“Come here, please,” she said.

Everett kicked off his shoes and lay on his back next to her. Without waiting for an invitation, Callie curled up against his side tentatively and slid her palm across his chest until her fingertips rested on the edge of his scarred tissue. Callie could feel how tense he was and knew he was holding his breath. “Relax. It feels like I’m lying on a statue.”

Everett released a deep breath, and she took a risk, tracing the raised and puckered flesh with her fingers. She flattened her palm against his side, waiting for him to tense up again, but he didn’t. So she stroked his skin, her cheek resting against his warm chest, and sighed.

“What was that sound for?” he asked.

“You feel good,” she said. “Solid and strong.”

And he makes you feel safe.

She felt his lips against her forehead. “What can I say? I work out.”

“And eat your Wheaties, obviously.” She ran her hand across his abs and laughed when he flexed under her touch.

“Don’t forget, drink my milk and eats me spinach.”

If anyone had told her a week ago that she would be lying in her bed with a hot, half-naked Everett Silverton, she would have thought they were cracked out. But now, with her head on his chest and his gentle fingers stroking her back, nothing felt more right.

“Thank you for coming over,” she said drowsily.

“Any time you need me, I’ll be there. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Chapter Sixteen

EVERETT SNUCK OUT of bed while Callie continued to sleep, smiling as he listened to her and her dog snore softly in unison. He’d said he was going to wake her early, but when the time came, he hadn’t had the heart to disturb her.

Instead, he drove into town to the Local Bean Coffee Shop and grabbed a Rock Canyon Press on the way in. As he stood in line, waiting to order, he came across a teaser on the front page:

Who was the hottie that hero Everett Silverton was seen shopping with? Turn to page seven to find out!

Everett ripped the paper open and saw an article, along with a picture of him and Callie, bent over, picking up canned goods in Hall’s. He wracked his brain, trying to remember if someone had been watching them, but he couldn’t remember anything besides Callie’s face.

Speculation has been running rampant about who Everett has been seen courting on numerous occasions this past week. Several sources are convinced our cool-as-hell radio DJ Callie Jay has stolen this war hero’s heart. The two were seen bonding over spilled cans on aisle eight just two days ago, and an eye-witness spotted them making out in Everett’s truck outside of Callie’s work the next morning. And in case you need any more proof that these two are shacking up, this author has since learned that Callie left her Jeep at work to ride off into the sunset with her Prince Charming!

What do you think, dear readers? Could there be another Rock Canyon wedding in our future? Stay tuned for more in the “Caverett” chronicles.

Had she really Brangelina’d their names?

“Next,” Gracie McAllister called.

He looked up and realized she was talking to him.

“Sorry—can I get two pumpkin lattes and”—he craned his neck to look in her pastry case—“two vanilla spice muffins?”

Gracie smiled and leaned across the counter. “If you’re buying for Callie, she prefers the cheese Danish. Just saying.”

Dammit! Everett knew it was a trap, but he still wanted to get what Callie would like. “I’ll take one of those instead.”

Gracie crowed, drawing the attention of the whole shop.

“Knock it off.” Everett handed her a twenty-dollar bill, praying she would stop laughing like a loon.

“Oh, I can’t wait to tell Gemma. She is going to die.”

Scowling, Everett took his change and went to wait for his order. He ignored some of the stares, though whether they were because of his scars or the article, he didn’t care.