Fight or Flight

Without saying a word to him as he opened the cab door for me, I got in and told the driver my address.

Finally, I looked up at Caleb. He frowned down at me, indecision in his expression.

Was he regretting his rejection?

“Good-bye, Caleb.” I grabbed the door handle and jerked it out of his hold, slamming it shut. “Let’s go,” I said to the driver, not once glancing back as we drove away.

Fourteen

I couldn’t sleep.

My sheets were wrinkled and abused from my tossing and turning the night before. I’d gotten up in the early daylight hours, changed into my running gear, and tried to sweat the unease and fatigue out of me. But running didn’t work like it usually did. By the time I walked into the office that morning I’d had three coffees in the hopes that I wouldn’t pass out from exhaustion later.

Beneath my elegant chignon, my tailored pencil skirt, pale pink silk blouse, and carefully applied makeup, were dark circles and a tired body. Worse, a confused heart.

I’d lost count of the times I’d reached for my phone to check for messages from him.

Not a peep.

I stared blankly at my computer screen, feeling blindsided, not only by my emotions, but by the way things had ended with Caleb. They’d ended in a whimper. There was no feeling of closure as I’d assumed there would be when he headed back to Scotland. Nor had it ended in an explosive argument, which, considering how things had started between us, I was almost sure would happen.

No, it ended because something had caused Caleb to climb too deep into his thoughts. But what?

Stop thinking about him.

My cell rang, making me jolt in surprise. It was Harper.

“Hey,” I answered, hoping she couldn’t hear the weariness in my voice.

“Still banging the Scot?”

I’d already informed Harper about my discussion with Caleb outside the restroom at Canterbury. Her reply was that I was a big girl, I could do what I wanted, but to just be careful. I should have heeded her words.

“I don’t think so,” I said, trying to infuse a wry I don’t care note into my voice.

“Oh?”

“We had dinner last night with Patrice. She tried to play matchmaker and ended up making us cross these lines we’d drawn. You know … like not talking about personal stuff. I went home alone.”

“You don’t sound that bothered by it.”

Huh, guess I was better at pretending than I thought. “It was just sex, Harp.”

“Yeah, but great sex. I’d be sad if I had to give up great sex.”

A pang of longing burned in my chest. “It was fantastic. And I’m not going to lie, I’m going to miss it. But it’s for the best. He’s leaving in a week anyway. I really shouldn’t let myself get used to it.” Or him, or my inexplicable feelings for him. Like my jealousy. “Oh, by the way. Patrice made me tell the story of how you and I met, and Caleb said, and I quote, ‘She sounds like my kind of person.’ ”

Harper grunted. “Am I supposed to swoon at the honor?”

I laughed, feeling stupid that I’d mentioned it. Harper wasn’t me. She wasn’t looking for a stamp of approval from the guy, and for not the first time I wished I was more like my best friend.

“Anyway, I was just checking in, babe, and wanted to ask if you were free on Saturday to come and see Vince play. Jason is letting me take the night off and giving Lou a shot at handling the section.” Lou was a junior chef Harper was training.

“Of course. I’ll be there.”

“Okay, but you need to buy a pair of jeans.”

“C’mon. Can’t I just be me?”

“It’s an indie punk rock bar, so no. A pair of jeans won’t kill you, Ava.” At my silence, she sighed. “Look at it this way. You, Ava Breevort—the woman who refuses to get in a relationship because it would mean giving control over to someone else—have had some wild times with a practical stranger. You had a breakthrough. Keep it going. Wearing jeans does not mean you aren’t civilized.”

I heard the snicker in her voice and shook my head. I knew my obsession with looking perfect all the time was bordering on ridiculous, but this was the first time Harper had really called me out for it. “Jeans?”

“Skinny ones that will make your ass look fantastic.”

I thought of my parents and how they hadn’t called to see how I was doing after Gem’s funeral. How they didn’t have my back as our circle of friends glared at me with accusation in their eyes. How they’d forced me to that damn dinner the night before the funeral even though they should have known how horrible it was going to be for me. How they never had my back when I needed them.

And how I was still letting them control me in the most silly, indirect ways. “Skinny jeans,” I said, suddenly feeling the absolute urge to buy them. “Maybe more than one pair.”

Harper laughed. “Just take your time having your emotional breakthroughs.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re lucky I love you because I don’t put up with that kind of cheek from just anyone.”

“I know. Love you too. I’ll text you closer to the time about Saturday.”

We hung up and I stared broodingly at my phone, thinking about Harper, my parents, and Caleb.

The bell for the front desk rang in my office. I had just pushed back my chair to go see who it was when I heard heels clack across the reception floor. The murmur of voices assured me that whoever it was was already being dealt with, so I turned back to my computer, trying to remember what the hell I was in the middle of doing.

Not even a minute later Stella’s voice drew my head up from my computer screen. “There is a Mr. Caleb Scott here to see you. You didn’t mention you had an appointment this morning, so I just wanted to double-check it was okay to send him in?”

Astonishment froze me in place for a second.

What the hell was Caleb doing here?

A flurry of mixed feelings overwhelmed me. Surprise, annoyance, and—worst of all—relief.

“Ava?”

“Uh, send him in.”

“Are you sure?” She frowned at me.

“He’s … a friend.”

Stella’s frown instantly turned into a knowing smile and then she mouthed, Nice, before disappearing.

I sighed. Great. Now my boss would grill me once Caleb left. In the entire six years I’d worked for her, not once had she seen me with a guy. She’d set me up on dates, which I’d dutifully gone to, but I never let any of them past first base. Over time, my reluctance to form any kind of a romantic connection with the opposite sex had become clear to Stella and she’d stopped trying to set me up.

My thoughts on the matter immediately halted at the sight of Caleb dwarfing the doorway to my office. He was delicious in the suit I’d seen him wearing at Canterbury days ago and he was also staring at me in a way that could be construed as pensive. Or it could have been a glare. Sometimes it was hard to tell with my broody Scotsman. What the hell was he doing here?

He stepped into the office and closed my door behind him. He locked it.

That brought me to my feet, my heartbeat falling out of its normal rhythm. “What are you doing here?”

Caleb crossed the room to stand at the opposite side of my desk. “We need tae talk.”

Something inside me shuddered uneasily at his tone. “I thought you were busy planning a way to deal with your fellow CFO?”

“Aye, I am. Dinnae worry yourself on that account.” He threw me a sardonic look as he began to round the desk.

I backed up a little, stumbling against my chair as he stopped beside me and then planted his big body on my desk. The action brought us face-to-face and his familiar scent triggered a wave of intense longing and need.

Seriously, I was officially addicted to him.

However, he wasn’t looking at me like a man who planned to seduce me in my office, which frankly relieved me, because that kind of unprofessional behavior was the exact kind of thing my parents would have done. Not me.

“So talk.” I crossed my arms over my chest, pretending I was unaffected by his presence.

Caleb studied me a little longer until I was almost squirming, and then he said, “Sometimes in my work, honesty is a commodity you can’t afford. I try my best tae be vague rather than downright dishonest, but I do what I have tae for the good of the company as long as the white lies dinnae hurt anybody.”