“A woman comes from what you do, sees what it can mean to make that promise? She’ll be fine with it. I’m going to need your promise, Bodine, just like I’m going to need to give you mine. But you can take some time on it.”
He kissed her again, hard, brief, final. “We can talk about it when you get home.” With that, he took Leo’s reins, swung up on Sundown. “I’ll wait for you.”
As he started to turn the horses, Sundown sent her a look. On a human face she’d have called it a smirk.
“You might have a long wait!”
“I don’t think so,” he said, and broke into an easy trot.
* * *
No doubt Bodine ran late because Callen had messed up her thought process. How was she supposed to concentrate on work, on questions from staff, on making sure the opening concert of the season got off to a smooth start when he’d effectively tossed marriage at her like a set of car keys and told her she’d be driving whether she was in the mood or not?
She’d prepared herself for the I-love-you, I-love-you-back portion—though by her schedule that should have been on Saturday’s menu. But the leap straight to marriage didn’t give her time to get her feet under her.
Still, she put his flowers in a vase, put the vase on her desk. She appreciated the flowers. She appreciated a lot when it came to Callen Skinner.
She didn’t appreciate being told how she’d spend the rest of her life. Because he’d hit the bull’s-eye on one element. She knew where she came from, and where she came from took marriage seriously. Not on a whim, not in a rush of hormones or dreamy feelings, but seriously, as the foundation for everything else.
With Chelsea’s key in her pocket, she got behind the wheel of the little car she’d borrowed for the night. That’s what she’d tell him, she decided. She wouldn’t be told, and she took marriage seriously.
And she’d say just that when she damn well felt like it. He could wait.
She left the music, the lights, the guests, and the staff behind and drove into the quiet. She could use some quiet, some thinking time. As she pulled up in front of Chelsea’s apartment in the Village, she half wished she’d asked Jessica for her key, too. A little quiet and thinking time there, then a friend to listen.
Maybe she’d pick up the samples, take them back to her office. Or take a drive along the river. Or go home and close herself up in her room.
All of which, she admitted, struck like avoidance when she laid them out.
Hell with it.
She unlocked the door, propped it open with her hip to slip the key under the mat. And stepping in, reached out to switch on the lights.
The arm around her throat cut off her air and turned her shout into a garbled gasp. Instinct had her stomping down with her boot, jabbing back with an elbow. The quick, sharp bite in her biceps turned panic into terror so she dragged uselessly at the arm around her neck.
And felt herself falling, falling down a tunnel, limbs limp. Everything slowed down. Then everything stopped.
* * *
Though it was close to midnight before she drove into the Village, Jessica found herself revved. Everything had gone perfectly, and now she could leave the cleanup portion to Chelsea’s—and Rory’s, as he’d shown up—supervision.
While she expected Chase would be asleep—ranch life started early—she thought she’d text him so he’d hear from her the minute he woke in the morning.
Text him, she thought, after she’d shed her work clothes and poured a glass of wine.
With a smile on her face—it still amazed her anyone could be so ridiculously happy—she parked her car, got out. She’d taken two steps to her building when she noticed the Kia parked at the curb rather than in a slot. And in front of Chelsea’s section.
Wondering why in the world Bodine would still be there more than an hour after she’d left, she wandered down, glanced in the car. Bodine’s briefcase sat on the passenger seat.
Unsure, uneasy, she went to Chelsea’s door, knocked. “Bo?”
Maybe she got caught up in the samples, she thought, but she couldn’t see a single light reflecting in a window.
She lifted a corner of the mat, saw the key.
Shoving aside innate courtesy, Jessica picked it up, unlocked the door. “Bodine?”
She reached for the light switch, flipped it, but the dark remained. When she took another step, her foot hit something. Bending down, she picked up Bodine’s hat.
* * *
The fact she made him wait didn’t trouble Callen. She wouldn’t be the woman he loved if she’d been biddable. Added to it, he liked knowing he’d knocked her off her stride some. The woman had damn good balance.