Page 25 of Free to Dream
“Groom’s from the South and she’s Irish. They thought it was funny.”
Makes about as much sense as this conversation. “Sounds like you guys will have a good time,” I remark casually.
He leans forward and grabs my hand before I can react. I don’t even have time to shift, to move from my deceptively relaxed position. God, his touch is like a bolt of lightning through my system. My nipples stand at attention again, just from touching my hand.
Have I ever felt anything like this around a man? Ever?
But it’s his words that leave me breathless.
“How am I supposed to apologize properly if I can’t get you away from work to do so? I can’t apologize appropriately in your office or in a coffee shop.”
Holy. Fucking. Shit. Thoughts fly through my over-tired brain. This man looks like he wants to devour me like I’m quite possibly a steak, or maybe the whisky I accused him of drinking last night. His long fingers caress the inside of my wrist. My nipples are so tight, they ache. I feel the nagging throbbing between my legs that I’ve only read about. What is Caleb Lockwood doing to me?
“Cassidy?”
“Yes.” Wait. What? Did I just agree to go to a post-wedding party of all things with Caleb Lockwood?
“Good. I’ll pick you up on Friday at six. Ry and Jared want to eat at Rosy Tomorrows. They have great burgers. Getting a seat in there after seven is a bitch.”
I’m floundering. Did I just agree to a date with Caleb Lockwood?
I must be out of my mind.
I swirl the dredges of my coffee with suspicion.
“What is it? Is there something wrong with your coffee?” Caleb asks, immediately concerned.
“No, it’s not that. I’m just wondering if there are drugs in there that made me say yes?” I admit with one-hundred percent honesty.
He barks out a laugh.
“Dislike me that much?” His voice is filled with humor at my candor, but I’m still undecided on what it is I’m feeling.
“No. I’ve never dated a client before.” I’ll give him that much for now.
He pulls my hand to his mouth and kisses the back of my knuckles. “And I told you, I’m not your client.”
While I’m still reeling from the slick and very sweet maneuver, Caleb starts asking me personal questions. “Do you like to read?”
Without hesitating, I answer, “Absolutely.”
“What kind of books?”
I open my mouth to tell him, but instead say, “You first.”
“Nope, I asked first.”
“At the same time,” I offer.
“Deal.”
I call out to Ava. “Hey, Ava! Can we get a pen and two pieces of paper?”
As she’s swinging through with a tray of food, a pen and pad land on our table. I rip off two pieces of paper.
“Can you answer more than one?” I needle him playfully.
He gives me an extraordinarily patronizing scoff before picking up his own pen and quickly scribbling off a few lines.
