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  “Valerie dropped off the playlist for the wedding this morning.”

  “To Callie?” Everett tried to sound casual.

  “Yes to Callie. She is our DJ.”

  “So what did you pick for your song?”

  “I voted for ‘Honky Tonk Badonkadonk,’ but we went with ‘At Last’ by Etta James.”

  “Cool.” But Everett was preoccupied with thoughts of Callie. He realized suddenly that he didn’t have her number or any idea where she lived.

  It made seeing her again a little hard to accomplish.

  “So what do you have set up for my bachelor party?” Justin asked.

  Everett pushed Callie from his mind briefly. He was actually excited for his brother’s bachelor party, mainly because what Justin had asked for was so low key. “I rented Buck’s out for the night and set up a poker tournament with your friends. Shit-ton of beer and poker. Real wild night.”

  “Did you know that Val’s going to a strip show?”

  “Now, that seems like a double standard,” Everett said. “Didn’t she say no strippers?”

  “No, I said I didn’t want strippers.”

  Everett smiled as he slapped his brother’s shoulder. “You’re a good man.”

  “Yes, I am.” Justin held up his bottle to tap the neck against Everett’s.

  Everett took a long pull of his beer, trying to think of a casual way to ask Justin for Callie’s number. He didn’t want to make it obvious or have his brother start asking questions.

  “You know, I’d like to add a song to the playlist, if you don’t mind. Maybe I could get Callie’s number?”

  “Dude, if you want her number, just ask.”

  “I am asking,” Everett snapped.

  “What are you gonna do for me?”

  “How about not sharing the time you wet yourself during your first-grade Christmas play when I deliver my best-man speech?” Everett kicked at the back of Justin’s chair as he walked by and sent him careening to the floor.

  “You fucker.”

  “Total accident, I swear. Now, about that number . . . ”

  Chapter Eleven

  CALLIE COULDN’T GET Everett or his insanely awesome kiss out of her head—or the fact that it had been almost five days since she’d seen or heard from him.

  How is he supposed to get a hold of you? It’s not like you volunteered your phone number, and you’re unlisted!

  Callie cursed the little voice in her head and jerked her car door open. She was in a pissy mood. On top of the letter she’d received from Tristan last week, Valerie Willis had dropped off the playlist for their wedding, and their first dance song had nearly sent Callie into hysterics.

  What were the odds that they’d choose the same song as she and Tristan?

  When she started to download the songs into the playlist folder on her laptop, she hadn’t wanted to listen to that song, even briefly. She hadn’t listened to “I Love the Way You Love Me” by John Michael Montgomery since she’d started planning her wedding with Tristan.

  They had been standing in the kitchen, making dinner, and she’d pulled out her iPod. Pressing the screen, she’d come up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

  “What do you think of this one?”

  He’d grabbed her hands from around his waist and lifted them to his lips.

  “I think this is perfect for us.”

  But as she’d dropped the file into the playlist, it had started playing. Even the first few bars had made the urge to drink strong enough that she’d considered heading out to Hank’s. Instead, she’d called her sponsor, Tim.

  It had helped, thankfully, but between that, work, and wondering where she stood with Everett, she’d been in a bad mood for days and distracted to boot. So distracted, that this morning, she’d left the freezer open. All of her frozen meals—which tasted like cardboard anyway, no matter what spices she added—were ruined. And then she’d been depressed because she’d become that single woman who relied on frozen dinners because she didn’t want to go through the trouble of cooking for one.

  “Stay, Ratchet.” She slammed the door to her Jeep in the Hall’s Market parking lot. On warm days, she left him at home, but it was barely forty degrees out. He could chill for ten minutes with the window cracked.

  Once she’d grabbed a cart, she headed toward the frozen food, glancing down the aisles as she passed. And suddenly she saw Everett, holding a box of something in his big, masculine hands.

  She paused, at war with herself. Should she head down and say hi, or pass him by? Was his silence a sign that he’d lost interest?

  Or maybe he thinks you aren’t interested and is giving you space?

  Before she could even process her decision, she was rolling down the aisle, staring at his profile. From this side, she saw the unblemished part of his face as he grabbed a few more packages of . . .

  Shells and cheese? Gross.

  “Okay, I can’t let you eat that,” she said, stopping a few feet from him.

  Everett turned toward her, and that easy smile stretched across his face. “Oh yeah? But it’s so tasty.”

  “No, it’s nasty. Your taste buds have just been too corrupted to realize it.” Callie realized her heart was jumping like a jackrabbit as he put back the last box and took a few steps toward her.

  “So where are you headed with that empty cart?”

  “Frozen aisle.” She resisted the urge to fiddle with her hair as he drew closer. She’d just tossed the unruly curls into a messy bun and that, combined with her oversized sweater, yoga pants, and Uggs, meant she probably looked like she’d just rolled out of bed.

  Yeah, super-hot. Not.

  “What are you buying in the frozen section?”

  He leaned on her cart so he was only a few inches from her, his body radiating heat. God, she wanted to warm her hands on him, starting with those amazing shoulders—

  Callie stumbled back at the sudden derailment of her thoughts and hit the shelves, knocking several cans to the ground.

  “Oh my God.” She knelt down to pick up the cans, all the while refusing to look at him.

  From under her lashes, Callie saw him squat down, and his hand reached out for hers. “Hey, stop, jitterbug. They’re just cans.”

  Looking up then, she met his gaze. “I don’t know how to do this.”

  Everett seemed taken aback, but then his expression softened. “I know how you feel.”

  Callie laughed softly. “Yeah, right. You’re way too charming not to be good at this.”

  “Only because I have to overcompensate for only having half a face,” he said.

  Callie pulled her hand back, suddenly furious. “Stop doing that.”

  “What?” he asked.

  “Making a joke about your scars.” She grabbed at the scattered cans.

  “Why does it bother you?” The question hit her right where it hurt.

  Because he doesn’t need to be ashamed of his scars.

  “I just think you’re better than that.”

  “See, you can’t say things like that to me and expect me to ask you out.”

  Her gaze flew up and she caught his smile. “I thought maybe you . . . you weren’t . . . interested anymore.”

  “I am, believe me. I got your number from my brother two days ago, and I’ve just been staring at it,” he said. “But I wasn’t sure how you felt, so I just decided to let fate give me a sign.”

  “I told you I don’t believe in fate.”

  “And yet, here we are.” He stood up to put the last can on the shelf before turning back to face her. “How would you feel about getting some food at Jensen’s with me?”

  “What about your groceries?” Callie eyeballed the beer and chips in his cart dubiously.

  “Most of this is for Justin’s bachelor party tomorrow, but I can come back for it. Justin said you had the playlist. Are you all set for the wedding next weekend?”

  At the mention of the playlist, her spirits dimmed momentarily.
“Yeah, all good.”

  “Great. So should we go then?”

  If you don’t say yes, you might as well forget about him. No man is going to wait around forever, especially not a guy like him.

  “Okay, but I have Ratchet in the car,” she said.

  “Do you want to take him home and then meet me?” he asked. Callie hesitated, and Everett spoke swiftly. “Or I can grab the food to go, and you can come over to my place. Ratchet is more than welcome to hang out with us.”

  “Okay,” she said. “I’m going to head home first, but I’ll see you in about twenty minutes or so?”

  “Great. Good thing you know where I live. Makes things easier.”

  “Yep,” she said. “See you soon.”

  Callie turned, the burn of his gaze on her back. She hurried out of the store to her car, jumping inside and pushing away Ratchet’s kisses as she burst into excited giggles. Grabbing Ratchet’s face between her two hands, she kissed his muzzle. “We have a date, buddy.”

  His jaws split open, and he panted happily as she turned on her Jeep. After she backed up and exited the parking lot, she checked her appearance in the mirror, grimacing. He’d asked her out, despite her looking like a monster. It was amazing she hadn’t scared him away with her baggy, tired eyes and Bride of Frankenstein hairstyle.

  Driving through the heart of Rock Canyon, she smiled. When was the last time she’d had dinner with a man? Too long, for sure.

  Sixteen minutes later, she was staring at her closet in sheer frustration. Nothing in the blasted thing looked right, especially with her wild hair. She’d thought about jumping in the shower to get it wet, but then she’d have to dry it again and—

  She was getting off track. Her hair was a lost cause. She needed clothes. She’d already settled on a pair of cotton boy shorts and a simple white bra, but what to put over it was proving to be a hellish decision.

  Glancing down at Ratchet, she asked, “Casual is okay, right?”

  The big dog just perked up his ears and tilted his head.

  “Right.” Reaching in for a simple button-down and a pair of nice jeans, she dressed quickly. She was just hopping into her black boots when her cell phone blared Lady Antebellum’s “Lookin’ for a Good Time.”

  “Yeah?” She tucked the phone between her shoulder and cheek as she struggled with the other boot.

  “Hey, just letting you know I just got the food, and I’ll be home in about ten minutes,” Everett said.

  Callie leaned back on the bed, yanking on her boot. “Okay.”

  “You all right?”

  “Yeah—huh—why?”

  “It sounds like you’re struggling with something,” he said.

  Callie realized she’d forgotten to unzip the boots, which was why they weren’t just slipping on. It had been so long since she’d tried them on, she’d forgotten. They were an impulse buy on a shopping trip with Gemma and Gracie a few months ago, when it was still too hot for boots, but they had called to her nevertheless.

  “Callie?”

  “Yeah, sorry, I’ll be there.”

  Sitting up, she tapped the end button and fixed her boot situation. What the hell was wrong with her? So distracted she couldn’t even put her shoes on.

  Finally making her way out the door, she loaded Ratchet up in the back of the Jeep and headed down the road toward the Silverton farm, her hands sweating. What if Everett had asked her over with expectations? It had been a while, and he definitely wreaked havoc on her lust buttons, but he wasn’t like the guys she used to get her rocks off. They were faceless, nameless men who she’d given her body to and nothing else.

  Everett was different. She actually liked him. When she thought about him, she pictured more than just an hour or so of perfunctory fucking. She pictured getting caught up in him and getting to know everything he loved, the things he took pleasure in.

  For the first time in seven years, she saw a future where she wasn’t alone.

  Being only two streets away, the drive took a few minutes. The long dirt road the Silverton farm was located on reminded her of an old country painting. Lines of trees flew past, opening up to flattened cornfields surrounding three houses within a few acres of each other and a big red barn. There were no remnants of the Harvest Festival besides a flatbed truck filled with hay bales.

  After pulling up next to Everett’s truck, Callie got out of the Jeep and stared up at the simple modular home that was so different from the two ranch houses nearby. She’d never seen Everett’s home in the daylight, but the brown house with the wooden front porch suited him. It wasn’t fancy, but it was homey and welcoming. Especially with the big oak in the front yard that held their swing.

  Their swing? Now when had she started thinking of it that way?

  After retrieving Ratchet, Callie headed up the short stoop to his front door. She had hardly knocked when Everett opened the door, but Callie forgot to lower her arm anyway. He was obviously in the middle of changing his shirt, his hard, washboard stomach exposed as he held the door open.

  “Sorry, I was trying to clean up quickly.” He yanked the gray cotton shirt all the way down over that delicious, golden skin, and Callie closed her mouth, swallowing, embarrassed that she had been mere seconds from drooling.

  “It’s okay.”

  “Food’s in here.” He stepped back to allow her inside, and she studied the interior of the modular. It was an open setup, but the worn, dark brown couches, solid oak kitchen table, and other masculine touches made it seem lived in. Under the smell of cheeseburgers coming from the fast-food bag and the cedar smoke in the fireplace, she could smell Everett’s clean, subtle cologne, and she licked her lips.

  “I like your place,” she said.

  “Thanks.” He stooped, grabbed something off the ground, and threw it toward the trash. “Sorry for the mess, but it’s usually just my brother and dad who come over.”

  “It’s fine, believe me. You should see my place.”

  He gestured toward the table, and she sat down, her hand on the clip of Ratchet’s collar. “Do you mind if I let Ratchet off leash? He’s potty trained.”

  “Of course.”

  She unclipped Ratchet’s leash to let him explore.

  “Do you want a Coke?”

  “A Coke would be great.”

  Everett got up, and she opened the lid of her lunch, eyeing the diner burger and fries hungrily.

  “You look like you’re starving.” Everett held out the red can. “Do you want a cup with ice?”

  “No, that’s okay,” she said, taking the can. “Actually, I don’t even keep mine refrigerated.”

  Everett paused halfway into his chair. “You mean you like warm soda?”

  “Yeah, why?” She knew what was coming and bit back a smile.

  “That’s fucking nasty.”

  Callie choked on the fry she’d just bitten into as she laughed. “You eat processed cheese. I wouldn’t be casting any stones, if I were you.”

  “No, but seriously, how can you? That’s like warm beer!”

  “I’ve just always liked it that way,” she said.

  “Weird.” Everett flipped open his container and sighed. “God, I love Jensen’s. Not every diner knows how to make a bacon burger.”

  Callie took a bite of her own burger, the juicy meat and zing of mustard doing the rumba on her tongue. When she swallowed, she shrugged, just to be a pill. “You obviously haven’t been to In-N-Out Burger.”

  “Actually, I have,” Everett said, taking her by surprise, “and I still say Jensen’s is better.”

  “That’s ballsy.” She munched on another French fry. “So, when did you have In-N-Out?”

  “When I graduated from Camp Pendleton.”

  Callie had been to Camp Pendleton once for a cousin’s Marine Corps graduation, and they’d spent the rest of the weekend at a San Diego hotel so her mom could get drunk at the hotel bar. She hadn’t even gotten to see Legoland or Sea World before they’d headed home. “How did you l
ike California?”

  Everett shrugged. “It was different, and some parts were awesome. But there’s no place like home.”

  Callie cringed inwardly. She’d thought the same thing, until her home had been turned into the place of nightmares.

  For several minutes they ate in silence, though Callie stole glances at Everett. He still looked like a military man, with his hair buzzed close around his head, exposing the shell of his ear and the burns scars that were pale white. She could only imagine how painful they must have been, and she wanted to reach out and touch him. Still, she’d noticed Everett always watched for how people reacted to him; he did not like to be pitied.

  But even the scars on his face that puckered into the collar of his T-shirt couldn’t hide the beauty of his eyes and mouth or the hard muscles working beneath his shirt. He’d said that the scars covered nearly 40 percent of his body, but she hadn’t seen any burns along his stomach. She imagined helping him take off his T-shirt once more and running her hands over his skin, tracing the ridges of muscles as she explored him and learned every scar, every birthmark, and mole until it was burned into her brain.

  “Can I ask you about . . . about what happened?”

  “With this?” He gestured to the scarred side of his face, and she nodded. “I was stationed in Afghanistan along with my best friend, Robbie. We were headed back to the base, and then . . . ”

  She reached out for his hand when his eyes closed in a grimace. “It’s okay. I’m sorry I asked.”

  He opened his eyes and squeezed her palm. “Naw, it’s fine. It’s just . . . I only remember waking up to this high-pitched ringing in my ears, and it was hot. I could see my brothers scrambling out of the door and someone tried to help me. Over the ringing, I could hear Robbie yelling and screaming. I got to him as the fire started creeping over his legs and realized his arm was pinned, and I . . . this isn’t exactly light dinner conversation, but I managed to get him loose and carry him out. Only the fire spread to me before I got us far enough away to drop and roll. Our unit tried to put out the fire on both of us, but not before it felt like the skin was just melting from my body.”