Claiming Callie: Part one (12 page)

“The ol’ wine in the face.” Jinny snickers. “Awesome.”

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to rein in his anger before he speaks. “I hope you don’t find anything about this funny.” He turns his burning gaze to Jinny. “This is exactly the kind of thing I knew would happen. You can’t…” He slices his hand through the air. “Just expect men to actually pay you for a date and not want or think they’re getting more than just your company out of it.”

Callie puts her hands on her hips. “My guidelines are very strict, the regulations on my site very clear.”

“I don’t give a flying crap about your stupid guidelines, and neither will any other guy. I tried to warn you! I tried to tell you this was a mistake, but
no,
neither of you wanted to listen to me. You just had so many dollar signs flashing through your head, like this was going to be the solution to all your problems, that you couldn’t see anything else.”

Callie’s blue eyes darken to midnight, and she steps forward, standing toe-to-toe with Dean. “Excuse me if I’m not willing to just let everything I’ve worked so hard for the last few years slip away.”

He can’t help it. Anger—partly at himself for his role in Jason asking her out—builds inside of him like a raging inferno, and it needs a release. “You wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place if you’d just lay off the credit cards and stop spending your money every-damn-where you please. You’re a college student. You’re not some working professional with a six-figure bank account.”

Callie looks up at him, fire in her eyes, and it’s not lost on Dean how much he wishes that she’d look at him like that with the heat of passion instead of anger. And damn, she’s beautiful, but that’s hard to think about right now. Not with his own mixture of debilitating emotions—fury, vengeance, desire, fear, anxiety—running wild within him like some poisonous concoction.

“I’m sorry I’m not perfect like you and that I don’t have it all figured out. But there’s no other way. I could get another job, two other jobs, on top of school and my internship. But the fact is there’s just not enough time in the day, and even if there were, minimum-wage, part-time pay isn’t enough to clear my debt. Even if I auctioned off all my crap, I don’t think it would bring in more than a couple thousand dollars.”

“I’ll loan you the money, then. Tell me, how much do you think you need? I’ll write you a check right now.”

Callie takes a step back. “What?” She glances to Jinny, who’s standing there staring between them, an unreadable expression on her face. “You don’t have that kind of money.”

“How much?”

Anything. God, I’d do anything to help you. To see you happy. To see you stop hiding your grief in the bottom of a shopping bag. Anything to prevent you from dating more tools like Jason.

When she speaks, her voice trembles. “I’m sorry that you think I’m so screwed up. And I’m sorry if shopping makes me happy. At least something does. At least it’s
something
I’ll always have. But this is my mess. It’s mine to own and I’ll figure it out. Somehow.”

She turns away and sprints to her room. Dean shakes his head, then drops his gaze to the floor. Jinny moves toward him and places a hand on his back and whispers, “I know,” then leaves. And all Dean can think of in that moment is how a girl with so much going for her, and so many people left who still care about her, could feel so alone.

*        *         *

Dean slams the doors to the gym, and they echo behind him with an ominous thud. His gaze trains on Jason immediately. He’s standing with several guys on their team—all dressed in their gym shorts and Panthers jerseys. He’s tossing a ball from palm to palm, laughing with that smug-ass grin on his face. The one Dean plans to effectively obliterate.

Without missing a step, he continues straight toward Jason, leaving Emmett behind. “Dude, don’t do anything stupid,” Emmett calls after him, trying to keep up.

But Dean ignores him. He’s too busy burning holes through the side of Jason’s face with his eyes.

“Hey, asshole,” Dean calls out.

Jason turns and says, “Did I win?” Then he snickers at Dean’s obvious anger, and all Dean can think of is him putting his filthy hands on Callie, asking her to have sex with him for money, then threatening her. And all Dean can see is red.

He takes one last step toward Jason and, without warning, brings his fist back and smashes it into Jason’s face, connecting with his eye. Jason staggers back and shakes his head, his eyes unfocused, but Dean’s not finished. He can’t stop thinking what it would’ve felt like had Callie taken Jason up on his offer. And all he can picture is the two of them together—Jason with his slimy paws all over her, then cutting her a check when it’s all over.

“You stay the hell away from her,” he spits. “You hear me? Or I’ll—”

Before he can finish, Jason lunges at him and grips his arms, pushing him back, then throws a fist, which smashes into his cheekbone. The sting feels good. Dean welcomes it. Because it gives him something to focus on, an outlet for the fury consuming him.

He leans into Jason and rams his fist into his face again, missing his nose by an inch and busting his lip instead. Blood oozes from the split in his lip, and Dean lunges again. But several pairs of arms stop him. Like a vice, Emmett grips him, yanking him away from Jason—who has his own pair of teammates restraining him.

Jason’s snarling. He swipes a hand over his face, smearing the blood seeping from his mouth, sputtering, “Let me go,” when the boom of their coach’s voice blasts through the gym.

“What the hell is going on here?” he roars.

Dean and Jason stop struggling with the strangling arms of their teammates and turn to the voice. Their coach stands several yards away, and judging by the murder in his eyes and the tight set of his mouth, he’s pissed as hell.

“I don’t know what kind of petty high school drama’s going on here, but I won’t have it in my gym. I want both of you to hit the locker rooms, get your shit cleaned up, and return here when you’re finished. Dean, you take the ladies’ locker room. It’s empty.”

“But—” Dean starts.

“Save it!” Coach yells. “Go! And in the meantime, I’ll be getting a recount of what happened from everyone here, and either one or both of you,” he says, pointing, “will be benched for a week. Got that?”

Dean looks down at his feet and his stomach sinks while his teammates around him groan.
Fuck. I can’t be benched right now. Not when we’re so close to play-offs. Not when the team needs me so much.

“You’re so screwed,” Jason snarls, and when Dean glances up at him, the surge of fury whips into him once more. He steps forward, ready…

“Enough!” Coach barks.

His coach’s orders break through his anger once more, and he blinks, his eyes still on Jason, who seems less fazed. With a shake of the head, Dean sprints toward the locker room. But just before he reaches it, Jason’s voice calls out, a low rumble in the backdrop of the gym where his coach’s voice mingles with that of his teammates.

CHAPTER NINE

CALLIE

Callie leaves Langley Hall, heading away from class to the edge of campus. She makes her way over the lawn, her booted feet crunching on the frosted grass, and hugs her pea coat tighter against herself. She stares at the ground as she walks until she hears a guy in front of her say, “Hey, aren’t you that girl? Callie?”

Her brows knit together, and she glances around to see if anyone she knows is nearby. Only a few vaguely familiar faces, among several people she doesn’t recognize at all, surround her. “Um…yeah?”

The guy’s lips spread wide, a crooked impersonation of a smile with his severe overbite. “Hey, maybe I’ll hit you up sometime.”

Callie raises her brow.
Whacko!

 “Uh,
okay
,” she says.
Move away from creepy overbite guy. Move away.

She takes a step back without another word and continues on. She’s had enough encounters with weirdos lately. And she’s positive she’s never seen that guy before.

How did he know my name?

The episode with Dean. That had to be it.

Maybe he’s on the team and she just didn’t recognize him. Or he heard somehow what happened between Dean and Jason at practice the other day. Someone else had already approached her about that this morning, so it’s not out of the question.

Callie hasn’t seen Dean since he stalked into the gym and busted Jason’s face up a couple days ago, and maybe that’s for the best, because she isn’t sure what to think about what he did. She hears he’s sporting a pretty nasty bruise across his jaw himself.

He’s probably hiding his sorry face from me.
And hide he should.
She’s had enough of his super protective behavior lately. Beating the tar out of Jason, although not totally uncalled-for, is unnecessary.

I can fight my
o
wn battles, thank you very much
.

And not only did Dean go overboard, but he got suspended from the team for a week. Just when they’re about to make play-offs. Crazy!

But maybe Dean is right, and that’s her real problem with him right now. Maybe he was right all along. This escort thing is a bust. It’s probably a stupid idea, possibly a dangerous one even. Especially, if, like Jason, the men she goes out with assume she’ll trade sex for money. But how do other escorts do it? Surely they don’t all sleep with the men and women they go out with. Do they?

Callie shakes her head.
Who knows?
Though I find that hard to believe, maybe I am naive, like Dean said. After all, I fell for Jason’s load of crap.

Callie sighs and adjusts the strap of her messenger bag on her shoulder. She approaches the edge of campus and glances up just in time to see three girls staring straight through her as they walk by. The moment they pass, they burst out laughing. And if she’s not mistaken, she hears one girl whisper, “That’s her. Whore!”

Callie’s mouth drops, and she whips around on her heel, but the second the girls see they’re busted, they scurry off. Turning back around, Callie speeds up. Her lungs burn as she takes in the cold air, and her breath puffs in the cold like little clouds.

She stops at the edge of campus and checks the street for traffic before crossing, then steps out on the road. Her phone rings, but she hurries across the street, continuing until she’s only a few yards away from the doors to Buzz before wrangling it from her jeans pocket. One glance at the screen tells her it’s an unknown caller.

Her finger hovers over the answer button, but something makes her hesitate. Her scalp prickles, and a shiver trails up her spine as a strange feeling of trepidation grips her. Swallowing hard, she answers and brings the phone to her ear. “Hello.”

“Hi, I’m calling about your escort service?”

Callie blinks. She never gave out her number. When she and Jinny set up her website and the ad, they only listed an email address, where Callie could screen and filter the requests, then call the men back on her own. There’s no way this guy should have her number.

“Um, have we gone out before?” she asks. She doesn’t recognize his voice, but it’s possible he’s the wedding date, or Rude Rick. After all, she’s worked hard to wipe those memories from her brain.

“No.” The guy chuckles. “Nah, I just saw the article about you and was hoping to get a spot in your schedule. I’d actually like the, uh, the full package.”

“What?” Callie croaks. She squeezes her eyes shut, barely noticing the cold now. Her head spins, and she can’t keep up. She has no idea what this guy is talking about.