Going All In (4 page)

When he glanced over his shoulder, he was surprised to find a dark, defensive gaze meeting his. “Hardly. Have you read the nutritional label on those noodles?”

He dropped the contents back in the bag and leaned against the desk. “Then why are you eating them?”

She averted her gaze and shifted from one foot to the other. “They’re cheap.”

Cheap?
Why would Callie be concerned about the cost of a meal? He stared at her, figuring she’d eventually grow uncomfortable enough with the scrutiny to be a little more forthcoming. It took longer than expected, but she finally caved.

“I’m saving for a pair of boots.” Her eyes brightened as if she were seeing them in her mind and her lips curved into a smile. “They’re the softest leather I’ve ever felt and they come up to here.”

His gaze drifted to her leg as she swiped her hand across the middle of her thigh. He gulped, envisioning her in thigh-high boots with a short skirt, flashy belt, and low-cut top. Every guy in the room would froth at the mouth like a buck during rut. Tempers would flare, horns would lock, and it would be a fight to death to be the one to take her home.

She laughed self-consciously. “Sorry, you don’t care about my boots.”

Unfortunately, he did care. With tremendous effort, he dragged his gaze away from her legs and up to her brown doe eyes, shimmering with excitement over the new boots. If he had a chair handy, he’d pull it up beside her, plant his ass, and have her tell him every last detail about those boots, right down to the stitching and how they were made.

He drew in a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. He really wanted to see her wearing them. And, heaven help him, he couldn’t deny he also wanted to be the lucky bastard who got to take them off.

As he grew increasingly uncomfortable in not only his tightening jeans, but also his skin, he took off his cap, rubbed the top of his head, then worked the cap back in place. He was sure she’d already made this connection for him, but somewhere between the soft leather of the boots and her thighs, he’d gotten lost. “So what do the ramen noodles have to do with these new boots?”

“Rather than eating out all the time, I bring my lunch to save money. That way I can get them out of layaway sooner. And you can’t get much cheaper than ramen.”

“That’s the truth.” He’d singlehandedly kept the company in business for years. But why did she need to save up to buy new boots? She drove a Mercedes. Why didn’t she have access to Daddy’s fat bank account or credit card?

What about a rich boyfriend?

Until now, he hadn’t considered the possibility of her having a boyfriend, rich or otherwise. Hell, until today, he couldn’t have cared less. But now… yeah, now he wondered.

“You’re doing that zoned-out trance thing again,” she said, breaking into his thoughts. “What’s on your mind?”

There wasn’t any way to ask what was on his mind without being rude, but she’d opened the door so he decided to step through it. “Why do you need to save up for new… anything? Why not let your rich daddy or boyfriend buy them for you?”

Way to go, Slick. She’ll never catch on to your fishing expedition with that question.

She crossed her arms tightly over her stomach and her spine snapped arrow straight. Her face, however, turned into a blank mask, showing no emotion. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” she said flatly. “And my father is in prison, so it’s a little difficult for him to buy me anything.”

His breath caught in his throat and he blinked a few times, trying to make sense of her words. He thought she’d said her father was in prison, but that couldn’t have possibly been right. Could it?

When she swallowed roughly and looked away, he realized she’d been expending a tremendous amount of energy to keep her blank face in place, so he must’ve heard right.

But… prison? If she’d said,
My father is an alien who doesn’t believe in worldly possessions,
he wouldn’t have been more shocked. He thought of all the news reports on white collar crimes over the past few years and decided her father must’ve fallen into something of that nature.

“Was he like Bernie Madoff or something?”

Her mouth smiled, but her eyes remained cold and detached. “No, nothing as innocuous as insider trading. He tried to kill his right-hand man and would-be successor.” Her breath hitched and her mask slipped.

“Shit, Callie, I had no idea.” He wanted to wrap her up in his arms to comfort her… and then carry her off and spend the rest of the rainy afternoon making her forget the pain he’d just caused.

Jesus, get a grip.

He couldn’t do a damned thing about the other circumstances in her life, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to follow through on his ridiculous urges, but he could save her from a horrible, gassy fate that was sure to follow her brownbag lunch. “C’mon, go with me instead of eating”—he pointed to the bag—“that.”

She turned, prepared to strike—probably because she thought his offer stemmed from pity and she was too proud for charity, another point in her favor—but he put his hand up to cut off her rejection.

“You saved me this morning.” She rolled her eyes. “Seriously, I haven’t been that hung-over in a long time. Your quirky remedy worked wonders, so I owe you.”

She pressed her lips together, clearly not buying his bullshit, but when she cut her eyes to the brown bag, he knew he had her. “Okay, you win.” Her grin was quick as she ducked her head, seemingly embarrassed by her quick capitulation. “Where are we going?”

“Didn’t they just open a Five Guys Burgers and Fries about a mile down the road?”

Her face lit up and her brown eyes widened with excitement. “Yes. I’ve never been to one but always wanted to.”

He was surprised by her excitement to try out the burger joint and terrified by the pleasure he took from making her happy.

Food… food was good. It would clear out the residual effects of the alcohol causing him to act in such a weird, reckless, unpredictable way. He should also call Mercy, or one of his other friends-with-benefits, to see about a late-night hookup to work off some of his pent-up sexual heat, because this line of thinking where Callie was concerned was completely out of hand and unacceptable.

A
s they made the short ride from The Bellamy to Five Guys, Callie forced herself to ignore how much space Wade took up in the seat, the way the interior of the work truck carried his unique scent, or the condensation forming on the windows. The patches of fog reminded her of the scalding hot car scene from
Titanic,
and the urge to recreate the scene, here and now, had her shifting uncomfortably in the seat.

Lord, her head was a hot mess, and not just because the rain and humidity had turned her natural curls into a tangled rat’s nest. Her cranial scrambled eggs had nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with the perplexing man beside her. The morning started off as she expected, with Wade being surly and gruff. But as the day wore on, his hostility lessened and gradually slid down the scale to… something else.

However, because of her limited experience with men and her inability to see situations clearly, she couldn’t figure out what the
something else
was. In direct proportion to his lessening wildebeest impression, she caught rare glimpses of his true nature, things she’d never been privileged to see before. Like the soul-deep kindness that radiated from his eyes when he was concerned about her hurting herself by trying to lift too much. Or the way his soft, sensual lips pulled higher on one side when he smiled, giving him the appearance of a mischievous little boy.

An impression that was quickly dispelled when the eye wandered lower than his mouth. One look at his large, hard body proved there was absolutely
nothing
boyish about Wade Neumann.

He also seemed to be noticing her in a way he never had before, and based on the scowl that usually followed one of his heated glances, he wasn’t pleased about the newfound interest.

Callie had a reputation for being a prude, and she’d never been more dismayed about the validity of that reputation than now. If she were like Jen—whose moral compass had been zapped by the same unknown forces that caused planes and ships to disappear in the Bermuda Triangle—she’d know exactly what to do to capture and hold his attention.

But she wasn’t like Jen, and she was clueless.

She’d had a few casual boyfriends over the years, but never anything serious. They’d all been nothing more than slot-fillers for Gavin, her father’s protégé and the only man she’d ever loved. Or what she thought had been love. After realizing her parents’ marriage was nothing more than one of her father’s orchestrations and recognizing Gavin wasn’t actually the man she thought him to be, she doubted she knew anything about love.

Or herself, for that matter.

Her last kind-of-sort-of-not-really boyfriend, Jason, came into her life as her world crumbled. He was an incredible friend who constantly reassured her there wasn’t anything wrong with her, that some things just weren’t meant to be. He’d repeated it often enough she’d started to believe him, and then he helped her restore her faith in herself and rebuild her self-esteem. She was still a work in progress, but she was light-years ahead of where she’d been two years ago.

While Jason had been, and remained, a great friend, they didn’t have the chemistry necessary for sustaining a romantic relationship. Part of that stemmed from her belief he was just plain too nice. As ridiculous as that sounded, even to herself, she wanted someone with more layers, not someone who always wore a million-watt smile because they never had a bad day. She wanted someone like Gavin, who was mostly content but wasn’t afraid to show emotion when pissed off or frustrated… Because face it, life wasn’t always perfect.

It took her a while to figure out exactly what she wanted, but she’d recently realized the elusive quality she sought was passion. Someone who displayed a passion for life, but more importantly, a passion for her. A man whose look could sear her… or heal her, whichever she needed at the time.

“Hey, you okay?”

Wade’s voice, softer than usual and laced with concern, startled her and broke her dashboard stare. He had his keys in his hand, ready to exit the truck, and she hadn’t even noticed they’d stopped. Jeez, now who was zoning out?

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Pleased to hear the lie sounded believable, she added a quick-flash smile for emphasis.

Ready to escape her thoughts and the painful emotions they dredged up, she grabbed her purse, shoved the door open, and bolted for the safety of the restaurant. However, as Wade quietly followed her inside and paid for lunch, her uneasiness grew. Her mind began processing this as a date, which wasn’t only ridiculous, but dangerous.

Wade was dangerous.

From all she knew of him and had seen, not just today, but since their first meeting, he had wide and deep layers like she’d been searching for. He wasn’t afraid to express his opinion; over the past year, he’d made his extreme dislike for her crystal clear. His alpha nature reeked of sexual prowess and confidence that drew her to him like a curious kitten creeping up on the elusive and ever-changing light of a laser pointer. And she didn’t doubt for a second his intensity carried through in everything he did, from his job to his play to his personal relationships.

Which made him completely out of her league.

Besides, they’d just barely started being civil toward each other, and she still wasn’t sure exactly what his sidelong glances—the ones that started at her toes and ended at her mouth—meant.

However, if he didn’t eat like an animal and continued to be kind, she knew she’d find herself lying in bed, tossing and turning and conjuring all sorts of wild fantasies about him, because that’s what she did when she was attracted to someone.

And, unfortunately, no man had ever lived up to the hype.

*

It had been nearly twenty-four hours since Wade last ate, and it took every ounce of willpower not to go face down on the butcher block table and scarf up his bacon cheeseburger and Cajun fries like the starving Georgia Bulldog he was at heart. But rather than give in to his gluttonous urge, he forced himself to slow down, keep his face off the table, and use his hands like the well-mannered man his mama raised.