by Erika Kelly
Her blood turned into a roiling cocktail of hot and cold. Manifest destiny? What, somehow Callie thought she was so special she could snatch the job away from someone else? The shocked gazes trained on her lit her up like spotlights.
“I’m certain by now you’ve all seen the exhibition she created from my son’s idea.”
Heat shot up her neck, spreading like a fever throughout her body. Embarrassment ignited into outrage—Julian had never had an original thought in his life. Why would he when his parents orchestrated his every move?
Satisfaction gleamed in the old bat’s eyes, and an odd sense of calm and clarity took possession of Callie.
She stepped forward, clearing the crowd in front of her. “For a moment there I was confused when you credited your son for the Exhibition of Broken Hearts but, come to think of it, if he hadn’t dumped me the day after he proposed in the middle of my brother’s rehearsal dinner, if he hadn’t tossed me out of the apartment we’d shared, leaving me homeless, I would never have come up with the idea to start my own exhibition. So, in that respect, I guess I do have your son to thank for forcing me to think outside the box and come up with some way to salvage my future.” She raised her glass. “So please thank him for that. Tell him he’s responsible for the best thing that ever happened to me.”
A tense and horrible silence filled the room, but Callie didn’t give a damn.
Because she’d finally figured out her bliss.
With a two-hour layover at the Salt Lake City airport, Callie wandered into a book store, tote on her shoulder and phone tucked against her ear. “What’s all that noise?” she asked her dad. She was used to the incessant buzz of conversation in her parents’ diner, along with the periodic outbursts of singing, but it sounded like a convention was going on in the background.
“There’s a lot of activity going on at the Bowie place,” her dad said.
Fin. She hadn’t called him after leaving the reception. Once she’d made up her mind to go home, she knew she had to have the conversation in person. They had to resolve things one way or another. She’d thought a lot about what he’d said, about her shutting down instead of unleashing on him the way she used to. And he was right. Once he’d decided to go to Chile, she’d shut down. Slipped right back into Calliope, when she should’ve let him know what she was thinking. How his decision had impacted her.
But what if they couldn’t work things out? She’d have to live in Calamity with him right there. She’d have to see him with a woman. A girlfriend.
A wife.
Carting a kid around on his shoulders—a little boy with his messy dark hair and blue eyes. The pain had her closing her eyes and turning away from a wall of books.
No, that wouldn’t happen. It couldn’t. A world without Fin and Callie didn’t make sense. “What does that have to do with the diner?”
“You didn’t hear?”
“Fin and I broke up, Dad.” Strange how saying the words out loud felt like lying. “We haven’t talked.” A sense of urgency hit. She needed to get home and talk to him. She needed to be with him. What if he left town? He could be gone for a month.
“I thought he’d tell you about his plans.”
Her pulse quickened. “No.” Plans? What plans? “What’re you talking about?”
“Between him and Brodie, they ought to bring a lot of business to Calamity.”
What could that mean? The Braverman contract would have Fin on the road half the year. “How would Fin bring business?”
The PA system drowned out her dad’s voice. She hurried out of the store. “I didn’t hear you. Can you say that again?”
“I said he’s building a state of the art training facility. He’s already got athletes signed on. Big names, too.”
“How can he do that and make his films?”
“He tore up the contact. He’s training instead.”
But would that make him happy? “Really?”
Her dad chuckled. “Took him long enough to figure it out.”
“Figure what out?” She had to practically shout over the next announcement.
“What he’s meant to do.”
“Do you know why?”
“Sure I do. He stopped by a couple nights ago. Never seen him so sure of himself. Said he—”
Another garbled message came on. Jesus, was she standing under a speaker? “Wait one second, Dad. I can’t hear you over these damn announcements. Just wait.”
Only this time something caught her attention. “…information desk. Calliope Bell, please meet your party at the information desk.”
“Dad?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“They’re calling my name. I hope nothing’s wrong with my flight.” She just wanted to get home.
“No, doll, nothing’s wrong with it. Go on and take care of business. I’ll see you in an hour and a half.”
“If my flight’s on time, I’ll be home in three hours.” But he’d already disconnected.
Callie hustled along the concourse until she found the information desk. A few people stood in line, but a woman dressed in black pants and a short-sleeved black shirt looked up from her cell phone. She smiled at Callie and tucked the phone into her back pocket.
“Callie?” As the woman reached out a hand, Callie read the patch on her shirt. AirTrans Pilot.
“Yes. Hello.” They shook hands. “What’s going on?”
“I’m your pilot. Joanne Riley. Why don’t you come with me?”
“I don’t understand. I have a flight. It leaves in less than two hours.”
“I think you’ll prefer my mode of transportation.” She tipped her head. Come on.
Callie gestured behind her, at the gate. “But my luggage.”
“Everything’s taken care of.” She laughed again. “Believe me.”
Callie followed the pilot through a door for Airport Personnel Only.
“Can you tell me where we’re going?”
But the woman kept up a brisk pace down a long hall, before punching in a code and then pushing the release-bar of a door that led to the tarmac. “Here we are.” A blast of hot air and the roar of engines hit Callie as she stepped outside into the blinding sun. Joanne headed toward a sleek gray jet.
Her parents couldn’t afford to charter a flight, so a Bowie had to be behind this.
And then black boots hit the steps. Callie shielded her eyes with a hand to take in the jeans-clad legs that followed. A navy blue T-shirt covered a muscular chest and biceps.
And then that smile. He’d come for her. She’d told him to stay away but, of course, he hadn’t.
Because a world without Fin and Callie didn’t make sense.
Callie took off at a run, her heart full to bursting. “Fin.” She slammed against his hard chest, and her body thrilled at the feel of his strong arms wrapping around her. Home. She was finally home. And this time she’d never let go. “I’m moving back to Calamity.”
“I know, wild thing.” His arms banded around her and lifted her off the ground as he held her tightly to his chest.
When he started to pull away, she tightened her hold. “Don’t let me go.”
“Never gonna let you go again.”
She tucked her face into his neck.
“We’re gonna get it right this time,” he said. “You believe me?”
She pulled back. “My dad said you’re going to run a training facility.”
He nodded. “I finally figured out how to be the man you deserve.”
“I think I figured out how to be the woman you deserve, too.”
“What about your dream of being in the New York art world?”
“My job at the fellowship was about raising money for an installation that I didn’t care about. I mean, there I was at the reception, texting Stan and Barbara, coming up with new ideas for the exhibition, and it struck me. I’m already a museum curator. I love what I do.”
“That all you love?”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. �
�I love you, Fin Bowie. With everything in me, I love you.”
He smiled, pressing a kiss on her mouth. “You gonna be happy in Calamity?”
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” She wanted her time with Theo and her parents. She wanted her friendship with Megan.
And most of all… “I want to wake up with you every day of my life.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Fin reached into his back pocket and pulled out one last purple larkspur. After a decade of making flower-chain bracelets for his wild thing, he knew exactly how many fit her wrist.
A year ago, he’d come home for Ryder’s wedding with nothing but a fistful of hope that he’d find a way to get his woman back. Now…he breathed in the sun-baked sage with a full heart…now, he had it all.
His phone vibrated in his pocket, but he ignored it. He was done for the day. In addition to training his five elite athletes, he’d broken ground on the lodge that would house them, which meant the only thing left on his agenda was to spend his birthday alone with Callie.
The trail ended in his backyard, so he unlatched the gate and made his way around the covered pool. He saw movement through the windows, shadows milling around.
She wanted to make a big event out of it, huh? Didn’t she know that after a day around his athletes, the full-time nutritionist and personal trainer he’d hired, the yoga instructor, his brothers, and Uncle Lachlan, he only wanted to be with her?
He’d go along with her plans, obviously, but then he was hauling her off to his bedroom to get their own private party started.
The sliding glass door rumbled on its runner, and he heard whispers.
“Shh, you guys.”
“He’s here.”
“Woman,” Fin shouted. “I’m home. Fetch me a beer.”
His brothers, Brodie and Gray, burst out laughing, and conversation kicked in.
Callie strode into the kitchen. “You’re such a jerk.” She walked right into his arms, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him soundly. “Happy birthday.”
Taking in her long, wavy hair, the pretty wrap-dress she’d worn for a day in her museum, he breathed in her wildflower scent, and all the stress of the day dropped away. “How long till everyone’s gone?”
“Hey, little brother, no one’s going anywhere.” Gray tossed a bottle of beer at him.
Fin caught it in the air.
“Come on out and say hello to everyone.” Callie reached for his hand, but Brodie cut them off.
“Hang on. Let’s give him his present first. Before he starts moonwalking on the dining room table.”
“I was ten.” Why did they have to bring up the same old childhood stories? He followed Callie and his brothers up the back stairs and down the hall. “Where we going?”
Brodie led them to the trophy room, and they all gathered outside the door. “Within these walls lies twenty-eight years of accomplishments. From local to county to state to national and world competitions, our achievements are all on display. All of us…except for you.” Brodie drew a breath. “Today, that’s finally going to change.”
“About damn time.” Gray clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Proud of you, little brother.”
Fin glanced to Callie. He had no idea what they were talking about. He hadn’t earned a trophy in his life, but their seriousness got him excited.
Brodie opened the door, and they all followed him inside the dark, windowless room.
Impatience had him reaching for the light switch, but someone’s hand covered his.
“Hang on,” Brodie said. “I just…” He sucked in a breath. “I’m damn proud of you, Fin. All it took was word-of-mouth to launch this training facility, and you’ve already got three Olympic athletes and two World Games competitors.”
“He’s had to turn people away,” Gray said.
“All right, cut the shit, and turn on the light.” Half of him was sure they were messing with him, but the other half was about to explode with anticipation.
The lights went on, and he scanned the shelves and glass cases—until his gaze landed on the massive framed magazine cover that took up half the wall.
His image smiled back at him. National Adventurer had declared Fin Bowie the most sought-after coach in extreme sports. That’s so cool. He reached for Callie’s hand and gave it a squeeze, emotions running high.
He didn’t even care about the moustache someone had drawn over his upper lip in black Sharpie. But, from the tension in the room, he knew his brothers were waiting for his reaction.
He gave them each a hard look. “I always wondered what I’d look like with a porn ’stache.”
They all burst out laughing. Gray drew him in for a hug, and Brodie piled on.
Too bad Will’s not here. He was in Whistler, at the last competition of the season.
“Will’s right, you know,” Gray said into his ear. “You’re the best out of all of us.”
“Come on.” Brodie slapped both of them on their backs. “Let’s get out there. Callie got the entire town to come over and kiss your ass.”
“She even made you a cake,” Gray said
“Wait.” Brodie headed toward the door. “You can make a cake with sweet potatoes?”
The brothers filed out of the room, but just as Callie started to follow them, he grabbed her hand. “Hang on.”
His woman, his heart, turned back to him with a curious expression.
He gently tugged the flower bracelet out of his pocket and reached for her hand.
She beamed that fresh, sexy smile. “Thank you. I love it.”
As he gently slid the chain onto her wrist, an image struck him. Callie, with a wreath of wildflowers on the crown of her head, her wavy hair a crazy rumpus around her glowing face. In a white lace gown, her feminine hand outstretched, waiting for him to put a ring on her finger.
I need to make that happen.
He’d always known he and Callie were forever, so marriage didn’t enter his mind. In all the ways that mattered, he’d been married to her since high school. Who needed a piece of paper when she was half his heart and most of his soul?
But, right then, the symbolism mattered. Mattered a lot, actually, if his thundering heart meant anything. “I want to marry you, wild thing.”
Her hazel eyes went warm and soft, and a look of joyful serenity came over her. “I want that more than anything in the world.”
Hell, yes. “We’re going to get married.” Why did that make him so damn happy?
“Now you can finally make a decent woman out of me.”
“Nah, I want to keep you as indecent as I can.”
Cupping the back of his neck, she got up on her toes and kissed him.
Every time—every single damn time. All she had to do was look at him, and he lit up. But her touch? This connection? Jesus, he got so hot for her. Pressing her to the wall, he grabbed the backs of her thighs and lifted her, holding her in place with his hips. Her fingers gripped his hair, her legs banded around his waist, and she rocked into him.
“Want you,” he whispered in her ear.
“Want you more.”
He squeezed her ass, fingers slipping under the elastic edge of her panties and seeking her hot, wet center. “You’re going to be mine forever.”
“I always was.”
“Do I need to turn the hose on you two?” Marcella stood in the doorway. She shook her head. “You got a house full of people who want to wish you a happy birthday, Fin Bowie, so how ’bout you come downstairs so I can roll out the cake and let them sing the damn song?”
Callie tucked her face into his neck, her body shaking with laughter.
“You want to give me a minute here, Marcella?”
“No, but for the sake of polite company, I will. One minute, Fin.” She left the door open behind her.
Callie lowered her legs but kept her arms around his neck. “You’ll get to unwrap your present after they leave.”
“Damn right I will.”
As they
came down the staircase, he found the living room filled with familiar faces from his past and present. His and Callie’s families, old teachers, Coach, his staff, neighbors, and his Dad’s friends. A warm feeling settled over him. He had a full and beautiful life. He couldn’t ask for anything more.
The moment he hit the bottom of the stairs, arms reached to embrace him.
“Happy birthday, Fin.”
“Hey, man, happy birthday.”
And then the group launched into the birthday song. Marcella and a cake blazing with candles parted the crowd as she made her way to him. Golden candlelight lit her features as she watched him with pride. The chorus grew louder and stronger, until she stopped right in front of him. Callie’s hand rested in the middle of his back.
Someone shouted, “Blow out the candles!”
Just as he drew in a breath and leaned forward, he heard a voice call, “Excuse me?”
Everyone turned to see a woman standing in the doorway. In her arms, she held a little girl with a tumble of auburn curls. Her face was turned into the woman’s neck, hidden behind the stuffed chicken she clutched in one tiny arm.
“I’m looking for the Bowies?” the woman said.
And with that the little girl’s head popped up, and she eyed the roomful of strangers with a mix of challenge and stubborn determination.
A wave of shock rippled across the room. Someone said, “Oh, my God.”
Because there was no mistaking it. From the bright blue eyes to the shape of her face and that defiant expression, that girl was a Bowie.
The question was—
“Whose kid is she?”
Thank you for reading THE WORLD’S WORST BOYFRIEND! It’s the first book in the THE BAD BOYFRIEND series:
THE WORLD’S WORST BOYFRIEND
THE THOUGHTLESS BOYFRIEND
THE CARELESS BOYFRIEND
THE HEARTLESS BOYFRIEND
