Page 20 of Accidentally Hitched (Unintentionally Yours #1)

Amanda

I want to touch the Martin.

I am aware that I probably shouldn’t. Although it’s in the Hardin studio.

And the Hardin studio is basically my office.

Which more or less says I am allowed access to it right?

Still. I don’t think the higher ups would want me taking a fifty-thousand-dollar guitar off their display wall.

I mean the room is humidified for fuck’s sake.

That’s the level of bougie we are talking about here.

Still.

It’s right there. A guitar that price has to sound good. The fact that it’s been held and played by the biggest names in music aren’t the only reasons it’s worth that much. I’m thinking Brazilian rosewood, mother-of-pearl-ebony.

I just want to brush my fingers across the gloss…

“Amanda.”

Callum’s voice rattles me so hard I think my heart stops beating.

I whip around, my cheeks flushed, my hair spinning, my face panicked.

“Callum. Hi.”

He narrows his eyes, a small smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “You alright?”

“Oh yeah, totally fine. Yeah. I’m great. You just…scared me is all.”

He studies me and swallows, smiling and brushing my hair from my face.

His eyes watch my hand, then trail down my arm across my breasts and the rest of my body.

I’m wearing a green maxi-dress today with black boots and fish-nets.

He’s wearing what he always does– a fitted suit, navy this time, with a white button up underneath.

He notices that I am looking at him, the same way I noticed him looking at me.

And I swear it just got hot in here.

But it’s not from the humidifier.

“Alright well. I was thinking we should grab dinner tonight.” Callum says before turning to walk back out.

“Oh. Yeah, of course.”

There’s a beat of silence as he keeps walking.

I call out after him. “You mean like a business dinner?”

“No. Like a date,” he answers without looking back.

Oh…

I guess I should have known we would be going on dates considering our agreement.

Very public dates.

I mean, if people can’t see us, what’s the point? And I know he is a Hardin. I know he has a lot of money and can spend a lot of money and is worth a lot of money but this…I guess for some reason I just wasn’t expecting this.

We are having dinner at the Rise, a steakhouse at the top of one of Charlotte’s tallest buildings. From here, I can see the entire Queen City– the stadium, the Bank of America Building, even the amusement park in the distance, lit roller coasters and all.

We have a candlelit table covered in a black cloth next to the railing. There’s a private bar and fairy lights and jazz music playing. And suddenly I am having flashbacks of Vegas.

“This is lovely,” I say as I pick up my wine glass and take a sip. It tastes expensive. Everything here is expensive.

“Do you like it?” he asks, smiling from across the table. The light from the candle casts shadows across his face, accentuating the flecks of silver on his temples.

“I mean if it makes the people with the cameras happy–”

“There’s no cameras here,” he cuts me off.

I smile and glance around. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

I look back at him. “How do you know?”

With that, he just smiles. It’s a small smile. Only about a third of a smile. But a smile, nonetheless. “Because I paid to make sure there wouldn’t be.”

I smile, narrow my eyes and smile again. “You have to pay to keep the paparazzi at bay?”

“I’m a Hardin. I have to pay for everything. But…sometimes it’s worth it.”

He adds another third to that modest smile, giving me almost a whole one, and I smile too. Our food and drinks come– a center cut sirloin with roasted red potatoes and garlic asparagus and a caprese chicken with a candied pecan salad– and the waitress tops our wine glasses off.

“So, how’s the studio?” he asks after taking a bite of his steak.

I bite my lips in a smile and shake my head. “It’s unbelievable. You do know where I come from. I am used to studios in the back of chain guitar stores and janky garage set ups. This is…I don’t belong here.”

Callum leans in. Close enough that I can smell him. Close enough that I can taste him. His stormy blue eyes lock on mine and his jaw tenses in seriousness.

“Yes. You do. I wouldn’t have hired you if you didn’t.”

I pick up my glass and trace the rim with my thumb.

“No offense, Callum, but you hardly looked at my profile.”

“That’s true. But I did look at what mattered. And I listened to your tapes. I fell in love with– I really liked your tapes, Amanda. You have raw talent. And in a world where art is literally being smothered by technology and greed, raw is hard to find.”

I study him, trying to decide how much of myself I want to give. But between those words, his eyes and the way being this close to him makes me feel, I can’t lie to myself. And I can’t hold the walls up anymore.

“Music saved my life. It saves my life every day.”

He leans back, reaching for his glass. “How so?”

“Well. My family was very picket fence. Not like yours, I’m sure.

But enough that we were never in want of anything.

My dad has a name for himself and my mom is very…

executive wife material. They liked that I had an interest in music, but they wanted piano lessons. Violin. Solo and Ensemble. Chorus.”

“You play the violin?” Callum asks with a lilted eyebrow.

“I do. Very well, actually. But all my interest in music was in a different vein. One that wasn’t allowed to bleed freely.

So, I started listening to punk and indie rock when they weren’t around.

The more alternative the better. To their faces, I was the responsible, put together one with the straight A’s.

And when they were busy worrying about Kate who was much wilder and always giving them a run for their money, I was able to learn guitar and keys and drums and even make it to a few concerts at the Fillmore… ”

That finally earns me the full smile as Callum runs his hands through his hair. He shakes his head at me and reaches for my hand, but he stops, resting his hand on the table right in front of mine.

“You are…something else, Amanda Ambrose.”

“A good something, I hope?” I ask, taking a sip of my wine and letting it swirl around warmly in my head.

“A very good something.”

“And to think that it all started with you stripping in Vegas.”

My words nearly make him spit out his wine.

“That was Noah’s fault. He made me do it.”

“And do you always do what Noah tells you to do?” I challenge. And I can tell by the way his eyes darken that Callum is not a man who is used to being challenged.

“Do you always do what your sister tells you to do?” he flips it around.

“Would it be so bad if I did?”

“How so?”

I cross my legs under the table and lean in, fully aware that my boobs are on display at this angle. “Well, my sister is the one who dragged me to that auction in Vegas. She’s also the one that made sure I went out with you and wouldn’t let me just bolt back to the hotel.”

“Did you want to bolt back to the hotel?” he asks, letting his hand brush mine.

“Maybe. A small part of me. But another part of me, a stronger, louder, harder to ignore part of me…wanted to go with you. To meet you and talk to you. Because I knew you weren’t the kind of guy who wanted to be up on that stage. And I wanted to know what kind of man that meant you were.”

Callum lets out a low Mmm sound before taking my hand in his. “And what have you decided?”

“I think it’s too early to say. I still need to get to know you better.”

Callum drags his lip through his teeth. There’s a beat of silence. And then…

“Would you be interested in a nightcap?” he asks. “At my place.”

I thought Hardin Records was fancy. I thought the Rise was fancy.

But neither of those places really holds a candle to the penthouse Callum leads me into.

It’s in a high rise in uptown. The windows span to the ceiling, overlooking the city.

There are two levels, one overlooking the other with black walls and stone accents, marble floors and granite countertops.

Everything about it is modern chic. But at the same time there is a coziness to it.

A gunmetal colored couch that sprawls in front of the massive mounted flat screen. A minibar. A wrap-around balcony.

“Jesus,” I let out as I step inside behind him.

“What was that?” he asks, over his shoulder as he loosens his tie.

“Nothing. It’s just…you live here alone?”

“I do. Why?” Callum asks as he heads over the mini bar and grabs a bottle of cab sauv off the rack.

“It’s so big,” I smile, motioning around.

He looks around too. “Yeah. But it’s quiet. Private. Nothing about my life is private. But here…I can do anything I want and there’s no one watching.”

Callum steps closer to me, sliding his finger under the strap of my dress.

His eyes flash up to mine.

“And what do you want?” I ask, my mouth dry. But nothing else is…

He doesn’t answer. Not with words. Instead, Callum tugs at the strap, letting it fall off my shoulder.

“Is this…is this a bad idea?” I whisper.

“Do you think it’s a bad idea?” His voice is low, hot, and smells like wine and cinnamon.

“It’s not part of the contract…”

“Maybe,” his hand traces down the hem of my dress, over the curve of my breast, making my breath tremble. “The contract stays at work. Same as Vegas stays in Vegas. And what happens here…that’s its own thing. That’s between you and me.”

I nod my head, and he pulls me against him, our mouths crashing together.

I moan against his lips as he works his jaw to part my lips, to find my tongue with his.

“I have to be honest with you,” he says in a gritty voice as his mouth wanders, showering my neck with kisses and going lower. “I think about this all the time.”

“About me?” I ask, arching my back so he will keep going. Meanwhile I tug on his shirt to untuck it and reach up inside.

I need to feel those abs on my hands.

“Yes, about you. Do you know how often you consume my mind?”