“What? Hold on. Say all that again,” I say, looking up at Brock. He eyes me weirdly, but repeats his description of the guy.
“I know him. I know who that is.”
My blood is running cold and my heartbeat is loud in my ears. I feel panic growing in my stomach. Both Brock and the officer look at me, waiting for an explanation.
“I dated him. Just a couple dates. He’s an asshole,” I get out.
“What’s his name?” Brock asks, his voice tight. His hands are balled into fists and pressed into the top of counter.
“Gabe. Gabe Turner.”
“Can you handle that?” Brock asks the officer, giving him a hard look.
“Yes, sir. Don’t worry,” Johnson says, finishing up pleasantries and putting away his notes.
“Tell my brother about this - he can help,” Brock tells Brett right as he walks out the door. With a nod, he leaves and we’re alone again.
There’s a tense quiet radiating off Brock now.
“Has he been to your house before?” Brock gets out, clearly not happy thinking about this guy.
“No, never.” I say. “I never invited him up here. I met him in Denver for every date.”
Brock looks at me and his shoulders fall. He sees that I’m on edge here. In a second, he’s in front of me, wrapping his arms around me.
I grip the back of Brock’s shirt, my cheek on his chest. I realize the only way Gabe could have found me is to track me from Denver this afternoon.
“He followed me here,” I whisper, so mad at myself that I can barely get it out. “I saw him in the city and he must have followed me back here.”
“Is that the stuff that happened in Denver?”
“Yeah. I’ve been ignoring him. He’s pushy and sleazy and a total dick, so I haven’t answered his calls or texts in weeks. I ran into him at a coffee shop, he tried to put his hand up my skirt, and I freaked out. I know I made a scene in that coffee shop, so I’m sure that pissed him off. I left after that and went to a meeting. He must have waited to watch me leave…” I trail off, horrified at how much time he had to put into this.
Brock is rubbing my back now, his strokes jerky and tense. I can tell he’s fuming.
“What a fucking piece of shit,” he growls.
“What do I do?” I ask him, really and truly unsure. I thought I had been careful and smart. I wasn’t even thinking about checking the roads as I left Denver. I’m so mad at myself I could scream.
“I’ll take care of it.”
Brock
I could punch something. Anything. I don’t want to scare Callie - she’s obviously rattled. But, fuck, I’ve got to do something about this guy.
I’m looking across the counters for my truck keys and checking my watch - I could make it to Denver and back in a few hours. I could give this Turner kid a quick visit and let him know -
“Please, just stay here. I really can’t be alone right now,” Callie whimpers, tears threatening to fall again. She can sense my need to unleash, and I’ve gotta hand it to her - she can read me like a book already.
Right. She’s the priority now. I nod, my jaw tight. She pulls me to the couch and I sit, tense.
“How about a movie? I can’t keep thinking about all this,” Callie says. She’s right, a distraction would be good. I pull a blanket over her legs and open my arm up for her to snuggle up to me. She does without hesitation.
She starts a dumb comedy movie and we drift into small chuckles and mindless chatter. Her head in on my shoulder and she’s tucked into the crook of my arm. It feels like she’s always belonged right here next to me.
The movie does little to relieve the tension. I can still feel her back is stiff and she jumps at every little noise Cookie makes in the floor. We both know we’re avoiding the elephant in the room here. She doesn’t know my “elephant” is something she doesn’t even know yet.
“Look, Callie, I have to tell you something. And I know it’s gonna piss you off, and I need to apologize about that before I even say it, but -”
“What is it?” she says, eyes wide and her spine upright and stiff now.
“I saw his car. I saw the guy at Maggie’s before you went home.”
Her eyes bore directly into mine. Her skin goes ashen. She stammers and takes a few deep breaths before finally getting out a “What?”
“I know. I’m fucking sick about it. I saw the car there - it was the only one besides ours’ in the parking lot. I saw him sit there while you drove off and I saw him go the same way. I had no clue he was following you,” I’m scrambling now. I can’t lose this woman before I even have her, but I also can’t keep this from her forever. Her usually plump lips and pressed into a tight line now - she’s watching me intently.
“I’m so sorry, Callie. So fucking sorry. I wish I had been more cautious. I thought it could be anyone going anywhere. I had no clue he was following -”
But she’s up, off the couch, shrugging off the blanket and going towards the bathroom. This can’t be happening.
I watch her go, not blaming her for leaving. I’d be pissed too. Well, I don’t know how I would feel. I’m not stupid enough to assume what she’s feeling - it’s got to be overwhelming. But I’m hoping she can forgive me.
I hear the bathroom door close and I wait. I feel sick, with myself, for Callie. I can’t imagine what she’s thinking right now. I don’t know her whole story, but I can imagine that she liked having me here to protect her. I mean, she called me as soon as shit got real. Surely she felt like she could lean on me, right?
But maybe not now. Maybe I fucked it all up even telling her. Just when I think she may have moved into the bathroom for good, I hear the door open.
She’s standing in front of me, eyes glowing that wild green again.
“Callie, look I’m sorry. I just -”
“Let me get this off my chest before I start crying again. I’m so tired of crying and I need to say this.”
I shut up instantly. I keep looking at her, despite how ashamed I feel.
“I had some...really heavy shit happen to me back in Texas,” she starts, not looking at me at all. She’s staring above my head, concentrating.
“A guy...this guy at a bar put something in my drink. He roofied me, followed me home and broke into my house,” she pauses here. I feel like I could throw up or punch something, and I don’t know if I’m ready to hear what happened once this guy broke in.
“Stuff...happened. And I’ve been fucked up ever since. I’m paranoid, I can’t trust anyone, and I don’t sleep well, if ever. My therapist told me to get Cookie to have something good to focus on,” she gets out, as her voice starts breaking. I start to get up, but she keeps going.
“I came up here to Colorado to get away from it. They never caught the guy, so I couldn’t stay in Austin. The police asked me what the fuck I was wearing that could’ve “provoked” the guy, rather than actually looking into my case,” she says, louder now. Her breathing is heavier now. I can’t imagine the toll it’s taking for her to tell this. I stand awkwardly, a few feet from her, wanting to comfort her, but not wanting to stop her train of thought.
“Either way, I need you, Brock. I need this. I need to feel safe. I need to be able to sleep. I need to feel like I can trust someone. I’m sorry I had to leave for a minute, I just… I had to calm down. I know you like me. I know that I like you. But you have to know what kind of baggage I’m carrying around. I can’t just fuck for fun anymore. I can’t really handle being touched sometimes. I know that might be what you want and if that is you have to tell me now because I need to know. I have to know. Because I can’t keep wondering who I can trust. I can’t - “
My arms are around her before she can finish the thought. My hand is in her hair, pulling her face close to mine. She gasps against me, her arms stiff.
“I want you, Callie. I want to have you near me and I want to protect you and I want that goofy dog with us and I want to be the reason you feel safe.” I confess. I can’t get a
ny more words out before I kiss her. Deep and hard, gripping her waist. She’s tense, muscles tight and ready to push me off. But another moment of holding her and pressing my lips to hers, and she starts to relax.
I hold her up as we kiss. The fingers in her hair pull her closer into the kiss and my thumb strokes across her cheek. My lips press desperately against hers, pulsing with the passion I feel for her. Her hands wrap around my back, holding onto my shirt, pulling me tighter against her.
I break away to finish my thoughts before I lose them for good
“I’m so sorry, Callie. I should’ve gone home with you. I should’ve stopped that guy. I don’t think I’ll ever not be sick about that but I’m here now,” I tell her, stroking her hair and keeping her against my chest. “I’m here for you, Callie.”
“Thank you,” she whispers, hardly making a noise against me.
Callie
Brock goes with me outside as I let Cookie use the bathroom. He checks the cars, the front gate and the barn to make sure nothing is amiss. Something warm swells in me at seeing him make sure every possible entrance is safe. For me.
Once the place feels secure, we make our way inside. This part could be awkward. It’s almost midnight by now - we have to sleep at some point. I’m not sure if he’ll ask me to sleep with him or give me a bed in another room. And I don’t want to force him to sleep with Cookie if he doesn’t want to. Surely this mansion of a cabin has more than one bed.
He guides me up the stairs, closing doors and turning off lights as we go. Cookie follows on our heels as he directs me down a hallway to double doors and pushes them open. Once again, I’m in awe of this place.
“Wow,” I start, taking a few ginger steps into the room. “This bed is the size of my whole bedroom.”
“Well, I’m a big guy,” he half chuckles. “I had it custom made when I redid the house.”
“How big does a bed need to be?”
“Honestly, I planned for this bed to be the one I share with my wife,” he says, looking right at me. “I could take up most of a California king, so I thought this was the best option - for her and for me.”
He’s looking at the bed now, almost dreamy as he continues.
“I know it’s stupid, but I kind of imagined this bed being big enough to share with kids if they have a nightmare, or dogs if she and I had them,” he says, gesturing at Cookie on the floor. “Either way, there’s plenty of room to have your own space,” he adds, his embarrassment showing through his beard.
“That’s really sweet,” I offer. He smiles at me, that genuine smile that wrinkles the skin around his eyes.
“Do you want to sleep in here? There’s other beds, if you want. I’m totally fine if you say no.”
“I want to stay in here,” I say, hoping he gets the gravity of that. I couldn’t do this with just anyone.
“Good, honey,” he mumbles, leaning over me to kiss the top of my head. “Do you want to start another movie?”
“That sounds perfect,” I tell him, feeling the weight of sleep settle on me.
I pull an extra blanket off the bed to make a little bed for Cookie. She sniffs then circles on the blanket, rooting around to make a little nest of fabric. Finally she plops down, sighing happily. By the time I climb onto the bed, her eyelids are heavy with exhaustion.
Scooting towards Brock, he lifts an arm to open a space for me. All this touching is still foreign to me, but after these last few encounters with him, I know I’m safe. His arms comes around me, the thick muscles of his arm pulsing heat into me.
We debate the merits of several goofy movies and shows and finally settle on The Office. It’s silly, but I need a mindless distraction right now. Brock’s thumb strokes across my arm and I nuzzle deeper into his side. It becomes more and more difficult to keep my eyes open.
Brock gets up to turn out the lights and get ready for bed. I nearly choke on a groan as he exits the bathroom in just athletic shorts and nothing else. As if cuddling him wasn’t delightful enough, I get to snuggle into a wall of warm muscle now. I get a perfect view of the muscles across his back as he bends over to give Cookie a scratch. Sweet as can be and sexy as fuck? How did I ever get this lucky?
That same glow I had when he was locking up the house fills me again. This is where I need to be.
Callie
Brock cuddles me through the night, keeping it chaste and relaxed. We finish that season of The Office and make a dent in the next.
At some point in the night, I drift off. When I wake up, my nose is against Brock’s chest. He’s turned toward me with an arm across my waist. Even with sinking into the bed, his broad chest and shoulders raise above me, creating a warm cocoon to nestle in to.
I shift, trying to get into the perfect spot to go back to sleep when Brock’s eyes slowly open.
“Are you okay?” his voice gravelly and low with sleep.
“I’m good,” I whisper, wrapping an arm around him to get closer.
He leans into me, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Good, honey.” he mumbles before he’s lost to sleep again.
I lay awake for a while, trying not to notice every warm, sturdy part of Brock’s body pressed against mine. As if his muscles aren’t distracting enough, I’m still processing yesterday.
My luck couldn’t have been any worse when I met Brock. He’s given me no reason to not trust him - in fact, he’s given me the most comfort and assurance of anyone in the last year - maybe even longer.
But having him, his hard protectiveness and his softer side just for me, is eye-opening. Maybe I do have a reason to feel better, to actually be happy about my life. I’ve got so much to be thankful for that I’ve been too deep in my head to recognize: my job, my cute cabin, the chance to start fresh, and Cookie.
Cookie. When is the last time I saw Cookie? I know she followed us up the stairs to the bedroom, but where has she been since then? I can usually hear her snores through the night, but I was too distracted and exhausted to pay attention.
I roll out of Brock’s arms to look on the floor. She has a knack for passing out wherever she sits down, so she’s got to be on the floor.
Nothing is there. Not Cookie. Not even a bathroom accident she’s still prone to have in the night. Just the crumpled blanket I put her on last night.
I slide off the bed, trying hard not to rock the mattress and wake Brock. My feet hit the floor and the cold jolts me awake - where the hell is Cookie?
I dig my phone out of the blankets to turn on its light. I’m looking under the bed, behind furniture, through the bathroom. I walk through all the bedrooms upstairs, then make a lap downstairs. The dark, unfamiliar layout means I’m bumping into everything, louding whispering for Cookie when Brock scares me half to death.
“What’s wrong?” his voice clear and alert now.
“I can’t find Cookie,” I say, more panic in my voice than I realize.
“She’s not upstairs?” he asks.
“No!” I shriek, much louder than I intended. “I’ve been calling her. She’s not in here.”
I’m down on my knees, checking under the couch. She’s hidden under my couch at home before when thunder comes around - maybe she’s been spooked? I’m on my hands and knees, checking under the last piece of furniture downstairs as I start to cry. What if she got outside? What if my sweet little puppy is freezing out there?
“Did you open this window?” Brock asks.
I perk up to see where he’s looking. A kitchen window is half up, covered with muddy smears from the outside. The things on the counter beneath the window are scattered, pushed to the side.
Someone has been in the house.
Brock
There’s a lot I can deal with. An asshole in traffic? Sure. Some idiot getting pissy with me in line at the store. Fine. But someone breaking onto my land - even my house? There’s no fucking excuse.
I already know my blood is boiling, but hearing Callie put the pieces together makes it spike to a level I didn’t know I had
.
“He took Cookie. Gabe must have known I’d stay here. What is he gonna do to her?” Callie stutters, her volume and panic building with every word.
That piece of shit Gabe stole the dog.
I’m back up the stairs, grabbing my phone, and next to Callie again in seconds. She’s in shock, her face gray and eyes wide.
Safe on the Mountain: A Mountain Man Romance Page 9
