Page 27 of Free to Dream
I look down at my watch and gasp. We’ve been having coffee for that long? I jump up out of the booth and berate myself for the time I’ve lost that I’ll have to make up.
“I have work to do…I need to get back.” My voice is shaky, and I have to work to control it. “Ava, charge everything to our account, please, including Mr. Lockwood’s coffee,” I call out.
“You got it, hon,” Ava replies cheerily. A large brown bag waits on the counter near the cash register.
Caleb is still sitting in the booth, his dark eyes boring into mine as he stands slowly. Even in my heeled boots, Caleb is still a good eight inches taller than me.
I try to control my flinch as he raises his hand to my face, brushing back a curl.
“So, instead of the date, can I call you?” he asks softly.
Unable to speak, I nod.
“Okay. And we’ll talk more about Friday?” Caleb’s mouth crooks up before he trails his finger down my cheek.
I feel that single touch scorch through my body like a burning flame. I teeter on my heels and end up pressing my hands against his warm chest. Gasping, I move to step away, but find his hands are locked onto my elbows.
I say the only thing I can. “Yes.”
Caleb leans down to press a soft kiss to my forehead. “I will never make you do anything you don’t want to do, Cassidy. We can talk later about Friday when you’re less in a hurry.”
I tilt my head back. “Thank you.” Such simple words to convey such a depth of feeling. But I’m thankful he seems to understand I need to process this.
“Cassidy! Phillip’s called twice. Apparently, the boy is starving,” Ava yells from the front of the shop.
Disconcerted, I glance back up at Caleb who’s mildly annoyed at my brother’s interruption. However, his voice is nothing but warm when he speaks.
“I’ll give you a call later,” he promises.
With mixed feelings of excitement and dread, I flee, snagging the bag of food on my way out.
I already miss the man with the crossed arms standing behind me as I leave.
9
Caleb
I’m standing beside the booth where Cassidy and I were sitting when I hear a rough male voice behind me say, “Son, I hope you’re not playing games with that girl. I’d really hate to have to take one of my cleavers to you.”
The voice belongs to the weathered face of the older man who had been standing at the counter the entire time I was speaking with Cassidy with his arms crossed. He looks like he’d like nothing more than to carry out the threat.
“Matt,” Ava snaps, walking up with her fists on her plump hips. “Leave him alone. Cassidy is a big girl and can take care of herself.”
I choose my words carefully. “Actually, it’s nice Cassidy has so many people who care for her. I suspect she doesn’t let many in.” I sit back down in the booth, leaving the older man in a position of power.
Deliberately.
During my time with the Army, I was an intelligence officer. It was my job to be able to ferret out information from difficult sources. I was trained to blend into a crowd and to eavesdrop on conversations. I was taught to pick up social cues in conversation to determine how best approach a wary target.
I was also taught when to stand down.
“Ava, she’s fragile,” Matt growls.
“No, she’s not,” Ava snaps back. They start bickering, forgetting about me for a moment. I listen with one ear while thinking of the woman in question.
Cassidy Freeman went through a metamorphosis, forged of the strongest steel after being shattered into a million pieces. It isn’t the beauty of her dark curls or ocean blue eyes that have me captivated. Her courage to carry on when there was nothing is what’s drawing me in. She could have broken at any time, fallen on her shield and given in. No one who knew the truth of what she lived through as a child would have faulted her for it. But each day, she wakes up and dedicates her life to her family, to her business, to her community, with wit and humble grace.
Like the people who uncovered the atrocity that was her life before she turned nine, I hope every one of the motherfuckers who caused her such trauma are dead.
