Wrecking Ball (Hard to Love 1)

The change in Sam is breathtaking to witness. Sometimes I can’t believe it’s the same kid that hardly spoke and wouldn’t look anyone in the eyes. I can’t say I’m looking forward to meeting his mom. Mostly because I don’t know what that will do to Sam. The thought of him retreating back into his shell makes me sick to my stomach.

“You can ask him yourself when you see him….no don’t…Mandy, don’t hang up. Amanda Shaw don’t you dare…goddamn it!”

The crashing sound kicks me into action. I step into the open doorway of Calvin’s office and find him gripping the roots of his hair. The stuff that was on his desk is, at present, covering the floor.

“Calvin?” His head jerks in my direction and his cool gray eyes slam into mine. I wait patiently for him to explain. He exhales deeply and falls into his chair.

“My sister has decided that a drive would be therapeutic. She wants to clear her head before she picks up her son.” His head drops back onto the headrest of the chair, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. Without invitation, I walk in and sit in the chair facing the desk.

“Where is she?”

“Betty Ford––Rancho Mirage, California,” he answers after a long pause.

“That’ll take at least a week.”

“Could be up to a month, knowing her.”

“Has she spoken to Sam? Did she tell him?”

“Nope.”

“What can I do?” He points the power of those crystal clear eyes on me. There’s anticipation in that stare––along with a large dose of uncertainty.

“You can stay.”

Something passes between us. Something I don’t want to examine at the moment because it feels a lot like…umm, affection and I cannot be feeling that for him.

“For you, Champ, anything.”

He smiles then. It reaches his eyes and makes them all warm and sparkly.

Sparkly? What the…

My heart flops around inside my chest like it’s a fish out of water. Crap. Things just went from bad to worse.

Chapter Twenty-One

Amber landed a major part in a minor play. Like way way waaaay off Broadway. But it’s something to put on her resume, so I’m headed to the city for her opening night performance. I’ve had this nude colored, silk dress I’ve wanted to wear forever and had nowhere to wear it to. Now that I’m sporting a sweet tan, it’s time to bust it out. I slap on some mascara, lips gloss, shake out my hair and head downstairs to the den where Sam and Mercedes are watching the new Star Wars movie. I walk in and both their heads swivel in my direction.

“You look wonderful,” Mercedes announces. “What do you think, Sam?”

He gives me a thumbs up and a shy smile. God, I love this kid.

“Nothing is covering your back,” says a grumpy voice right behind me. While the front of the dress is covered, the back is open down to the base of my spine except for a thin strap for the built in bra.

“Yeah, Champ, it’s the style all the cool kids are wearing.”

Glancing over my shoulder, I find Calvin inspecting me closely. No smile to be found anywhere. By the look on his face, he’s displeased. He also must’ve just stepped out of the shower because his black hair is slick and his long lashes beaded with moisture. He’s wearing sweatpants. Thank heaven for small favors because the rest of him isn’t covered.

The testosterone spewing off of him kicks me in the babymaker…and I’m suddenly warm all over. I’m pretty certain the man could reverse menopause. Gotta get out of here before it becomes obvious; each minute I’m around him, it gets harder and harder to hide this seriously inconvenient attraction.

His eyes do a slow perusal of my bare feet and legs. Climbing higher, they glide over my dress. By the time they reach my flushed face, his frown has deepened into a stormy scowl.

“You’re gonna get cold.”

“Hmmm. It’s only eighty five with a hundred percent humidity, but I’ll risk it.” I slip on the Jimmy Choo silver sandals he bought me to go to the wedding, and say my goodbyes to Sam and Mercedes. Without waiting for more of Cal’s ‘fashion tips’, I headed for the front door, pretending I don’t hear him hot on my heels.

“How are you getting there?”

“I’m taking Uber, Dad. And don’t worry, I won’t break curfew.”

“Hell no. I’ll drive you.”

“This again? Come on, Champ, it’s fine. Millions of people all over the globe use Uber daily. I think I’ll be okay.”

“I’m coming with you.”

I stop and turn to face him. “Calvin––what’s wrong? You have training camp early tomorrow. The last thing you need is to schlep downtown and sit through what will probably be a mediocre play at best,” I say in my most gentle voice. He looks…upset? Torn? I can’t put my finger on it. The machinations of this man’s mind are a total mystery to me.