Screwed

by Kelly Jamieson

  Callie nodded in dumbfounded silence, and Mama’s gaze tracked him as he walked out the front door with a wave. Her fingers trembled on the doorknob as she closed the door behind Cash.

  “Callie, what are you thinking?”

  Her insides seized up. “What do you mean?”

  “Looking like that with Beau’s friend here. Your hair’s a mess, you have no makeup on, and…what are you wearing?”

  Callie touched her tangled hair. “Oh. Um. Right.”

  Mama’s eyes narrowed. “Callie. What are you doing?”

  “What am I doing?” Callie whirled and hurried into her kitchen to hide her burning cheeks. “I’m making coffee, that’s what I’m doing. Because I slept late, and I…I had that leaky tap…and I need coffee. Would you like a cup of coffee, Mama?”

  “No, thank you.” Mama followed, her high heels tapping on the kitchen tiles. “We had lunch with the Wyatts after church.”

  “Ah.” Callie gripped the counter, her back to her mother. “Well, if you’re here worried about my eternal damnation, you can see I’m fine.”

  “If you’re on your way to burning in everlasting hellfire, it might not be just because you’re not going to church.”

  She sucked in a breath. “What do you mean?”

  “The Wyatts were at a wedding last night. The Walden-Bishop nuptials.”

  “Oh.”

  “Macie Wyatt heard that you made the wedding cake.”

  Callie turned slowly. “Yes. I did.”

  Mama shook her head. “You made the wedding cake?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh my God. How mortifying.”

  “What?” Callie frowned. “Why is it mortifying?”

  “Weren’t you friends with Melanie Walden?”

  “Um, sort of. We weren’t really close, but we were sorority sisters. She’s two years younger than me.”

  “You should be invited to society weddings like that. Not catering them.” Mama’s lip curled, and she touched her fingertips to the pearls at her throat.

  Callie couldn’t stop the laugh that burst out of her. “I wasn’t catering it, Mama. I made a cake. A very expensive cake.”

  Mama paused, then shook her head. “Still. Macie was so surprised to hear that a Sutherland had made the cake.”

  “Did she like it?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

  Callie’s breath left her on a whoosh of disappointment. “Of course you didn’t.”

  Why had she had even a breath of hope that Mama might have been proud of her?

  But at least this had distracted her from the fact that Cash had been there.

  “I’m starting my own bakery.”

  Mama’s jaw went slack, and she stared at her. “What did you say?”

  “I’m starting my own bakery. I’m going to make wedding cakes like the one for Melanie, and special cookies and French macarons.”

  “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

  Callie’s heart squeezed. “Why is it ridiculous?”

  “Because you’re not a…a baker! And you don’t know anything about running a business.”

  “Mama, I’ve worked in retail for years. I know a little about it. And I worked at Duchesse in Paris for nearly six months. I learned a lot there.”

  “That’s Paris. Not Houston. Oh my God.” Mama pressed her hand to her forehead. “What will people think?”

  Callie sighed. She’d anticipated that her parents wouldn’t be supportive of the idea but hadn’t thought they’d be horrified. “Mama, I’m starting my own business. That’s what people in this family do, right? That’s how Grandpa made billions of dollars, and how your father made millions of dollars, and now Daddy is making millions of dollars.”

  “A bakery?” Mama shook her head. “It just seems so…menial. Do you have any Maker’s Mark?”

  Callie gave her head a shake and set down her coffee mug. “Isn’t it a little early for that, Mama?”

  “Nonsense.”

  Callie moved across the kitchen to the glass-fronted cabinet where she kept her liquor. She splashed bourbon into a glass and handed it to her mother. Mama’s gaze dropped to her hand, and she let out a screech. “What is that?”

  Callie almost spilled the bourbon. “What?”

  Mama grabbed the glass with one hand and Callie’s fingers with the other, staring at them.

  Oh yeah. Her tattoo.

  “What have you done to yourself?”

  “It’s a tattoo, Mama. A very small one.”

  “Oh my God! It’s permanent?”

  “Yes.” Callie paused. “I like it. It has meaning for me.”

  “Meaning? Like what? What is it?”

  “Surely you can see it’s a flower.”

  “Don’t you sass me, young lady.”

  Callie swallowed a sigh. “It’s a lotus blossom. It symbolizes strength through adversity.”

  Mama lifted her gaze and met her eyes. “Adversity?”

  “Beau cheating on me. Our marriage ending.” She straightened her shoulders. “Figuring out what I want to do with my life. I’m a stronger person now.”

  Mama dropped Callie’s hand, and her own hand went to one temple. “Lord have mercy.”

  “It’s a very small tattoo, Mama. Lots of people have them.”

  “Sailors have tattoos.”

  Callie laughed. What could she even say to that? “Don’t worry. Cash took me to get it done at a reputable place. I love how it turned out, and I haven’t had any problems with it.”

  She knew Mama wasn’t really worried about those things, but whatever.

  Mama lifted the glass, peered at the amber liquid in it, then tossed it back. “Thank you.”

  Callie grinned, but her smile disappeared when Mama said, “I’ll talk to your father about this.”

  “About what? My tattoo? It’s too late to do anything about it.”

  “About your bakery business.”

  “Oh. Well, sure, you can tell him about it.”

  “Your father’s a successful businessman.”

  Callie had just made that very point. She shrugged. “If he wants to see my business plan, he can come on over and inspect it.”

  Mama’s lips thinned. “I’m sure he will.” She clinked her empty glass down on the marble counter. “Well, I’d better go. And I expect to see you in church next Sunday morning.”

  Callie wasn’t making any promises. She was pretty sure her relationship with God didn’t depend on actually walking into a building, and she was also pretty sure that a lot of the people who did walk into that building every Sunday were not going to Heaven. “I’ll see, Mama. I’ve been really busy working on starting my business.”

  “Sweet loving Lord.” Mama sighed as she clicked out of the kitchen. “A bakery.”

  Callie followed along behind her, and they exchanged a tiny hug before Mama stepped out the front door. “Bye, Mama.”

  The door closed, and silence swelled around her in the empty house.

  Callie trudged into the kitchen and dropped into the chair in front of the desk she’d been spending so much time at. She stared sightlessly at the computer, her arms dangling at her sides. A feeling of sadness swept over her. Cash was gone, and they hadn’t had a chance to finish the conversation they’d started in bed and…she missed him.

  Well, shit. This was no good.

  No, no. She was just feeling down because of the conversation she’d just had with Mama. Which was the way she usually felt after a conversation with her mother. Damn.

  She bit her lip, then looked around for her cell phone. Crap, it was still in her purse. Possibly dead. She hurried out to find her purse on the table where she’d dropped it last night when she and Cash had arrived home. Hmm, still a sliver of power left.

  She typed in a text message to Cash.

  Mama is gone. I’m going back to bed… Want to join me?

  She stared at it for a long moment, her insides tight, heart fluttering.
Then she deleted it.

  She couldn’t do that. Sure she wanted to be with him, but she knew it made him feel guilty. Mama showing up like that had been a stark reminder of the dangerous game they were playing. It was better if they just stayed friends. Plus he’d said he had things to do today.

  She turned on her computer and opened Facebook. Her eyes popped open wide as she took in all the notifications. What the duck fuck was going on?

  She started clicking, and her eyes stayed wide as she read all the messages, including one from Heather White, the wedding planner, asking for her website link.

  Ack!

  She grabbed for her cell phone again and quickly tapped it to call Kristy. “Hey! How’s that website coming along?”

  “Working on it right now, as a matter of fact. I have some things to show you. I’ll send you a link.”

  “I’m getting all kinds of questions about making more cakes! And a wedding planner wants my website link!”

  “Holy shit!”

  “I know!” She told Kristy about the encounter yesterday when she’d dropped off the cake.

  Well, the encounter with the wedding planner. Not the encounter with Cash, or his “encounter” with the two idiots who’d been flirting with her at the Wild Turkey, or their, ahem, sexual encounters after that.

  She stayed on the phone as she clicked the links Kristy sent her to see the design she’d come up with. “Oh, it’s beautiful.” It was perfect. Elegant, classy, and simple, with a lot of white and a simple font. A series of photographs of one of her cakes, some pink macarons, and sugar flowers rotated across the home page.

  “We can change those photos,” Kristy said. “Or add more. I just got those off your Facebook page.”

  “Those are good. We could add a few more. I’ll do some on the white marble. I really like it, Kristy!”

  “Check the text on each page and let me know if you want any changes. Otherwise, we’re good to go live.”

  “Thank you so much! You’re amazing! Oh, hey, I need business cards. Can you design some that look like the website?”

  “Sure. That’s easy. Oh wait, do you want to use a photograph? Because then we’d need a high-res image.”

  “Um. No, I don’t need a photo on my cards. Just that fancy, scrolly ‘Caked’ and my name and email address and website.”

  “And phone number.”

  “Yes. Oh my God. I should have a different phone number for the business.” She groaned. “This is all happening too fast. And not fast enough.”

  “Okay, I’ll work on it. Monday, you get your new phone number set up and let me know, and I’ll add it to the design and get them printed.”

  “Thank you!”

  “You’re welcome. This is fun!”

  “You’re so talented.”

  “We each have our own talents,” Kristy said with a laugh. “Sounds like you might be busy baking cakes for the next while.”

  “Oh, I hope so! I mean, I’ll probably bake cakes anyway, but it will be so much more fun to make and sell them, and have people enjoy them.”

  What she didn’t say was it was so nice to be validated. To be recognized for something she’d accomplished. Something she might be good at.

  She started replying to messages, fingers flying over the keyboard. She didn’t respond to Heather, preferring to wait until she could actually send her a link, but the other queries she could get started with. For wedding cakes, she needed to do an individual consultation anyway, as each cake would be customized. It would be nice to have a shop where she could meet with clients to take down their ideas, sketch out her ideas, and even have cake tastings, but she could do that here for the time being, or by email or over the phone. She’d been studying other bakery sites and had drafted out the process she wanted to follow. She’d make it work until she had her own little space.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cash left Callie’s place with a casual smile on his face, which disappeared the minute the door shut behind him.

  Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

  In his truck, he started the engine, then slammed a hand down on the steering wheel. Fuck again! His hand still hurt from the fight yesterday, and now more pain radiated up his arm. He shook off the pain, cursing himself.

  They’d nearly been caught in bed by Callie’s mother. He didn’t give a shit about that, other than…well, there were a lot of reasons he had to give a shit about it.

  It was hard to think of what had happened between them last night—and this morning—as a mistake, because, holy hell, it had been fucking amazing. It had been everything he’d ever dreamed of. No, more…more than he’d ever dared dream of; even allowing himself to dream of her was terrifying in its risk. Being with Callie had been heart-tripping and mind-scrambling and soul-scorching. It was almost hard to believe it had really happened, after years of longing, hopeless lust, and restless misery.

  He backed out of Callie’s driveway, careful to avoid Mrs. Sutherland’s Mercedes parked on the street, and started for home.

  Last time they’d blamed the hormones after Callie’s tattoo. This time…okay, he’d admit to being pretty hopped-up on testosterone and adrenaline after that fight yesterday, not to mention that crazy surge of protectiveness that had led to the fight… Hell. He’d been enraged that those douche canoes had been coming on to her when he’d left her alone for a few minutes. He shouldn’t have left her alone. Ever.

  Fuck.

  Okay, maybe he’d overreacted a bit, but she’d clearly been trying to get rid of them, and they were drunk and not listening to her. And there was no way in fucking hell that he’d ever leave Callie unprotected.

  He sucked in a breath and let it out, then rolled his head to loosen the tension in his neck. What was done was done.

  He had shit to do today, so maybe it was just as well that her mother stopped by and propelled his ass out of Callie’s bed. Glancing at the clock on the dash, he saw it was nearly two in the afternoon. He’d promised his mom he’d come by and help her with some computer problems she was having, plus he had a bunch of work he’d planned to get done yesterday after that client lunch. That hadn’t happened.

  At home, he changed out of the dress pants and shirt he’d had on yesterday for his client lunch, rolling his eyes at the blood on the shirt. He showered and dressed in a loose pair of cargo shorts and a T-shirt and called his mom to make sure she still wanted him to come over. She sounded a little weird but said she still needed help, so he jumped back into his truck and drove to her place.

  He gratefully accepted the big glass of sweet tea she offered him and sat in front of her computer. “So what’s the problem?”

  “My internet browser is all messed up, and I can’t figure out how to fix it.”

  Cash smiled and started clicking. In a few minutes he had the settings back the way she preferred them. “You want this as your home page?” he asked.

  “I guess so.”

  While he was there, he ran her antivirus software, installed about fifty updates that were waiting—okay, maybe five—and did a cleanup. As he was working on these things, his mom perched on the desk near him. “Um, Cash?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I heard from your father the other day.”

  His head jerked back. “Seriously? Why? Is he dying?”

  Mama grimaced. “No, he’s fine. At least, if he’s not fine, he didn’t say that. He, uh, wants to get in touch with you and Ginnie.”

  “What the fuck?” He shook his head. “Sorry.”

  “That was pretty much my reaction, too.”

  “Why? Why now?”

  “He wants his son to meet you. Your brother.”

  “Half brother. Jesus.”

  “Brandon is twelve now, and your father wants you all to know one another.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  Mama winced. “I don’t know. Your father seems pretty convinced it’s a good idea.”

  He studied Mama’s monitor as the cleaning program scanned her hard
drive. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know. I guess a twelve-year-old boy is a pretty innocent party in this mess. He wasn’t responsible for your father cheating. He can’t help what happened, and wanting to know his brother and sister is a reasonable wish.”

  Cash didn’t know what to think. “Fuck,” he muttered. “I have no desire to meet him. And I have no desire to see Dad again after all these years. He’s been out of my life for a long time.”

  “I know that. And I understand.” She paused. “I can tell him that, if you want. Or I can give him your email or phone number and you could tell him that yourself.”

  “I don’t want to talk to him.” Even as he said the words, he realized how childish they sounded. He was twenty-eight years old, man enough to talk to the father who’d walked out on them and tell him how he felt about this fuckery. “But hell, give him my number. He can call me if he wants. He doesn’t need to drag you into it.”

  “He didn’t know how else to reach you.”

  “Jesus. A Google search would bring up my name and the company. He could’ve called me at work or emailed me through the website.”

  “Ah…you’re right.” She nibbled her bottom lip.

  “So why’d he contact you and not me? What’s happening with his marriage?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “He better not be thinking he wants to get back together with you.”

  “I hardly think so after all these years. And he gave no hint of anything like that.”

  “Okay, then he’s just stupid.”

  “Cash.”

  He shrugged and clicked the mouse to delete a bunch of cookies. “Whatever. Have you told Ginnie?”

  “Not yet.”

  He sighed. “You want me to?”

  “No, I’ll do it. I’ll call her tonight.”

  “I just talked to her last night. She’ll be home in two weeks for your birthday. Well, give him my number and tell him to leave you alone.”

  She huffed out a laugh. “Okay, I’ll do that. Believe me, I’m not interested in seeing him, either. But he’s your father, and you do have a brother—okay, half brother—and I didn’t want to make that call for you, so I said I’d talk to you.”