A Dog and a Diamond (16 page)

“I didn't say it was,” she said, taking the tiniest of steps toward her dresser. The way he shouted at her, reminded her of the way her dad had shouted at her and her mom whenever he was drunk. It was hard to tell if Freddie was an actual threat or just a really sad guy, but as he'd broken into her house twice and tried to poison her dog, she decided to take him seriously. “You seem like a great guy. Lara has obviously made a terrible mistake.”

“Thanks to you,” he spat, as she took another almost imperceptible step.

“Yes, thanks to me,” she agreed, her palms so sweaty she could feel the perspiration running down them. “Tell me about your relationship with Lara. What is so special about her?” If she could get him talking, maybe she could make him see that the breakup was a good thing. At the least, it would hopefully distract him so he wouldn't notice her dive for the deodorant.

Freddie stared at her a moment as if trying to work out if this were a trick question, then his stance relaxed a little and he started to talk. He told her about how Lara and he met at a soup kitchen where they both cooked for the homeless and how she was the kindest, prettiest girl he ever knew. He told her of dates they'd been on and how he wanted to move in together but she'd thought it was too soon.

“She sounds very special,” Chelsea agreed, “but you know what? All those romantic dates you planned show that you're a pretty amazing guy yourself. You deserve someone who really appreciates all that, and it doesn't sound like Lara is that girl. I know you're hurting—losing someone you love is the worst feeling ever—but if you accept Lara's decision and let her go, I believe there's someone even better out there waiting for you.”

She knew these words were risky and couldn't imagine any woman wanting a man who would break in and trash another woman's apartment, but there was some truth in her message.

Finally, with his head cocked to one side, Freddie spoke, “You are kinder than I imagined.” He sighed and wrung his hands together. “I'm sorry. I'm not really a bad dude, I can't believe I—”

At that moment the door behind him burst open and Callum exploded into the room, his nostrils flared and his eyes cold as he launched at Freddie, grabbing hold of him and yanking his arms behind his back so he couldn't move.

Chelsea let out a long breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding as Muffin jumped up at Freddie's knees, barking louder than he ever had before.

“Are you okay?” Callum looked to her, speaking over the top of Freddie's head.

She nodded, blinking back the tears that threatened now that the danger was over.

Callum turned his attention to Freddie. “Who the hell are you? And what do you think you're doing?”

Freddie looked terrified and Chelsea's heart went out to him. He was misguided, yes, but deep down she didn't think him evil. “You're hurting him!”

Callum glared at her. “And what the hell do you think he would have done to you if I hadn't turned up when I did? Call the police!” Ignoring her, he turned back to Freddie. “Are you the one who broke into her house before? You better start talking!”

Her hands shaking and her heart still racing, Chelsea knew there was no point arguing with Callum right now. Besides, although she believed she'd almost had the situation under control, she couldn't deny the relief she'd felt when Callum had appeared like a knight in shining armor to rescue her. She staggered past the men into the kitchen, grabbed her cell from her purse and dialed 911. Part of her felt sorry for Freddie and didn't want to get him into trouble, but she hoped if he were charged for the phone calls and the break-ins maybe the authorities would get him the psychological help he needed.

Chapter Thirteen

C
allum didn't let the intruder go until two uniformed police officers arrived and cuffed him. Finally, and only then, did his muscles start to relax and his breathing return to normal.

He'd arrived at Chelsea's place and heard frantic barks the moment he'd climbed out of the SUV. After a few weeks of being in Muffin's company, he'd come to identify his different barks and recognized instantly that this wasn't a good one. Although there was every chance Chelsea hadn't heard his knock on the door over the noise of the barking, when it went unanswered, Callum's hackles had risen, an uneasy feeling settling in his gut. He'd tried the door handle and, after discovering it unlocked, hesitated only a few moments before letting himself inside. The fact the little dog hadn't abandoned his pursuit to welcome Callum only increased his anxiety. He'd stormed into the hallway and found Muffin on the wrong side of Chelsea's closed bedroom door. There was no logical reason why she would lock the dog out and that was all the encouragement he'd needed to fling open the door and barge inside.

It had taken him all of two seconds to analyze the situation—window broken, glass shattered all over the room, Chelsea over by the dresser, an oily-haired sleazy-looking man standing threateningly before her, blocking her passage to the door.

And Callum had seen red. He'd launched himself at the guy and barely managed to control the rage blustering inside him. In hindsight, he reckoned he deserved a medal for the self-control he'd displayed by
not
ripping the man's tonsils out and feeding them to Muffin for dinner.

But, thankfully, the man was now gone and the danger over. A whimpering mess when the cops questioned him, Freddie had confessed to a whole host of offenses relating to Chelsea—most of which were news to Callum. He couldn't believe that while they'd been sleeping together, she'd never thought to mention she was getting threatening phone calls and was worried about someone following her. He could have
done
something.

They stood on the porch, Muffin still barking, as they watched the police car reverse into the road. Then Callum turned to Chelsea and yanked her into his arms.

He inhaled the vanilla scent of her hair and relished her soft loveliness pressed against him. She felt so damn good, she fit so perfectly, and the thought of anything bad happening to her made him crazy.

“Move in with me,” he begged.

“What?” Chelsea pulled back from his embrace and looked at him as if he were as mentally unstable as Freddie.

He was almost as surprised as her by his question, but it made sense, didn't it?

They'd been spending practically every night together anyway and after coming upon Freddie in her bedroom, Callum wouldn't ever be able to sleep soundly knowing she was home alone.

“You'll be safe with me, out at the distillery,” he said, his thoughts storming ahead, “and while you're studying to do counseling, you could work with us. Sophie was only saying the other day how she's struggling with the social media side of things since taking on the extra merchandise planning and stuff.”

When Chelsea simply stared at him, he continued, “You'd be great at that. You're good online since you've run your business mostly through the internet. And, the job will be flexible, so you can—”

Chelsea held up a hand to interrupt him. “Let me get this straight. You want me to move in with you and work at the distillery.”

He nodded. “It makes perfect sense.”

“To whom?” She took a step back and threw her hands up in the air. “I don't need your protection, Callum McKinnel. I might have been handling things differently than you would have with Freddie, but I almost had everything under control when you stormed in there all heavy-handed. And I already have a job, one I can do while I'm studying,
if
—and I haven't decided on that yet—I go the counseling route.”

Her words were like venom and he couldn't understand why she was angry at him. He was only trying to help, only looking out for the woman he cared about. “Yesterday you said you were starting to question your career.”

She snapped her hands to her hips and glared at him. “Well, today I'm remembering how important it is. How helping people end a relationship when those in it have different priorities, different needs and desires is a very worthwhile profession. In fact, I think it's time to tell you that this thing we have going on has met its expiration date.”

“What?”

“It's over, Callum. You can stop feeling like you need to protect me from danger, because that was never what this was about. I warned you that I didn't do relationships, this was just a charade that got out of hand, so don't pretend this is a big surprise. Thanks for the fun. Merry Christmas and good luck with the distillery. I'm sure you'll make it a great success.”

And with those words, Chelsea grabbed Muffin's collar and hauled herself and the dog inside. She slammed the door shut in his face, leaving him standing out on the porch in the freezing evening air wondering what the hell had just happened.

He'd been starting to think this was something real, something more than just sex between him and Chelsea, but the moment he took a step toward commitment, she'd all but thrown it in his face. He stared at the closed door for a few more moments, dithering about storming right back inside and kissing some sense into her, but she'd made her feelings perfectly clear. If he barged in and tried to plead his case, he'd be no better than Freddie, unable to accept that she didn't feel the same way about him as he did about her.

He'd sliced open his heart and bared his soul talking about his family and his hopes and dreams, but now he realized Chelsea had been very reticent about sharing much about herself. That showed exactly how she felt about their liaison. For a guy who hadn't thought he wanted a relationship right now, her rejection cut deep. Much, much deeper than his breakup with Bailey had.

It was with this thought in his head that he managed to drag himself off the porch, over to his SUV and drive slowly home where he immediately headed for the sofa to drown his sorrows in a bottle of McKinnel's finest whiskey.

* * *

“Well, that's it then.” Chelsea spoke to Muffin as she peeked through her curtain to watch Callum's SUV disappear into the night. “I've done it again, although for a different reason than usual.” She sounded far more nonchalant than she felt, but despite the aching in her heart, which was growing by the second, ending things with Callum was the right thing to do.

While she'd been fantasizing about him offering her more than the no-strings fun they'd been enjoying, he'd only asked her to move in with him out of a perverted sense of duty. And that was the last thing she wanted. She'd spent her childhood and most of her adolescence with people who'd felt obliged to look after her and no way was she going down that path again as an adult.

She had too much self-respect for that and as much as her heart might hate her right now, in time it would recover and so would she. She was the breakup expert after all—she knew all the tricks for recovering from a broken heart, even if she'd never actually had one herself. Until now.

“First step ice cream.”

Muffin barked his approval, then tottered after her into the kitchen.

Ignoring the scents of India wafting from the takeout bag on the counter, she went straight to the freezer, retrieved the ice cream she'd bought for their dessert and then grabbed a spoon to eat it with. She took these things to the couch, switched on the TV, peeled off the lid and then dug her spoon right in. But when the first spoonful melted on her tongue, it didn't offer any of the comfort she'd been hoping for. This ice cream, which she'd now shared with Callum numerous times, tasted like their late-night kisses.

A tear slipping down her cheek, Chelsea dumped the ice cream—spoon and all—on the coffee table in front of her. Had he broken her heart
and
ruined her favorite ice cream for her? She didn't think she'd ever be able to enjoy nutty coconut again. She swiped at the tear, but it was no good as another one replaced it almost immediately. Then another and another and another until she found herself curled in the fetal position on her sofa bawling her eyes out.

Every inch of her ached, as if the pain was seeping from her broken heart and spreading like wildfire through her body. She started to shake and Muffin came up beside her and shoved his head into her face, licking the salt from her cheeks. She pulled him into her arms, seeking the comfort his warm, furry body had always given, but this time it didn't work.

Yes, she still had Muffin, but he was no longer enough. She wanted Callum more than she'd wanted her parents to stop drinking when she was a child, and she wanted
him
to want
her
with that same desperation.

Taking a deep breath, Chelsea tried to imagine sitting across a table from herself—what would her professional persona say to her right now? She thought of her words to Freddie earlier in the evening but, now that she was in his position, they felt empty and she could understand why he'd acted the way he did. Love messed with your brain, it made you think crazy thoughts and want to do crazy things. No wonder it was sometimes referred to as a drug.

In her two years of being the breakup girl, she'd handed out numerous pieces of advice on how to recover. Aside from the ice cream, there were many practical steps one could take in this process.

Find your independence again.
How many people had she encouraged to go pursue a new hobby or interest in order to distract them from their hurt? She thought of her hobby—jigsaws—and let out a gut-wrenching sob. They'd never be the same again either.

Help someone.
This involved donating your time to a good cause—like helping out at a homeless shelter or something. The idea being that helping someone else through hardship might help you forget yours or realize it's not as bad as you think.

Get out of the house and meet new people
—you'll soon learn there truly are more fish in the sea. Or simply get online and do so.

As Chelsea ticked through all the steps in her head, she stumbled across one major problem. Right now, she didn't know how she'd ever be able to summon the will to leave her couch ever again and, unfortunately, moving on required effort.

Maybe she should have said yes. Callum wouldn't have asked her to move in with him if he didn't at least like her, and like could turn to love, couldn't it? If she'd said yes, right now she'd be in his arms and they'd be...

Jeez, listen to yourself.
The nostalgic voice in her head sounded exactly like the kind of desperate she despised. How the heck had one man made such an imprint on her life, on
her
, in such a short time?

She'd fallen hard and fast, and now her only hope was that the time needed to get over him was equally as short.