Page 27 of Playboy Husband

CALLUM

Downtown was chaos in the best possible way.

The Halloween festival had taken over half the waterfront, turning it into a blur of lights and costumes.

Pumpkin-shaped lanterns bobbed above the crowd.

Music from the band playing on a makeshift stage clashed with the thump of bass coming from somewhere in the distance.

It had been ages since I’d attended anything like this, but with Maisie by my side, it felt electric to be back. I grinned and glanced down at her, wondering if she would have preferred a quiet, romantic restaurant for the one-night reprieve of responsibility provided by her mother.

“What do you think?” I asked, loudly enough to be heard above the music and the telltale hiss of fryers and grills working overtime.

Her head kept turning to catch every little thing, her eyes sharp, but an awed, almost childlike smile was on her lips. Finally, she lifted those green eyes to mine. “I love it.”

As I grinned, I paused to buy a skewer of grilled corn dripping with butter and she gave me a look that was half amusement, half wonder. “We’ve been here ten minutes and you’ve had, what, three snacks already? How?”

I held up the corn, bringing it closer to my mouth, but not biting into it just yet. “I have the metabolism of an athlete. It comes with the territory.”

She arched an eyebrow at me. “You’re not skating six hours a day anymore, Callum. You can’t keep using that as an excuse.”

“I can,” I said around a mouthful of juicy corn. “Watch me.”

She laughed, shaking her head, and we kept walking. Every other booth called to me, the churros tossed in cinnamon sugar, the dumplings steaming in bamboo baskets, and even caramel apples lined up like shiny jewels.

Every time I stopped, Maisie pretended she was going to keep walking, only to circle back and steal a bite. She licked chocolate off her fingers after swiping my last mini doughnut. “Do you know what your problem is?”

“I didn’t order enough food for two?”

“Exactly.” She smirked and nudged me with her shoulder. “You’re predictable.”

“That’s rich coming from you, Ms. I-usually-stick-with-wine,” I countered. “Even back at college, you always had a protein bar in one hand and a water bottle in the other. Whenever I saw you in the student lounge, I’d just think, there’s poor Maisie, living off almonds again.”

Her mouth fell open in mock outrage. “Excuse me, I ate actual meals.”

“Barely,” I teased. “Diver metabolism, right? It’s just not quite the same as ours.”

“What, because I wasn’t a real athlete?” She laughed, and for a second, the sound transported me right back to campus, the scent of chlorine clinging to her hair, the air in the rink cold enough to sting my lungs.

We’d circled each other back then, both just a little too busy, a little too stubborn, and apparently, too chicken shit to admit to the other what we wanted. I leaned against a railing while she tried a candied pecan from a sample tray.

“Nah,” I said. “You were a real athlete. Shit, I’m pretty sure you put in more hours than even we did.”

She pumped her eyebrows at me. “Let me clear that up for you so you don’t just have to be pretty sure anymore. I totally put in more hours than you.”

“There’s that competitive spirit.” I felt my lips curl into a grin, that old spark I used to feel with her combining with all the new stuff tumbling around inside. “I was wondering if you still had it.”

“I still have it,” she said.

I deliberately let my gaze drift over her, starting at the top where her dark hair was hanging in loose waves to her shoulders, across her soft, skater-style wrap dress, to the comfortable sneakers on her feet.

“Yeah,” I finally agreed. “You’ve definitely still got it.”

Maisie’s cheeks flushed, but her grin was still playful. “There comes the charm again. I’m going to have to watch myself around you, aren’t I, Callum Westwood?”

“Definitely not.” I pushed away from the railing and fell into step beside her after she’d bought a bag of pecans. “In fact, you should just fall for me now, then I can pack in the old charm for good and save us both a lot of trouble.”

She chuckled. “Somehow, I don’t feel like I’d be saving myself a lot of trouble if I did that. How many girls have fallen for you? A thousand? Yet, here you are, on a date with someone who answered a newspaper ad.”

“You’re one to talk,” I argued lightly. “How many guys have fallen for you? Yet here you are, on a date after answering said ad.”

She scoffed. “No one has fallen for me.”

I actually laughed at that. Really laughed. “Bullshit. Every guy on the hockey team had a crush on you back at Cal Poly.”

“Every guy?” She tipped her head back to look at me, widening her eyes before she rolled them. “That’s revisionist history. There is no way that’s true.”

“It’s not only true. It’s an absolute fact.” I popped a pecan into my mouth. “At least half of my teammates talked about you. The other half were just jealous.”

Instead of arguing this time, she flicked her gaze up to mine. “What about you?”

Suddenly aware of the way the lights painted gold in her hair, I held her gaze and dipped my chin in a nod. “Yeah. Me too.”

Her smile softened. “It’s funny. I had a crush on you, too, you know. Not that it mattered, except for…”

“The party,” I finished for her.

The memory rose sharp and vivid in my mind, the music pounding, the way we’d danced until we’d both been slick with sweat, laughing at nothing before tumbling out into the cool night and kissing like we’d been waiting all year for it.

A one-night spark I’d never quite managed to shake.

“I told you all of this the other night,” I said quietly. “Why are you suddenly believing me now? You didn’t seem to then.”

“I think I just needed some time to make sense of everything,” she admitted. “It’s not easy to rewrite history the way I’ve understood it for years just because I have your perspective to include now.”

“Yeah, I get that.” I couldn’t believe she’d had a crush on me either. After the way she’d left that morning, I’d kind of thought she’d woken up repulsed by the fact that she’d slept with me. “It sort of makes me wish we’d spoken like this that night instead of only doing it now.”

Around us, the crowd swelled tighter as it got later, a crush of costumes and chatter. Someone in a skeleton mask shouldered past, nearly knocking Maisie sideways. I reached out and grabbed her hand without even thinking about it.

The second our palms fit together, heat shot straight up my arm. Her hand was small against mine, but her grip was tight and she didn’t let go. Neither did I.

We pushed through the fray until the street opened up again, but her fingers remained curled around mine like they belonged there.

I glanced at her, ready for her to laugh it off, but she just looked back at me, her eyes bright and a smile tugging at her lips that made me suspect she knew this wasn’t nothing.

“So, uh, this whole marriage thing,” she said suddenly, and I expected the topic to make things awkward. I expected either one or both of us to pull away, but still, neither of us did.

My heart thudded behind my ribs. “What about it?”

She blew out a breath, brushing a strand of hair back with her free hand, but her eyes were still on mine, only a tiny bit less bright than they had been a moment ago.

“I don’t need a big wedding. I don’t even need a real one, if I’m being honest. I’m just not that girl.

As long as we can, you know, make things work, it doesn’t have to be fancy. ”

I studied her, hearing the sincerity in her tone, and something inside me tightened. The more time I spent with her, the more the whole marriage arrangement felt like an excuse, like even if it wasn’t on the table, I’d still be right here, still chasing her.

“I’ve been wondering about the formalities myself,” I said carefully. “A couple weeks ago, I was all about going down to the courthouse and just getting it done, but that doesn’t feel right anymore.”

Because I think I would’ve been trying to pursue you anyway, and even though you’ve already said yes, I still want to do right by you. By us.

The silence that fell between us stretched for a beat, not uncomfortable but definitely charged. Before she could tell me what she thought about it, the skies suddenly opened up. Rain fell hard and fat drops pelted the street, sending the crowd into a scramble for cover.

Someone shrieked with laughter, kids squealed, and umbrellas popped up, but I hadn’t brought one. Maisie’s dress was drenched in seconds and that was what spurred me into motion. I caught her wrist, already starting to move.

“Come on,” I yelled. “My place is a block away.”

She didn’t argue and we took off running, splashing through puddles, dodging slower festivalgoers. By the time we reached my building, both of us were drenched, hair plastered to our faces, clothes sticking.

She was breathless, cheeks flushed, but I’d never seen her look more alive. I fumbled with my keys, laughing as I finally managed to slide the right one into the lock. “I guess you got your answer.”

“To what?” she asked, shivering slightly.

“If I can actually get full,” I teased, shoving the door open. “It seems even the universe decided I’d had enough.”

She rolled her eyes, but she followed me inside, her smile lingering even as rainwater dripped from her hair onto the floor. I tossed my keys on the counter and grabbed a couple of towels from the linen closet.

“Here.” I handed her one and used the other to scrub my own hair. She pressed hers against her face with a muffled sigh of relief.

“Do you always keep spares nearby for drenched strays you drag home?” she asked.

“Only the pretty ones,” I said, grinning before I turned to head to my bedroom. “Let me get you something dry to change into while we get all this into the dryer.”