Every Breath (2 page)

“Okay, Cal, what about this?” I hold up my favorite khaki slacks and a light blue blouse with ruffles at the neckline.

Callie bounds off the bed and dives into my closet. “Seriously, sweetie, you’ve
got
to have some date clothes in here somewhere. You can’t go on a date dressed like a 2nd grade teacher.”

“I
am
a 2nd grade teacher, and so are you.” But I know I have contradicted myself in that sentence. Big time. Callie isn’t dressed like a teacher at all. Right before she came over to my house, she changed into this simple, yet sexy, summer dress—a turquoise halter that is fitted through the bodice and flares out from the hips, falling just below her knees.

Catching me looking at the dress, Callie starts stripping. “You should wear this! Here, try it on. It should fit perfect, except you’ll fill out the boobs better. Well, and it’ll be shorter on you.”

Without giving me a chance of rebuttal, Callie pulls it on over my head just as my cell phone begins to ring across the room. I manage to get my head and hands free just in time to yank my phone away from Callie to stop her from answering it, and I’m awarded with one of her infamous evil grins.

“Hello?” I answer, feigning innocence as if I have no idea who in the world could be calling me.

“Hey, it’s Drew.” He speaks softly, the deep resonance practically caressing my ear. “I told you I’d call.”

I press a hand firmly to my stomach to slow the swarm of butterflies. “Oh, yeah, for directions.”

“Right. But honestly, I don’t need them. Callie gave me the address this afternoon.”

Sitting right beside me, Callie can hear everything he says and just shrugs unapologetically. However, that doesn’t stop me from smacking her on the thigh. “She didn’t mention that you asked her for it.”

He snickers. “I didn’t, but since I told you I’d call, I wanted to keep my word. See you in less than an hour, ‘kay?”

After telling him goodbye, I toss my phone onto the bed and spin to face Callie, who is just gawking at me. “What?”

Speechless, probably for the first time in her life, Callie stands, grabs my shoulders, and turns me toward the mirror across the room.

Whoa.

I can’t remember the last time I looked in the mirror and felt even remotely attractive, but I almost don’t recognize the woman staring back at me right now. The dress is an absolute perfect fit, showing off curves that I forgot I even had. Callie was right; I do fill out the top more, but it is tasteful. The length of the skirting comes just above my knees, keeping my scar safely hidden. And even though my back feels completely bare, my long curtain of sleek auburn hair cascading down makes me feel a little more covered.

“Stunning, Mak. I really mean it. You’re keeping that dress, by the way. It looks
way
better on you. Oh, shoes! The ones you wore to my wedding would be perfect!”

Callie’s wedding. What a day that was.

I was truly happy for Callie and Wes that day, but the entire time I felt the burn of jealousy, pain, and selfishness bubbling just under the surface. Only six months before then, we had been planning a double wedding, but as fate would have it, there was only one. Of course, it didn’t help me to evade the big, fat elephant in the room to see an empty chair where the best man should have been standing. An empty chair that had a framed picture and name plaque suspended from the back. The black and white photo tucked inside was of Shane, who was Wes’s little brother and best friend. Once the wedding was over, I spent the first hour of the reception lying on the hard tile floor of a bathroom stall, trying—and failing miserably—to compose myself.

Dang it. I really have to stop thinking about this today.

“I don’t know. I’m thinking those white strappy sandals would look good, too.” Not only do I want to avoid the bitter memories every time I look at my feet, I also don’t want to be stuck in those sky-high heels all night.

“You’re right, doll,” Callie says, slipping into one of my tanks and a pair of running shorts. “Maybe you haven’t totally lost your sense of style after all.”

After half an hour flurry of last minute prep—courtesy of Callie’s need to make me look more ‘sex kitten’ than ‘cat lady’—the doorbell finally rings, and Callie begs to be able to answer the door like an overprotective parent. Sometimes I wonder if Callie actually thinks of herself as my mom. As a matter of fact, she hovers over me way more than my mom ever has. But to be fair, my mom does live three hours away, so she can usually only hover from a distance. Thank goodness.

Waiting for Callie’s signal so I can make my grand entrance, I pluck my favorite diamond earrings from my jewelry box and put them in my ears. My dad gave them to me last Christmas, telling me that they reminded him of me—simple and elegant, yet undeniably strong. My dad is such a charmer.

I am definitely going to need that reminder of strength to make it through tonight.

“Ma-
ken
-na!” When Callie strings my name out into three long syllables, I always know I’m in some kind of trouble. And trouble flies into my bedroom looking like a demon on crack. “What are you doing? I’ve been calling for you. He’s waiting!”

“If you had let me open the door, I would’ve already been down there. You’re the one that convinced me that I should make an entrance, remember?”

“And you’re still going to! Count to ten and then come down.” Callie storms back out, looking more nervous than I do.

Okay, here I go.

One . . . two . . .

Scratch that. I’m definitely more nervous.

Three . . . four . . . five . . .

Oh, crap. I’m really about to do this.

Six . . . seven . . . eight . . . nine . . .

Breathe.

Nine and a half . . .

Breathe, damn it!

Ten.

After I take one last glance into the mirror, I make my way into the hall and down the staircase, feeling very Scarlet O’Hara while Callie and Drew watch my descent. I completely avoid making eye contact with Drew, but I can feel his gaze sweeping over me, leaving nothing but heat in its wake. Which, of course, makes me have to concentrate even harder on
not
tumbling face first down the stairs.

“Told you she was hot,” Callie blurts out, breaking the deafening silence.

“I never doubted you for a minute there,” Drew finally manages to croak out after clearing his throat a couple of times.

As soon as he speaks, my eyes lock on his like a missile target. I haven’t ever noticed his eyes before, but they are a warm, inviting brown, almost like melted dark chocolate. His hair, though, is a rich shade of chestnut, the shaggy ends lightened from endless hours on the football field. The sun has also kissed his beautifully bronzed skin. A tan that I would have to pay an exorbitant amount of money for—not that I can do anything other than burn.

Seeing him in my home makes me realize what a beast of a man he is. He makes my living room seem like a coat closet. He must be a whole foot taller than I am and literally the width of a linebacker. Callie told me earlier that he was playing pro football about two years ago until a head injury landed him in the hospital in a coma for a month. Doctors told him that if he ever got hit in the head like that again, he may not walk away from it, so he stopped playing. He just came back home and, luckily for every female in a twenty mile radius, took the head football coach job at the high school. It’s incredible how much game ticket sales have gone up since he’s been here.

Once I near the bottom, Drew steps forward and gently grasps my elbow, assisting me down the last steps. “You look amazing.”

“Thanks. You do, too.” And, boy, does he. I’ve never seen the man in anything other than oversized t-shirts and athletic shorts, even in the middle of winter. But tonight, his faded, loose-fit jeans and tight black polo shirt are more than drool-worthy.

“So,” Callie says, stepping between us, “where are you taking my best friend and when should I expect her to call and let me know she made it home?”

I look over at her incredulously. Yes, she definitely hovers more than my mom.

Drew lets out a deep belly laugh and turns to me instead of answering her directly. “Well, actually, Makenna, I was hoping you wouldn’t mind coming to my house. I already have dinner in the oven and everything set up so we can eat out on the deck. I have a great view of the bay.”

Callie grins wide and waggles her eyebrows at me. “She thinks that will be perfect, don’t you, Mak?”

I narrow my eyes at her before looking up at Drew. “That’ll be okay, I guess.”

“You sure?” he asks, a hint of uncertainty showing in his eyes and his body becomes tense. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I know you don’t know me very well.”

“Honestly, Drew, it sounds nice. I’m not a fan of crowds.”

“Okay, then.” He relaxes and quietly exhales. “I’m ready whenever you are. And Callie, I’ll have Cinderella home before midnight, okay?”

She nods at him but speaks to me. “You better call me as soon as you walk in the door.”

“Yes, Mom.” I bite down on an emerging smile. Drew holds out his elbow, and I hesitantly slip my hand in the crook. “I promise.”

Callie grabs her purse, and with a Cheshire cat grin, she practically skips out the door. As soon as the screen door slaps shut, I look up at Drew, who has his eyes fixed on the pictures lined up along my fireplace mantle. Three of the largest pictures are of Shane and me.

“Is this your family?” Drew steps away from me, causing my hand to fall away from his elbow.

“Most of them, yes. Are you ready to go?”

Somehow satisfied with my vague answer, he beams at me and returns with his elbow extended again. “Absolutely.”

As we step out the door, I notice the truck in the driveway is exactly what I would expect him to drive. Glossy black, four doors, dripping with chrome, and jacked up enough to make me wonder how I’ll get in without a ladder. Definitely a man’s truck.

Drew notices my apprehension when he opens the passenger door and points to the step just underneath the door. “Step right there, and I’ll help you up.”

He places his large hands at either side of my waist, and I can feel the warmth of them through the thin fabric of my dress. Trying really hard to ignore how nice that feels, I perch my foot up on the step just before he begins to effortlessly lift me, allowing me to sink into the buttery soft leather seat before he closes the door.

Oh my. It even
smells
like a man in here—a delicious combination of leather, cologne, and testosterone. Well, if testosterone had a scent,
this
would be it.

Within seconds, Drew jumps in and the truck roars to life with the signature purr of a diesel engine. He looks over at me with a smirk and suddenly leans over in my direction, reaching for me. I’m convinced this guy is about to jump me right here in my driveway, and I run through a list of appropriate reactions in my head, disappointed that this date is going to end before it ever even started.

That is, until he pulls my seatbelt across me. “Safety is always first, Miss Madison,” he says softly as the buckle clicks into place. His eyes meet mine before he backs away, and the corners of his mouth turn up ever-so-slightly.

Whoa, this guy has some game. I don’t know whether to be impressed or nervous. Oh, who am I kidding? Definitely nervous.

Once he pulls out of my driveway, it hits me. I’m on a date. I’m going to another man’s home. On a date. I’m alone in a truck with a man.

On . . . a . . . freaking . . .
date
. Did I mention that?

I thought I was ready for this, and I know I should be, but why am I so nervous all of a sudden? Yes, I know it’s been a while, but I don’t remember feeling quite like this before. Not even when Shane and I first started dating.

Everything came easy when I was with Shane. We met on my very first day of college. I had chosen ballroom dancing for my physical activity since dancing had always come easy to me, especially after the years of ballet and jazz classes my mom forced me to endure. I remember walking into that cavernous room full of total strangers and spotting him immediately. Unfortunately, he already had a partner, and an even more unfortunate fact was that there were only 4 guys in the class with 16 girls. So, naturally, I got stuck with a girl.

But, when I walked into class on the third day, he walked up to me, grabbed my hand, and led me out to the floor.

“My partner will be here in just a minute,” I told him.

He just flashed a relaxed smile. “Actually, she won’t. She’s dating my roommate, and she told him that she was switching to bowling.”

“Oh,” I said. “But what about your partner?”

He shuffled his feet and looked up at me through his long lashes. “Okay, we have two options here. I can either give you the truth, which is incredibly genius, if you ask me. Or I can make up some crazy story about how she fell down a flight of stairs or slipped in a mud puddle. It’s your choice.”

“In that case, I’ll take the truth.”

“Well, after I found out your partner was leaving, I told mine that I needed her help with something, and if she assisted me with this plan I had, she would be doing a great service to poor, hopeless men like me everywhere. She agreed, and now she’s my hero.”