Taunting Callum - Kristen Proby Page 0,30
can’t be rescheduled or juggled.”
His lips tip up in a charming grin. “Obviously. If I promise to learn to wield a paintbrush, will you allow me to join you?”
I mentally readjust my plans and grasp onto a new idea. “Actually, I’d like to pick you up in the morning.”
He raises a brow. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll find out tomorrow.”
“So mysterious,” he says, slowly shaking his head back and forth, but the humor in his dark eyes is clear. “I’m yours, anytime.”
“Eight in the morning,” I decide on the spot. “I’d like to sleep in a bit.”
“That’s sleeping in?”
“I’m usually up at four to open the café at six. So, this will be a treat.”
“Eight it is, then. Give me a hint.”
“No way.”
“A tiny clue.”
I laugh and reach for his empty plate to take it to the sink. “I had a child, Callum. You can try to talk me into it, but it won’t work.”
“Mums are so strict.”
“The good ones are.”
“Indeed.” I turn to find him watching me. “Did you know your mum, Aspen?”
“Oh, yeah, and she was not a good one,” I reply before I can catch myself. I speak about my biological family even less than I do about Emma and Greg. “But that’s a boring story.”
He just sits and waits. I don’t know what it is about this man, but I find myself wanting to confide in him. It’s the strangest feeling, and one I don’t think I’ve had before.
“She moved to Nashville to make it big in music. When that didn’t work out, she became a junkie. I have no idea who my father is. When I lived with her, I was pretty much on my own anyway. She died when I was five. After that, I bounced around in foster care. I met Greg when I was fourteen, married him the day after I turned seventeen and had Emma later that same year. And, honestly, I wouldn’t change any of it.”
“Indeed,” he murmurs. He’s all polish. All slick sophistication.
And I’m just white trash from Tennessee.
What in the hell are we doing?
“Don’t even say it,” he says, surprising me yet again.
“What was I going to say?”
“That this can’t possibly work, whatever this is, because of how different we are.”
“Well, would I be wrong if I did?” I ask and lean back against my countertop. Callum stands and slowly walks to me, his gaze never leaving mine. “You’re a prince, and I’m—”
“If you say anything other than incredible and the most beautiful, intriguing woman I’ve ever met, I’ll take you over my knee, Aspen Calhoun.”
I smile as he saunters closer.
“I can be both intriguing and from the wrong side of the tracks, Callum.”
“I can’t change your past. I’m also not ashamed of it. I’m here because I want to be with you as much as I can. I’ve wanted that for a long time. But there are some things you need to know.”
“I’m all ears.”
“My family is openminded and wonderful. The media is not. If you’re connected to me, every little detail about your life will be uncovered and examined under a microscope with a lens of disdain, prejudice, and snobbery.”
“Did you just say snobbery?”
“They will talk about your late husband and the accident that killed both him and your daughter. They’ll talk about your childhood. They’ll infiltrate your life so completely, you’ll feel like a prisoner at times.”
“You’re really doing a great job of selling yourself here, Your Highness.”
His jaw tightens. “You think that your past, where you come from, would make me not want to associate with you. But what you need to think about is my past and where I come from. It isn’t always beautiful homes and fancy cars. It’s work. It’s media. And it isn’t private. Never that.
“So what you need to decide between now and tomorrow morning is…do you want to continue this with me? Your history doesn’t dissuade me in the least. But mine might discourage you, and I’d rather know that now than after I’ve finished falling in love with you.”
I bite my lip, soaking in every word he said. This isn’t to be taken lightly. This isn’t something to be viewed through the rose-colored glasses Gretchen wears.
Callum’s right, I need to think about this.
Because I’m falling in love with him, too, no matter how much I’ve tried to convince myself differently.
He leans in and presses his lips to my forehead.
“Thank you for dinner.”
“You don’t have to go.”
He sighs, then kisses me again.
“I do. But I hope I’ll see you