What the Bachelor Gets

by Kristina Knight

  “I’ve been back for almost six months, and I still see something new out here every night,” Callie said as they passed the old Sahara location. The newer, glitzier SLS glowed in the night sky. “I miss the old Sahara. Vegas is always changing, isn’t it?”

  “It isn’t just Vegas. Change is natural.” Gage couldn’t help the hard note in his voice, even though he regretted it. Change was natural. His business was to change things. Still, a little piece of him wished he’d had the Sahara project and that he could have saved it. The only casino Caleb had ever gone into willingly was the Sahara. They’d had Jase’s graduation dinner there. Celebrated Connor getting his driver’s license by riding the roller coaster. Jase and Connor took Gage there for his twenty-first birthday; the three of them toasted Caleb in the bar and then hit a table playing one of Jase’s new games.

  “It’s also sad. There were a lot of stories in that old building.”

  “Mmm.” Gage turned onto a side street and then another less trafficked street that would lead to Callie’s condo.

  “It’s quicker if you take the expressway,” she said. “Don’t you miss the look of Old Vegas?”

  Gage chuckled. “Neither of us is old enough to know what the old Vegas was really like.”

  Callie slapped at his arm. “You know what I mean. Vegas before the mega-monster hotels took over the Strip, but after we got the mob out.”

  “You mean when we had to sneak onto the casino floor and pray security didn’t look too closely at our fake IDs?”

  “Exactly. Now all the casinos have facial recognition, and they card everyone under the age of fifty. Kids can’t get away with nearly as much.”

  “I miss the old hotels, too.”

  “Is that why you’re so focused on getting the Heck ranch? So you can develop it into a monster hotel and casino?”

  Gage shook his head. “No, I already told you, I want it so I can develop it into an eco-friendly, boutique hotel that guests will pay handsomely to experience.” He also wanted it so he could hold on to a little more of Nevada’s natural beauty. He wanted it because the project would be a huge payoff for his company. He wanted it because Walt Heck had been one of Caleb’s best friends. Gage had let go of the anger he’d held toward his father a long time ago. Caleb hadn’t intentionally neglected his children. Bringing Helena back home had been his way of showing them how much he cared. It wasn’t his fault Helena had cared more about her next hand of blackjack or poker than her husband or her children.

  “You missed the expressway turnoff again, Mr. Mogul.”

  Missed. Avoided. Gage didn’t care to look too closely at his reasons for staying on the surface streets. “Sorry,” he said, but didn’t give Callie more of an explanation.

  Feelings were overrated. Change was good.

  So why was he taking the long way to Callie’s Henderson condo?

  Chapter Six

  Callie pulled packing tape over the top of another box, labeled it OFFICE with her green Sharpie, and shoved it to the side. She opened another box and began packing more files and papers, letting her mind wander as she filled box after box. She hadn’t seen Gage since he dropped her off at her condo two nights before, and things felt like they were getting back to normal. At least her heart didn’t go into shock at the sound of the store door opening anymore.

  She’d spent the first day looking out her office window, wondering if he might stop in. Spent the next night thinking about their two dinners. Yesterday, she’d distracted herself by buying moving supplies, but even the office supply store was filled with men who, from behind, might or might not have been Gage. This morning, she was determined to stay focused on packing her office and the reception area.

  She’d sent Mandy into the supply room a couple of hours before with more empty boxes, and this afternoon, a moving crew would arrive to take the large furniture to the new location.

  Her tummy clenched when she realized her dream was coming true—when she had been so close to losing it all just a couple of days before.

  And it was because of Gage.

  She paused and wondered what he was doing this morning.

  Nope, no more thinking about Gage. No obsessing about Gage. He was her investor and landlord. That was quite enough; she didn’t need to muddy the waters with emotional attachment.

  He’s working on his business, that’s what he’s doing, she admonished herself. Just as you should be.

  Callie emptied the last drawer in her desk and started on the closet, packing away the sweater she left inside and the extra pair of black stilettos. Twenty minutes later, the office and reception areas were filled with boxes, but the surfaces were clean. She surveyed the space. Decent size. Nicely divided rooms. Completely wrong location.

  She felt a weight lift from her shoulders. Illusions of a grand chain of Holliday Spas opening within the next five years were gone, but this move was a solid start in the business direction. Now she needed to stop bringing Gage into her thoughts about the business. That would be a solid step two.

  Mandy walked into the reception area with a big box in her arms. “Last of the supplies.” She grunted as she set the box on top of another. “We’re ready for the movers.”

  “Is it ridiculous to say I’m going to miss this place?” Callie looked around the box-cluttered space, holding a potted spider plant in her arms. “I mean, it was the first Holliday Spas.”

  Mandy looked at her as if she’d grown two heads. “We’ve had thirty customers in the past six months. No, I’m not going to miss that.”

  “But you were my first hire.” Callie knew it was silly, but there were things about the Vas Hole Center she would miss. She’d met Mandy while working at the Timber, and Mandy had quickly become her main cheerleader, encouraging her to start the spa. Mandy had quit her steady job to come work for Callie, and over the ensuing months, their friendship became a kind of sisterhood, bonding over cheap stuffed animals from the warehouse next door and long sessions of paper football at the reception desk. They’d played around with nail polish and generally acted like children a few times. Callie offered Mandy a shoulder when her ex dumped her, and Mandy returned the favor when Callie’s parents decided to leave Vegas for good. All of that happened here. After the past few years with Eddie, Callie knew the value of a true friend.

  “But this place nearly bankrupted you.”

  “You broke up with Mike right by the front door.”

  “You mopped up the remains of a backed-up sewage leak right down the hall.” Mandy mimicked Callie’s wistful tone. They stepped outside onto the cracked sidewalk.

  “Yeah, okay, good-bye, Vast Hole,” she said, ducking her head as she pushed her key into the lock. She swiped at her eye with the back of her hand. There were new memories to make at the new store—and customers. She couldn’t forget the customers.

  Mandy carried a box filled with nail polish and her reed infuser to her car and drove away. The movers would be here within the hour, but they had a key and clear instructions. Callie put her plant in the passenger seat of the Bug and then started the engine, but couldn’t bring herself to drive away. The Vas Hole Center was a vast hole, no doubt about it. But it was also her first solo location. She sighed.

  “Bigger and better, Cal,” she said. “Bigger and better.”

  Twenty minutes later, Callie stopped before the Oasis sign and watched a group of pedestrians wander from store to store. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She’d been excited to return to Vegas, even knowing things wouldn’t be the same as when she was a child. Excited because coming back meant taking a step forward. Opening her own business, as stressful as it had been, was part of her plan to rebuild her roots. She had a plan. She had firm goals and a timeline in place. Now she had the location.

  Callie continued to the storefront, unlocked the door, and pushed it open. This place was part of her foundation now, and she would make this work. She put the spider plant on the counter, looked at it from a couple of different angles, an
d finally decided it looked best at the corner. Hands on her hips, Callie surveyed the space.

  This was where it began.

  A wave of heat pushed into the space as the door opened. “Thought I’d find you here.” Gage sauntered into the reception area wearing jeans, a grey striped T-shirt, and boots. All that was missing was the ten-gallon hat. Callie’s mouth went dry. She swallowed hard.

  “You w-were looking for me?” Her toes curled against the soft cushion of the flip-flops she’d worn for moving day. Gabe. Looking for her. His eyes twinkled, and her hands clenched. Looking. For her.

  He waved a sheaf of papers. “Sure, signing day.”

  “Right. The lease.” Of course. He wasn’t looking for her. He wanted his tenant.

  “You know, and I thought I could help you pack. Or unpack.”

  And there went her breathing into overdrive again, when the words coming from his full lips were just words. Not declarations of any kind. Silly, really. He’d been her friend a long time ago. He was her investor now. Her landlord.

  Callie pushed her plant to the other side of the reception desk and back again, wishing she had more to do. Where were the moving trucks, anyway? Her watch read one o’clock. The trucks wouldn’t be here for at least another hour. What was she going to do with Gage in her office for another hour?

  “You can’t want to spend your afternoon slinging boxes or unpacking old files,” she said.

  Gage leaned against the counter, papers still in his hand. “I live for the days I don’t have to wear a suit and wing tips.”

  “You live for the days you get to wear a suit and wing tips.” Or maybe that was just her. He was yummy in Hugo Boss and Gucci. Her gaze slinked up and down his body once more. Almost as good as he looked in Levi’s and Lucchese boots.

  Not that she should be looking.

  “I have work to do.” Callie reached for her bag, remembering the handful of files she’d dropped inside. She opened one, pretending to read the purchase order and making a few nonsensical notations on the paper. Gage leaned over the counter, arms crossed at the wrists, fingers dangling. He circled his index finger over the purchase order, and although his hands were inches from hers she could feel the heat of him.

  Business partners, she reminded herself, business.

  “Me, too.” He plucked the purchase order from the folder. “Hmm, a three-month-old purchase order for lavender-scented massage oil. Seems like very pressing business.” He waggled his brows.

  Callie bit the inside of her lip, holding in a smile. “I’m finalizing payments.” She snatched the paper back. “No customers doesn’t mean no business.”

  “Paid.”

  Callie blinked. “What?”

  He pointed to the invoice. “It’s already stamped paid.”

  Callie slammed the folder closed, crushing the invoice. He would have to notice all the little details, wouldn’t he? Gage probably never became distracted from his primary goal, whatever that might be. Spreadsheets, numbers, step-by-step plans with every t crossed and every i dotted. He never would have signed a lease with a bad address.

  “What are you doing here, anyway?” She spat the words out, and immediately wanted them back. Her mistakes were her own, not Gage’s. He was helping her, and she might have wanted to do this on her own, but obviously “on her own” wasn’t good enough.

  He stepped back from the reception counter, holding up his hands. “Whoa—”

  Callie squeezed her eyes closed. “No, I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair.” She took a breath and studied him for a minute. There was a question in his eyes and maybe a bit of hurt. God, she was an idiot. None of this was Gage’s fault. In fact, her business was a blip in his grand scheme. A scheme he’d plotted and planned for a long time. Her big plan blowing up in her face was her issue, not his. “I’m not mad at you.”

  “Who are you mad at?”

  She sighed. “The world? My inability to get my business off the ground? My parents buying a frickin’ RV instead of staying in Vegas with me? Take your pick.” She put the folder back in her bag. “Doesn’t really matter. Since you’re here, I’ll take you on a tour of my new business. Even without the furnishings, you’ll get an idea of what we’re doing here.”

  She took a roll of duct tape from her bag, squared off an area for spa chairs and another for a waiting area, and then took Gage through each room, noting the kinds of services to be offered in each. There would be a hot stone-massage room, another for simple oils. She hoped the largest could be outfitted as a couples-massage room or even a room for bachelorette or bridal parties. By the time they returned to the front, the moving trucks were there and Callie felt like she’d gotten her equilibrium back.

  She had a plan, and it was a good one. Maybe she’d make a floor plan and really map it all out. Maybe Gage had one she could—

  No. She watched him talking with the moving guys outside for a moment. Not asking Gage. He’d done enough with the funding and the new location. This was on her. This was her business—her life—and she wasn’t going to fail.

  Gage came back in carrying a box, and trailing after him, the movers began hauling tables and chairs and boxes of product. Callie joined in, and soon the truck was emptied and the movers pulling out of the parking lot. And he was still there.

  Still hot.

  Still helping.

  She liked the help, but she needed more space. She needed to do this on her own.

  “Well, thank you. I’m sure you have your own work to do.”

  Gage glanced outside and then back to Callie. “I can stay. Help you unpack some boxes since Mandy hasn’t arrived yet.”

  “She has the afternoon off.” Callie’s eyes widened, and her hand flew to her mouth. Mandy was the perfect excuse to get Gage out of the office. Because unpacking really was a two-person job. “But this is easy stuff. Product goes in the closet, and the rest will wait for tomorrow when Mandy comes back.”

  “I cleared my day. It’s no problem.”

  She took his arm, ignoring the zing of pleasure skittering up her arm at the contact, and started toward the door. He had to go. Now. “Thank you for the unloading help.”

  Gage stopped her at the door. “It’s no problem, Cal, and I’m staying.”

  • • •

  She was so prickly. Gage watched Callie from across the room. Thirty minutes before, she’d finally stopped telling him to go, but then she’d banished him to the storage closet for a job sticking bottles of oils, waxes, stones, and other spa paraphernalia on shelves. He plopped another bottle of oil—jasmine-scented this time—on the shelf and rolled his eyes. How many different scented oils did a person need? Okay, she ran a spa, but seriously, how many different scents? All that was missing was the pumpkin spice.

  Two boxes later, he’d unpacked cinnamon and clove, lemongrass, eucalyptus, and lavender. He grabbed another bottle from the box. Freaking vanilla. Was the woman running a bakery or a spa?

  He watched her for a moment, unwrapping newspaper-wrapped glass decorations and placing them in organized sections on the reception desk. Round figures in one section, paperweights in another. Always organized, this new Callie seemed to have a place for everything right down to the smallest of packing peanuts. Callie crouched by a box, flattening it and pushing it to the side. Her calf muscles flexed as she pulled another box over, and Gage’s mouth went dry. A clear crystal from her flip-flop glinted in the sunlight streaming through the windows, and Gage snapped out of the near trance he’d been in watching her work.

  This was Callie. His childhood friend. His tenant. He didn’t do messy; he did no complications. He had enough on his plate avoiding the texts and friendings going on since Connor’s article. It was why he’d taken a day out of the office and left his phone on his desk. No interruptions. A little break from the pinging of his email program and the bleeps from his social networking apps. Barb informed him this morning she was done being his date-canceler and that he could darn well figure out his own love life. He
didn’t need to complicate this, too.

  Gage broke down his last box and put out the final bottle of product—a cream-labeled lily of the valley that made him cringe. Caleb had planted lily of the valley outside Gage’s bedroom window one spring when Gage was little. He’d hoped Helena’s favorite plants springing up around the ranch would make her want to stay. She lasted all of thirty-six hours. That plant was one of the first things he and his brothers dug up after Caleb died. But the sharp scent of it still tingled his nose from time to time.

  Didn’t matter. He put the bottle on the shelf and then took his pile of boxes to the narrow hall at the back of the storefront for disposal. He took Callie’s boxes back, too, and then, with nothing else to do, leaned against the counter to watch her.

  “Seriously?” She didn’t look up from the stack of crumpled newspapers she was flattening, but a little giggle escaped her.

  Damn, what did she want from him? He’d come here to help, dealt with five thousand bottles of scented oils that no one really needed, and had not complained once.

  “Yeah, I’m seriously done, oh Goddess of Packing, what should I do next?”

  Callie stood and smacked the paper on the counter between them. Connor’s headline seemed to yell at Gage from the counter.

  “Bachelor of the Month, Mr. Professional?”

  Gage wadded the paper and threw it into the one remaining box, but Callie pulled another from her stack and poked her finger at the headline.

  “It’s nothing, just my brother’s idea of a publicity stunt.”

  “Looks like something to me.” Callie picked up the paper and rustled it, then cleared her throat and began reading, “Local property developer, Gage Reeves—”

  Gage put his hand over the paper. “Don’t, too embarrassing.”

  “Come on,” she teased. “Were you that hard up for dates?”

  Gage watched her for a moment and saw the flash of humor in her eyes. Not laughing at him, laughing at the situation, maybe, but this was the Callie he remembered. Humorous, but not hurtful. “Well, Vegas isn’t that big,” he said, taking his cue from her. Because maybe it wasn’t so bad, phone calls and texts and social media aside. It would all blow over. Things like this always did.