Page 72 of Free to Dream
“Cassidy! Cassidy, baby, wake up. Are you all right?” Caleb is leaning over me, looking worried, wiping the tears away from my face.
“Yes. No. I’m not really sure,” I answer honestly.
“A nightmare?”
I shake my head slowly. “I don’t think so. I just don’t know what it was. It’s happened a few times, but not with this much clarity.”
He rubs his thumb over the apple of my cheek. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I nod against his hand. “Later. We need more sleep. We both have a big day tomorrow.”
“Come here, baby.” Caleb tucks me against his chest and I wrap my arms around his heavily muscled torso, resting my head against his heartbeat. The sound drags me back under, into the realm of sleep.
“Don’t let go,” I murmur.
“Never,” he vows, squeezing tighter.
26
Cassidy
It’s the Saturday after Halloween and Collyer is a sunburst of fall colors. If I had time or inclination to look out my window, I’d likely witness the Collyer seniors scrubbing frantically to remove Halloween paint from our bay windows. Each year, Collyer businesses offer up their windows in a silent auction for parents to bid on as part of a fundraiser. Each year, the highest bid for each storefront is matched by that business. All the money went toward the senior class to offset the cost of their senior prom.
For the last few weeks, as I’ve been leaving the office, there’s been no less than ten of Collyer’s seniors on our porch, making our ancient Victorian eerily creepy. It’s also screwing with our ability to concentrate on our jobs. Ali’s said it’s been fortunate we’ve had a run of high-end Halloween events. Otherwise, it might scare off the customers. She did this with a blinding smile, knowing I’ve been traumatized over some of the Halloween costumes. There are just things you can’t unsee.
Caleb’s been nothing but amazing. He’s listened to me rant when I’ve gotten home to the farm, dished up dinner I’ve prepared in a crock pot (because his cooking skills still haven’t improved much), and ran out to Baskin Robbins on the night I called him in shock because the costume optional wording on an invite meant if you weren’t wearing one, then clothing was also optional.
As we get closer to the wedding, he ends up spending more and more nights with me, unless there are a couple of days together I can head into the city. It’s just too much when I could have an event ending at ten one night and a meeting starting at nine the next morning. I told him to feel free to use my home office for whatever he needs so he isn’t sacrificing his work hours, since I’m either on-site or at the office late.
I know intellectually that when his brother’s wedding is over, my schedule is going to lighten somewhat, but if the boom Ali is predicting occurs, we’re going to have to consider hiring some of our interns as full-time employees. Either that, or we’re going to have to get a lot more selective about the jobs we take. That doesn’t leave a pleasant taste in my mouth. We built this company by taking on the smaller jobs other people wouldn’t. I need to figure out a way keep those clients and still let go of some of the control of micromanaging everything.
I’m tapping my pen against my planner, waiting for inspiration to strike when I hear a disgruntled voice in my doorway. “You don’t look that busy. I don’t see why you couldn’t go get your own lunch, or send one of those kids loitering on the porch.”
I turn my eyes away from the planner and spreadsheets I was reviewing and meet the cool green eyes of Keene Marshall. “Well, this is a surprise. No, a shock. What are you doing here, Keene?”
He walks in, carrying a familiar bag from Genoa. Raising it, he doesn’t answer directly. “Where do you want this?”
My lips quirk at the idea of Caleb chose choosing to use Keene as his errand boy for lunch. “I’ll take it to put in the kitchen. Thank you.” I reach for the bag, but he holds it out of reach.
“I’m under orders to ensure you eat, Cassidy. So, if that occurs in the kitchen, then let’s go,” Keene advises before turning to step out of my office. The tantalizing smells of Genoa waif behind him.
Damn, I really don’t have time for this. Sighing, I stand up and meet him in the hall.
As we’re walking down the stairs, Keene mentions offhandedly, “I can understand why he’s concerned.”
“Hmm? What do you mean?”
“Caleb. You’ve lost weight since I last saw you, and you didn’t have any to lose.” Keene runs an assessing glance over me from top to bottom that draws my eyebrows down. I frown at him, uncomfortable, and continue to make my way to Corinna’s domain, the kitchen.
When I walk in and find Holly, Phil, and Ali sitting around a couple of open boxes of pizza, I realize Caleb hadn’t just been thinking about me. My heart warms and spasms at how much he takes care of me, even amid his own responsibilities. “So, we had a lunch delivery.” I sidle up to the counter and gesture for Keene to take a seat.
Holly smiles. “Be sure to thank Caleb properly for us, Cass.” A round of agreement goes up from my siblings.
Keene mutters, “I’m not sure I want to hear this.”
I frown, and Phil and Ali narrow their eyes before ignoring him, and return to their lunch and banter, not in that order.
Taking a bite of my Chicken Russian, I decide to ignore Keene. “Will do. We should thank Keene too for carting it all out here.
