Page 22 of Free to Dream
I look around at where I am and let out a puff of air. “Oh, I walked through the shortcut. This way.” I move out of his arms and pick up my pace, when I’m slowed almost to a stop.
My hand is in his. How did I not feel this?
My eyes snap up to meet his, even as they’re narrowing.
“This way, I won’t lose you if you walk too fast,” Caleb explains smoothly. “Or you could slow down and walk to The Coffee Shop with me.”
“The town is not grotesquely large, Caleb. Even if we were separated for a moment, we would still be able to find one another there,” I patiently explain, as if I’m talking to a two-year-old. All the while, trying to pull my hand from his with no success.
“It’s not such a hardship for me to escort a beautiful woman to have a cup of coffee when I owe her an apology,” he retorts. “If you stop trying to get loose, I’ll make you a deal.”
I pause, my panic slightly receding. No one had offered me a deal when I’d been restrained before. My hand stills in his.
“If you let me escort you to The Coffee Shop, buy you a cup of whatever you normally drink, and we can talk for a few minutes, I’ll let your hand go. I will, however, likely place my hand on the small of your back where your jacket meets your jeans to help you balance in those shoes, guide you there, and overall, be a gentleman.” He pauses, searching my face. “Are we agreed?”
“Are we agreed,” I parrot back, buying some time while processing all he said.
“Yes.” Caleb stands tall, rugged, masculine.
The part of me that still fears the past wants to run away with my hands in my hair, screaming. The other part of me wants to leave my past behind, and curl into him like a purring cat and enjoy it.
I have to decide.
“Okay,” I whisper.
He smiles and squeezes my hand before dropping it and gesturing for me to walk in front of him.
Instinctively, my pace slows. I feel him come up along my right side, matching his steps to mine.
And there it is.
His hand lands on the small of my back.
In that one gesture, I feel the warmth of his body heat mine, which has been cold for so long. I feel the courtly manners he was brought up with being extended to me, of all people.
And if I was completely honest, the little girl who lives inside me cries, looking at him for the first time without tears.
As we reach The Coffee Shop, he reaches forward with his right arm to hold open the door. As I walk past him into the store, ignoring the stares I’m receiving, I smile openly up at him before sliding into an open booth in the back.
I’m oblivious to the effect it has on him.
* * *
After we placeour orders with a gleeful Ava, Matt watches us from behind the counter.
Leaning back in his seat, Caleb scrutinizes me closely before throwing out something that should surprise me, but doesn’t. “I don’t want to sign the NDA.”
“Guess you’ll never need to speak with me,” I sass back.
But he continues, as if I hadn’t just taken another swipe at him. “I want you to trust me enough to give me your schedule, to let me know when you’re available.”
Is he crazy? Probably so. He likely has so many women dropping to their knees to blow him, his brain has been sucked out through his dick.
I laugh at his arrogance until I’m in hysterics.
Wiping my eyes, I ask, “Are you crazy?”
Shit, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Regardless of what I think of him right now, he is still technically a client.
