Borrowed Souls (Soul Charmer #1)(32)
Which is exactly what she was doing when Derek knocked. He’d offered to pick her up tonight, and taken the filled flask to the Soul Charmer the night before. She didn’t get his protective streak, but also wasn’t going to bitch about it. She up-ended a glass of water to wash away the sticky remnants of the PB&J she’d just inhaled before opening the door. He didn’t need to know she ate like a four-year-old.
His knock had shaken the two framed photos hanging on the wall. Her grandmother’s grin in the top photo suggested she was fine with a little jostling. She’d been a strong lady. Callie opened the door without checking the peephole. Even after just a few days, she recognized Derek’s knock. She pulled the door open with one hand and snagged her coat with the other. “Hey.”
He stepped into the apartment, into her space, thwarting her attempt to bolt out the door. His hulking frame towering over her bumped her heart rate up a few notches.
Three, maybe four, inches separated Derek’s barrel chest from Callie’s chin. That canal of air grew charged. She tilted her head back to meet his gaze. His locked jaw and slight sneer would have frightened her days earlier, but the air between them was sparking now. Beneath her too-thin shirt her skin tingled, begging for contact to soothe the static sensation.
His hard stare could turn others into simpering puddles of fear. Yes, she was liquid, too, but it was borne more of lust and intrigue. Which did he want from her? She pulled in a harsh, deep breath. He was wearing cologne—a first—and the heady masculine scent had her reeling. She took a half step backward, only to reach for his shoulder to steady herself. The leather of his jacket was supple beneath her fingers. Not bad, though his skin would be better.
“You letting me in, or what?” Amusement laced Derek’s husky tone.
He steered her into her apartment, as though he was taking home a drunken coworker. Might as well have been. That brought her to her senses. She shook her head, unable to hide her embarrassment. “Yes, of course.”
He gave her one of his pleased grunts. “I liked where that was going and all, doll, but it’s gonna be a busy work night and … ” he trailed off and turned his focus to her bare coffee table. She hadn’t been the only one caught up in the moment. Thank. God.
“Yeah.” Her tongue had gone thick. She hadn’t tipped full-body flush over a guy since she was fifteen. Whether it was all Derek, or maybe a little magic from the Charmer, she was far too in touch with her emotions right now. Locking that shit up was the only way to protect oneself. A few days of stress and magic working alongside a hot dude were fucking with her.
Derek wandered around her living room, searching every thread and hairline crack as if it meant something other than she wasn’t flush with cash. He was too big in the small, spartan space. He stood between her chipped coffee table and the equally barren, but better cared for, dinette set. It was a gem of a thrift store find. Loved by many homes. Josh had stained it for her to hide the gouges from late-night bills and after-school homework. She had three chairs, but never used them all. If her mom ever came over, she’d need to pull the table away from the wall to free the third mission-style chair.
“You move a lot?” The question would have been less conspicuous if Callie hadn’t witnessed Derek’s slow analysis of her furniture. He’d lingered on the uneven couch cushions like he thought she’d stuffed her secrets inside them.
“More than my mother.” A little evasion was for the best.
Her stomach didn’t sink at his disappointed grunt. He didn’t mean it. He turned after realizing he didn’t have anything else to take in. He inclined his head toward the coffee table. “You need a book there or a plant.”
“You overestimate its sturdiness.” She shrugged. She kept her books in the bedroom, but she wasn’t about to share that detail. She needed to stop this blurring of lines and focus on business. “If you’re done judging my apartment, we should probably get to work. What’s the plan?”
“You eat?”
Callie felt a prickling sensation at the nape of her neck, as she realized that he’d shifted back inside his shell, barely talking. But that wasn’t her problem, right? “I had a little something,” she said.
Another grunt.
“Did you, um, eat?” she added two seconds too late when he didn’t say more. “I don’t have much in the kitchen, but there might be enough for a sandwich.” She still had two or three slices of turkey in the refrigerator, but she’d been saving those for tomorrow.
Harsh lines between his eyes—ones she should have paid more attention to before—eased and faded. “Thanks, doll, but I’m good. We’ll be out for a while tonight. Didn’t want you starving.”
A flush of heat began to rush from her chest toward her face at his thoughtfulness. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop it. He was a colleague. Hell, not even that. He worked for the bad guy. She needed to remember that.
“That your brother?”
She might have yelped, but convinced herself she hadn’t. Derek didn’t react, but then he was busy running his finger along the picture frame on the wall next to him, near the doorway. She sucked in a quick breath before replying. “Yep. That’s him. Josh. I’m about five there.”
“Cute dress.” She’d worn vibrant purple all the time; that’s what little girls did. Now she couldn’t remember the last time she wore anything bright or bold.