Page 40

TOM

T he quiet in the house had forced me to get out of my comfort zone and explore the city. While I was out, I found a local bar with an open mic night and asked for information.

“Are you looking to perform?” the bar manager, Jed, asked me skeptically. I guess I didn’t give off singer vibes.

“No, it’s a friend of mine. Actually, my nanny or girlfriend, or…” I said before realizing that I sounded like a complete bonehead.

“Your girlfriend? Or your nanny?” Jed asked, attempting to clarify my idiotic statement and clearly beginning to lose patience with our conversation.

“Here,” I said, handing him my phone and allowing him to watch the TikTok video she had just posted earlier that day. He watched that one silently and then scrolled through her profile, watching a couple more.

“When can she come in?” he asked, and I knew he was interested.

“She’ll be back in town next week. She splits time between here and Boston and works around my travel schedule.”

“Wait, are you one of the Blizzards?” he asked, recognizing me. It didn’t happen often, but it was more likely when we were at home versus traveling. I was mixed up with one of the Bears players in Boston a few times.

“Yeah, Tom Campbell.”

“Well, she’s good enough that I would give her the nod anyway, but if you and the team are her following, she can play here any night she wants. Let me get your information; I’ll have Miranda, the booking manager, reach out.”

I wrote down my cell number and provided him with an e-mail address for Miranda to send the information. I figured that I would check with Callie once I had the details. I hoped she was okay with me going out and finding her a gig since Crew and I kept her busy when she was with us.

I had talked to Kelsey earlier in the day, and had a video call with Crew.

It was amazing to think about what life would be like without video calls—so much of the first year of his life had him staring at his loved ones through a phone screen.

Even now, it was rare for us all to be together, and it probably wouldn’t happen again until Christmas Day.

I headed back home, planning to pull a meal out of the freezer. I had been reading the romance book Callie left behind, and I’d never admit it to the guys, but it was entertaining.

Callie: Hey, how was practice?

Her text came through on my CarPlay, surprising me. I had done my best to play things as cool as possible and had started and deleted about nine text messages to her throughout the day.

Me: Great. I’m just headed home now.

Callie: Just now?

Me: Can I call you instead of texting? It’s speech-to-text, and I don’t trust my virtual assistant to get what I’m saying right.

Instead of responding, my phone rang.

“Hey,” she said, sounding winded.

“Hey, sorry. The voice-to-text once told my mom to eat ass. I’m still scarred.”

Callie laughed, “Oops, I won’t try to one-up you there.”

“You sound breathless. What are you up to?” I asked, curious about her life in Boston. I knew Kelsey and Sam didn’t need her as much as I did; she had much more free time.

“I was on the treadmill when you called. Sam’s home gym is, well, I don’t like to compare, but if I don’t end up bikini-ready with access to that equipment, I’m just straight-up lazy.”

“Yeah, I used his gym all summer. Goals, right?”

“Uh-huh. Everything good, mountain standard time?”

“It is. But the reason I’m running late is because I stopped off at a bar I found out hosts an open mic night.

The owner is going to have the booking manager reach out.

I thought you might want to play when you had the chance,” I said, pulling my truck into the garage.

I turned off the engine, and the garage door was half closed before I realized Callie hadn’t responded.

“Hello?” I asked, wondering if the call had dropped.

“Yeah, sorry,” she breathed out. “That was really unexpected.”

Unexpected? Shit, was that a good thing? “Did I overstep?” I asked.

“No, sorry. I hate that many of my reactions come down to Zander, but he hated it when I played in public. The night you saw me in Boston was the first time since before I started dating him.”

It was more than a little evident that Zander was a shithead, based solely on what he did at their job, but the more I heard about him, he seemed like a controlling prick.

“What’s wrong with you performing?” I asked.

“I don’t know?” she questioned. “Maybe it was a jealousy thing? He once said I only performed because I wanted other men to look at me.”

“Am I allowed to punch him if I see him?” I asked.

“No, not because he doesn’t deserve it, but because he’s the guy who’s going to press charges and play the victim. And I don’t want either of us to deal with him any more than we have to,” she said. “He already lives rent-free in my memories.”

I dropped my keys on the island, sorted the mail, and pulled out a meal from the freezer.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Just warming up some dinner. I’m almost done with your book. Any other recommendations?” I asked.

“Are you actually reading the entire book?” she asked, her voice rising a bit in excitement.

“Yeah, I mean, at first, I wanted to figure out what was so romantic about a stalker. But the story sucks you right in. The only thing I couldn’t figure out was if you actually liked some of the ways they described things.”

“Like what?” she asked, and I wondered if she was still in the gym or had gone to her room.

“Where are you? Do you have enough privacy to talk?”

“I’m back in my suite. I was headed up to take a shower when I called you. Why?”

“I just don’t see some of it…I mean, the dirty talk in the book was intense. And they used the c-word a lot.” As soon as I said that, I heard muffled laughter.

“The c-word?” she asked, giggling.

“Yes.”

“Tom, after reading that book and knowing I read that book, are you worried about saying the word to me?”

I hesitated. That was exactly what I was saying. “I thought you were never supposed to say this in front of a woman?”

She sighed heavily, “You know the resistance to that word is very much an American thing. But let me tell you my limits with that word; if you call me a cunt; I’ll never talk to you again.

If we are having sex, and you tell me that my tight cunt is the best you’ve ever had?

I’ll probably orgasm right then and there. Does that clear things up?”

And…now I’m imagining sex with Callie, and yep, my dick is ready for it. “Cal,” I whispered, “Why you gotta do me dirty like that?”

“Let me guess. You’re now standing in front of the microwave wondering if it’s more important to eat your dinner or if you should take care of the semi that popped up thinking about fucking me?”

I threw my head back, squeezed my eyes shut, and tried to ignore the increasing demand between my legs.

“No, actually, I’m standing in front of my kitchen island, imagining spreading your legs wide, sucking your clit, and fucking that tight little cunt with my fingers until you scream my name.

After that? I think I might bend you over and take you from behind. You can take it hard, right?”

“FFFFFFuck, you went there,” she said, her voice quivering a bit.

“I did because we’re gonna go there someday, aren’t we, Calliope?”

“Yeah, pretty sure we are.”

“What are you going to do when we hang up the phone?”

“I’m going to use this,” she said and sent a photo of a large suction cup dildo made for shower play.

“Eight inches, huh?” I asked. “How does that feel inside you?”

“So full,” she answered breathlessly.

“Hope there’s room for more,” I said. “Go have some fun with your little toy. I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” I said, quickly ending the call. As much as I wanted to beg her to turn the camera on so I could watch her shower exploits, I wanted to wait to experience it all in person more.