Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“Uh.” Cal made a strangled noise, eyes dropping to my hands with barely disguised horror.
“That wasn’t me volunteering!” I held up both hands. “Just sharing advice from someone who’s had plenty of experience with stitches in inconvenient places.”
“I see.” A muscle in Cal’s jaw twitched like he was trying hard not to think about where I’d had stitches.
“Tell you what. You go get cleaned up while I finish dinner.” I gestured back behind us toward the living area and bedrooms beyond.
“That you nicely saying I stink?”
“Not at all.” I gentled my tone further. One day, I would win Cal’s trust, and when I did, I would feel like a rock star. I wasn’t sure which I wanted more: to make him belly laugh or for him to let me indulge him more. “You’ll feel better if you wash up.”
“I don’t need taking care of.” His chin took on a stubborn jut, and I disagreed, but no way was I winning that argument. Taking care of him spoke to some deep need inside me. Heck, merely tucking him in earlier had made my chest all warm and tingly.
“I know. That’s what makes it fun.”
“You have a seriously skewed view of fun.”
“Probably.” At this point, I was going to keep on grinning until Cal grinned back. “Heck, I was just happy you slept such a big chunk of hours. You said that’s not your usual jam, right?”
“Right. I don’t sleep.” Stubborn. So stubborn. And why I wanted to hug him, I had zero clue.
“Your body has to catch up sometime.”
“I…dreamed.” Cal sounded equally astonished to be sharing this fact as he was that it had happened.
“What about?” I sliced the cornbread into eighths like I wasn’t dying to know.
“I was swimming. In warm water, blue and clear, sun above. The Maldives. You made me dream about the Maldives.” Cal’s tone shifted from awestruck to accusatory.
“Um. Sorry?”
“No. It was a good dream.” He sounded confused, possibly even shaken by this development. And Lord, how I wanted to take him to the Maldives, and not simply because I also dreamed of diving there again. “If I dream, it’s never ever good.”
“You need a vacation.”
“I haven’t worked a real job in five years.” Cal’s scoff only convinced me that much more of my assertion. “I think I’m good. But I will go wash up.”
He grabbed the stack of towels and clothes and retreated to his room. By the time he emerged, I had placed bowls of steaming chili, plates with salad and cornbread, and a few toppings like cheese on the table and switched the music to a more dinner-appropriate instrumental.
“You set the table.” He used the same tone he’d given me for moving his gear and inspiring his dream, but I didn’t let it faze me. He was oddly endearing in the clothes I’d provided: too-big sweats, a slightly tight T-shirt, and the fresh scent of the same soap brand I used.
“Trust that my mom would come smack me if I didn’t set the table. A guest and eating in front of the TV? Never.”
“Sounds like a great lady.” Cal took the seat opposite me, and I wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic, but I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“She is. High school math and physics teacher. Her students both fear and worship her. People come years later just to tell her how they turned out. She’s on leave this quarter because Greg and his wife are expecting my first nephew up in Seattle, and she went to help because Kathleen is on bed rest. Our mom is pretty awesome for sure, even after Dad died when it wasn’t easy at all.”
“I can imagine.” Cal’s voice sounded far away as he placed his napkin in his lap, and I remembered too late about his own parents’ deaths.
“Mom had her moments.” I tried to soften my usual superwoman-level praise. “She ended up seeking medical help for OCD and anxiety. Luckily, she always had good insurance through the school, and my grandparents were pretty great about helping.”
“Mine were too. They were strict.” Frowning, Cal buttered his cornbread and added cheese to his chili. He’d clearly learned good table manners somewhere, but I already irrationally disliked these grandparents. “But they put a roof over our head, made sure I finished school after Mom passed. Keeping up appearances and all that. Couldn’t have a dropout, but I think they were honestly a little relieved the day I reported to basic training.”
“You deserved more,” I said empathetically.
Cal snorted. “Hugs? Praise? Maybe. But there was always food on the table and clothes on our backs. Can’t really ask for more.”
“Sure you can.” Only my sense of self-preservation kept me from coming around the table to offer him both.
“Chili’s good. Thank you for cooking. Those fresh peppers in there?” Cal nodded decisively, not even trying to disguise the change in topics.