Page 36 of Operator
“Is that a serious question?”
I laugh a little. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. You’re always hungry.”
It’s always been a bit of a running joke that Callum could eat the entire contents of a grocery store and still go out to a restaurant afterward. I don’t know where he puts it, since there isn’t an ounce of fat on him. I have to physically strain my neck to keep from studying his body underneath the grey sweatpants and white shirt. Kissing him the night before hadn’t lasted nearly long enough for me to refamiliarize myself with him. As I whisk the eggs together and put bacon in a pan to sizzle, I find myself tempted by the thought of what’s underneath his rumpled clothes.
“So what did you mean about Bunny?” Keeping an eye on the bacon helps to keep them off Callum. The scents of grease and whatever intoxicating scent that’s unique to Callum fill the small kitchen.
When I glance up, I find him leaning casually, comfortably, against the kitchen counter with the baby nuzzled happily into his strong arms. It’s a sight that takes my breath away. One I’d never thought I’d see. Will there ever be a time when I don’t compare my present with Callum to what could have been with Ian? Will there ever be a time when I don’t feel gut-twistingly guilty about it?
Callum doesn’t seem to notice my struggle. He’s content to nuzzle his face into the baby’s multiple chins. “Nothing serious. She’s just wanting to hover now that there’s a new squish around.”
Do not cry. Do not cry. “It’s not hovering. She’s excited to be a grandma.” My voice is practically a whisper.
“I think you mean she’s excited to feel like she has Ian back.” He shifts and recrosses his legs at the ankle, completely at ease in the kitchen with a baby on his shoulder.
“That’s not true. She knows that it’s not the same.” I flip the bacon, considering. At least, I would hope she does.
“Don’t go adding that to the list of things you’re worrying about,” Callum warns.
Glancing up with a frown, I say, “I’m not worried about it.”
“Liar,” he chides.
I roll my eyes at him and turn back to move the bacon to a plate lined with paper towels. “Whatever. Some of us have to consider other people and how they may feel about things. Worrying about Bunny—or anything else—isn’t a bad thing. It’s the grown-up thing to do to consider a situation from all angles.”
I can’t see him because I’ve got my backed turned, but I can practically feel his raised brows aimed at me. “Why do I get the feeling we’re not talking about Bunny?”
“We are. She only wants what’s best for me and Violet. There’s nothing wrong with that.” My shoulders are somewhere up around my ears again. I’m going to develop a cramp at this rate.
“I didn’t say there was.” His voice is slow and tentative.
I slam the bowl I’d used to whisk the eggs into the sink with more force than necessary. His cautious tone has me considering my words before I speak. With a sigh, I scrape the eggs in the pan with a spatula. “I guess I’m not talking about Bunny.” My own tone is heavy with forced calm.
He scoffs, “Shocker.”
I twist to him with a huff. Seriously? Can’t he just… “Shut up,” I spit out. “You can’t blame me for being on edge.”
“Is that what you’d call it?” I hear the sound of his feet scuffing against the tile behind me. Then heat hits my back that has nothing to do with the rising sun pouring in through the kitchen window or the stove at my front. “Look at me.” His voice is soft, commanding. It makes the hair on my neck and arms come to attention. Hell, it makeseverythingcome to attention.
“I’m cooking breakfast,” I hedge, and slowly, methodically, scrape the eggs in the pan. “I don’t want the eggs to burn.”
Callum reaches past me and flips the knob for the burner. I don’t move from where I’m stirring the eggs in the pan. There’s a pause where I hear him moving around, and I think maybe he’s given up. That’s what I wanted, right? Then why am I so disappointed? Lost in the maelstrom of my own thoughts, I don’t realize he’s back until he turns me to face him, Violet no longer in his arms. My breath quickens in shock as our eyes meet. The space between us flashes white-hot. I didn’t have enough time to throw up my defenses to him being so close when I thought he’d just given up.
“Talk to me,” he says and takes the spatula from my hands, placing it down on the counter. “What are you feeling?”
I try not to look at him full-on. It hurts too much. It’s too confusing. I want him. But I hated him. Hated? Is it past tense? He’s Ian’sbrother. I wish I could just turn my brain off for a while, just once. I deflect with sass instead of being vulnerable. He’s getting far too comfortable with my vulnerability. “Since when does Callum Reece want to talk aboutfeelings?”
The corner of his mouth lifts a little. “Right? I blame Junior here. No lying around the baby allowed. Besides, there was a long time when I didn’t consider how you felt, only what I thought was best for you. Things are different now. I’m different now. What you want is important to me. Unless it involves me leaving, ’cause that isn’t gonna happen.”
How am I supposed to respond to that? Evade. That’s my only option. Because the other is to kiss him again, and I’m not certain my heart can handle it. “Junior, huh?”
This time his mouth softens a little, but he doesn’t comment on my subject change. “Yeah. I mean, can you blame me? She’s the spitting image of Ian.”
I look over at Violet, where he’s placed her in her bouncer. Of course he’s right. I carried her, birthed her, but she’s Ian made over. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Maybe he’ll drop this wholefeelingsdiscussion.
He tips my chin up, determined to look into my eyes. What is it with him and his obsession with making sure I’m looking at him when he’s talking to me? “It’s because we kissed, right? Because of Ian, too?” Well, I guess not.
Sighing heavily, I say, “We don’t have to talk about this.” I try to take a step back, but there’s nowhere to go. Then I try to turn my head, but his fingers cup my jaw until I’m glaring at him. “Why are you always pinning me against countertops, dammit?” My frustration mounts the more he pokes and prods at me. I wish he’d just leave it alone so we could go back to being enemies. That was a whole lot easier than this.
