalk. He guides her around the building, to where his car is parked in the back lot. Unlocking the doors, he opens the passenger side for her and closes it with a thud that mimics the thumping force of his pulse. Getting in, he waits until his door is closed to turn to her. The scent of her skin fills the tight confines of the car, clouding his head and his heart.

  He should tell her now. Before it’s too late. He opens his mouth to speak, then stops as Callie beats him to it.

  “I haven’t been completely honest with you,” she says.

  The words are like an electric amp to his heart. That’s my line. Then it hits him. Maybe she’s going to tell me first. Maybe she’s going to admit her feelings. He waits, every part of him on alert, ready to absorb what she has to say.

  “Maya has actually approached me twice now. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but…” She pauses to fiddle with the hem of her coat, and Dean frowns. This isn’t the way he expected this conversation to start, but okay…

  Callie glances at her busy hands. “Anyway, she seems pretty bothered by us, and I’m positive she wants you back. Operation Get the Girl worked, which makes what I’m about to say a little bit easier…” She bites her lip, and he has to force his hands to stay still, to not pull her lip from her teeth.

  “I can’t do this anymore,” she says.

  Her eyes meet his again, and it takes a moment for her words to register. And when they do, they hurt. A twisting, stabbing, cutting kind of hurt.

  He rewinds their conversation, trying to make sense of what she has just said, because she can’t mean what he thinks she does. That she’s calling Operation Get the Girl quits. That she’s calling him quits. Not when he’s so close. Not when the truth is on the tip of his tongue.

  “I don’t understand,” he says, nearly choking over the hope that he’s wrong.

  “I have some stuff of my own to figure out, and I think I need to be able to date and be free to do it. I need to think without this…this scheming we’re doing getting in the way. It’s screwing with my head. But I realize you’re not actually with Maya yet, and I’m probably messing this all up to some extent, so I’m giving you your money back. I don’t feel right taking it. I haven’t since you gave it to me, which is why I never used it to pay down my bills. I held onto it instead.”

  Dean’s eyes widen in horror as she pulls a check out of her coat pocket and thrusts it toward him. He takes in the curvy scrawl of her signature and his mind goes blank. His head spins, and the air is suddenly too thick to breathe. He pulls in one shaky breath, then another, feeling as though he can’t get enough oxygen.

  This can’t be right. I misheard. She’s supposed to have feelings for me. Why is she doing this? Why now?

  Then, like the proverbial devil on his shoulder, he thinks he hears, Jinny was wrong. She still feels nothing for me, and Jinny just wants me to end this now, before I get in too deep, so she can get out of the middle.

  Panic leeches into the back of his throat like acid. He needs more time. She’s not there yet. She can’t be. Not if she’s ready to call it quits because she thinks Maya wants him back.

  Concentrating on his breathing—because hyperventilating would not be attractive—he grabs her hands. The smooth, milky skin is soft and warm in his. “No. You’re not quitting now. Callie, you can’t do this.”

  “Why? You’ve already won. Maya wants you back, I’m pretty damned sure of it, and now you’re free to go get her. Why would you want to keep pretending any longer than you have to?” Her eyes search his, and he gets the feeling that she’s looking for something. But he can’t imagine what. He can’t even think through the fog of panic.

  Sweat pricks the back of his neck as he fumbles for a response, one that will keep her from ruining everything he’s worked so hard for. She may not feel anything for him yet, but she’s close. He knows it. She’s on a ledge. He just needs her to jump.

  What will make her stay? Think…

  “It’s not over yet. If Maya wants me back so badly, then why didn’t she just come to me?” The words come out in a rush.

  Sure, just keep on lying.

  When the expression on her face doesn’t waver, he pushes further. “She hasn’t broken up with her boyfriend yet, either. That’s just more proof that I need more time.”

  Dean has no idea if this is true. In fact, he suspects it’s quite the opposite, but he doubts Callie knows that, so the small fib is a safe bet. He should feel like a prick, playing on her emotions, but he has little time. He can do penance later. Right now, he’s fighting a losing battle. “Maya would’ve broken up with him if she really has feelings for me,” he continues, and Callie’s face softens, so he forges on. “If she really cared about me and wanted me, she’d make herself available and make it clear to me that she is. We’re not done yet. Operation Get the Girl isn’t over.”

  Callie shakes her head sadly. “I don’t know… Even if that’s true, I can’t do this anymore. I need some time. Look at the night you took me out, for example. I practically threw myself at you. I don’t know if that’s because I’m not in the right frame of mind with the anniversary of my parents’ accident approaching, or if it’s just been that long since I’ve had a man, or…” she pauses, staring out the car window.

  Or? Did the other night really have nothing to do with him? Was it merely that she wanted a physical connection with someone and Dean was simply available? The thought cripples him.

  He presses his eyes closed a moment. His head spins, and he feels as if the floor has dropped out from under him. Of all the things he expected to come out of their conversation today, this was not one of them. But he refuses to lose now.

  “No. Callie, you agreed to help me. Take a couple days off, if you really need it. But then we’re back on. I’m not letting you quit this, not when I’m so close to winning her over. Please. I need your help.”

  I need you. It’s what he should say, but doesn’t.

  Callie shakes her head. “I want the week for sure, to clear my head. We’ll see… I’ll let you know if and when I’m ready again. But I wouldn’t count on me.” She pushes the check at him once more, but this time he takes it and tears it in half.

  “I wouldn’t want it back even if you did end this, but I’m definitely not taking it until this is over.”

  Because it’s not even close to being over.

  CHAPTER NINE

  CALLIE

  Callie shimmies into her black leather leggings, then adjusts the cream-colored tunic she wears, and pulls on her black boots. The whole outfit is one Klein or another—a mixture of Calvin and Anne—treats to herself this past Christmas. Standing, she inspects herself in the mirror one last time before leaving for work. Satisfied, she makes her way through the apartment and outside. It’s cool, but warmer than usual, feeling more like spring than the tail end of winter. With temperatures in the upper fifties, she’s not the only one going without a coat today. As she drives through the city streets, she smiles, noting the people wearing nothing but a sweater or sweatshirt, no coat. She even spots several guys wearing shorts. Leave it to Northerners to think a high of fifty-six is like a heat wave.

  As she drives, she wonders if the familiar route to GGF will only be a temporary one. It’s funny how after two weeks of “dating” Dean she’s back to square one. She thought the little deal they forged might be the key to keepi
ng her position at GG Financial. Clearly, it’s not. She will make him take the money back. It’s not a fair transaction when one of the transactionees suddenly becomes too biased to complete her end of the bargain and puts a halt to the business plan. Now, she’s no further on the road to lowering the balance on her credit cards and recovering a healthy debt to income ratio than she was before she decided to go forward with the escort service.

  The only difference from then until now is that her head is a complete mess. A tangled mass of emotion—feelings threading around doubts, twisting around questions, and jumbling her fears. When she spoke with Dean yesterday, she hoped he’d confess that he had feelings for her. Instead, all he did was defend why she needed to continue their charade so that he could solidify Maya’s jealousy and win her back. It’s what she’s feared since their date on the rooftop and certainly not what she wanted to hear. A part of her wishes now that Jinny had just told her how he felt when she asked. Then again, who wants to break their best friend’s heart? I mean, he couldn’t possibly have feelings for me if he insisted, once again, he wants Maya and not me. Could he?

  Regardless, she supposes she should be grateful he stopped things when he did the night of their impromptu date. The rejection stung, but it would hurt a lot worse and she’d be a lot more confused right now if things had gone further.

  This past week, Dean’s lack of emotion where she’s concerned has only solidified her doubts about her own feelings. She had clearly imagined anything more than friendship on his part, and it made her wonder… Does she really care for Dean? Or is she just clinging to love because the hardest day of the year is just around the corner? Because she needs a distraction. Because she needs to feel something other than the annual grief of her loss and the anxiety of not having a secure job and future after graduation. So, whether Dean likes it or not, whether her heart bruises at the thought of staying away from him, she needs this time to herself. She needs to figure out what she’s going to do about a job after graduation—if she’s going to fight for her position at GGF and take the risk of banking on something so uncertain or go another route—and she needs time to see if her feelings for Dean are for real or if they’re just a result of timing, circumstance, and so desperately wanting love at this junction in her life. If she decides that these heart-wrenching feelings for him are real. If she knows in her soul that the toe-tingling, mind-numbing feeling she gets when she kisses him…that the flopping in her stomach when she conjures his image is because she wants him, because she cares for him—more than any friend should—then she’ll tell him. So that once and for all she can hear him say that he doesn’t feel the same and she can move on. But only then will she tell him.

  * * *

  Stacking the progress reports, Callie glances across the hall to Mr. Bucek’s office. The door is open, and inside she can see him sitting at his desk, pecking away at the keys of his computer like a bird.

  Getting my life on track step one: Figuring out what I’m going to do in two and a half months after graduation.

  Callie stands and makes her way to Mr. Bucek’s office and gives a polite knock on the doorframe before entering. He glances up and waves her the rest of the way in. Shutting the door behind her, she takes a seat across from him, letting her gaze take in the city view like she always does. Floor-to-ceiling windows perfectly frame the bustling city below. To think, she could’ve had an office like this someday…

  Instead, she’s only left with the Kleins to keep her company, she thinks, glancing down at her clothes—well, and Michael Kors, Prada, Gucci, Vera, and Chanel, amongst her other favorite and more quality pieces in her wardrobe. Those have to count for something.

  “What can I do for you?” Mr. Bucek asks. His eyes are kind, as always, as he leans back in his chair.

  She takes a deep breath, readying herself for the conversation she’s been wanting to avoid since he called her into the office a little over a month ago.

  “I’m hoping to discuss my future with the company. Every day is getting me closer to graduation, and I feel like it’s time for me to start planning and figuring out what I’m going to do. I need to know what my chances are of getting the open position here come May.”

  Mr. Bucek sighs. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to give you the clear-cut answer you want. After all, even if I were to say you have it, my boss will have final approval, and I can tell you that if nothing has changed in the six weeks that have gone by, you won’t get the position.”

  Callie swallows. “Fair enough.”

  “Tell me what you’ve done to turn around your situation since we first spoke about this. What steps have you taken to improve your financial forecast?”

  “Uh, well, my spending habits have changed quite dramatically in the past month. I haven’t spent anything in weeks, which has enabled me to put a little extra on my credit cards.”

  Mr. Bucek stares at her for a moment. “That’s it?” Something flickers behind his eyes, but she can’t read the emotion.

  “It’s only been six weeks,” Callie says, hearing the defensive tone of her voice but unable to stop it.

  Shaking his head, Mr. Bucek pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut before he opens them again. “You haven’t spent anything in weeks? That’s your big plan to impress us? Callie, that’s nothing.”

  “I’m a college student, for God’s sake. What do you expect? It’s not like I’m making a real income. I can barely afford the minimum payments on my cards, let alone make any leeway.”

  The hair stands on her arms. She tries to push down the fire forcing its way through her chest to her words. Talking to him today—with the edge of her feelings for Dean eating away at her sensibilities—is a mistake. She sees that now.

  “What about life changes? A few weeks laying off the racks at Macy’s isn’t enough to prove you can make sound decisions with your own finances.” Mr. Bucek’s voice elevates. “I thought my talk with you would light a fire in you. Force you to open your eyes and fix your life, change things around for yourself, but it hasn’t. You still don’t get it.” He waves his hands animatedly as he speaks. “If you continue on this path, you might get a job somewhere after graduation, but you’ll be filing for bankruptcy before you turn thirty, and then you’ll lose whatever job you’ve got. You can’t work in finances and have such a poor record yourself. It’s like a drug and alcohol counselor being a junkie. You can’t be a successful hypocrite for long.”

  Mr. Bucek’s words hit her like a slap in the face. She squints, and when she tries to speak she can’t seem to make her voice work. What the hell can she say to that?

  Glancing down, she stares at her candy-cotton pink nail polish, trying to keep her hands from trembling. She can’t look at him any longer. The particular blue shade of his eyes, the creases around his mouth—they remind her too much of her father, and his disappointment in her is far too palpable to bear.

  “Okay,” she says, hating the way her voice cracks. “So it’s clear I’ve lost my position here.”

  Dropping a fist on his desk, Mr. Bucek says, “It’s not over yet, but it’s clear you’re ready to just give up. You’ve learned nothing.” He shakes his head and Callie fights the flare of irritation that washes over her.

  What the hell does he want from me?

  She bites her lip to keep from saying something she’ll regret, but he speaks before she gets a chance to reply. “I can give you a recommendation and point you in the right direction. And a position at Prudential is yours, as long as the balance on your cards doesn’t go up and you don’t open any new accounts. That’s the best I can do. They’re a fairly new company and you are great with our clients, so Prudential can afford to overlook your financial indiscretions.”

  Callie nods and stands, needing to be alone to process what he’s saying. “Thank you,” she says, when what she really wants to say is, Go to hell. But the professional in her holds back. “I will certainly give serious consideration to the generous position
at Prudential.”

  “Aw, Callie,” Mr. Bucek says, sorrow coating his words. “This is not personal. You know I think of you like a daughter, but I’ve helped you this far, and look at where it’s gotten you. Maybe a little tough love is what you need.”

  Without another word, she opens the door and slips through it, knowing she’s wasted the last two years of her life here. Several heads pop up from their cubicles, including Steve’s. He’s grinning, his nerdy glasses enhancing the crinkles by his eyes, and Callie has to fight the urge to stomp over to his cube and smack him. It’s clear the thin walls of Mr. Bucek’s office have betrayed her.

  Putting her head down, she stares at the grain in the wood floor as she walks, fighting the rise of heat in her cheeks and the sting of tears in her eyes. She lost her job here. The only thing that could maybe make a difference would be Dean’s money. An image of Maya flashes in her head and the stinging in her eyes intensifies, paired with an aching in the back of her throat.

  No. She refuses to use his money. Not when she feels the way she does. It’s not right.

  What the hell am I going to do now?

  Taking a seat at her desk, she buries her face in her hands. Several minutes pass by before she hears someone say, “Why is it that every time we meet, you’re hiding your pretty face from me?”

  She recognizes the smooth, deep tenor of the voice immediately. How could she not? Mr. Bucek’s nephew.

  The sting in her eyes subsides, and she shoves the remnants of threatening tears away as she raises her face to his. It’s difficult, but she smiles, hoping it looks genuine and not as forced as it feels.

  “Brian,” she says, thankful her voice doesn’t shake.

  “You remembered. I was afraid you’d still be referring to me as Mr. Galveston,” he says in a deep voice, screwing up his face. “It reminds me of my father.”

  Callie laughs, but her heart isn’t in it. “Of course I remembered.”