Page 67 of Endgame

My voice barely escapes my lips before he speaks up again, cutting me off quickly, “Before you try and fight me on this, know that you don’t have the slightest chance at winning. Now, walk that pretty ass of yours I love so much into the bathroom. Finish getting ready, and I’ll have your coffee reheated and cookies ready for you when you’re done.”

Callaway doesn’t give me the option to respond before he’s busying himself around my kitchen, the sound of dishes being washed and the microwave opening, echoing in my small space.

If I looked for it, I’m sure I’d find my jaw on the floor, but I choose not to fight it.

This can’t be happening, but Callaway is in my kitchen.

And he brought coffee and cookiesfor me.And now he’s washing my dishes. And taking me to my appointment to sell my dead parents’ house. And refusing to take no for an answer.

I retreat, speechless to his caring authority. He’s always doting over me, and I’m not sure why it constantly throws me off. I’m a grown woman, and I could have conquered today alone, but Cal made sure I didn’t have to do it alone. He probably knew I would never ask, but who else do I have to ask besides Navy? And now him. But technically, he’s nothing but a friend to me.

As much as I’ve turned him down when it comes to a relationship, he still shows up and goes above and beyond to make sure I’m taken care of.

These Hayes kids were raised to perfection.

Quickly blow drying my hair and putting on some light makeup, I head back into the kitchen to find Cal seated at the breakfast bar. Once he hears me approaching, he turns and gives me a small smile.

“You look beautiful.”

I must be in a permanent state of blushing when he’s around.

It's possible my lady parts are blushing too.

He found me broken with plans to break me in—love that for me.

I’m fragile, but he’s slowly mending me back together.

“Thank you. You sure you’re up for this?” If I’ve learned anything about Callaway Hayes, he never does anything he doesn’t want to do. The weakest part of me wants him never to leave. I’ll need his safety and perspective to make it through today.

Never let me go, Callaway Hayes.

He leaves me no choice, firing off like it’s his job, “Andlose the chance at seeing the home that built my favorite girlandtaking a joy ride in Chevy? I’m driving, angel. Keys.”

Smirking, he holds his hand out to me, waiting for me to hand over the keys. I don’t even argue. I stand dumbfounded as I watch him strut to the hall tree and grab my purse, throwing it over his shoulder shamelessly, my coffee and cookies in hand, while he stands perched at the door, waiting for me to exit.

“After you.” My body moves on its own, realizing I have nothing to carry, feeling naked at the thought. I’m the girl at the store who needs a cart to hold onto for security. Even if I don’t purchase anything, I’m woman enough to admit it.

I stop my body next to him as I exit the apartment. My eyes find his. “It’s a little creepy that you knew when to be here without me telling you.” His deep and gravelly laughter has me smiling in return.

“Haven’t you figured it out by now?” I’m on the move, trying to puzzle out what he means by that before a smacking sound echoes behind me.

He smacked my ass.

Gentleman, no more.

But I’d like for him to do it again.

29

DAKOTA

I domy best to keep my mind occupied by mindless chit-chat. He’s such a trooper, doing his best to keep my mood up and conversations flowing.

As much as I appreciate that, my mind outwardly hears our conversations and responds, but I’m not retaining any of it. I recognize my responses are robotic, and Callaway notices too.

I sit quietly as he drives Chevy onto the steady road that leads to my family's property. We take off onto the one-mile bend to reach the house, nothing but dirt road and oak trees before us.

In a rapid decision, Callaway hastily pulls off to the side of the road, puts the truck in park, and turns his body to face mine. He guides his left hand across the center console, allowing our hands to intertwine. His touch brings me such solace, and the intimacy of his gesture doesn’t go unnoticed.

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