What the Bachelor Gets

by Kristina Knight

  With one smooth stroke he was inside her warmth, and everything else faded into the background. It was only Callie. Only him. She smiled, a soft turning of her lips, and closed her eyes as he began to move.

  Gage caught her mouth with his, their tongues mimicking the moves he made inside her. Fast, furious. Wanting more, more. He always wanted more with her. She mewled beneath him, her hips pumping as their rhythm increased.

  “Gage!” she cried. And then, softer, “Gage.”

  He reached between them, pressing his finger against the bundle of nerves, and watched as Callie flew over the edge, felt her body spasming against his from her shoulders to her toes.

  He followed her into the abyss a second later.

  Chapter Twelve

  Callie woke in Gage’s bed at the ranch on Sunday morning and stretched. After they made love at the lake, they’d come back to the house and did nothing all afternoon. They sat on the back porch and talked about nothing. He showed her around the renovated barns and outbuildings, obviously proud of the improvements he and his brothers had made to the property over the years. Gage avoided the small incline and the large oak tree that shaded the burial plots there.

  Callie couldn’t blame him. She brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. He’d had a decent upbringing but a crappy childhood, from what she could tell. Helena running off all the time, Caleb determinedly bringing her back. Then his parents both died within a year of one another, leaving him to figure out who he was without any adult supervision.

  But look what he’d done. His family still held the ranch. Gage had a thriving development firm, Connor seemed to be doing well with publishing, and Jase’s games were in casinos all over the world. She’d seen Jase on late-night television once, competing in a poker tournament in Monaco. She’d fallen asleep when the competition was down to Jase and a Saudi sheikh. Of all the brothers, Jase was the most mysterious. Too far ahead of them in school, Callie only knew him by reputation—wild—and those Reeves eyes that seemed like the deepest pools of chocolate. Gage shifted on the bed, pushing his head partially under his pillow. The sheet rode low on his hip, and his arms were flung up toward the headboard. Callie scooted down the bed to get a better glimpse of the tattoo on his ribs. She’d traced it with her fingers at the lake and tasted it with her tongue in the night. This was the closest she had come to examining it.

  Across his ribs ran the UNLV mascot with a football in his hands. The mascot stood on the Rocking R brand. Like Gage. The ranch had given him his start, but he’d done the rest on his own. She traced her fingertips over the lines, wondering how she would choose to mark her body. Maybe a butterfly—wasn’t that the symbol for rebirth? Maybe a phoenix, rising from smoke. Like her—letting go of the mistakes she’d made since leaving Vegas, reconnecting with her life here. Building something solid. Real. She smiled. Or maybe she should go silly and tattoo Charlie Brown on her ankle.

  No. A tattoo had to mean more than a favorite character, at least for her. The phoenix, then. Maybe.

  Gage sighed, pushing his head farther under the pillow.

  Callie didn’t want to wake him, so she carefully slid from the bed and picked up his T-shirt from the floor. She gathered her clothes, debating whether she should run a load of laundry quickly. Unless she wanted to run around the ranch naked, she would need clean clothes. She slipped the tee over her head and padded down the hall to start coffee, then started the quick wash cycle and threw her clothes in.

  While she waited for the coffee to perk Callie plucked her tablet from her bag and clicked onto her favorite news app. It was Connor’s paper, Vegas Nightly, and it was filled with show reviews and local gossip. Later, once she’d had coffee, she would look up actual news. One headline caught her attention and she clicked through to read the story.

  Bachelor of the Month off the Calendar?

  Get ready to cry in your Cheerios, ladies. It looks like Las Vegas’s favorite bachelor is off the table.

  Last week the women of Las Vegas voted, and it wasn’t Criss Angel or any of the Hollywood crowd who they say they’d most like to … meet. Las Vegas native, ranch owner, and property developer Gage Reeves wins this crown. When put on a ballot with four other hotties, Reeves won 61% of the vote to become Vegas Nightly’s Bachelor of the Month.

  Reeves didn’t follow up the win with an interview like so many former bachelors have, and now we have a reason. Las Vegas masseur Calista Holliday Davenport. She quit work at the Timber just last week—gee, we wonder why?—and some rumors suggest her next stop will be a full-service spa in—you guessed it!—one of Reeves’s Strip properties.

  We just have to ask: Ladies, what will you do to get Gage Reeves out of the spa business and back into your business?

  There was picture of them holding hands on the sidewalk outside the Strat. Callie had been looking at the Insanity, filled with another load of thrill-seekers, but from the camera angle it appeared as though her full attention was on Gage. There was a starry look in her eyes. Adrenaline, she knew, but for anyone who didn’t know she’d just faced down one of her greatest fears, it might look like love.

  She clicked off the story, refusing to look at the comments section. She’d already gone down that road after seeing the original article about Gage’s charms. Who wrote asinine articles like that? It was worse than gossip. It … Callie got up to pace. Her bare feet slapped against the hardwood floor. How dare that reporter suggest she’d quit her job to leech off Gage? She’d quit the Timber long before Gage came into the picture.

  Okay it was more like three hours, but Gage wasn’t the reason she’d quit. Bob and the Egyptian Slave Girl costume were the reasons she’d turned in her headdress.

  Okay, she didn’t turn in the “uniform” so much as throw it in the trash. At least the writer hadn’t suggested she’d stolen the ridiculous outfit. Then she’d be a thief and a whore. Callie blew out a breath. As long as she knew she was neither, that was the important thing, right? Arms folded over her chest, she looked through the kitchen window to the desert in the distance.

  Callie knew the stories were a nuisance to Gage, partially because the voting came from Connor’s paper and partly because he didn’t want to be known as some kind of playboy heartbreaker. He professed to be a bad risk, a commitment-phobe, and because of Helena, Callie had no doubt committed relationships weirded him out. But commitment-phobes didn’t go out of their way to help friends and didn’t get upset about being cast as the playboy type. Those types lived up the playboy rep because they craved distance from other people.

  The coffee pot sighed, signaling the end of the cycle. Callie poured a cup and took it to the porch swing to drink. The ranch yard was quiet. Gage had told her that none of the staff lived on the property. With Rollie also gone, taking the coyote to Washington, she didn’t worry about being seen or having to talk to a perfect stranger at the crack of dawn. She pushed her foot against the floor to begin swinging.

  Worrying about either the first or second article was a waste of her time and energy. Gage was dating her, no one else. Gage wanted her, not some woman in the comments section of a local newspaper who promised the night of his life in exchange for a stake in a poker game at the Luxor.

  So what if perfect strangers were talking about her? She knew who she was and what she believed in.

  Complicated, she reminded herself. Complicated but not impossible.

  But she couldn’t stop the niggling doubt that what they were doing would blow up in their faces.

  • • •

  Gage woke to a cold bed. There was an indentation on the other pillow but no Callie in his bedroom. Or the adjoining shower. He considered his options—shower and then go in search of her, or go in search and forget about the shower altogether. Showering together held a certain appeal. Go in search of, then.

  He pulled old board shorts over his hips but didn’t bother with a shirt. Gage found her in the kitchen. Coffee perked, but there was no other sound. Callie sat at the big kitchen t
able with one foot drawn up on the chair beside her so she could rest her chin on her knee. She swiped her finger across that tablet with beetled brows. Her mouth was flat, her shoulders stiff. She swiped again, and the anger in her expression turned sad. He must have made a sound, because she looked up as if she’d been caught doing something wrong. Her blue eyes widened, and the pale skin at her temples seemed to grow more pale. She licked her lips and hit the button to turn off her tablet screen.

  Interesting.

  “There’s coffee in the carafe.” She pushed a bowl with sugar and another with creamer across the table.

  “Black is good,” he said and poured a mug. “What’s on the agenda today?” He could dive right into whatever had held her angered interest a few minutes ago, but after a week with Callie he knew he’d find out sooner rather than later, anyway. She didn’t hold on to secrets. In some ways, she seemed compelled to tell people, or at least him, everything, from the state of her bank balance to the reasons of the death of her marriage.

  That part still bothered him. He didn’t like to think of Callie alone in unfamiliar territory. He disliked even more that she had been so alone she’d taken up with a guy like Eddie Davenport to fill in the holes. Of course, emotions made people do crazy things.

  Emotions had made Caleb chase after Helena every time she ran off. Caleb’s absence had driven Gage and his brothers to not only keep the ranch going, but to build their own businesses. Because while money didn’t buy happiness, it at least made it simpler to get through the day.

  Callie looked at him expectantly.

  “Sorry, zoned out. What were you saying?”

  She put her tablet back in her bag and rinsed the coffee mug in the sink. “I was thinking we should head back into town. You have that proposal to finish for Walt, and I’ve got a couple things to finalized before the grand opening tomorrow.”

  She shook her head.

  “Or we could take a couple of dune buggies into the desert.”

  “I haven’t done that since I’ve been back.” Her eyes lit up, but then she shook her head, turning him down. “I don’t have any of the gear, though. I came out here in jeans and a cami, not great choices for an afternoon in the sun and sand. Maybe some other time. I really do have a few things on my to-do list.”

  Gage watched her for a long moment. “And?”

  “And, nothing. Just have things to do.”

  Her gaze skittered away from his. Nope, he wasn’t going to let her do that. She’d been warm and wonderful a few hours ago. Whether this was just a case of cold feet or something more, Gage didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to let whatever had cropped up come between them.

  “What’s the problem?”

  She shook her head. “It’s nothing. I just … things are getting complicated. I thought I could deal with this. Working together, the investment, us dating. I know what we are and what we aren’t. But I can’t just forget you’re the reason I have more than seventy dollars in my bank account. You’re the reason I have a location that will actually appeal to customers. You, you, you.”

  “Your proposal and business ideas. Your determination to see the idea succeed. Your choices in not only location but decor and setup and amenities. You, you, you.” Frustrated, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m going to ask again, and you’re going to tell me. What’s this about?”

  “I don’t like complicated.”

  “Me, either, so lets uncomplicate it. Starting tomorrow, all contact about the business end of things will come to you from Barb. She’s an amazing assistant and usually handles all contact with our leaseholders. I was handling you because I wanted to be with you. You. Not your business.” He stalked across the room to stand beside the kitchen counter, where Callie continued to rinse the coffee mugs. “Does that satisfy your compulsion to uncomplicate things?”

  “No,” she said miserably. “You’re still the property owner. You still invested in my business. And we’re still dating. It’s murky, and it makes it hard to breathe.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

  “To whom? To you? You think I’m dating you to ensure I get a good return on my investment? Honey, if all I wanted was a good ROI, I wouldn’t have spent three hours unpacking fifty boxes of perfumed oils and lotions that gave me a splitting headache. I would have sent you my usual ‘welcome to the property’ box of office supplies instead of taking you to dinner, and I wouldn’t have housed a goddamn coyote on my property for three hours, much less three days.” He took a breath. “You got burned by Eddie. I’m not using you to get anything, Cal, and I don’t like you implying that I am.”

  She was quiet for a long moment. “I’m not the only one who thinks our relationship is muddy.”

  “Mandy? I wouldn’t put much stock in what she thinks. And before you smack me down for that one, I’m sure she’s good at her job. Good at a job doesn’t always mean astute about other things, though.”

  “Mandy’s all about me dating Gage Reeves.” Callie took the tablet from her bag, and handed it to him. “Internet browser. First window.” She waited while he turned it on and started reading.

  Gage ground his teeth and gripped the tablet until his thumbnails turned white. He tapped the top of the screen and read the web address. Connor’s newspaper. Shit. What had he done to piss off his idiot brother this time? Connor acted weird the other night out here, and he hadn’t admitted he was wrong for putting Gage on the list to begin with, but Gage thought they were agreed that letting this Bachelor of the Month thing die was the right thing to do.

  “I’m going to kill my brother.”

  “It isn’t his fault. You’re a public person.”

  “That doesn’t give them the right to imply you’re prostituting yourself for an office space.” She blanched at his choice of words. “Sorry.”

  Callie blew out a breath. “No, it’s okay. But do you see what I’m staying about complicated? How am I supposed to start up a legitimate business with a viable future if people think I’m sleeping with you to get it?”

  Gage wanted to smash the screen against the granite countertops. “So I’m your, what, pimp?”

  “More like sugar daddy,” she said drily. “I don’t see you that way, and I know you don’t see investing in my business as a way to also get into my bed. I just … it’s so—”

  “Don’t say that word.”

  “Not simple, then.”

  “If you know why I’m seeing you and I know why you’re seeing me, does the rest really matter?”

  “Technically, no.”

  She looked so sad when she said the words. Gage put his index finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Then screw ’em. Let’s hit the desert and forget about your business or my business. Lets have fun, Cal.”

  Callie watched him for a long moment, a question he couldn’t quite decipher in those deep blue eyes. Then her gaze softened. Her mouth relaxed, and her shoulders sagged.

  “Okay,” she said. “Screw ’em. We know what we are and what we aren’t.”

  Gage gathered her to his chest. He knew what he wanted from Callie, and it had nothing to do with her business.

  But there was something in her eyes. She was holding back; she was not the same person she’d been at the lake yesterday or riding Insanity the day before that. And not knowing what she wanted from him made Gage twitchy.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mandy handed an iced mocha across the reception desk to Callie. The party planner was giving the waitstaff a few last-minute instructions, and the spa looked perfect—no paper streamers or balloons, and the waitstaff weren’t wearing fuzzy sweaters, chain belts, or scuffed leather boots. Pictures of the desert or old Vegas graced the walls. Mandy burned an incense combination she’d guaranteed would entice customers to make future appointments.

  Waiters in black tie waited for the first invited guests to arrive.

  “Three hours of chatting and charming and hopefully we’ll be off the ground
,” Mandy said before sipping her drink. “If I haven’t already said it, the place looks great.”

  “You have, several times. If I haven’t already said it, thanks for sticking with me through the Vast Hole.” Callie kept one eye on the parking lot. The grand opening meet and greet was set for 4:00, and it was 3:58. Plenty of cars lined the lot, but most seemed to belong to customers for other businesses. Maybe she’d judged everything wrong.

  Maybe that stupid article in Vegas Nightly had turned people off.

  “You gave me a job and offered me friendship beyond that.” Mandy hugged Callie around the shoulders. “They’ll come, even if it’s just to see if Gage is the brains behind the operation.”

  Callie shot her a venomous look.

  “Hey, gossip and curiosity are huge motivators.” Mandy dropped the cups into the trash can and picked up a hand mirror to check her makeup. “Once they’re in the door, you’ll show them who the brains really belong to.”

  “Thanks.” Callie’s voice was quiet. She hadn’t told Mandy how small that article had made her feel. Even with Callie knowing in her heart that Gage wasn’t using her and she wasn’t using him, the article seemed to cut straight into her confidence.

  The bell at the door chimed, and Callie pasted a professional smile on her face. “Welcome to Holliday Spas. I’m Callie, and this is Mandy.” She knew this part of the presentation by heart, and as she came around the desk to shake hands with the impeccably dressed and perfectly made-up women at the door, Callie went into full sales mode.

  For the next hour, she introduced, chatted, and mingled with several Vegas movers and shakers, reporters from the various print magazines around town, and a blogger from Connor’s online magazine. A group of women in short skirts and midriff-bearing tops stepped through the front door, the soles of their platform heels click-clacking against the tile floor. The four looked around the reception area, and then one broke off to head down the hallway. Callie had no idea who they were, but from the tips of their polished toes to the ombré of their perfectly blown-out hair, she knew them. They were here for Gage.