by Celia Loren
I slip out of bed, tiptoeing around to redress myself and tossing my torn panties in the wastebasket. I steal one quick look back at him, looking like a tattooed Greek god in a tangle of expensive sheets, and softly close the door behind me.
Chapter Thirteen
Boone
"Boone!" Mason says from the driver's seat.
"Hm?"
"You're grinding your teeth so loud they can probably hear it in Atlanta," he says with a laugh.
"Oh, sorry," I murmur, and stare back out the window. I don't know why he's decided to come to this meeting at Upland, and I don't like it. Usually he stays out of the actual deals involved in running the company, preferring to stay in his handsomely-appointed office and schmoozing with well-connected Savannah residents. Does he not trust me to do this rebranding by myself, even after all these years?
But that's not really what's bothering me. I can admit that much to myself. The truth is, I've been in a shitty mood since yesterday morning, when I woke up and Callie was gone. It's not like I've never slipped out of a woman's bed in the middle of the night, but the difference is that I'm always the one leaving.
At least the meeting today is just with the Creative Director, and if Callie thinks I'm going to go out of my way to seek her out, then she's got another thing coming. I can play it cool just as well as she can. I've been doing it for years. I mean, hell, I gave her the first orgasms a man has ever given her. Or so she said... Fuck. Is she the one playing me here?
Is it always like that for you? she asked when we were lying in bed together. I didn't answer her, but the words keep rattling around in my head. I try to push them away, try to explain away what I felt while she was pressed against me, when I felt her perfect fit around my cock, and I can't. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe she's got extra-strong pheromones. Maybe...
"Here we are," Mason says, pulling into a spot in the building's underground lot. We head up in the elevator to the top floor, and a young female receptionist eagerly stands to greet us as we walk to the front desk.
"I'll just let Martha know you're here," she says. As she picks up the phone and punches in her boss's extension, I see her peer up at me through her eyelashes, and subconsciously or not, her hand goes to the top button of her blouse and fiddles it back and forth. I've had women react this way to me since I hit my late teens. I mean, it's nice to know I have the option, but I'm not really in the mood to pursue this girl.
Martha comes out of her office with an alacrity befitting the presence of her biggest clients. We follow behind her, and Mason chats her up. I can feel that I'm being uncharacteristically quiet, and consciously will myself to shake off my dour mood.
We make ourselves comfortable in a seating area opposite her desk, and Martha pulls out a few very initial design ideas from her team.
"Hm..." Mason murmurs, before Martha even has a chance to hold the top one up. I feel myself stiffen. I knew he'd pull this shit. "I'm just not sure that captures the traditional Woodall & Sons spirit. This is a business that's been passed down through my family for generations," he says, as though he's telling her something she doesn't know.
"Of course," she replies, nodding her head as though he's said something incredibly wise.
Over the course of the next hour, Mason manages to find something wrong with each preliminary design, though he's never very specific about what he doesn't like. I feel my mouth begin to twitch with annoyance. If I'd been here alone, we would have gotten through this meeting already and come out with solid steps on how to move forward. And when I would have presented Mason with the final idea, he would have loved it. It's only when he starts micromanaging that he holds up the operation. He blames it on the ideas, but I think it comes down to his being unsure over the decisions he makes.
Finally, we stand up and shake Martha's hand. I can see a fissure of worry on her forehead, even though she's smiling. I share her concern. The grand opening of 100 River Street isn't too far away, and should be much further along in the rebranding. As Mason and I head back into the elevator, I'm shocked to hear him start humming and glance over at him.
"Just gotta make one quick stop," he says, looking mischievous. I stare at him for a moment, wondering what he could be referring to, but decide not to ask. When the doors open on a lower floor, he walks out with a spring in his step. "Be right back," he says over his shoulder, and walks away.
I sigh, wondering how long he's going to be. After five minutes of waiting and catching myself grinding my teeth again, I decide to go looking for him. If he's going to be much longer, I'll just catch a cab back to the office and he can drive back when he's done.
I glance over the phalanx of cubicles in the middle of the floor. I can't see him from here. I wander around the edges, pulling out my cellphone to call him when I finally hear his voice coming from an open door down a short hallway. Just before I reach the doorway, a woman's voice pipes up and I stop in surprise.
"I just wish you would have told me," she says. It's Callie, and I can tell by her tone of voice that she knows Mason well.
"Guess I can't do anything right," he says, hurt and anger creeping into his voice.
"That's not what I'm saying. It's just that if people around here knew, they might think less of me. And it's not like we aren't going to see each other tonight anyway," she replies beseechingly.
Anger swells in my stomach and ripples over my skin. I spin on my heel and head back to the elevator, angrily punching the down button. The thought that Callie could have a boyfriend had already occurred to me, but not in a million years did I think that it could be Mason Woodall.
Makes sense, now that I think about it. She's definitely been hiding something big, and Mason was oddly excited to come here today. That must be why he picked Upland Designs in the first place, so he could throw his girlfriend some business.
I burst out of the lobby level and onto the street, feeling disgusted. Callie knew that I'm her boyfriend's business partner, and she still slept with me. I know one thing for sure, and that's that I never want to see her again. Now I just have to decide if I should tell Mason what his girlfriend's been up to behind his back.
Chapter Fourteen
Callie
"You still annoyed with me?" my father asks from the head of the table.
"Hm? No," I reply, realizing I'd been staring off, lost in my own thoughts, for who knows how long.
"You and Boone both," he mutters under his breath. Did I hear him right?
"What about Boone? Boone Tillman, you mean?"
"Of course, Boone Tillman. He was in some kind of mood today, then he left after our meeting without even letting me know."
"Oh. Boone was at your meeting today?" I ask, my mind whirling.
"He wants to meet you at some point, by the way. Maybe after you two have gotten over your little snits," he pouts.
I want to argue that he's the one who seems to be in a mood, but I hold my tongue. "I'll take your plate to the kitchen if you're done," I say, and clear the table as he nods.
Back up in my bedroom, I chew on my cuticles as I stare at my cell phone's black screen. I haven't been able to stop thinking about Boone since this weekend, but I don't want to come on too strong. My father's report about his mood has me wondering, though. Could he be missing me, too?
I can't resist the itch. I slide my phone open and dial his number. I sit up and nervously play with my blanket as his phone rings. I hear him answer with a click and open my mouth to say hello, but there's an immediate dial tone.
That's odd. I could have sworn he answered, but maybe he pressed the wrong button or something. Smartphones can be tricky. I wait a moment to see if he'll call back, then decide to try him again.
The phone rings, and again I hear him pick up. "Hey, Boone," I say.
"Don't contact me again. I know about you and Mason," he growls.
My heart jumps into my throat as he hangs up. Shit. I didn't consider that he would find out on his own. Could he have seen a picture
of me in my dad's office? Or maybe my dad called me by my first name for once?
Tears begin to well up in my eyes. I can't have that be my last contact with Boone. I just can't. The idea of never seeing him again is causing an untenable longing to build up inside my very bones.
I stand up and grab my purse and car keys. No time to walk over. I know I'm not thinking rationally, but I at least need to explain myself to Boone. Explain that I didn't mean to lie about who my dad is, but that everything just sort of got away from me.
I hurry down the steps, and spot my dad in the parlor with his whiskey. "I'm going to see Lynn for a bit," I tell him.
"Alright," he says, with an offhanded wave.
In my hurry to get over to Boone's house, I make a wrong turn. It feels like it adds another hour onto the trip, though the dashboard clock is telling me it all takes only five minutes. As I glance at Boone's house lights when I pull up, I realize I've made a mistake. They're all off. I chew my lip. Well, there's one other place I know he could be.
I head downtown, trying to remember the way to my dad's office. Luckily Savannah's not too large. I find a spot about a half a block away from the building that houses Woodall & Sons, and do a truly terrible job of parallel parking. I pull a card out of my wallet that my dad gave me to get into the building in case I ever wanted to visit him at work, and swipe it at the entrance. I press the button for the top floor in the elevator, and nervously run my fingers through my hair and take a deep breath. I don't want to look as frantic as I feel.
As the doors ding open, I step out and glance around. The reception desk is empty, and the offices behind it are dark. I swipe my card again at a glass door and walk through, feeling like I'm trespassing. I spot my dad's large office in one corner, and from the opposite side of the floor, a soft glow coming from under a closed door.
I walk quietly over, around piles of construction plans and sleeping computers. I stop at the door, and see Boone's name on the plaque outside it. I press my ear to the door, and can just hear the sound of typing on the other side of it.
I better do this before I lose my nerve. I put my hand on the knob and turn. My stomach jumps as Boone looks up from his desk at me. He frowns and stands up so quickly that his chair almost tips over backward. I quickly step inside and close the door behind me, as though that will somehow prevent him from throwing me out.
"Just let me explain," I say quickly.
"How did you even get in here?" he snaps, then sneers. "Of course, he gave you a key card. How convenient."
"Well, he wanted me to be able to visit," I say defensively.
"I'm sure he did."
I'm a little thrown off, but I barrel ahead. "I understand if you don't want to see me again, but I just wanted to explain. And apologize."
"If I don't want to see you again?" he repeats, sounding shocked. "What kind of man do you think I am?"
"It just all happened so quickly. When I saw you at the party, and then at Upland... I was going to tell you who I was, but I was afraid, well, I was afraid of this happening. And I just wanted a chance to get to know you."
"Don't you care how Mason feels at all?"
"Of course! And I know he'd be furious." I blink back tears. I can tell by the way Boone is looking at me that I don't have a chance with him anymore. "I'm sorry. I never meant to lie to you." I turn to leave, then pause. "It's silly, but ever since that first time you had dinner at our house, I felt a connection with you. Well, I was wrong then, and I guess I was wrong now, too."
I'm halfway out the door when he speaks. "Wait, what? When did I have dinner at your house? You and Mason live together?"
I turn back and stare at him for a moment. "Well, yeah. I mean, since I graduated, and when I was young, of course. Before I went to live with my mom."
"With your mom," he echoes, a blank look on his face. "I don't understand."
"You don't remember, I guess," I say, feeling disappointed. "It was the night you pitched my dad your ideas for Woodall & Sons. We all had dinner together, and then—"
"Your dad?!" he exclaims, a look of utter bewilderment crossing his face. "No, no, Mason's daughter's name is Grace."
"He calls me by my middle name. Callie Grace Woodall. Wait, you knew that, though. That's why you're mad at me, for lying about my dad," I say, his bewilderment now becoming mine.
"I... I thought you and Mason were seeing each other. I overheard you two talking at Upland, and I could hear that you knew each other, so I assumed—"
"You thought he was my boyfriend?! Ew! Gross!" I exclaim. "He's my father!"
"Well, I know that now!" he retorts, then practically collapses back into his chair. "You're Grace. I can't believe it. Grace Woodall. Callie Grace Woodall. That was you? At that dinner? What was that, seven years ago?" he says, squinting at me, as though trying to shape me into his memory.
I walk forward, sitting in a chair across from him with some trepidation. "Yes. You remember?"
"Well, I remember someone."
Chapter Fifteen
We stare at each other across the desk for a moment, as the truth settles around us. "You look different," he finally says, leaning forward.
"No braces anymore. And corrective eye surgery," I murmur.
"Not just that," he says. "I remember that dinner well. Or at least I thought I did. So you're Mason's daughter. The one who spoke up for me. I've been wanting to meet you since you got back from college so I could thank you."
"Well, surprise! Here I am," I say wryly.
"I don't think I'd be where I am if it weren't for you," he says seriously.
"Mm," I murmur.
"What?"
"Do you remember what happened right after the dinner?"
"Mason and I went into his study and I told him my ideas."
"And then?"
"And then? I don't know... I think I ended up at a bar that night, celebrating."
"But before that, you walked out of the house and called someone. I heard you," I press him. If we're finally being honest with each other, I want to get everything out on the table.
"Oh..." he says, looking away and seeming to replay the night in his mind. "I think it was this girl I was seeing at the time. Yeah, she was pretty convinced my plan wouldn't work."
"You... you told her I was just some awkward teenage girl," I say quietly. "I could hear you from my window." The edges of his mouth turn up slightly and I glare at him. "It's not funny!"
"I'm sorry," he says, holding up his hands. "Well, first of all, I remember that girl as being very jealous, so I always had to play down any other woman I met. And secondly, you were sort of awkward," he adds apologetically. "But what does it matter?" he asks as I gasp. "Look at you now!"
"It mattered! It mattered a lot, alright? I was being bullied a lot at school, and I had this big crush on you—"
"On me? Just from that night?"
"No. Shit," I swear, covering my flaming cheeks with my hands. "I didn't mean to say that."
"What? Tell me," he demands, coming around the desk and sitting on the edge of it right in front of me.
"It's so embarrassing," I groan, but he waits, silently. I sigh. "I had sort of seen you at my dad's construction site a while before that. And I used to, you know, go by there after school."
"To watch me?" he asks. I look up to see a wide grin on his face.
"I was fifteen," I remind him. "What can I say? You looked good in a pair of Wranglers," I mutter, leaning back in the chair and folding my arms over my chest.
"You were fifteen," he repeats. "And right after that you went to live with your mother?" I nod. "Well, I'm sorry. For what I said. Especially after you helped me like you did. I actually always thought of you as something special after that. I used to wonder what you were up to."
"Really?"
"Really. So, what do I call you?"
"Callie. Only my dad calls me Grace."
"Where'd you get Keene?"
"It's my mom's maiden name. I used it
when I applied for jobs around here because I wanted to make sure I was getting it on my own merits, not just because of who my dad is."
"That's admirable."
I smile. "He hates it. It really limits his ability to control my life. That's why he gave Upland his business, and why he came to the meeting the other day."
"I thought he was just trying to see his pretty young thing," Boone admits with a smile.
"Ugh. Can we never mention that again, please?" I ask with a shiver. I watch his hands as he turns one upward and rubs his palm with his other thumb as though working out a cramp.
"You're Mason's daughter," he says again, though now his inflection is different. I wait for him to continue. "He's given me so much." He looks around his beautiful office and then back down to me.
"I know," I say quietly. "I just wanted the chance to know you as me. I knew it could never really go anywhere."
"That's true."
His words hit me like a ton of bricks. It didn't seem like it was really over until he said those words. But I just can't let him go. If he's not going to fight, then I will. I stand, my head level with his as he leans on his desk.
"But what if..." I rest my hands on his knees.
"Callie," he says warningly.
"I know we could never be together. And I know you don't want anything serious, and neither do I, but maybe we could just see each other every now and then," I suggest, sliding my hands further up his thighs.
"You're asking me to betray your father," he replies, but I can hear his breath catching in his throat as though he's struggling to hold himself back.
"Yes," I say simply. "You know, I asked you a question the other night and you never gave me an answer. So? Is it always like that for you?" I look into his eyes, knowing I'm making a big gamble. For all I know, every time he has sex with a woman, it is that good. But I felt something that night that tells me it's not.
He slides one hand roughly around my neck and pulls my face toward him. He pauses for a moment, his eyes glowing, his jaw twitching.
