BRIAN (The Callahans Book 1) (3 page)

Cassidy

My hands were still shaking. I spoke to him. That was the first step.

And now…lunch. It was just lunch. Why did I have to keep reminding myself of that?

I stared at myself in the mirror, patting my hair with wet hands, trying to smooth my already smooth hair back away from my face. He’d always liked my hair. I remembered how he ran his fingers through it when we lay together, the things he’d said about my resemblance to all these Greek goddesses…he didn’t even get their names right all the time. But just the thought was enough to make me putty in his hands.

I was a fool back then. A young girl who didn’t have the experience required to guard her heart properly. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.

I straightened my spine, pretending it was filled with lead. No one could hurt me as long as I could hold myself up and keep my dignity in place. Right?

I walked out into the restaurant and tried to smile when I saw him. Years of anger had built up, years of disappointment and grief for what might have been. Seeing him opened the floodgates and let it all come flowing out. I’d been watching him, following him, trying to figure out how to get close to him again. Last night had been a fluke. How was I supposed to know that the same random bar a friend—I did still have friends here in Boston—took me to would be the same he’d come stumbling out of? But it was fortuitous, and it made everything seem so random when it really wasn’t.

“I’m so glad you called,” Brian said, as he stood and held out his hands to me. “It’s been too long.”

“It has,” I agreed, trying to pretend I was just as happy to see him.

He hugged me, and I was a little surprised to find that he smelled the same. It wasn’t his cologne—though the expensive cologne he wore now was far different from the drug store variety that was all the rage twenty years ago—but something basic about him, a natural scent that was beneath the spice of his new cologne that was familiar. And it wasn’t just his scent. His height, his breadth, just the feel of his arms around me, was all the same. It took me back and reminded me how much I enjoyed the feel of his touch all those years ago.

If only I’d felt half as much comfort in my husband’s arms, maybe we wouldn’t be divorced today.

I stepped away, a little confused by the tremble that rushed through me, the imbalance that struck and caused me to practically fall into the waiting chair. Brian didn’t seem to notice. He slipped into his own chair with a grace men shouldn’t possess.

“How have you been?”

I looked over at him, wondering if he wanted me to summarize the entire past twenty-some odd years of my life, or just the highlights. Like he had a right to know. He could have been a part of it, if he’d wanted. But…

“I’m good,” I said, quashing the anger as best as I could. “And you?”

He was still wearing his wedding ring, the same ring I once took off and slipped into his jeans pocket whenever he’d meet me at our little spot, a diner not far from the college campus. It almost hurt to look at it, to remember what it felt like to watch him slip it back on his finger whenever he left my bed.

“I can’t complain,” he said, a spark coming into his eyes as he looked at me. “Business is good. My sons are still living in the area.” He sat back a little and seemed to think about it. “Life is pretty good, actually.”

“And Abigail?”

He glanced down at his hand, his thoughts moving to that ring as mine had done. “She died. Five years ago.”

That caught me by surprise. She was older than I was, but not by much. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, as though it was meaningless. However, I could see the hurt and the grief that came into his eyes.

“It was quick. Pancreatic cancer. She was gone a little over a month after diagnosis.”

“That’s tough.”

He shrugged again. “What about you? Are you married?”

“Divorced.”

He inclined his head slightly, his eyes looking through me the way they’d always done. I once swore he could read my thoughts before they were born in my mind. He denied it, but he could see me in a way no one else ever had. I thought that meant something, all those years ago. But then I realized he was just a charmer, a man who knew what to do and what to say to get a woman to do what he wanted. I was just a naive child who fell for his schemes.

I wasn’t that child any more.

“He made a mistake, letting you go.”

I shifted in my chair, really not interested in letting the conversation go in that direction despite what I’d been told to do. The waiter came then—thank God!—and took our order, clearly familiar with Brian and the complicated, off-menu order he made.

When the waiter was gone, Brian’s eyes fell to me again. It was complicated, the way it made me feel. He’d looked at me that way the first time we met, and I was putty in his hands from that moment forward. But that, of course, was before I knew he was married.

“You look confused,” he’d said to me that late fall afternoon as I stood shivering under a huge oak tree.

“Not confused. I just forgot how long it takes the bus to get here.”

“Yeah, buses around here run on their own schedules. You have somewhere you need to be?”

“I have a class in fifteen minutes. If I’m late again, the professor’s going to give me an F for my participation grade.”

“Let me give you a ride,” he said, gesturing to a Camaro parked not far down the block.

“I shouldn’t. I don’t want to put you out.”

Then came the look. He cocked his eyebrow and studied my face, his eyes slowly traveling down the length of me, taking in everything from my slim-fitted jeans to my long, heavy pea coat. And then his eyes touched mine again.

“I won’t bite.”

Add that charming smile and I was gone.

“What brings you back to Boston?”

I shrugged. “I wanted a new start. Boston seemed like as good a place as any.”

“Where’re you staying?”

“I have a little room downtown.”

“And you’re working?”

I shook my head. “Haven’t found anything yet.”

“What are you looking for?”

I picked up my water glass and ran my finger around the rim, trying not to seem too anxious. I didn’t want to frighten him off, but I didn’t want to seem uninterested, either. I was never much of an actress, and I was so afraid he would see right through me. So I stared at the water glass for a moment, wetting my finger because my hand was shaking and I couldn’t quite hold it still.

“I was an office manager for an insurance company back in Austin,” I said. “And before that, I worked at a school as a secretary.”

“I thought you were studying for a medical degree.”

I set the glass down carefully without ever having lifted it to my lips. “Things changed.” Especially when you found yourself running home with your tail between your legs, desperate for some sort of income to prove you could make your own way in the world.

“It just so happens that I’m looking for a personal assistant,” Brian said with a slow smile.

“Is that right?”

“I’d be thrilled if you’d consider the position. Most of the young ladies who’ve interviewed for it so far have been woefully unprepared to do things the way I do them. I guess I’m still a little behind the times as far as technology goes. They’re all talking about iPads and Snapchat, and I’m still wrapping my mind around text messages and email.”

I smiled. “I could explain Snapchat to you if you want.”

He shook his head. “My kids have tried to explain all that: Snapchat and Vine and YouTube and whatever else. I just don’t see the point.”

“How many kids do you have?”

His eyes brightened. “Six. Sean, Killian, Ian, Kyle, Stacy and Kevin.”

“Wow. Poor Abigail.”

He laughed. “Only the two oldest are ours. The rest are kids she took in through her job as a social worker. We adopted them.”

“That’s noble.”

“She was the noble one. I just went along for the ride.”

That was a side of Brian Callahan I’d never seen before. I thought that kind of humility might be there, somewhere, but I never saw it. I was a little impressed.

“Are you close, you and your kids?”

“It’s a fifty-fifty deal these days.” He lifted his own water glass and sipped from it, his eyes dropping from mine for a second. “When Abigail got sick, she didn’t want the kids to know until the end. Some of them understood, but others blamed me for missing out on the good days.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Kids are funny, sometimes.”

The waiter came and delivered our meals then, interrupting the conversation. The moment he was gone, though, Brian jumped back in, his eyes never really leaving mine.

“Do you have kids?”

My heart jumped into my throat. I didn’t want to talk to him about my daughter, but wouldn’t it seem odd to him if I denied having any children at all? He knew I was Catholic; he knew how badly I’d wanted a large, Catholic family like the one I grew up in. I had five brothers and four sisters. I talked about them all the time when we knew each other all those years ago, talking about my adoration for my nieces and nephews. He knew.

“A daughter.”

His eyebrows rose, proving what I’d already knew. He remembered.

“Just one?”

“My husband had a virus when he was young. Doctors thought it caused him some fertility issues.”

Brian’s expression softened. I could almost read his mind now. He felt sorry for me, that I would chose such a man. And he was thinking of how viral he was as a young man, back when we knew each other. He could have given me a house full of kids, but the man I chose couldn’t.

I could almost smell the testosterone coming off of him.

“Take the job,” he said after a few bites of his steak. “If it works out, great. If not, no hard feelings.”

I nodded. “I appreciate it.”

He smiled broadly.

Brian to the rescue. He’d always had this need to rescue damsels in distress. And once again, I’d offered him the perfect scenario.

I was once the putty. But now he was.

***

Brian showed me around the office, introducing me to the secretaries and executives he worked with on a daily basis. I wasn’t officially his assistant until Monday morning, but he was so obviously in need of help now. There were stacks of papers on his assistant’s desk, each one more demanding than the last in the need for him to sign off on something or to read through some report. And emails…he showed me his email inbox, and I was overwhelmed. I couldn’t imagine how overwhelmed he was.

There was actual work to be done.

He brought me in to introduce me around and get the paperwork started, but I ended up staying to sift through his emails. It was nearly six when I finally came up for air, pressing enter on the last response I felt comfortable writing today.

My cell phone buzzed. I don’t like looking at my cell phone these days. The only person who ever texts me these days is not someone I want to speak to, but I couldn’t ignore it.

Do you have something for me?

What could I say? No? I just spent six hours with Brian, and I knew that they knew. They were watching me.

But what could I say?

“How’s it going?”

I jumped, almost convinced that they were here, that they’d come to force my hand. But it was only Brian, leaning against the doorframe, looking like a man half his age.

“I’m good.”

He smiled. “I know. I just got an email from Killian, the head of the PR department. He’s very grateful that you sent him the copy of that contract for the new pizza franchise.”

I stood, knocking my hip against the edge of the desk. Brian stepped forward, but I held out my hand to show that I was okay.

“I was wondering what time you want me here tomorrow.”

“Seven. That way we can get in a few hours of work before human resources calls you down to do their security checks and whatever.”

“Great.” I was fumbling for something else to say. I needed him to stay here; I needed to see his cellphone, or if he had an old-fashioned rolodex…I needed names, numbers. Needed anything I could find. “Did you have plans this evening?”

He nodded, looking slightly uncomfortable. “I have a date, actually.”

“Oh, well, don’t let me keep you.”

He studied my face for a long second. “Are you okay, Cassidy? You seem…off.”

“I’m fine. I’m just going to organize a few things in here, then I’ll go, too.”

He studied me a second longer, then he held up a file he’d had in his hand. “This needs to be organized, but it can wait till morning.”

“No problem.”

Our fingers brushed as I took the file, and I hated that my cheeks flushed and my chest constricted just the littlest bit. He shot me one last look, then turned, calling a goodbye over his shoulder.

I waited fifteen minutes, figuring that’s how long it would take him to make his way down to the parking garage. Then I slipped out of my office, checking the secretary’s desk, grateful to see she was one of those young women who believed in keeping to the letter of the contract, gone at exactly five o’clock every night. No one else was around.