Page 60 of Screwed
“Oh, I hope so! I mean, I’ll probably bake cakes anyway, but it will be so much more fun to make and sell them, and have people enjoy them.”
What she didn’t say was it was so nice to be validated. To be recognized for something she’d accomplished. Something she might be good at.
She started replying to messages, fingers flying over the keyboard. She didn’t respond to Heather, preferring to wait until she could actually send her a link, but the other queries she could get started with. For wedding cakes, she needed to do an individual consultation anyway, as each cake would be customized. It would be nice to have a shop where she could meet with clients to take down their ideas, sketch outherideas, and even have cake tastings, but she could do that here for the time being, or by email or over the phone. She’d been studying other bakery sites and had drafted out the process she wanted to follow. She’d make it work until she had her own little space.
Chapter Fourteen
Cash left Callie’s place with a casual smile on his face, which disappeared the minute the door shut behind him.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
In his truck, he started the engine, then slammed a hand down on the steering wheel. Fuck again! His hand still hurt from the fight yesterday, and now more pain radiated up his arm. He shook off the pain, cursing himself.
They’d nearly been caught in bed by Callie’s mother. He didn’t give a shit about that, other than…well, there were a lot of reasons hehadto give a shit about it.
It was hard to think of what had happened between them last night—and this morning—as a mistake, because, holy hell, it had been fucking amazing. It had been everything he’d ever dreamed of. No,more…more than he’d ever dared dream of; even allowing himself to dream of her was terrifying in its risk. Being with Callie had been heart-tripping and mind-scrambling and soul-scorching. It was almost hard to believe it had really happened, after years of longing, hopeless lust, and restless misery.
He backed out of Callie’s driveway, careful to avoid Mrs. Sutherland’s Mercedes parked on the street, and started for home.
Last time they’d blamed the hormones after Callie’s tattoo. This time…okay, he’d admit to being pretty hopped-up on testosterone and adrenaline after that fight yesterday, not to mention that crazy surge of protectiveness that had led to the fight… Hell. He’d been enraged that those douche canoes had been coming on to her when he’d left her alone for a few minutes. He shouldn’t have left her alone. Ever.
Fuck.
Okay, maybe he’d overreacted a bit, but she’d clearly been trying to get rid of them, and they were drunk and not listening to her. And there was no way in fucking hell that he’d ever leave Callie unprotected.
He sucked in a breath and let it out, then rolled his head to loosen the tension in his neck. What was done was done.
He had shit to do today, so maybe it was just as well that her mother stopped by and propelled his ass out of Callie’s bed. Glancing at the clock on the dash, he saw it was nearly two in the afternoon. He’d promised his mom he’d come by and help her with some computer problems she was having, plus he had a bunch of work he’d planned to get done yesterday after that client lunch. That hadn’t happened.
At home, he changed out of the dress pants and shirt he’d had on yesterday for his client lunch, rolling his eyes at the blood on the shirt. He showered and dressed in a loose pair of cargo shorts and a T-shirt and called his mom to make sure she still wanted him to come over. She sounded a little weird but said she still needed help, so he jumped back into his truck and drove to her place.
He gratefully accepted the big glass of sweet tea she offered him and sat in front of her computer. “So what’s the problem?”
“My internet browser is all messed up, and I can’t figure out how to fix it.”
Cash smiled and started clicking. In a few minutes he had the settings back the way she preferred them. “You want this as your home page?” he asked.
“I guess so.”
While he was there, he ran her antivirus software, installed about fifty updates that were waiting—okay, maybe five—and did a cleanup. As he was working on these things, his mom perched on the desk near him. “Um, Cash?”
“Yeah?”
“I heard from your father the other day.”
His head jerked back. “Seriously? Why? Is he dying?”
Mama grimaced. “No, he’s fine. At least, if he’s not fine, he didn’t say that. He, uh, wants to get in touch with you and Ginnie.”
“What the fuck?” He shook his head. “Sorry.”
“That was pretty much my reaction, too.”
“Why? Why now?”
“He wants his son to meet you. Your brother.”
“Half brother. Jesus.”
