“Okay.” She gave one nod of defeat. “If you could take me home, that would be great.”
He gave her a warm smile and turned the SUV in the direction of her place. The closer they got, the more nervous she began to feel. Not nervous that maybe she would never find Muffin, but nervous about Callum McKinnel coming into her house. Granted, he’d already spent a good deal of time there earlier in the day, but this now felt like the closest thing she’d had to a date in months.
Don’t be ridiculous, came a voice inside her head. The man just got dumped by his long-term fiancée.
Actually you dumped him, said an opposing voice, but she blocked her ears—that was simply semantics. Besides, he likely wouldn’t stay long—just enough time to scarf down his dinner and, as he was a guy, that could be merely a matter of minutes.
Ten minutes later, Callum parked in her driveway for the third time that day. Chelsea got out of the vehicle and carried their takeout up the path to the front door, all the while trying to act calm, cool and collected. Callum was a few steps behind her and only when she read the note he’d stuck to her door did she remember he had her new house keys. She spun around and almost slammed right into him.
“Sorry,” she mumbled as his hands shot out to steady her.
“Not a problem.” That smile again. Quite aside from the fact Callum was a client’s ex, as a McKinnel, he was also way out of her league.
She swallowed a groan of disappointment as he let her go and then retrieved a bunch of shiny keys from his jacket pocket. Stepping past her, he selected a key and slid it into the lock, then turned it and opened the door to her house for her. Bamboozled by his touch, she let him usher her inside and take the lead.
“Shall we eat in the kitchen or do you prefer the couch?” he asked, shutting her door behind them.
Silence echoed around the house, reminding her of Muffin’s absence, but in spite of the aching hole in her heart, she couldn’t help notice the state of her house. All clean and tidy now, barely any evidence of the burglary. “Did you do this?” She gaped around and then turned her attention on him.
He nodded and shrugged. “Had to do something while I waited for the security company.”
No, actually, he did not. He owed her sweet eff all, but for some reason unknown to her, he’d gone out of his way to look out for her today. That Bailey Sawyer needed her head read. Who cared if Callum wasn’t all that between the sheets? He was kind and thoughtful, not to mention hotter than the sun itself; these traits weren’t ones to be scoffed at in a man. All she could think to say was “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She looked away because she could no longer handle his intoxicating smile. “Let’s eat in the living room. It’s more comfortable there.”
He followed her to the couch, where he sat beside her as she handed out their food. She’d taken a bite into her sandwich before she remembered her manners. Dammit, she wasn’t used to hosting guests. “Can I get you a drink?” she asked, putting the sandwich on the coffee table and shooting to her feet. “I’ve got club soda or cola.”
“I’ll have a cola, thanks.” He smiled again and then sank his teeth into his own sandwich. It was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen in her life. Maybe I’m the one who needs her head read? With that thought she scuttled away to the kitchen, wishing it was farther away so she’d have a little more time to pull herself together.
Chelsea opened the fridge, pulled two cans of cola out and pressed one against her forehead, thankful Callum had his back to her. She could see him from the kitchen, sitting back against her couch as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She shook her head—was this some kind of weird dream? Nightmare? Maybe she’d wake up and discover Muffin sleeping by her feet as he always did and find out Callum McKinnel was nothing but a figment of her imagination. Yet the pain when she pinched herself to check this spurred her into action and she carried the cans and two glasses back over to him. No one in her family had ever drunk soda out of glasses—unless the soda was mixed with something stronger, which it usually was—but Callum had a mom who made him carry a hanky, so the glasses felt necessary.
“Thanks,” he said as she cracked open a can and poured it into a glass for him. She tried not to drool as he lifted said glass to his lips and took a sip, the thick columns of his neck muscles flexing as he did so.
Right, time to get a grip on reality. She poured cola into the other glass and downed approximately half of it. Although she hadn’t eaten since this morning, the butterflies dancing in her stomach put her off eating. She racked her brain for something to say and then remembered how she’d fled from his office without offering her full service.
“I’m sorry about this morning,” she said.
Callum raised an eyebrow. “About dumping me?” He made it sound like they’d been in a relationship and she’d ended it.
She shook her head. “Usually after I’ve delivered a message to someone, I hang around to chat and see if they’re okay.”
His other eyebrow lifted. “Good customer service? I approve. So why did you not follow through on that promise this morning?”
The way he spoke, the way he looked at her, made her think he knew the reason and heat rushed to her cheeks. “I’m...not...sure.”
“It’s okay,” he said, half chuckling. “I’m not a big talker and Bailey probably did me a favor.”
“Really?”
“Sure, I wouldn’t want to be with a woman who didn’t consider me Mr. Right.”
Callum sounded so lighthearted, but she guessed there had to be pain behind those words. She was about to offer to talk about it now, but he asked a question before she could.
“This breakup business? Is it seriously what you do for a living?”
Surprisingly, she detected none of the repulsion he’d had earlier in his tone.
“Yes. Until recently I also waited tables.” She named a well-known establishment in Bend. “But it was either hire another employee to take on some of the breakup load or quit my second job. I chose the latter.”
His eyes widened. “No offense, but I’m surprised breaking up with other people’s partners is such a lucrative profession.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “I wouldn’t say lucrative, but I take pride in my work and my reputation is spreading. Breaking up is never easy to do. My service is much like hiring someone to clean your house or mow your lawn. Only cleaners and landscapers don’t usually offer counseling, as well.”
“How many of these gigs do you get a day?”
She did a quick mental tally. “One or two in-person breakups a week—I only offer that service to customers in Bend and surrounding areas, but I do a lot of online work. Emails, et cetera. Follow-up phone calls for the brokenhearted. Business is good enough that I’m thinking of expanding and looking for freelancers to do face-to-face breakups in other areas.”
“You learn something new every day.” He popped a french fry into his mouth and she ate one, as well. Then he said, “How exactly did you get into this business?”
Chelsea
