For a shocking moment, he yearned to pull her to him and offer what comfort he could. The urge grew stronger when she wiped secretly at her eyes and snuffled a little. The sound was practically nonexistent, and all the more sorrowful because of the restraint.
“It must be difficult,” he said, lowering his voice, “not hearing from your own sister.”
“You have no idea.” Her expression closed, but not before he’d seen the hint of misery in her eyes. “Have you heard from Fanny?”
“Of course not.”
“I’m so sorry. Oh, Reese, truly I am.” Her hand reached out and touched his forearm, as if she thought he needed comforting. “Do not despair. Fanny will come to her senses.”
Surely, Callie didn’t think he pined for her sister. For a long, tense moment, he watched her watching him with silent sympathy in her gaze.
This, he realized, was why he’d wanted to speak with her alone. They needed to sort a few things out between them. “I miss your sister, it’s true. But not, perhaps, as you may think.” He held her gaze, willing her to hear him. “I miss our friendship.”
“Your...friendship?” She said the word as if tasting something foul. “Surely Fanny was more to you than a friend.”
“At the time I issued my proposal I believed your sister and I were well suited.” An error in judgment he didn’t plan to repeat. Perhaps relying on Mrs. Singletary’s help would turn out to be a wise move, after all. What better way to avoid pursuing the wrong woman again? “I’m not what your sister wants.”
Callie flinched as though he’d slapped her. “Don’t say that. Of course you are. Fanny is going to change her mind, I just know it. And then you and she can—”
“No, we can’t.”
“But—” she blinked at him “—if she came home, wouldn’t you want to—”
“I would not.” He touched her hand briefly, once again willing her to hear him. Really hear him. “Even if Fanny changed her mind tomorrow, I would not want her back.”
Her eyes widened. Then narrowed. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want you to understand that your sister and I will never marry.” He waited for her to process his words, then added, “However, just because I’m not engaged to Fanny anymore doesn’t mean you and I can’t be...”
He paused, not sure how to continue. Even taking into account the personal nature of their discussion, this conversation shouldn’t be so difficult. He was a trained lawyer, skilled at putting words together to make his case.
“I don’t want there to be any more awkwardness between us,” he said, finally coming to the crux of the matter.
Her shoulders relaxed, just a hair, but enough for Reese to know she agreed with him. “I don’t want that, either,” she said, her eyes shining bright with emotion.
Those eyes, he thought, they were unlike any he’d ever seen. How had he never noticed the various shades of green in them, or the way thin, gold flecks wove through the irises?
He cleared his throat, a gesture he seemed to repeat far too often in this woman’s company.
“I believe you and I could be friends.” He told himself this was a necessary step if they were going to be in daily contact. But, strangely, conversely, Reese actually wanted to be friends with this woman. “I’m willing to make the attempt.”
Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she angled her head. “You used the same term to describe your relationship with Fanny. Are you not concerned what she will think when she comes home and discovers we have become...friends?”
“No.”
Something flickered in Callie’s eyes. A hint of rebellion? Reluctant interest, perhaps? Either way, he had her attention. And now that he did, he decided to change tactics. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid.”
She abruptly straightened in her chair, her spine as stiff as a fire poker, her face free of expression. “What a ridiculous notion.”
Oh, this woman was a true master of control.
Some long-remembered defiant streak of his own wanted to ruffle her calm. Just how far could he push this woman, Reese wondered?
He leaned in closer still. “Are you afraid of me, Callie?”
She sniffed with obvious disdain. “Never.”
He’d known that would be her response. Somehow, he’d known. “Then we start anew, right now.”
“You are very persistent.”
She had no idea how persistent he could be when he wanted something. He wanted Callie’s friendship. More than he should.
More than was wise.
“What do you say?” Feeling more alive than he had in years, he reached out his hand. “Shall we be friends?”
She took his hand, her smile bolder than before and far too appealing. “I’d like nothing better than to forge a friendship with you...Reese.”
The way she said his name, low and challenging, filled his chest with dread.
What have I just done?
Callie exited Reese’s office with purposeful strides. She could feel his gaze following her progress down the never-ending hallway that eventually spilled into the law firm’s reception area. Was he watching her departure with a smile on his face?
Or did he wear that thoughtful expression she found so appealing? She desperately wanted to glance over her shoulder to discover what was in his eyes.
She kept walking, ensuring each step was precisely placed on the floor, one foot in front of the other. Heel, toe. Heel, toe. No doubt she appeared in complete control of herself.
Not true.
Her emotions, though carefully contained, were in tatters.
Why had she agreed to Reese’s suggestion they become friends? It was true, she’d once wished to grow close to the man, perhaps even build something more than a friendship. But that had been before he’d asked Fanny to marry him.
Even if he hadn’t offered for her sister’s hand, Callie was still, well, Callie. A staid, boring, sensible woman who took no missteps, crossed no lines and certainly never befriended a man outside her own family.
Feeling confused—and so very much alone—she attempted to pray for discernment as she exited Bennett, Bennett and Brand law offices. A cool, gentle breeze caressed her face yet the words wouldn’t come, even in the privacy of her own mind. She hunched her shoulders forward and approached the waiting carriage.
“Ready to go, Miss Callie?”
“Yes, Horace.” She smiled at Mrs. Singletary’s coach driver. “I am more than ready to go home.”
Home. Where was home for her now? Mrs. Singletary’s massive house? The Mitchell family ranch?
Neither place called to her.
Another reason she felt so alone. Lord, where do I belong?
Heavyhearted, she climbed into the carriage. Once settled on the butter-soft calfskin seat, she rapped on the ceiling. The coach jerked into motion. Tightly coiled springs absorbed most of the dips and bumps along the twenty-minute journey across town. So smooth was the ride, in fact, that Callie relaxed her head against the plush squabs.
Her thoughts, however, continued to race.
Why—oh, why—had she reacted to Reese’s obvious attempt to