Page 31 of Accidentally Hitched (Unintentionally Yours #1)

Callum

“ W e put Dixie Craze on the stage first because she can get the crowd going. That girl is like a windup toy. With that raspy voice and energy, it’s straight fire. That way the arena is good and heated by the time Frisco Bay Gypsies roll out, it’ll explode. You think? Callum?”

Noah’s voice is white noise. While we sit at Bluefin Sushi one day during lunch, my brain is everywhere but work.

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds good,” I agree, reaching for a dumpling.

“Did you even hear anything I said?”

“You want to throw that Dixie girl on first to get the crowd going. I’m paying attention.”

“Right,” he studies me.

I hate when Noah studies me. Because he’s not just trying to figure out what I’m thinking.

No, no. Noah comes with a wrecking ball in his back pocket, ready to blast away several layers of the cement around the bunker of my personal life.

I hate it. He loves it. “I didn’t suggest we leave the office for lunch just so we can talk about work more,” I bark out.

“I’m not talking about work. I’m talking about music. But if you’d rather talk about something else…something like, oh I don’t know–”

“Don’t you fucking say it.” I point a chopstick at him.

“Amanda.”

“I told you not to say it. Also, that’s work, and music related.”

Noah grins, popping a piece of a spicy tuna roll in his mouth. “It’s work and music adjacent. So, it doesn’t count.”

“I still don’t want to talk about her,” I say, dipping a piece of sashimi in wasabi soy sauce.

The surge of heat in my mouth helps with the heat that’s had itself firmly planted in my groin since I woke up in a puddle of my own dirty, wet thoughts this morning after what might have been the best dream I’ve ever had.

“Why not? I know that’s what you’re thinking about. Who you’re thinking about…”

“Because Amanda is…” I trail off and he dips his chin in, waiting for the rest of that sentence. But honestly, I don’t know what the rest of the sentence is. That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. “Complicated,” I finally say.

Noah rolls his eyes. “Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“I call bullshit. It’s not complicated at all.”

I set my chopsticks down and reach for my beer.

“You do remember that night in Vegas right? How you paraded me around like a poodle on that stage, shoved me onto a date with her, only for us to get drunk enough to sign papers we thought were fake and then realize she is Hardin’s new songwriter? All of that happened.”

“I know, and it’s great,” he chuckles, taking another bite.

“It’s insane and it’s my real life. It’s complicated.”

Noah shakes his head and finishes chewing before going on. “But the way you feel about her, that’s not complicated.”

“I’m sorry, the way I fucking feel about her? What the fuck are you talking about?” I am practically growling at him at this point. If it weren’t for the table between us I would probably have him by the scruff right now. But Noah doesn’t look fazed.

“Please. You two might have done everything you did by accident but the way you look at each other is obvious, and the chemistry is real.”

“There is no chemistry,” I state. But even as I say the words, I know they’re untrue. Noah sees the realization on my face and his grin softens but doesn’t fully fade.

“Why are you fighting it so much? You’re already married. Giving in to the reality of it would make it that much more authentic and therefore more believable. You want the Hardin throne, give in to your feelings for Amanda.”

I study him and let my guard down a little. He is one of the only people on the planet I can do that with. And for all of two seconds, I lower the wall just an inch. Just enough to consider what he is saying. Immediately, I get a chill.

Fuck.

“So, what if I do have feelings for her?” I ask quietly.

“Then I’d say you hit the jackpot in Vegas, brother.”

“But she’s my employee. It looks bad.”

“Pshh,” Noah waves a hand around in the air between us. “Nobody gives a fuck.”

“HR might,” I add. But even I know that HR has little sway with me. They deal with so much of Avery’s shit that we’ve grown to have the kind of relationship where we do each other favors. I come up with another excuse. “I’m a lot older than she is.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” he snorts.

“And that might look bad.”

“Not for you. Fuck, it looks great for you. Business tycoon bags hot, younger girl in the office–”

“Watch your mouth,” I bark.

“Chill out,” he laughs. “She’s not my type. I’m just saying. Image is not going to be a problem. Face it, bro. When it comes to you and Amanda falling in love, there is no downside.”

I take another slug from my beer bottle, wishing it were whiskey. I’m not going to lie…I am having a hard time seeing a downside.

That evening, I leave the office early. We have a meeting with that Dixie girl, but I duck out. They don’t need me there anyways, especially if Noah, Cass and Amanda are sitting in. I actually make a point of making sure that Amanda is sitting in. I want to get home before she does.

When the door to the penthouse opens, I turn down the music in the kitchen. I always listen to music when I cook.

“That smells amazing,” Amanda calls out, kicking her shoes off by the door. Something in her voice sounds different and I worry that I’ve been working her too hard. It’s Friday, which is nice, but earlier this week, she was sick as a dog.

“You hungry?” I ask.

Amanda walks into the kitchen, setting her bag down on one of the barstools. “Starving.”

“Good,” I say. “Because I made chicken caprese.”

“I didn’t know you could cook,” she says, eyeing the food on the counter. I also sliced bread and set out a plate of olive oil and herbs for dunking.

“I am actually a pretty great chef. I just don’t have time usually.”

“And you have time today?” she asks, sitting down at the counter. “What’s the catch?”

I give her a funny look. “What makes you think there’s a catch?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, reaching for a slice of bread. “You left work early. You never leave work early.”

“I had to stop at Whole Foods to get the ingredients. I also got dessert. Chocolate chip cannoli’s."

“See! A catch. It’s one thing to wine and dine your fake wife. It’s another to buy her rich, creamy Italian desserts. What are you up to, Callum Hardin?”

I grab a bottle of chardonnay from the ice bucket and pour two glasses. Then I round the counter and stand right in front of her. “There is no catch. I wanted to surprise you with dinner, so I left work early.”

I hold out a glass and she reluctantly takes it. Her gaze zeros in on the glass and she swirls it in her hand. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“And I need to talk to you about something. But first,” I spin her stool so that she is facing me. Then I clip her chin in my fingers and gently tug her attention up to me. “I want you to relax. Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes. And I drew you a bath.”

“A bath?” she asks incredulously and I fucking love it. The way she asks the question you’d think I just told her I booked us a trip to Tahiti.

“Yes. Lavender infused.”

I tug on her hand and lead her to the master bath where the room is humid, and the lights are low, and the water is hot and ready.

“Why are you doing all of this for me?” she asks, looking around before looking up at me.

I pull her against me and brush her hair from her face. Then I press my lips to hers. I don’t answer the question with words, I just kiss her. She melts against me even though the kiss is closed and soft. When I pull away, her lips stay parted.

“The towels are heated. Take your time,” with that, I close the door to check on the chicken.

I can’t help the smirk on my face. I’ve never considered myself a romantic.

But I know for a fact, I’m not a fuckboy.

That was always Avery’s MO. I’ve always prided myself in being better than that.

And something about Amanda makes me want to be better still.

Her confusion is cute. The way she can’t quite figure out what I’m up to.

I love that I can keep her guessing. The game is fun.

Like a chase. But by the end of tonight, I don’t want her to be confused.

I don’t want her to question anything at all.

I want her to know exactly how I feel.

Thirty minutes or so later, just as I light the candles at the table, I hear the bathtub draining upstairs and I smile. About ten minutes after that, she comes padding down the stairs in a pink tank top and black satin shorts. Her hair is wet, and she smells like plumeria and coconut.

“Oh,” her voice lifts and then falls again when she sees the table set for dinner. “I’m sorry, I think I lost track of time. You have the most epic bathtub up there.”

“You can use it any time you want,” I say softly.

And I mean it. Then I pull out the chair for her.

Amanda walks over, her eyes trailing over everything I’ve set on the table–two plates thoughtfully loaded with chicken caprese, smaller chilled plates with a fresh greens salad and more bread in the middle of the table.

There are also glasses of wine, though I notice she still hasn’t finished or even touched the one from before.

“If I had known it was going to be so fancy, I would have dressed for the occasion,” she smiles. She starts to sit down but I catch her cheek in my palm before she does. Once her eyes reach mine, I kiss her. Then I let her sit.

“I like what you’re wearing,” I say, rounding the table to join her.

“Pajamas?” she giggles.

“I like that you are comfortable in my home. Our home.”

I pick up my fork and knife to dig in, but Amanda is staring at me with narrowed eyes and a quirky smile. “What’s going on with you?”

“What do you mean?” I take a bite.

“You’re acting…weird.”

“Weird how?”

“You made me dinner. You are calling your fancy ass house our home.”