about you get in...” He leaned over and opened the passenger door. “And I’ll drive you around a bit more.” Maybe once she was in the confines of his SUV, he could convince her to go home and call it a day.
She looked at him skeptically a few moments, then sighed and climbed into the vehicle. “Why are you being so nice to me?” She asked as she tugged the seat belt over her breasts and clicked it into place. “After what I did to you today?”
“That wasn’t personal. Besides, I’m a nice guy,” he replied, although the thoughts he was currently having about her breasts contradicted this statement.
She shrugged as if she didn’t believe in the fairy tale of nice guys—smart chick—but at least she was in the car. He didn’t need to win her approval, he simply needed to get her home and hand over her keys, so he could leave in good conscience.
As he steered the SUV back onto the road, Chelsea spoke again. “You can take me home and I’ll grab my car,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’ll be able to cover more ground that way.”
“It’s fine,” he said. “Two sets of eyes are better than one. I’ll help you.”
“Thanks,” she whispered, almost too quiet to hear, and then settled back into the seat.
“How long have you lived in Bend?” he asked as they circled her extended neighborhood a few times. So far they’d witnessed two fat cats having it out in someone’s front yard and a teenager who was learning to drive reverse into a fence, but they’d seen no sign of her cocker spaniel.
“Just over a year,” she said, as if that was the end of the conversation, but stuff it, he was playing chauffeur here and for some bizarre reason wanted to know more. His mom always said he was like a bear with a bee in his bonnet when he wanted something.
“Where was home before?”
She mumbled the name of a suburb in Portland, her gaze never veering from out the window.
“What brought you to Bend, then?” he asked. “Family? A boyfriend?” There hadn’t been any signs of either in her house, and he found himself hoping it was because the latter didn’t exist. Which was ridiculous. It’s not like he wanted to play the part.
She turned her head to glare at him, her nostrils flaring slightly. “Are we playing a game of twenty questions that I don’t know about?” Even with bloodshot eyes and all that runny mascara, especially with the edge of irritation in her voice, she was gorgeous. Quite simply one of the most stunning creatures he’d ever laid eyes on.
His mouth quirked at the edges. “Sorry. You don’t have to tell me anything.”
She sighed and crossed her arms over that delicious rack as he kept driving. “My grandfather—the only family that mattered to me—died fourteen months ago and I needed a change of scenery. I had no boyfriend, a dead-end job, no family, so I saw no reason to stay in Portland. I decided to get in my car and drive until something inside told me to stop and put down roots. I had plans to go much farther afield, but something about Bend got to me. Maybe it was the fact that apparently 49 percent of people here own dogs? Besides, I found out Muffin wasn’t big on road trips.”
He chuckled. Despite being obviously distraught, she had a sense of humor.
“I’m guessing you’ve lived in these parts all your life,” she said, indicating discussions about herself were done.
“Yep. Born and bred in Jewell Rock. I was recently considering spreading my wings a little, but then my dad died and, well, now I’m needed at home. At the distillery.” Which was what he’d always wanted—he just hadn’t wanted his dad to be pushing up daisies in order to make it possible.
“Were you and Miss Sawyer going to move?”
Truth was, Chelsea was the first person he’d confessed to about the fact he’d been considering leaving the family business. Guilt made his gut heavy at the thought. “We were in discussions,” he lied.
Silence reigned a few more moments as they both kept their eyes on their surroundings, then, when they neared a famous chicken fast-food joint, Callum’s stomach rumbled so loudly he felt certain Chelsea must have heard it too. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast and he guessed she hadn’t eaten in hours either.
Without a word, he pulled into the drive-through.
“Hey,” she exclaimed, “what are you doing?”
“Ordering us some dinner. What do you want?”
* * *
All Chelsea wanted was her dog back and she thought she’d made that perfectly clear, but now that Callum mentioned it, she was starting to feel a little light-headed. Maybe she needed food. Or maybe the dizziness was because of being in a confined space with six-feet-plus of sexy McKinnel. Either way, she found herself asking for a fried chicken sandwich and a serving of french fries. Callum ordered the same, but added some coleslaw. The teenager behind the speaker who took their order giggled ridiculously at the sound of his deep sexy voice.
“Did your mom tell you that you should have veggies with every meal?” Chelsea asked as they waited in front of the window for their food. She thought it kinda cute the way he’d mentioned his mother a few times.
“Something like that.” He almost smiled and something inside her quivered so that she had to glance away. Looking out the window made her realize she hadn’t thought of Muffin in all of two minutes. Not that she wanted to forget him—she desperately wanted, needed to find him—but Callum had given her a few moments’ reprieve from her anxiety.
When their orders were ready. Callum took their food from the teenage attendant and passed it over to Chelsea. The smell of hot, greasy goodness filled the car, making her want to moan out loud. She rarely ate takeout—years of not being able to afford such luxuries had become a habit.
“Let me give you some money for this,” she said, snapping back to reality and realizing she was sitting in a stranger’s car—a client’s ex’s car more to the point—and he’d just paid for her dinner.
He waved a hand in dismissal as he drove away from the restaurant. The warmth of the food seeped through the paper bag, making her thighs hot. She inhaled again and her taste buds begged her for a fry, but Callum couldn’t eat while driving and she couldn’t very well eat hers in front of him.
“We can pull over somewhere a few moments if you like so you can eat,” she suggested.
“Or we could go back to your place and eat there.” His tone was innocuous and it wasn’t that she thought he was about to take advantage, but the idea of eating dinner with a guy in her house was so alien it made her nervous.
“But we haven’t found Muffin yet.” She hated the neediness in her tone but couldn’t help it.
“Look, Chels,” Callum began, turning to look at her so that his deep green eyes sought hers and made her skin hot. Or that could simply be the way he’d used a nickname for her, as if they were friends, rather than recent acquaintances. She was loath to admit it, but she liked it. “I know you’re worried about Muffin, but we’ve both searched high and low. I’ve called every dog refuge in a three-hundred-mile radius of Bend. I think maybe it’s time to call it a night. What if Muffin comes home while you’re not there?”
