His 24-Hour Wife (The Hawke Brothers 2) (7 page)

But before he could find the right question to work out what he was missing, Callie had turned away.

“I’ll see you at dinner,” she said over her shoulder and walked down the hall.

“Sure,” he said to her retreating back, and wondered if he’d ever completely understand her.

Six

C
allie pushed her empty plate away and sighed in satisfaction. “You undersold your cooking abilities.”

Adam shrugged a broad shoulder. “My repertoire is small. Basically the tacos you just had and scrambled eggs. I have dreams of one day branching out into pizza.”

Callie laughed—both at the words and from surprise at his easy self-deprecating humor. Adam Hawke liked to stay buttoned up, but she suspected if he ever let his guard down he could be a whole heap of fun.

No, scratch that. She didn’t suspect it—she knew it. Their time in Vegas had been amazing. On the way to the chapel, they’d laughed and run through a fountain, and on the way back, Adam had insisted on carrying her over the threshold of the hotel, much to the amusement of the security team and everyone else in the foyer.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he said.

She glanced up. “You really don’t want to know.”

“I offered money, and I’m always serious when it comes to money,” he said, a grin dancing at the corners of his mouth.

Still she hesitated. Should she lie and avoid talking about a time she knew he regretted, or do as he asked? She was never quite sure with Adam. Always second-guessing herself.

He fished a hand into his pocket and threw a quarter onto the table. It rolled and did a few lazy spins in front of her plate before falling flat.

She picked up the coin and flipped it over in her fingers, not meeting his gaze as she spoke. “I was thinking about the people we were in Vegas. Would those people even recognize the man and woman sitting at this table?”

His fingers started tapping on the side of his wineglass, until he looked at them, as if surprised to find them moving without his permission. They abruptly stopped. “You mean me, don’t you? You’re basically the same, if a little more subdued without the alcohol.”

She dared a glance at his eyes. They were the dark green of a deep, stormy ocean, and they made her heart catch in her chest.

“I guess I did, yeah.” She took a sip of her wine and then studied him over the rim. “I saw a side of you that you rarely let out to play, didn’t I?”

His fingers began to tap again, before they once more abruptly stopped. “Do you want to get out of here? I’m going stir-crazy.”

It was the same phrase he’d used earlier when talking about the possible problems of their living arrangement, but now he was admitting to feeling trapped. It seemed quite a strong admission coming from a man who usually kept his innermost feelings and reactions locked down tight, and part of her was glad he’d shared even this small snippet with her. But that didn’t mean she was going to leap at his suggestion.

“I know that now that we’ve changed the plan to the wedding becoming our PR strategy we don’t need to be in lockdown anymore. In fact, we’ll probably want to be seen together a couple of times before the ceremony—maybe dinner out or something. But I don’t think I’m up to being that public just yet.”

“There’s only one guy out in front now,” he said with a dismissive shrug, “and if we go out the back door down to the beach, he won’t know.”

It seemed too easy after the drama of the past couple of days. “What about other people?”

“It’s usually pretty deserted at night, but I have some sweats you can borrow to make sure no one recognizes us.”

The idea of escaping the four walls around them without causing a spectacle was too good to pass up.

“Let’s go,” she said.

As she cleared their plates, Adam left and returned a few minutes later in nondescript gray sweatpants and a matching hoodie. He passed a black set to her.

“You’ll have to roll the legs up, but not too much—you’re so tall that I think I only have a couple of inches on you. The top will swim on your frame, though, sorry.”

She took the clothes and held them against her chest. Even though they were clean, they smelled of him and she had to fight the impulse to breathe in the scent. “Everything I brought is brightly colored, so I’ll be much less visible in these.” Even if she would be completely surrounded by his scent.

A few minutes later she’d changed and they were heading down the outdoor stairs that separated his yard from the beach. A gentle breeze blew, and the moonlight sparkled on the inky water. They made it through the soft sand to where the edges of the waves played around their bare feet.

“I always forget how much I love the beach,” she said, trying to take it all in at once. “I live in LA, but hardly ever take time to enjoy its treasures.”

Maybe Adam wasn’t the only one who needed to stop and smell the roses. When things returned to normal, she was going to make some changes, starting with regular visits to the beach.

“I know what you mean. I bought the house for its location, but...” His voice trailed off.

“But you’re at work most of the time,” she said.

He let out a short laugh. “Something like that. Do you want to walk?”

“Sure.”

For a couple of minutes, they walked in silence until she broke it by saying, “Look, I’m sorry for what I said back at the house. How you live your life is none of my business.”

“If it’s anyone’s business,” he said with humor in his gaze, “it would be my wife’s.”

She sighed and splashed at the water with her toes. “I guess that’s the problem. We’ve crossed lines back and forth so many times that we’re going to wind up making mistakes about where they are now.”

Silence descended around them once more, but it was far from comfortable. There was tension in it beyond what had been between them the past couple of days, and it was all coming from Adam. There was clearly something on his mind, so she waited, hoping he’d start talking.

“I saw you looking at the family photos along the wall in the dining room while I was fixing dinner,” he finally said.

She stole a quick glance at him, unsure if he was annoyed, but he seemed not to have a problem with it. So she nodded. “You have a very photogenic family.”

He seemed to ignore the compliment. “Did you see the older man who was in lots of the photos where we were children?”

She had noticed him. Tall, with striking looks and silver hair. “You look a lot like him.”

“My grandfather, Adam Hawke.” He said the words without inflection. Without emotion. “I was named after him, and people often told me that I was like him.”

“Looked like him?” she asked, sensing there was more to this.

“Looks and personality. I was always fairly serious and responsible, which probably isn’t too unusual for an oldest sibling, but it was more than that.”

“Your grandfather was serious and responsible, too?” she asked gently, unsure how far to push.

“All his life.” He folded his arms over his chest as he walked. “Right up until his second marriage.” His expression turned bitter.

“I take it you didn’t like his new wife.”

“She didn’t like me, or any children. But my grandfather couldn’t see that. We’d always been close—when my parents had two more babies, he was the one who babysat me. He taught me to ride a bike.” Adam looked up at the starry sky before letting out a humorless laugh. “He used to tell me all the time that my father would inherit the farm from him, and one day it would all come to me.”

She’d known this wasn’t going to be a happy story from the start, but a feeling of foreboding was growing in her belly.

“What happened to the farm, Adam?” she asked.

“His wife said she was leaving because she hated being stuck on the farm. So he sold it and spent all the money on her.” His voice became flat, hard. “It didn’t matter enough that we were all living on that farm, or that my dad was working it. My grandfather sold it anyway.”

Her heart squeezed tight. Having met his parents and brothers, she hated thinking of them in that situation. “So that was your family’s home and income gone in one swoop?”

“Pretty much. My parents had saved a little so they used that to move to California and start fresh.”

“And your grandfather?” she asked warily. The fact that there had been no recent photo of him was telling.

Adam drew in a deep breath and shuddered as he released it. “After the money ran out his wife left anyway. And so he shot himself.”

Callie found Adam’s hand and intertwined their fingers, wanting to offer as much comfort as he’d allow. After a moment’s hesitation, he squeezed her fingers back.

“How old were you when he died?”

“Twelve.”

“What an awful thing for a child to go through. Especially when you’d been so close to him.” If only she could do something to take away the pain, but realistically, she knew that nothing could, except maybe time.

“I learned something that day,” he said, sounding resolute. Determined. “You might feel like you’re in control of your life. You might think you’re on top of the challenges, the way that my grandfather did before he married. But that control can snap at any time, and you lose
everything
.”

A lightbulb went off, and Callie finally had an insight into why Adam was so determined to stay in control all the time, and it only made her want to know more. Though one thing didn’t add up.

“Why are you telling me this? You think I’m after your money like your grandfather’s wife?” She didn’t really believe he thought that way about her, but needed to hear him deny it.

Adam shook his head abruptly. “The story wasn’t about her. It was about him. About what happens when someone like him—like me—throws caution to the wind.”

And suddenly it all made sense. “You keep yourself locked down not because you’re less wild than your brothers, but because you’re afraid you’re the wildest of the three.”

“Everybody always told me I was like him,” he repeated as if that explained everything.

“That doesn’t mean you are,” she pointed out.

“Some people go to Vegas and have a drunken one-night stand. I took it a step further and got married.”

Everything kept coming back to that snap decision three months ago. “You weren’t the only one,” she said ruefully.

He continued without missing a beat. “My family wanted to turn a roadside stall of homegrown flowers into their very own store. I created a national company that’s still expanding.”

“That’s a great outcome.” The first time she met him, she’d been almost as impressed by his success as by the man himself. Almost.

“It is.” He shrugged, as if dismissing the achievement. “But I have a tendency not to do things by halves. If I’m not careful, I get carried away. The only times that works well for me is if I take a considered, logical approach.”

“Our wedding wasn’t logical or considered,” she conceded, and he laughed.

“No, it wasn’t.” He blew out a long breath. “I learned something with my very first girlfriend.”

“Is this going to be a dirty story?” she teased, hoping to lighten the mood a little.

“I was thirteen. How dirty can it get?” he said with humor in his voice. Until he started talking again. “I was supposed to be watching my brothers after school until my parents picked us up, but I was crazy about a girl and I convinced her to sneak behind the shed and make out. Long story short, Dylan went missing on my watch and when we found him he was covered in cuts and bruises.”

“Having met Dylan, I have a feeling he spent much of his childhood getting himself into mischief.” And probably his adulthood, too.

“Which was even more of a reason to keep a close eye on him,” Adam said, clearly disgusted with himself. “But I was carried away and let my guard down.”

She tried to imagine a thirteen-year-old Adam, already serious, but flush with first love. “You were only a kid yourself.”

“Maybe, but it was exactly the same thing that happened with my grandfather. Obsessed with a girl and forgot my responsibility to my family.”

Her eyes stung, but she blinked any sympathy away before he noticed. He wouldn’t welcome it.

How hard had he been on himself back then? She’d bet more than the quarter he’d given her that he’d been harder on himself than anything his parents had dished out.

“I’m guessing you broke up with that girl.”

“The next day. I had to.”

The jigsaw pieces fell into place. “And anytime you felt yourself getting close to a woman since then, you break things off?”

He didn’t need to answer—the way he rolled his shoulders back and glanced over to the horizon told her. They might not be emotionally close, but they were married. His internal alarm must be deafening.

“You’re warning me off, aren’t you, Adam?”

“No, I’m filling you in. We have a false sense of intimacy around us because of our situation and I don’t want you to come to hope that I could give you more than I’m capable of giving.”

“I’m not asking for more.”

“I know that.”

“And I—” She stopped walking and dropped his hand as his earlier words replayed in her head.

The story wasn’t about her. It was about him. About what happens when someone like him—like me—throws caution to the wind.

It hardly seemed possible that someone with as much self-control as Adam Hawke could be worried about his reaction to a woman. To her.

“I get to you, don’t I?” she said, hearing the wonder in her own voice.

He didn’t bother denying it. “I think our twenty-four-hour marriage already proved that you’re a potential trigger for me.” He stopped walking again and glanced around. “I think this is far enough. We should start back.”

Everything inside her seemed to be unsettled. Agitated. Thrilled. He’d wanted her when they hooked up in Vegas at the three conferences, but he’d played it so cool afterward each time that she’d assumed his attraction to her was nothing particularly strong. Nothing especially urgent. Nothing near how much she had wanted him. Still wanted him.

Wordlessly, she followed his lead. Since the day in his office, when she’d told him about her coworker’s threat and they’d embarked on this plan, she’d been feeling at a disadvantage. She’d understood that she had a stronger attraction for him than he had for her.

She’d been wrong.

He was just better at hiding it. More practiced at denying himself.

The newfound power was exhilarating, setting her pulse fluttering.