A Little Too Close, page 6
Her startled gaze jumped to mine, and her spoon hit the ice cream with a thud. “No big deal. Come on in. I have plenty to share.” She gestured to the counter surrounding her, and I blinked at a dozen different pints of ice cream, their lids scattered in different directions.
“I don’t really think I’m dressed for the occasion,” I noted, my hand slipping over my bare chest as I took in her pajama pants and hoodie. Only the tips of her brightly painted toenails were visible. The last week had been an awkward dance of sharing the space while still respecting each other’s privacy, which basically meant our exchanges had been limited to “thank you for dinner” and grunts.
“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve found you standing shirtless in my kitchen,” she replied with a slight smirk. “Come on, grab a spoon. It’s pretty apparent neither of us is sleeping.”
Had to admit, there were very few things in my life I’d seen that were as appealing as the sight of Callie sitting on the counter, swinging her legs, her hair piled onto her head in a loose knot.
“I’ve never seen an ice cream buffet like this.” I grabbed a spoon from the drawer as she cleared a spot for me on the counter.
“Come on, it’s better from up here.” She patted the bare space on the granite next to her. “Seriously, though. It’s not half as much fun if you eat it in a chair.” Her gaze fell down my body and she looked away quickly, pink staining the rise of her cheeks. “Not that it looks like you eat a lot of ice cream.”
Maybe I wasn’t the only one who liked what they saw.
“I don’t usually,” I said, picking up one of the pints that hadn’t been scooped. “Pink Lemonade?”
“Figured it was worth a try.” She shrugged and dug her spoon into the pint she held. Cherry Berry. She swallowed and patted the counter again. “Seriously, up here, or no ice cream for you.”
I’d never woken up to a woman indulging in an ice cream buffet before, let alone one who demanded I sit on the counter, but what the hell. Bracing my palms on the edge of the granite, I hoisted myself up beside her, keeping a respectable twelve inches between us and looking up just to make sure my head wasn’t flirting with the pendant light.
“There you go.” She offered me a smile like she was proud of me and dug back into her pint.
“Why so many pints?” I swirled my spoon into the fresh top of the Pink Lemonade and lifted the small scoop to my mouth, taking a bite. It was tart and sweet, and it left a slight chill as it slid down my throat.
“Why not?” She put her pint down and reached to her right. “I had a shit day and stopped into Two Scoops before I picked up Sutton from school.” She pointed the spoon at me. “And it didn’t have anything to do with the resort, so that’s not violating rule number thirteen. Anyway, they were trying out some of their new flavors before the season starts up, so I grabbed a pint of each.” She stabbed her spoon into a pint of Chocolate Walnut. “Sutton nabbed the Strawberry Fritter after dinner, so that one’s not available.”
“And now you can’t sleep?” I guessed, taking another bite of Pink Lemonade.
“Nope.” She shrugged. “My mind starts racing with all of the things I should have said.” She stabbed into the pint again. “And I usually come up with the most brilliant things after the fact. What about you? Crap day that doesn’t break rule number thirteen?” She slid the spoon past the curve of her lips, and I turned my attention back to my ice cream.
Staring at my roommate’s mouth was the worst idea in the fucking world.
Nope. Kissing her would be the worst. Staring is just…bad.
“Nightmare,” I answered with a shrug.
Two lines appeared between her eyebrows as she studied me, and I felt the stare like a physical caress, worried but tentative.
“What about?” she asked, turning to ditch her current pint and pick up a new one labeled Orange Dreamsicle.
“Don’t remember,” I answered honestly. “I never remember my dreams, but my body somehow does.” Flexing my hand, I noted the nail marks were slowly fading from my palm.
“Army stuff?”
“I really don’t remember.” I tilted my head. “It wouldn’t surprise me, though.” I set the pint down between us. “I honestly can’t remember sleeping well in the last fifteen years.” Not since Mom had first shown signs of getting sick. I’d woken up to the slightest sounds ever since.
She swallowed, slowly dragging the spoon from between her lips, but she didn’t ask, and I didn’t offer. I more than liked the fact that she didn’t push.
“Is that one good?” she asked, nodding to the Pink Lemonade.
“Tastes like June,” I answered. “Like that weather that’s perfect for hiking, but not as stifling as July.”
“Hmm.” She plucked my pint off the counter and took a bite, moaning a little as she swallowed. “Good description.”
I tried to look away from her mouth. Then I tried again as the echo of that moan bounced around my brain and took hold.
“You’ll like this one.” She pushed the pint of Orange Dreamsicle my way. “Go on. It’s not like I have cooties. Besides, we live together, so if I have them, you already do.”
I hesitated a second at how completely…unsanitary it was, but shrugged again and spooned a bite, my eyes closing at the smooth citrus and cream flavor.
“That one’s really good, right?” she asked, her eyes sparkling as they met mine. “Almost worth the sleepless night.” Her eyebrows rose as she looked at the counter next to me. “Oooh, that one looks delicious.” She discarded her current pint and leaned over me, bracing her palm in the space between us. “Brownie Batter.”
The woman had no concept of personal space, but I kept that thought behind my lips because she smelled so damn good. What the hell kind of shampoo did she use? Bottled pheromones?
“Got it!” Her shoulder brushed against my side as she sat back up, waving the pint like a trophy.
“I would have handed it to you.” I took another bite of the Orange Dreamsicle.
“It’s not fun if you don’t have to work for it a little.” She pivoted and plucked a pint from her side. “Here, try this one.”
Going Bananas was shoved into my hand.
“Are there really ten pints here?” I asked.
“Eleven,” she mumbled around her spoon. “I think everything is worth trying once.”
I spooned up a bite and thought that over as bananas and chocolate flooded my mouth. “Everything?”
“Yep.” She nodded. “I promised myself when Sutton was born that I would give her the best of both worlds. Stability by living in one place.” She motioned around us. “And adventure by saying yes as often as possible. I always look for a reason to say yes, and if it’s something new”—she lifted her brows in my direction—“but safe, then I’m game. You can’t know what you’re good at in life, what your passion might be, if you don’t try everything at least once.”
“So you stayed in Penny Ridge.”
“Yep.” She nodded and discarded that pint, reaching across me for the one labeled Mint Madness. It was slightly out of her reach, so I brought it just close enough for her to grab it, breathing in the sugar and citrus scent of her shampoo again. “The town is small enough for Sutton to know everyone and get that real feeling of community that only small towns have, and yet we never run out of things to do.” Her gaze flickered toward one of the oversized photos on the wall and lingered.
“Easter Island?” I asked, recognizing the statue in the picture.
She nodded and took another bite, dragging her gaze from the wall.
That’s when it hit me. The pictures weren’t part of the Madigan housing design. They were Callie’s. And there wasn’t a snowflake in sight. “Did you take those?” I asked, gesturing toward the wall with my spoon.
“What?” Her eyebrows flew up and she laughed. “No.” She shook her head and looked into her pint like it might offer another answer. “I wish I’d taken those,” she muttered, “but no.”
Shit. Maybe I was wrong, and they really were just pictures the staff had hung over the years.
“Those are some of the locations photographers with World Geographic get to go.” She looked toward the wall, her gaze dancing across the few photographs the kitchen light made visible. “Easter Island, Galapagos Islands, the Serengeti, just to name a few. I framed them as a reminder forever ago—the start of freshman year—and they just kind of moved with me.”
“Reminder of what?”
Her eyes lit up. “Every year, the magazine holds a competition for the best amateur shots and gives out a paid internship. It used to be a dream of mine.” She took a bite and pondered. “It used to be the dream. You know, the one you always knew was out of reach, but you pined for anyway? Like being an astronaut or winning an X Games medal.”
“Crew lives that dream.”
“Your little brother. Right.” She grinned. “Sutton has a little hero-worship in that department.”
A corner of my mouth lifted. “Most kids who grow up on the slopes do when it comes to Crew. So, you don’t want to go photograph the world anymore?”
“Dreams change when you have kids.” She smiled softly, glancing up her staircase. “Their dreams are what become important to you. Would it be amazing to travel the world and capture those kinds of images? Absolutely. But I built a life here so Sutton could have the kind of stability she deserves.” She shrugged. “And it’s not like I don’t get to use my camera every day.”
Just not taking pictures of the things she obviously loved.
She cocked her head at me. “But what about you?”
“What about me?” I put down the Going Bananas and reached across her this time, snagging the pint of White Chocolate Madness.
She snorted.
“What?” I took a bite. Good. It wasn’t on the same level as the orange, but it was good.
“What was your astronaut dream? Come on. I shared mine.” She nudged my shoulder with hers.
“I wanted to be one of the Freeride world champions. Extreme backcountry skiing. You know, real Warren Miller stuff.” Now I was the one shrugging.
“What stopped you?” She dug into her pint again. “It’s obviously not your genes…or the body.”
I lifted my eyebrows at her, and she grinned and took another bite. “Family stuff. My mom got sick, so I stopped competing. Then my only dream became flying the hell away from here, so that’s what I did once I was able—I flew.”
“And you came back.”
“Reed needed me to.” I went back to the orange. This shit was phenomenal.
A doubting smile played across her face. “You’re telling me that in the decade you’ve been gone, this is the only time Reed asked you to come back.”
“No. But it’s the only time he’s needed me to.” I focused on my pint, tucking away bigger mouthfuls.
She slowly took another bite, appraising me with those crystal blue eyes. “Huh. I can see that about you. You’re the guy who shows up when he’s needed.”
“Everyone shows up when they’re needed,” I argued.
She snorted. “No, they don’t. They like to think they do, but people who show up are rare.”
I lifted the spoon to my mouth twice but didn’t take the bite, weighing the option of asking, with the respect of, well…not. Curiosity won out. “Sutton’s dad?”
“No.” Surprise flared in her eyes, and she blinked rapidly, looking away. “Not Gavin. He was always…dependable, until he wasn’t.”
“You don’t have to tell me.” And yet, I really, really wanted to know. Where had he been that night in the rain a decade ago? Where was he now? Was she doing this all on her own? We locked eyes and she swallowed.
“We live together. We might as well know the basics,” she said, digging back into her pint with focus. “And I’d never want you to think Sutton wasn’t loved. Gavin died our freshman year in college when I was three months pregnant with Sutton.”
“I’m so sorry.” My stomach hit the floor, and I immediately regretted asking. Hadn’t I just been thankful she hadn’t gone digging into my past? And yet here I was, asking about hers.
“Thank you,” she replied softly. “We were high school sweethearts. Dated all through junior and senior year. Then we went off to USC together, and he got cancer and I got pregnant.”
“Holy shit.” I set my pint down on the counter.
“Yeah, it was a hell of a year.” She forced a smile and hopped off the counter, putting the lids back onto their matching pints. “Did you realize I only had a freshman photography class when you hired me that night?”
I thought back to the pelting rain that had turned to hail, and the silent tears of the blonde in my truck as I’d filled up the spare gas can. “Yep. I knew.”
“And yet you hired me as the resort photographer?” She lifted a brow and matched every pint but the one I was eating, then started to file them away in the freezer.
“I may have done it to fuck with my father for not keeping your appointment,” I answered, wincing slightly at how that sounded. “Not that he was ever really around during those days.” He’d been a raging alcoholic with a temper to match. “But mostly, I saw that you desperately needed the job, so I gave it to you. It was that simple.”
She leaned back against the refrigerator and smiled, shoving her hands into the front pocket of her Madigan Mountain hoodie. “See? You’re the guy who shows up when he’s needed.”
“I’m the guy who does what needs to be done.” I shrugged. “Why did you get into my truck that night? I could have been an axe murderer.”
“You’re not an axe murderer.”
“You didn’t know that.”
“While I was waiting for my interview, a little kid stumbled into the lobby all lost and helpless, and you sat her down with a blanket and cup of hot chocolate and started calling every room in the hotel to find her parents.” Her expression softened. “An axe murderer would have walked off with the kid and never returned.”
“Never liked kids.” I shrugged.
She laughed. “We’ve lived together for a week, and the only person I’ve seen you smile for is Sutton. You know that?”
“She’s funny.” The kid was blunt, which I appreciated. Reminded me of Crew when he was that age.
“Well, I’ve decided that I’m making it my personal mission to make you smile more often. It’s the least I can do for everything you’ve done for me.” She proclaimed it like the warning it was.
“I haven’t done anything besides offer you a job and invade your house.” I paused and debated trying to spare her, but Jeanine was impossible to thwart when she was on a mission. “By the way, my friends want you to come over for dinner so they can tell you all my bad habits and interrogate you.”
“Sounds like fun,” she answered, pushing off the refrigerator. “I wondered when all your flaws were going to come to light. Well, I’m headed to bed. Good night.”
“Thank you for the ice cream, and I’m really sorry you had to go through all that alone.” I stumbled over my words, and she lifted her brows. Fuck, this was why I never did the emotional thing with women. “You know. Sutton. Gavin. All that.”
“Oh. I’m not.” Her smile was so peaceful that I believed her. “Gavin always wanted to be a dad, and I always wanted to give that to him. We knew we had to act fast, but by the time we actually got pregnant, there was nothing they could really do. His treatment options were so limited.” Her shoulders dipped. “I love that I can see him in her smile, though. And his parents absolutely dote on her.”
“And yours?” My head reeled from the words she’d just used. Had to act fast.
Her laugh was anything but happy. “Now those are the people who only show up when they want to. Need isn’t in their vocabulary.” She pressed her lips in a thin line and then quickly changed the subject. “Did you find something you liked tonight?”
The pint was cold in my hands, and I nodded. “Yeah, I really did.”
“Good. Me too. Good night.” She gave me a little wave and then walked off toward the stairs, leaving me alone in the kitchen as the clock struck two.
Had to act fast… By the time we got pregnant…
The spoon fell out of my hands.
She’d known. She’d known that her boyfriend was dying and still committed her life to creating and raising his child—a child he’d never even meet. I couldn’t decide if she was the most giving person I’d ever come across, or the most emotionally reckless.
Either way, my mom would have absolutely loved her.
I realized two things as I threw the empty pint into the trash and slipped the spoons into the dishwasher.
One, she’d never told me what had made her day complete shit.
And two, I actually wanted to know—so I could fix it.
5
Callie
* * *
“Sure, if I had an extra million laying around,” I said to Ava as I poured the next wine slushie and handed it to Raven across the kitchen island. Girls’ nights were something I lived for, the rare moments when I could fully relax and be myself. I wasn’t the professional photographer, or the teen mom…I was just me. “Houses have jumped so high that I can’t even fathom some of these prices.”
And since the curator at the local gallery told me nothing in my current portfolio was display worthy—hence the wallowing ice cream fest—it wasn’t like I had a second stream of income to help get us into a house.
“It’s gotten out of control,” Halley agreed from one of the armchairs in the living room.
“What about this one?” Ava peered at my laptop, where it sat on her knees as she lounged on the end of the couch. “Two bedrooms, mountain views, two baths. It’s a condo in a great building and—”
“Wait for it,” Raven whispered, raising her eyebrows as she walked backward, facing me.
“Damn! It’s one—point—two million?” She rubbed at the screen like it would change the price. “That has to be a typo.”
“There it is!” Raven took a deep drink of her slushie, and her eyes drifted upward toward the sound of footsteps above us. “You sure Sutton is asleep?” She passed by the couch and sank into one of the armchairs that made up the seating arrangement.
