Seconds: A Salvation Society Novel

by Freya Barker

  I finally pacified her with a cold beer and the promise of a beautiful sunset out here.

  “Who’s right?” I ask.

  “My brother. It’s been how long?”

  “Does it matter? Time is irrelevant when it feels right. Besides, neither of us is getting younger.”

  Her hand hits me square in the solar plexus.

  “Speak for yourself,” she grumbles. “I still can’t believe I fell in love with you in a few short weeks.”

  I pluck her hand off my chest and press a kiss in her palm.

  “Sweetheart, it only took me seconds to fall ass over teakettle for you.”

  That earns me a sweet smile before her eyes drift off into the distance again.

  “Still,” she persists stubbornly.

  I only hesitate for a second before I decide to lay all my cards on the table.

  “Sweetheart, I’m forty-five years old. I’ve been on my own since my uncle passed away. I’d come to terms with the fact the traditional trimmings of life wouldn’t be part of mine. No one had ever interested me enough, no one ever stirred those needs, and within days of meeting you face-to-face for the first time, it was all I could think about.

  “So no, it’s not too soon. It’s been a long time coming and I’m ready. I don’t want to waste time. I don’t want to leave your bed to go back to my own, I want to be able to make you French toast every damn morning if that’s what you want. I want to dig in the dirt with you, talk about work, and I wanna get a dog. I’ve never had one.” She’s smiling now, giving me the confidence to take it one step further. Full disclosure. “I also never thought about kids…” I hold up a hand when her eyes pop wide open. “But I’m thinking about them now and I don’t know how you feel about that. It isn’t a deal-breaker because I have more with you than I’ve had before, but it’s something I think about.”

  Even as I’m rambling on Reagan started saying something but I missed it.

  “Sorry, what was that?”

  “I’d given up on kids,” she repeats in a soft voice. “I wanted them but I also wanted my career. I thought I could have them both, but Neil didn’t agree. He thought I should stay at home and raise kids. I always thought it would be a partnership.”

  I shift in my seat and take her face in my hands.

  “Right here, right now, let’s agree we don’t talk about him anymore. He doesn’t get to play any part in what we have, or do, or discuss.” She nods. “Who says you can’t have both? When I say I want kids, I don’t just mean I want to father them—although I like that part too—I want to be a father to them. We’d share responsibilities, work out a schedule. Heck, I’ve thought about letting the guys do the bulk of the tracking and chasing. I’d rather come home to you every night.”

  She shakes her head. “Callum McGregor, what are you doing to me?”

  I grin at her.

  “Laying it all out. Stuff other people take years to figure out, we’re clearing up in seconds. So what’s it gonna be, Slick? Wanna take a few chances with me and jump in the deep end? Get a dog?” I lean a little closer. “Make a couple of rugrats?”

  “This is crazy,” she mutters, smiling nervously as the familiar flush creeps up on her cheeks.

  “Probably, but the only rules we need to live by are those we set ourselves. Everyone else can fuck off.”

  I can see the answer in the big smile on her face and the sparkle in her eyes, but I still want to hear her say it.

  “Okay…”

  “Okay, what, Sweetheart? I need the words,” I push her.

  “Okay, I’ll jump into the deep end with you.”

  The words are barely out of her mouth when I have her on her feet and start pulling her into the house.

  “Hey! Where are we going?”

  I grin over my shoulder at her.

  “To celebrate in front of that big mirror in your bathroom,” I tell her.

  The sound of her soft giggle behind me as I lead her through the house settles deep in my chest.

  “Hurry, Slick.”

  I look at the reflection of her slack mouth and feverish eyes as I pound into her from behind.

  The tingle starts at the base of my spine and I know I won’t be able to hold out for long. I slide a hand between her legs and find that small bundle of nerves, rolling it under the pads of my fingers.

  “Come for me, baby.”

  Sweat drips in my eyes and I blink furiously to clear them, not wanting to miss a single thing.

  “Cal, my God…please…”

  I buck my hips wildly and press down hard on her clit, her body clamping around me like a vise. I plant myself deep inside her, the roar of my voice joining her cries.

  Nothing like it. Bare, skin-to-skin, slick with sweat and sex, and those beautiful eyes locked on mine, echoing love. The dream of a child hanging in the air between us.

  Chapter Twenty

  Reagan

  “It’s bigger.”

  Sally looks at me with her eyebrows raised.

  “I know, Cal decided to bump out the back since the wall and roof had to be rebuilt anyway.”

  We’re standing in what is our freshly painted and reconfigured office. With the extra space in the back, we were able to add in a filing room behind the kitchen and the conference room is actually a proper-sized space now. The front is much the same, except my office now has glass walls and a door. Without the filing cabinets in that space, there was enough room. With my door open I can still see and hear Sally, but I can have privacy if I want by closing the blinds.

  “Guess it pays to date the landlord,” Sally teases.

  I can’t argue that. Cal also made sure an updated security system was installed, although I did draw the line at cameras inside my offices. He had some kinky ideas around that, but I told him it’d be a hot day in hell I’d take off my clothes in my office, let alone in front of a camera.

  “Did you say Matt’s with his dad this weekend?”

  Sally rolls her eyes.

  “Yeah, making up for last weekend when he bailed last minute. I think he has a new girlfriend. Matt mentioned something.”

  I observe her closely. “You don’t seem too broken up about it.”

  “Hell no. I just wish he’d stick with one instead of introducing a different flavor every month. Matt’s going to think that’s the norm. Already he’s collecting girls like baseball cards.”

  I wince. “Well, he’s a cute kid.”

  “Trust me, I know. Some days I secretly wish he develops a temporary case of acne from about twelve to eighteen.”

  I follow her down the hall to the kitchen. Not much has changed there, except for a fresh coat of paint. The carpeting throughout has been replaced with a rubber laminate and other than a few light fixtures left to install, the place is move-in ready.

  “What do you think about opening the office back up on Monday?” I ask her.

  “Does that mean moving over the weekend?”

  “Unless you have plans. I mean, Cal’s guys are moving back in over the weekend as well. I’m sure they’d be willing to give me a hand.”

  She shoots me a half-grin. “Twist my arm, why don’t ya.”

  “You’re incorrigible,” I chide her, but it falls on deaf ears. Her grin widens and she nudges me with her shoulder.

  “Nothing wrong with looking. They’re a smorgasbord of man-candy.”

  From behind us I hear a throat clearing. Both our heads swivel around to find Mark leaning against the doorway, a suggestive smirk on his face.

  “Can’t say I’ve ever been referred to as a buffet before,” he says, laying the British accent on thick.

  “Never said I was talking about you,” Sally huffs, as she pushes past him.

  I bark out a laugh before slapping my hand over my mouth.

  “Ouch. I do believe I’ve just been told,” Mark mutters, grabbing his chest as he watches Sally walk away.

  “She’s all bark and no bite,” I share, patting his arm as I move past
him into the hall. “Don’t take it personally.”

  “We need to talk about this move,” Cal says that night, sitting out on the deck watching the stars.

  Many nights in the past month have been spent out here, relaxing after dinner and learning more about each other with each day.

  “What about the move?”

  He turns to me and grabs my hands, slipping his fingers between mine. Cal turns out to be very tactile. At least he is with me, and the biggest surprise is I actually like it when he grabs my hand when we’re out and about, or just sitting here in the backyard. I get the sense it’s more about needing the connection than anything else.

  “Moving back into the office means my apartment becomes available again.”

  My stomach cramps and a sour taste surges up in my throat. I’d wondered once or twice but when he never brought it up, I made myself believe things would stay as they are. I love having him here—and I thought he felt the same. Could I have been that wrong?

  “What’s wrong?” I can feel him looking at me but I can’t bring myself to turn my head. “Slick?”

  I clear my throat and force myself to say in a clear voice, “I guess it makes sense. It’s a great apartment. Close to everything. You could even walk to work if you wanted to.”

  “Sorry?” He sounds pissed and I turn to glance at him. He looks pissed too. “You’re telling me you want me to head back to my apartment?”

  “No,” I quickly answer, a bit confused as I shake my head to clear it. “I mean, I thought that’s what—”

  “What I was gonna suggest is, since we’ll have enough hands on deck, we get the rest of my stuff over here,” he interrupts. “We can store it in the garage, sort out later what to do with it, but I want the apartment empty so I can put it on the market.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah.”

  He still looks annoyed when I get up and climb on his lap, his arms automatically wrap around me.

  “You’re moving in,” I say with a smile.

  “Sweetheart, I thought I already had.”

  I’m surprised when Sally shows up with Matt in tow Saturday morning. The poor kid looks as miserable as his mother looks ticked off.

  “What happened?” I ask her when he’s out back, playing with Buddy, our new rescue pup.

  Well, maybe pup is not the right description to use on the six-month-old calf galloping through the backyard. He’s of undetermined lineage and has a few habits we need to train out of him, but he makes up for it with his loving disposition. We picked him up at the shelter earlier in the week, the day after we discussed our living situation.

  “Matt’s father…” she uses air quotes, “…decided last minute it wasn’t a good weekend after all. Didn’t even have time to tell the kid himself, just said to tell him he’d see him next weekend.” She dumps a stack of files in the box with some force. “God, he’s such an asswipe.”

  We’re in my office packing up. It made more sense for the guys to tackle Cal’s apartment first. They’ll move the stuff to his office, pick up his personal belongings and furniture, and bring it here. That’ll give us time to get things here packed up for them to take back to town.

  “Poor Matt,” I commiserate.

  “He’ll be okay. He’s been begging me to bring him over to meet Buddy every day since I told him you got a dog.”

  The sound of the sliding door and then dog feet scratching my wood floors gives us seconds to brace for the rambunctious topic of conversation. Buddy does everything with a certain level of enthusiasm.

  “Easy, Buddy,”

  I caution him when he comes tearing around the corner, sending the small area rug in the hallway sailing into my living room. Matt is not far behind.

  “Mom, can we—”

  “Matthew,” Sally says in her parental voice, hands on hips. “Did you wipe your feet?”

  He immediately looks down at his shoes that look far from clean.

  “Sorta, but Mom—”

  I press my lips together to hold back the snicker.

  “And close the door behind you?”

  The boy groans and rolls his eyes before jogging back to the kitchen. We can hear the sliding door slam shut.

  “Mom,” he’s already talking as he walks back. “Can we have a dog?”

  I earn a dirty look for the snort that escapes me. To keep the peace I come to her rescue.

  “How about you first practice on Buddy? See if you’ve got what it takes to look after a dog?”

  “Sure!” His grin is wide and face hopeful.

  “Awesome. So first you’d need to learn to clean up after him. We scoop his poop once a day. There’s a shovel against the side of the house and a bucket.” I have a hard time not laughing at the way his expression just drops.

  “Okay, Auntie Reagan,” he says grudgingly, his shoulders drooping as he walks off.

  I feel a little guilty for busting his bubble, but then Sally more than makes up for it.

  “You would so rock as a parent.”

  Cal

  I’m about to head over to pick up Reagan when I hear her door slam. I watch some kid wearing his goddamn pants hanging off his ass awkwardly walk to a souped up Honda Civic, with a mail-order spoiler kit on the trunk.

  “Who the hell was that?” I ask her, when I open her door and find her in front of the window, watching the Honda peel out of his parking spot.

  “That was Emmet Licker.” She turns to me with a grin. “My client.”

  “Yikes.”

  “I know,” she says, putting her hands on my chest and lifting on her toes to press her lips to mine. “Kid got an offer for a deal from the prosecutor a while back he should’ve taken, but didn’t. Now we’re a few days away from trial, he’s getting worried and is pissed he’s too late to grab it.”

  “You need better clients.”

  “I know. We’re working on it.”

  “Good, you ready to head out?”

  “Yeah. Let me lock up.”

  She heads for her office, grabbing her purse. We’ve been back and settled in our respective offices for a few weeks now. We’re both making a few adjustments to our schedules, and one of the perks is most days we’re able to drive in together.

  We did this morning with our bags already packed and in the back of my truck. We’re driving straight to the airport to catch our flight for a long weekend with her parents. We weren’t able to hold off visiting them any longer.

  My guys will keep the office running while I’m gone, but Reagan closed hers because Sally is taking the dog this weekend.

  We make it in record time, despite the rush hour.

  “Do you have the tickets?” Reagan asks when we walk into the terminal.

  “All set.”

  I pat my chest pocket as I lead the way to security. I checked in online and we just packed a carry-on bag each, although I’m afraid Reagan may be pissed about that when she discovers we’re not going to Phoenix as we planned.

  There isn’t much time to spare once we clear security to get to our gate. As I’d hoped, Reagan doesn’t really question my lead and she doesn’t bother checking the screen when the attendant rushes us on board.

  It’s not until we’re seated in the business class seats I upgraded us to, sipping a drink, when the voice of the pilot over the intercom announces our destination, and Reagan clues in.

  “We’re on the wrong plane,” she hisses, trying to get her seat belt unbuckled.

  I cover her fumbling hands with one of mine to stop her.

  “No, we’re not.”

  Her head swings around, eyes shooting fire.

  “We can’t go to Vegas, Mom and Dad are waiting at the airport.”

  “They will be…in Vegas.”

  Now she looks confused. Even more so when I produce the ring I had burning a hole in my pocket since I took it out of the safe in my office.

  “What are you doing?” she whispers.

  “Your parents drove to Vegas yesterday. Jacks
on and Catherine and the girls arrived there this morning.”

  Her gorgeous eyes shimmer as the tears start pooling.

  “Cal…”

  “Next weekend we’ll have a big party at your place, celebrating with our friends. Pooja and Sally have been working on that. But this weekend is just for us, with family.” I swallow hard to keep my composure when the first tears start rolling down her flushed cheeks. “I should be down on one knee, but I might not be able to get back up.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “I love you, Reagan. It was clear from the start, the woman I’d heard so much about over the years was all of those things and so much more. All it took was a few seconds in your presence to recognize how perfect you would be at my side. These past few months have shown how right I was.” I lift her hand and slip the ring I bought weeks ago over the tip of her finger. “Make me the absolute luckiest bastard on the face of the earth and be my wife?”

  She’s now full-on smiling through her tears, nodding furiously.

  “You’re crazy, and presumptuous, and conniving, and I love you so much…so yes. Yes, I’d be honored.”

  I slide the ring down her finger and the next moment she has her belt undone, climbing on my lap without any regard for the curious glances we’re drawing. I keep my eyes open on hers as she kisses me, the connection conveying everything for which there aren’t words to describe.

  “I’m so sorry.” The soft, apologetic voice belongs to a flight attendant leaning over us. “We’re about to take off. You really should buckle into your seat.”

  “Of course.” Reagan scrambles back over the armrest and buckles in.

  “Thanks,” the woman smiles and adds, “and congratulations.”

  With the plane taxiing down the runway, Reagan grabs my hand, entwining our fingers.

  “I can’t believe you did this,” she says, turning her head my way.

  “Jumping in the deep end, Sweetheart. This was the only piece missing.”

  I reach over and cover the barely-there bump of her belly with my hand as we take off.