Page 29

CHAPTER 28

The minute my eyes open, Callan is shoving sweet tea and donuts into my hands, pressing a kiss to my forehead, and telling me to get my ass dressed. Says he has a surprise and wants to take me somewhere.

I don’t even question it because when Callan gets demanding, there’s no point in fighting. Besides, I’m pretty excited to spend the day with him. I just hope it’s a normal day. We could really use one of those.

I can’t even begin to guess where we’re going, though. With Callan, it could be anywhere from a morgue to Sunday morning church. He’s both a sinner and a saint in that way.

I stare out the window of his SUV, curiosity thrumming in my chest as my eyes track each building and street sign waiting for a clue.

But it’s all familiar. We just passed The Effin Bar on Seventh Street, heading in the direction of the NRU campus.

We take a sharp right on Third Street, and I turn to look at him. “Are we going to the arena?”

He smirks, eyes still on the road. “Close. But no.”

I growl under my breath, arms crossed tight over my chest. I love surprises. But I hate surprises. I’m weird in that way.

Callan reaches across the center console and gives my thigh a squeeze. “Almost there.”

He’s loving every second of watching me squirm, wonder, and overthink every scenario. And of course, he’s not giving me a damn clue.

A minute later, I straighten in my seat, eyes going wide as the sign comes into view.

Callan just drives right past it like it’s nothing, but my heart’s going wild. My hands actually start to shake as I take in the scene unfolding around me.

“What are we doing here?” I ask, barely able to keep the smile off my face.

He doesn’t answer right away. Just flashes me that knowing smirk that drives me mad and turns his eyes back to the road.

“Callan Cromwell!” I blurt out. “Why are we at NRU’s archery field?”

He squeezes my thigh again, that cocky grin stretching from ear to ear. “I owe you, remember?”

I think back to the day he showed up to my dorm and we told a little lie to Avery that I was helping him and his team study. In return he was getting me access to his university's award-winning archery field.

I stare at him, stunned. “You’re joking?” Then it hits me. “I don’t even have my gear.”

He tips his chin toward the back seat. “I got you covered.”

When we pull into the parking lot, I look around, noticing it’s oddly empty, aside from a few stray vehicles and two men talking in the distance.

At this time of day it should be packed. Not only is it Sunday, but mornings and evenings are prime for archers, when the light’s just right and the air is still calm. Exactly how it is right now. It’s a beautiful day for shooting. Not a single cloud in sight. Yet, the field looks empty.

“Where is everyone?” I ask.

“There is no one else,” he says casually. “Just us. I rented the field for an hour.”

“You what?” I gasp. “Callan! That had to cost a fortune.”

He lifts a shoulder, completely unbothered. “It’s worth it to see that look on your face.”

I’m speechless. I can’t believe he did this for me. I follow him as he pulls open the back door, prepared to give him hell and tell him this is too much and I can’t accept it. But when he pulls out my case, my heart swells.

He put thought into this. He planned it. Just for me.

“Shall we?” he says as he closes the car door.

I roll my shoulders, my smile never fading. “I guess we shall.” I bounce on the balls of my feet, barely restraining myself from leaping into the air and taking off in a run. This is, hands down, one of the coolest things anyone has ever done for me.

Callan exchanges a few words with a guy in a collared shirt and slacks, then he shakes his hand.

I trail close behind as he leads me onto the most stunning archery field I’ve ever laid eyes on.

A crystal-clear lake curls around it on three sides, with a meadow of wildflowers bordering the shore. The sky is flawless blue, and the sun is shining brightly, with snow-capped mountains resting in the distance. It looks like I could reach out and touch them, even though they’re miles away.

The grass is pressed flat and crisp green. It literally looks like it was manicured by hand.

If it weren’t already amazing enough, that’s when I notice the lanes. Each one has stone borders and lanterns on wooden posts for after-dark sessions.

Even the targets are next level. All perched on a stainless steel tripod and marked with numbers for each lane. This isn’t just a field, it’s a stage.

“Pinch me,” I say as I take it all in.

Callan laughs as he crouches down to open my case.

“I’ll pinch you later,” he says with a smirk, handing me my bow. “Right now, you shoot because we’ve only got an hour.”

My shoulders drop and I press a hand to my heart, the bow cradled in the other. “You have no idea how much this means to me, Callan. It’s probably…no.” I pause, correcting myself. “It’s without a doubt, the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

His hand drags through the air. “It’s nothing.”

The way he stands there so confident, so effortlessly sexy, it does something to me. Something I wasn’t expecting. Something I’m not even sure I want. But it’s there, and I can’t shake it.

“It is,” I say softly. “It’s definitely something.”

I like Callan. A lot more than I planned to. Over the past few days, he’s gotten under my skin in the best and worst way. He’s grown on me, and I’m starting to think he’s not going anywhere anytime soon.

Our eyes linger for a moment before Callan breaks it, handing me my quiver clip.

A minute later, I’m in my lane, bow to my shoulder, drawing back the string. The world shrinks to this single point in time. Steady hands. Taut line. Just me and the target.

I center myself, breathe in, then release on the exhale.

The arrow lands dead center in the bullseye and I’m not sure who’s more excited, me or Callan. But the way he’s sweeping me into his arms and spinning me around, I’d say it’s definitely him.

“Damn, Little Devil. That was fucking awesome.”

I’m not sure when, or if, he’ll ever stop calling me that. But as long as it’s just him and not Aidric, I can deal. Honestly, I’ll take it over Sebastian’s Little Lamb any day.

Innocent and meek? Please. I’m a damn warrior. And after three more arrows sink into the bullseyes, I’m pretty sure Callan would agree.

As the hour closes in on us, I lower my bow from my shoulder and turn to face Callan with a wide grin.

“Your turn,” I say.

“Me?” He presses a hand to his chest, then shakes his head. “Nah. I’ll pass.”

“Oh, come on,” I taunt. “Just once. You never know, you might be a natural.”

He drags a hand down his cheek, sighs dramatically, then strolls over.

“Fine,” he mutters. “But if this thing flies past the target or ends up in someone’s head, I’m blaming you.”

I laugh, picturing it happening. “I’ll take full responsibility.”

He takes the bow from me, and I step aside, giving him my spot in front of the target. When he presses it to his shoulder, I reach in to adjust it so it sits just right. I could part his legs farther, but I’m not training him for the Olympics, so his stance is fine.

“Lucky for you, my strings aren’t super tight,” I say. “So you shouldn’t have a problem pulling them back.”

He scoffs. “Was that a jab?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Well, in that case,” he says, taking the arrow from my hand, “I’ll let you know if it’s tighter than what I had last night.” He winks.

“Ohhhh,” I drawl. “Smooth.”

He lines up the arrow, and I catch the slight shake in his hand. It's cute seeing him nervous like this.

“How the hell do I do this?” he asks shamelessly.

I don’t even ask if he’s ever shot a bow, because it’s obvious he hasn’t.

“Draw the string back smoothly,” I say, keeping my voice calm. “Use your back muscles, not just your arm. When it’s anchored under your chin, close one eye and find your target. Focus on it.”

He follows each instruction as I speak, and I won’t lie, it feels kind of good having him follow my commands for once.

“Now, don’t pluck the string. Just relax your?—”

Before I can finish, the arrow sails through the air and sticks in the second outer ring.

“Not bad,” I say, giving him a swift pat on the back.

He shrugs, totally unfazed. “I’ll take it. At least I didn’t kill anyone.” He glances at his watch. “We should head out before they kick us off the field, though.”

Callan tosses me the keys and tells me he needs to run in and thank the manager. While he’s inside, I load my case into the SUV, then turn the radio on to “Risk” by Gracie Abrams. I crank the volume up and roll the front windows all the way down to let the cool breeze spill in.

When Callan returns, he pulls open the door and grins. “Loud enough for you?” He laughs.

I just shake my head, reach over, and turn it up even more, then I shout out the lyrics like I’m singing to save my life.

This was the best day I’ve had in a very long time and it’s only ten in the morning. We’ve still got hours ahead of us, and there’s no doubt in my mind who I want to spend them with.