Only Oscar (Wattys 2022 Shortlist!)

Chapter Twenty-Five

The address he sent her was in Brooklyn, presumably the new office space he'd been talking about. As she stepped out of a cab across the street in the middle of another blazing hot, sunny day, Callie looked up at it from behind her sunglasses.

The building was constructed of old red brick, with arched leaded windows on the upper floors. It looked like it had been a warehouse at some point, probably took advantage of the access to the river a couple of blocks down. But, more importantly, it had character and she liked it.

Sucking in a breath to settle her jangling nerves, she dropped her hand and swiped clammy palms over her hips while she waited for a break in the traffic. As she jogged across the street, she hoped Oscar didn't plan to introduce her to anyone she hadn't already met. Loose, faded denim dungarees, a sleeveless vest, worn tennis shoes and pig-tails wasn't the look she wanted to be sporting if he did.

When a mop of messy dark hair appeared on the steps of the building, her heart made its usual leap of joyous recognition. 

He had his back to her and was talking to a smartly dressed woman who laughed at what he said. There was a gap in the crowd on the sidewalk as he shook her hand, which allowed Callie's gaze to rove over him from head-to-toe. 

Damn it, he was wearing a suit. That was so unfair. Not because it made her feel like a tramp in comparison and not because she hadn't seen him in one before but because, even from the back, it was obvious the material of his navy jacket had been cut to fit him. 

He must have finally spent some of his fortune and if it looked that good from the back...

Her pace slowed as the woman he was talking to left and he looked across the street, his jacket stretching over his shoulders when he pushed his hands into the pockets of his pants. He looked pensive as his gaze searched the crowd. Then, as if he sensed she was there or caught a glimpse of her from the corner of his eye, he turned towards her. 

A blue shirt the same color as his eyes, open at the neck, no tie, showcasing the smooth column of his tanned neck. Yup, as she'd suspected, he looked even better from the front.

Callie hauled in a deep breath as she approached him. But the casual 'hey' she planned to force through her lips in greeting stalled when her gaze lifted.

"Ohmygod." She stepped closer and removed her sunglasses, her eyes wide with shock. "What happened to your face?"

His right eye was swollen and bruised.

"Punched a couple of categories above my weight at the gym last night. I'm famous for it there." He took a step back and held out an arm. "Come on in."

"Wait," Callie said as she fell into step beside him. "You joined a boxing gym?"

"I told you that."

She shook her head as they crossed the foyer. "No, you didn't. I'd have remembered."

His only response was to shrug his lips as if thought he had while he punched the button to call the elevator and his gaze lifted to watch the numbers above the doors.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

"Not as bad as my ribs."

The thought of him in a boxing ring, getting pulverized by some Neanderthal, made her feel nauseous. "I can't believe you volunteered to let someone hit you."

"I was the one doing the hitting," his deep voice replied as the elevator doors opened. "He was just defending himself."

What the-?

She stepped into the elevator in a daze as he selected a floor near the top of the building and stood beside her. 

The second the doors closed, the air thickened. She felt the heat from his body burn through the scant few inches separating them, took a breath of expensive cologne laced with his familiar fresh, clean, masculine scent and had an immediate need to fill the silence with something inane.