to rip her from Hank’s hold. He waited for her to break it, but she didn’t.
Part of Deacon wanted to repeat his invitation for coffee, nail it down here and now. But the smarter part of him wanted to keep Hank in the dark about his intentions. If Hank knew Deacon was interested in Callie, he’d block him from every angle. Better to make a strategic temporary retreat and let Hank feel overconfident.
“I have to be on a call in a few minutes,” Deacon told Callie.
“Sorry to have kept you.” She finally withdrew from Hank’s hand-hold.
“See you later,” Deacon told her in a breezy tone that masked his frustration.
He left them, taking swift, long strides along the sidewalk.
Half a block away, he pulled out his phone. He dialed Tyrell’s private number.
“Yes?” came Tyrell’s gruff answer.
“I’m in,” Deacon said.
There was a silent pause on the line. “You’ll romance Callie?”
“Draft the paperwork.” Deacon ended the call.
* * *
Callie wasn’t going to think of this as a date. It was true that coffee with Deacon had turned into dinner. But that was only a matter of convenience. It was easier for her to get away in the evening. Downright Sweet catered to the breakfast and lunch crowd, closing at six, after patrons picked up takeout on their way home.
She didn’t know where she and Deacon were going for dinner, so she’d gone neutral with a sleeveless midnight blue cocktail dress. Its scoop neckline sparkled with a spray of subtle crystals. The waist was fitted, and it flared slightly to mid-thigh.
She’d popped her little diamond studs into her ears, pairing them with a delicate gold diamond chip pendant. Her black, high-heeled sandals were classic and comfortable. Her makeup had turned out a little heavier than usual, and when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she realized there was a shine of anticipation in her eyes.
She spotted her wedding set in the mirror.
She lifted her hand, spreading her fingers and touching the solitaire diamond.
She was too jazzed tonight for something that wasn’t a date.
She closed her eyes. Then she pulled off the rings. Before she could change her mind, she opened her jewelry box and set them on the red velvet. She’d already kissed Deacon once. If she was going to do it again, she had to admit to herself that Frederick was in her past.
She smoothed her dress, taking a last look at herself in the mirror.
Then her phone rang, and she felt a sudden rush of anxiety. Was it Deacon? Had he changed his mind?
She was afraid to look at the number, afraid to see it was him.
“Hello?”
“Callie?” It was Pam.
Callie breathed a sigh of relief. “Are you running late?”
“Yes. I mean, no.” Pam’s tone was high, her words rushed. “I mean, I’m not running at all.”
“Whoa. Slow down. Is everything okay?”
“I fell down the front stairs.”
There were voices in the background.
“Are you hurt?” Callie asked. “Who’s there with you?”
“I twisted my ankle. My mom’s taking me to the hospital for X-rays. It’s swelling up fast.”
“I’m so sorry.” Callie’s heart went out to Pam.
Pam was an avid cyclist and tennis player. A broken ankle would be devastating for her.
“I can’t babysit tonight,” Pam said.
“Don’t worry about it. Take care of yourself.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine. Get to the doctor. Call me when you know something, okay? And if there’s anything I can do.”
“Ouch! Mom, I can’t bend that way.”
Callie cringed in sympathy.
“I better go,” Pam said.
“Good luck,” Callie called as Pam signed off.
“Mommy, Mommy,” James shouted up from the kitchen.
“I’m coming, honey.”
The front doorbell rang.
“Ethan squirted his juice box,” James cried out.
“Ethan,” Callie admonished her youngest son as she trotted down the stairs. “You know better than to squirt.”
“Purple,” Ethan said with an unrepentant grin.
“Do you want to use a sippy cup instead?”
Ethan’s smile disappeared, and he shook his head.
The doorbell rang again.
“Then don’t squeeze,” she told him firmly.
“Can we have macaroni?” James asked, opening the refrigerator door. “With orange cheese?”
“We’ll see,” Callie said, swooping the juice box out of Ethan’s hand to set it on the counter.
“Juice box!” Ethan cried, reaching up for it.
So much for her date. Or her non-date. Whatever it was, she was sorely disappointed to miss it.
“I have to get the door,” she told James.
“Juice box!” Ethan screeched.
“You’ll have to wait a minute,” she said to Ethan, walking quickly down the hallway to the entry foyer.
She drew open the door to find Deacon on the porch.
“Hi,” he said. Then his attention was immediately drawn to Ethan’s cries from the kitchen. “Is everything okay?”
“Juice box disaster,” she said, pulling the door wide and standing out of the way. “Come on in.”
He wore a white dress shirt, a steel blue blazer and dark jeans.
“You look fantastic,” he said, closing the door behind him.
She smiled, her heart warming at the compliment. She hated to tell him the night was over before it even got started.
“I’ll be right back.” She headed for the kitchen to quiet Ethan.
He’d come up with another plan of attack and was pushing a chair toward the counter.
She retrieved the juice box. “No more squirting?” she asked him in a grave voice.
“No squirt,” he agreed, abandoning the chair to trot over to her.
“I’m hungry,” James said.
“I know.” She rubbed her hand over his tousled hair. “Pam can’t come tonight.”
Ethan took a pause in his drinking. “Pam, Pam.”
“Pam hurt her ankle,” Callie told them both. “She has to go see a doctor.”
“Does she need a bandage?” James asked. “We have horsey bandages.”
“Yes, we do,” Callie agreed.
The boys were currently big into cartoon bandages. Since they got a lot of cuts and scrapes, it was helpful that they thought of the bandages as a treat.
“The doctor will probably give her a white bandage. It might be a big one.”
“Big owie?” Ethan asked.