Free to Dream

by Tracey Jerald

  “I could not be more turned on right now than if you had spent the entire night whispering ways you wanted to take me to bed. That was so fucking hot,” Caleb growls.

  “I know he’s your friend…”

  Caleb shakes his head back and forth.

  “No, Pixie. He has to work his shit out and either respect my decisions or stay the hell out of them.” His voice is filled with admiration. “You knew who Keene was?”

  “I didn’t until I saw his face. Ali was seriously pissed he walked out on her without giving her his number.” Well, she was pissed because she wasn’t done with him yet, but I keep that to myself.

  Caleb throws his head back and laughs. Once he’s winding down, he reaches for his drink and holds it up. “A toast to you, Pixie. The strongest woman I’ve ever met.” His eyes meet mine over his glass of scotch. They’re warm and filled with heat.

  I tip my glass back at him before throwing back the remainder of my tumbler of Jameson's.

  Turning into him, I tip my jaw up at him. “You a little warm there, Harvard.”

  “Can you blame me?”

  Shrugging, I turn back to Ryan and Jared who are staring at the two of us with stupid grins on their faces. “Anything else I can do to entertain you boys?”

  Jared looks at Ryan, then over at me. “I think Ryan might have a bit of a crush on you now, just for the record.”

  Caleb glares at his brother. “For the record, brother, stick to your man.”

  Jared and I burst into laughter at the antics of the Lockwood brothers. Then a familiar chord starts playing and I start to smile. I turn to the man next to me. “Do you dance, Harvard?”

  He finishes his Bowmore and slides out of the booth. “I’ve got some moves.”

  I wink at him and slide out. Shaking my body as I make my way to the center of the dance floor, I let Luke Bryan’s “Move” flow through my body. I’m in my own world dancing when I feel Caleb pull me closer. My eyes fly up to his as his hips start swaying in rhythm with mine. Another first.

  I’m suddenly dancing the way I’ve seen other people dancing in clubs. Caleb’s leg is between mine, my hips pressed against his body, his arm banded low around my hips as our bodies move in sync to the sexy Southern beat.

  My heart’s thudding against my chest. Not from panic, but the full-body contact I have from chest to thigh. His sensuality is searing me through my clothes and into my skin, branding me. Here, in the middle of a crowd of people I don’t know, Caleb makes me feel safe, uninhibited, protected, wild.

  Free.

  His head dips toward mine and I let out a small sound. He slowly shakes his head and mouths, “No.”

  My arms feel drugged when I try to lift them to circle his neck, but I only manage to reach his forearms.

  I recognize this feeling as desire, having heard my sisters talk about it and reading as many romance novels as I do, but I never knew its potency. Its smooth touch is wrapping around me, freeing me from the chains of the prison I’ve held myself in for so long.

  The scene around Caleb and I is out of focus, and the only clarity is the space which Caleb and I occupy. I feel warm from the Jameson's, warm from Caleb’s body pressed against mine, warm from where he drops his head and grazes his teeth and lips against the side of my neck.

  I imagine what I’m feeling is being reflected in his dark gaze. His nostrils flare slightly as he moves his body farther down mine so we’re face-to-face. “Some moves,” I manage to say.

  A slow, sexy curve to his lips is my only response.

  A slow song replaces Luke Bryan and we keep holding each other. “Do you have plans for later?” he asks.

  “Later?” Confused, I lean back.

  “Later, as in later Saturday. It’s after midnight, Pixie.”

  “We have the Juniors coming in the afternoon; Sophomores in the early evening.” I run through my planner out loud.

  “I forgot what it looks like,” he muses.

  “What what looks like?” I parrot, confused. This man muddles my cohesive thought process.

  “How incredibly hot you are when you go into professional mode. It was next to impossible for me to act with any decorum that first day in your office.”

  “You seemed to handle it well enough,” I grumble. Despite how much of a debacle that ended up being for me and the problems it caused within the family, it led me to where I am.

  With my resolution to not look back, I can’t regret what happened. I can only be grateful it led me to right now.

  My thoughts drift for a second to Keene. Right or wrong, black and white. Where would I be right now if those were the only choices I took along the path of my life?

  “What are you thinking of, Pixie?” Caleb breaks into my thoughts.

  “Keene,” I reply honestly.

  Caleb’s face tightens.

  “Not like that,” I say, exasperated. I whack him in the chest.

  “Explain, please.”

  “I was just thinking if the decisions I made were as black and white as his, we wouldn’t be here right now. And what I would have missed out on.”

  “In some ways, that makes me more furious at him for the way he was behaving, but I understand what you’re saying.”

  I nod and grab his hand, pulling it back around my waist. His face softens, and his smile is for me alone.

  “So, back to my question. What are you doing later?”

  “Is this a lead into asking me out, Caleb?”

  “It is.”

  I take a deep breath. This next step is huge for me. “I honestly don’t know what time we’re going to finish, but if you want to come over for a late dinner…” There’s a storm building in his eyes. For me. For this.

  “I want.”

  16

  Cassidy

  I’d just pulled the cheddar, bacon, and pecan pizza from the oven when my phone rang. Glancing at the name on the display, I answer it as I release a puff of air.

  “Caleb.”

  “Cassidy.” God, that voice. Low, warm, slightly husky, and a bit…echoy? Was he in the car already? I look at the clock and holy shit, it’s almost eight. Leaving the pizza to cool, I quickly begin straightening up the kitchen and make my way into the adjoining living space. As I quickly glance around my typically immaculate living area, I hear him through what must be the Bluetooth in his car.

  “I’m about fifteen minutes out. I hope that’s not too soon? If you’re still busy, I can drive around a bit.” His voice is smooth, warm, anticipatory.

  “No, no. That’s fine. I’m just putting a few last-minute things together.” Like me. Taking a deep breath, I slowly let it out so he can’t hear me. “When you get through the farm’s gates, take the road to the right before you hit the main building. It will lead you to the other side of the lake. I’m in the carriage house.”

  I hear the Porsche accelerate through the phone. “I’ll be seeing you soon then, Cassidy. Give or take fifteen minutes.” The phone disconnects in my ear.

  I toss my cell on the couch and run up the stairs for my room, ripping my T-shirt over my head. Caleb is about fifteen minutes out. How did I completely manage to lose track of time? I know how. Up until a few minutes ago, I was too busy to even think about it. Now, with mild panic setting in, I’m asking myself what did one wear to have someone over for heavy conversation with the potential for…something?

  Grabbing a pair of cranberry leggings and a black sweater that hits me mid-thigh, I quickly change as headlights pass outside the farm’s entrance. A quick brush of my hair and some gloss on my lips, I look at my reflection. Am I ready for this?

  As I watch the lights round the front of the main building, I grab an old pair of Chucks from the bottom of my closet. Taking one last look at myself in my vintage full-length mirror, I imagine I come across like a college student and someone who is overly comfortable with her company. Neither could be further from the truth, I think wryly as I bound down the stairs just in time to hear Caleb knock on the d
oor. Taking a few deep breaths, I reach for the handle.

  And take a step back in surprise.

  He’s bent down, fumbling with a bag that obviously holds a bottle of wine. I hear him cursing the frailty of dorky wine bottle bag handles as I stare at what he holds in his arms, which are dozens of sunflowers, ranging from bright yellow to almost a sunset orange, obscuring his face.

  He’s so busy retying the little knot on the inside of the wine bag without dropping the gorgeous blooms, he hasn’t realized I’m standing here. I take a moment to lean against the doorjamb, studying him. Like me, Caleb opted for comfort and casual in worn jeans and a black sweater that molds against his body like it was painted on, showing off his broad shoulders and sculpted abs. I can feel my legs shift in anticipation of running my hands along it to touch him again. I sigh at the idea of being as close to him as I was on the dance floor at Molly Darcy’s the night before.

  I’m not sure whether the shift in the air from the door being open, or my sharp inhalation of air that makes him aware of me standing there. Suddenly, the wine and flowers seem insignificant as I catch a glimpse of those dark eyes.

  Slowly standing to his full height, his chin has to dip for him to look at me. A lack of four-inch heels will do that to you. His eyes crinkle in the corners as he breaks into a full smile. Thank the Lord I decided not to wear my heels. I might have fallen off them by that smile alone. His eyes travel down my body, tracing every inch of it with his eyes. His eyes land on my well-worn Chucks and he tosses his head back and lets loose a deep-throated laugh.

  “Now that’s not something I never pictured you wearing.”

  I raise an eyebrow at him. “The whole outfit or the Chucks?”

  “Pixie, I might have bet my car you even worked out in heels.”

  “Hate to break it to you, but I don’t have a desire to visit our friendly orthopedic surgeon. I own my fair share of sneakers.”

  “Not sure I believe that. I might need proof.”

  I hold up my foot as if he’s mildly dense.

  “Uh-huh. One pair does not equal a fair share. Going to invite me in? Maybe I can see for myself?” he teases.

  I feel the heat begin to travel up my cheeks as I realize we’ve been bantering with me on one side of the door, him on the other. “Please, come in.”

  He glances around as he steps over the threshold and into my home, my sanctuary. Seeing him look around is like watching a tennis match as he absorbs the essence of my home.

  When we bought the farm and outbuildings, I immediately connected with the carriage house. Because of the number of bays to the original carriage house, the family figured there must have been a substantial master estate at some point absorbed by the land of one of the many subdivisions that surrounded our land in Collyer. My carriage house had five original bays which I converted to a two-car garage closest to the main entrance, with two enormous glass windows on either side. The fifth bay had been converted into a double French door entryway. On the soft cream-colored walls, matted and framed, are the architectural plans for the carriage house’s renovation. I guide Caleb toward the back where the original tack and living quarters were. As we walk over random width pine plank floors covered with antique throw rugs, he would pause by the occasional frame to study it.

  “You expanded the original building?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” His gaze encompasses the room, absorbing the essence of the clean lines and expansive space.

  I try to look at my home as he would. The floors continue into this space which opens up with raised ceilings and exposed rough-hewn beams. The original carriage house walls can be seen through floor to ceiling insulated windows which allow the historical value of my home to come through, while still insulating against the radical Connecticut weather.

  “It was a fairly large space,” I muse, not really answering Caleb’s question. He moves closer to me, around the room with the large L-shaped sofa that faces the original fireplace, as well as a set of barn doors on the adjoining wall. Also visible is the kitchen and dining space. Set past the kitchen, my home office is visible, part of the expansion which the master suite is part of upstairs. “But certain things didn’t work if I wanted to live in the home long-term. If I ever wanted a family, there was no room to expand and hardly any storage space.”

  “Do you?” he asks, still not looking at me.

  “Want a family?”

  He nods. I step in front of him, catching his eyes. “A little heavy conversation with your appetizer, Mr. Lockwood? Can I get you a drink with that?” I pretend to hold a waitress pad in front of me, as if I’m taking his order.

  His eyes widen as he realizes what he was asking me. “Well, crap.” Color darkens his cheeks. The edges of my lips twitch upward as he glances down, realizing he’s still holding the flowers and bag he’d been fiddling with. “Shit.”

  I’m outright laughing at this point.

  He shoves them in my direction. “Obviously, these are for you. Thank you for having me over, especially since you were working all day.”

  I take the flowers from him gently, lifting them up and burying my face in the outdoorsy scent. Carefree. That’s what sunflowers remind me of.

  I feel that when I’m with Caleb.

  I want to kiss him to thank him for the flowers, but I’m not as certain about doing that now as I was last night.

  My nose still buried in the flowers, I raise my lashes to catch Caleb’s eyes. It’s like he can read my mind. Placing the bag with the wine on the nearest table, he wraps his arms around me, pulling me close. With the flowers caught in between us, he lowers his head.

  When his mouth touches mine, he lets out a small groan. Or is that me? Threading my fingers through his thick dark hair, I hold his head in place as his tongue traces the seam of my lips. Gasping in surprise, my mouth opens. Dipping in for a quick taste, our tongues dual for a brief moment before I break the kiss and step back. His reluctance to let me go is emphasized by the quick pull of my body back to his. His nose rubs against mine, keeping the contact between us.

  I can feel my heart pounding against the stalks of the blooms he gave me. My hand that’s wrapped around Caleb’s neck can feel his as well. Its staccato beat and his harsh breathing tell me he isn’t unaffected by that kiss.

  We both know it wasn’t an uncomplicated embrace. Our lives are so entwined already, that taking this further will just tighten the invisible threads binding us even tighter.

  I step away, and he reluctantly opens his arms to let me retreat a few steps back. Our eye contact still hasn’t broken from the moment he leaned down to take my lips. The current running between us hasn’t dissipated. If anything, the invisible cord that stretches between us gets stronger.

  With every second.

  Shaking my head, I move through the living space into the kitchen with Caleb close behind me. With the island between us, I place the flowers on the island next to the sink. Moving around the kitchen for a vase and scissors, he eyes the spread on his side of the island with pure male appreciation, and a little awe. Yeah, there’s no froufrou finger foods. I think the most delicate item might be the cheese plate. I’ve made the cheddar bacon and pecan pizza, mini chicken pot pie turnovers, warmed up leftover Philly Cheesesteak Dip from the event earlier with French bread, and a veggie and cheese plate.

  Sue me. I get nervous, I cook and eat. I have a sister who’s an athlete. She’ll run it off me.

  “Are we expecting anyone else?” he asks, not raising his eyes from the plates of food.

  “No,” I say, critically surveying the buffet before me. I suppose I did cook for a few, or twelve. “Too much?” I ask, raising my eyes to meet his.

  “Are you one of those people who minds leftovers?”

  “No.”

  “Then don’t worry about it, unless you plan on pulling out a three-course Italian meal in addition to this. Then I might have to call you out for making too much food.”

  I pick up one
of the pieces of French bread and throw it at his head.

  He captures it and says, “Thank you,” before dunking it right into the hot dip and shoving it into his mouth. “This is delicious, Cassidy. Where did you learn to cook?”

  I laugh and hand him a bottle of water from the fridge. “Food Network. We’re all addicted to it. Corinna can outbake all of us, but we’re all great in the kitchen.”

  He moves around the island to stand next to me. His hand raises and I flinch inadvertently as he brings it to my face. His eyes soften and he hesitates before reaching to brush his hand gently down my cheek. “I think it’s time to relax, drink a little wine, and eat a little food.”

  “Maybe more than a little?” I grasp at the conversation gambit. “I don’t need that many leftovers.”

  “I’ll take some home if it tastes as good as it looks,” he promises. It’s like he knows just what to say to put me at ease. He steps away, moves back around the counter and picks up a chicken pot pie turnover. Before taking a bite, he says, “Just show me where you want me?”

  Grabbing two wine glasses and the wine key, I make my way over to the bottle he left on my end table and gesture toward the outside patio. I’m grateful my mouth didn’t have an attack of verbal vomit and blurt out I wanted him upstairs.

  In my bed.

  It’s like it was made for him.

  Maybe when I was dreaming I did.

  “I think you probably got the most choice view out of all of your siblings, Pixie,” Caleb comments some time later.

  We’re ensconced on my double lounger overlooking the water on the property. There are two heat lamps keeping us mostly warm while we soak up each other’s company in the cold evening. Most of the food, with the exception of the crock pot dip, migrated out with us. For someone who claimed I made enough for twelve, Caleb probably ate enough for ten. We’re now nibbling on some fruit and cheese as the moonlight dances over the water. We’ve also managed to polish off one bottle of wine. Caleb has switched to water, whereas I’m still cradling the dredges of the first bottle. We’re both full, mellow, and relaxed.