Keeping Denver
: Chapter 9

Iwake feeling warm. Warm and nuzzled in the softest blanket known to mankind. I moan as I bury my face deeper into the pillow, taking in its fresh, clean scent. It takes a few seconds for my senses to come rushing back. This blanket is too soft. The ones at the shelter have never felt this good. Awareness dawns on me, my body stiffens, and I bolt upright, causing the blanket to pool around my waist. I gasp when I realize my bare breasts are exposed, and quickly yank the blanket up, covering myself. My eyes take in my unfamiliar surroundings. The bedroom I am currently in is enormous. To my right are floor to ceiling windows. The only thing visible through it is the moon as it shines through the room, illuminating the grey walls in a soft glow.

Scanning the rest of the bedroom, movement out of the corner of my eye has my head turning in that direction. A scream escapes my mouth at the shadowy figure sitting in a chair in the far corner of the room. I clutch my chest, drawing in a deep breath, but soon realize it’s Mr. Hawk.

That’s when my memories come flooding back. The alley. The freezing cold. The two men stealing my bookbag, the very bag carrying my only possessions: my ID, clothes and what little money I had. And finally, the memory of being scooped up into Mr. Hawk’s arms. ‘What’s going on? What am I doing here, and whose bed am I in?’

‘I brought you here, and you are in my home and that is my bed.’ Mr. Hawk’s voice is eerily calm as he takes a sip of the dark liquid from the tumbler in his hand.

I take a shuttered breath, asking my next question. ‘Why am I naked?’

‘I undressed you,’ he answers.

‘Mr. Hawk…’

‘Callan,’ he cuts me off. ‘I want you to call me by my name.’

I pull the blanket tighter around my body and swallow. ‘Where are my clothes, Callan?’

‘I threw them in the trash.’

‘Why would you do that!’ I cry. ‘And, why would you replace the need to strip me of my clothing in the first place?’

‘I undressed you because you were on the brink of hypothermia. I threw them in the trash because that’s where they belong. I’ll buy you new clothes,’ his voice raises with irritation. As if I shouldn’t be asking all these questions.

‘Those are the only clothes I own, Callan. You had no right to throw them away!’

Callan rises from his chair, turns as he throws his glass across the room, and it shatters against the wall, landing in tiny shards on the wood floor of his bedroom. ‘I had every right!’ he booms his chest heaving. ‘Tell me,’ he demands, taking a step in my direction.

‘Tell you what?’ I try not to shrink away from his looming presence as he approaches.

‘Tell me why I found you nearly frozen to death on the city street.’

‘I…I think you have figured that out by now.’

‘I want to hear you say it, Denver. No more hiding.’

Tears start to stream down my face, and I begin to shake.

‘Why, Denver?’

‘Because I didn’t have anywhere to go!’ I sob. ‘Because I’m homeless and the shelter was full. That’s why I was sleeping in the alley. That’s why I put up a fight when you wanted me to stay late at work. I knew if I stayed, I’d have zero chance at getting a bed for the night. If you had just let me leave when I was supposed to, none of this would have happened. I don’t need your charity. I don’t belong here.’

‘You are exactly where you should be.’ Callan takes another step. ‘Where you don’t belong is in a shelter. And you sure as hell don’t belong sleeping in a fucking alley beside a dumpster and a pile of garbage, Denver.’

‘Why are you doing all of this, Callan? You’re my boss and most of the time, I don’t think you even like me. Now, suddenly, you care? Then, you follow me, bring me to your home, and take my clothes off.’ I pull at my hair in frustration. ‘Jesus! There aren’t enough words to describe how messed up this situation is. I mean, I woke up naked. In my boss’s bed.’

‘As I said before, you are right where you belong.’ Callan closes the distance between us, leans down to where his face is inches away from mine. ‘And I like you just fine, Denver.’

Callan’s whiskey scented breath washes over my face with his declaration, and I lick my lips. My anger seems to diminish the longer he holds my stare. His nose flares, and for a moment I think he’s going to kiss me. I want him to. I want his lips pressed against mine so badly I hold my breath waiting for it to happen, only he doesn’t.

Disappointment settles in my stomach as he backs away, putting space between us. I instantly miss his warmth when he does so. There is something about this man that makes me feel safe and at home. He infuriates me, yet at the same time, I replace myself wanting him more and more each day that passes. Which is something I can’t explain since we hardly know each other. The only Callan I know is the gruff asshole I work for. This Callan, well, he’s still an asshole but is also strangely possessive of me, and my wellbeing. This side of him has my head spinning and my stomach doing somersaults all at the same time. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it.

‘Why don’t you take a hot bath? There’s shampoo, conditioner and lotion I had picked up for you on the bathroom counter,’ Callan nods toward the door behind him. ‘I also had some clothes brought over. They’re in the closet.’

How long was I asleep?

‘Dinner should be here by the time you finish.’

With that, Callan turns and walks out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind him, leaving me more confused than I was moments ago.

Tossing the sheet and blanket aside, I climb out of the most comfortable bed I have ever slept in. As I do, a sickening thought comes to mind, and my lip curls in disgust. How many times has he had sex with Joslyn in this very bed? Just thinking about that woman sets me off, and I fist the bedsheets in anger. Pushing those thoughts away, I pad across the room to the en-suite bathroom. My eyes widen when I flick the light on and take in how massive it is. It’s almost as big as the bedroom itself. The bathtub is what dreams are made of. Sitting on the counter is an array of lotions, soaps, bubble bath, shampoo, and hair conditioner. There are also some razor blades and an unopened pack of toothbrushes.

Feeling overwhelmed, I choose the honey lavender bubble bath, twist the cap off and lift the bottle to my nose. We have a winner.

As I stride across the bathroom toward the tub, I catch a glimpse of my naked reflection in the large mirror on the wall beside the shower. Turning, I take a long look at myself. My hair is a knotted mess, still somewhat tied back in its braid. Removing the tie, my long red hair falls in loose curls around my waist. Deciding I need to wash it, I opt to take a quick shower before relaxing in the tub. But first, I pour some bubble bath in the tub and let if fill while I wash the grime and six months of stress from my body. After I finish, I step out of the shower and into the tub, moaning at how wonderful the hot water feels soaking into my skin. It’s been so long since I enjoyed the luxury of a bath.

I don’t know how long I stay immersed beneath the scented bubbles, but I don’t get out until the water turns cold.

Wrapping a towel around my body, I make my way back over to the counter, taking advantage of the hairdryer I spotted earlier. By the time I’m finished drying my long hair, it appears shiny and full of volume for the first time in ages. Next, I apply a generous amount of lotion, covering my entire body from head to toe.

Moving out of the bathroom and to Callan’s walk-in closet where he said he had some clothes for me, I open the double doors. The moment I step in, a motion sensor is tripped, lighting up the shelves lining the walls. ‘Holy crap,’ I gasp. On one side, there is a row of neatly pressed suits. On the back wall is a very well-organized shoe rack, and directly in the middle of the room are many sets of cufflinks and watches laid out on a center table. To my left are several articles of women’s clothing, the tags still attached. Spying a red sweater hanging from the rack, I flip the card over, revealing the price. My eyes nearly pop out of my head. ‘Three hundred dollars! For a sweater?’ That man is out of his mind. Shaking my head, I look through the neatly folded pile of clothes on the shelf below the sweater, coming across a pair of white satin pajama pants and matching spaghetti strap top with a white satin robe. Looking around, I don’t notice any undergarments. No way am I going commando. I open the drawer attached to the shelf in front of me, finally replaceing what I am looking for. There must be at least a dozen bras and panties here, and all in my size.

How did he know my size?

At that thought, I blush. Callan admitted to taking my clothes off. Not only did he see my pathetic excuse for a bra and my threadbare underwear, but he was also the first man ever to see me naked. For a moment, I wonder what his thoughts were when he was stripping me, and my most private parts were exposed to him.

Snapping myself out of my musings, I go about getting dressed, slipping the satin top over my head. The material is cold on my flush body and feels like butter on my skin. Next, I step into a pair of white lace panties, followed by the pajama bottoms. With my nipples on full display, I make use of the robe, doing my best to hide them.

By the time I finish, my stomach lets out a loud rumble. Callan did say he was getting dinner. Only my nerves kick in and I become reluctant to leave the room. I’m not sure what faces me beyond the bedroom door. I’ve been out of my element the moment I woke up in his bed. I’m confused as to what Callan’s end game is. He said this is where I belong, but what did he mean by that? Is it his intention to help me out for the night then send me on my way tomorrow?

I sigh. ‘Go out there and confront him, Denver. Quit being a chicken.’

The smell of Chinese food permeates through the apartment, making my stomach growl again and I step out of the bedroom into a hallway. There is a faint light at the end of the hall, and I pad in that direction, coming to a stop when I see Callan shuffling around the kitchen. He’s changed out of the suit and is now wearing a pair of well-worn jeans and a black shirt. Sensing my presence, he calls me. ‘Come here, Denver.’ The smooth timbre of his voice makes me shiver. ‘Sit.’ Callan nods to the stool at the kitchen island. Not once does he take his eyes off me as I make my way to him. Those green orbs run the length of my body. The intensity in which he stares has me thinking back to my earlier thoughts—thoughts of how the man in front of me has seen all my lady bits, and the look on his face tells me he’s thinking the same.

I take a seat on the stool, remaining silent as Callan starts scooping rice and chicken onto two plates. My leg bounces, and I wring my hands in my lap as I try to calm my nerves.

‘Relax, baby,’ Callan says, his tone gentle.

‘I…I can’t.’

‘Why?’ he asks while continuing his task, and I blurt out the only thing currently on my brain.

‘You saw me naked!’ I clasp my hand over my mouth and my cheeks heat.

‘It was either Dr. Morgan or me,’ he growls, ‘and no fucking way was I allowing another man to see you.’ Callan shrugs, his admission further confusing me. Setting a plate of food in front of me, he points, ‘Eat.’

I think about defying him merely because his bossiness is getting on my nerves; my growling stomach chooses otherwise.

The two of us eat together in silence, and when I’m halfway through my meal, I ask, ‘Callan. Since you threw my clothes in the garbage, will it be okay if I take a few of the things hanging in the closet when I leave? I can pay you back when I get my next check.’

Callan grits his teeth. ‘You can have everything in there. I bought them for you, but you won’t be leaving, Denver. You’re going to stay here.’

I choke on the rice I’ve just shoved in my mouth. ‘What? Me…live here?’

‘Was I not clear before when I said you are where you belong?’

‘Uh…Not really, Callan. You’re not very good at explaining details. Listen, I can’t live here with you. I don’t need your charity. Besides, what would Joslyn say about me staying here?’

‘Joslyn has no say in what I do.’

Callan’s dismissal of the facts makes me angry. ‘So, what? You won’t tell your girlfriend you moved another woman in with you? Am I some dirty secret or something? The poor pathetic homeless woman who works for you; who needs your help? Well, let me tell you something, Callan Hawk, I don’t need your help and I damn sure won’t be some secret you keep from your girlfriend. I may not like the woman, but I’m no homewrecker,’ I fume.

‘First off,’ Callan moves around the kitchen island and twists the stool I am currently perched on until we are face to face. ‘If I ever hear you talk shit like that about yourself again, I’m going to put you over my knee. You are not pathetic, and you sure as fuck are not a dirty secret. Second, Joslyn is not and never was my girlfriend. Joslyn was nothing more than someone I used to pass the time with. All that stopped the day you walked into my office.’

I flinch at his admission. ‘What do you mean? As I recall, she made several appearances since I started working for you. She also took pleasure in making snarky jabs toward me. All while you sat there and did nothing.’ I don’t bother hiding the hurt in my voice.

‘I ended things with Joslyn right after she made those comments too. I told her I didn’t want to see her again. Her showing up at my office after that day was not me wanting her there, it was her not wanting to give up the fact she had been sent packing. Joslyn is an opportunist. She thinks I don’t know why she was with me. I’m no fool. Joslyn has been a part of my life off and on for four years and is mad because I refused to define our relationship and give her the status she desperately wanted.’

At a loss for words, I stay silent as I try to absorb what Callan is saying.

‘I don’t do girlfriends, Denver. Or at least I didn’t before. That’s about to change.’ Callan pauses, puts his finger beneath my chin, and brings my eyes to his. ‘Do you get what I’m saying, baby?’

I shake my head. My heart rate picks up and my breath gets caught in my throat.

‘You can’t deny the pull between us, Denver. It’s been there since the first day. I can feel it, and I know you can feel it. I’m telling you now, there will be no more fighting what’s between us,’ Callan vows just before his mouth covers mine.

Callan’s kiss starts soft and sweet. When his tongue licks the seam of my lips, I open, granting him access. The moment his tongue tangles with mine, I moan and my body melts into his. Wrapping his arms around my waist, he reaches behind my back, grabs hold of my long hair, tilts my head back and dominates my mouth. The kiss quickly turns to something more powerful. Fisting my hands in Callan’s shirt, I pull him closer, desperate to feel his body heat. With our bodies flush against each other, there is no mistaking the rigid length currently pressed against my belly and how much our kiss is affecting him as well.

Releasing his hold on my hair, Callan brings his hands up and cups my face in his palms. When I open my eyes, I’m met by his mossy green stare. ‘Does that clear a few things up for you?’

‘I think so.’