Keeping Denver
: Chapter 12

Two weeks have passed, and the news of Callan and me has fizzled around the office. We have also picked up a routine. We ride into to work together every morning, and aside from a stolen kiss here and there, we are focused on keeping a professional relationship at work, something I like. I’ve learned that Callan is passionate about his job and devoted to his clients. I’ve learned he is very much a homebody, preferring to stay home rather than go out to fancy restaurants and clubs.

It’s Saturday morning, and the two of us are lounging in bed. Me with a book and Callan on his laptop. I have been working up the nerve the past couple of days to ask him about his family. Other than the brief conversation we had about his mom, he has yet to mention his father or whether or not he has any other relatives. I sense it’s a touchy subject, but I replace myself wanting to know all there is to know about the man I’m slowly starting to fall in love with.

Blowing out a breath, I close my book, sit up, and set it on the table beside the bed. Callan looks at me expectedly. ‘Something on your mind?’

‘How come you don’t talk about your dad? You’ve never mentioned brothers or sisters, so I am assuming you have none.’ Callan flexes his jaw, and for a second, I think I have crossed the line. ‘You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I feel like I have given you all of me, yet I don’t have all of you.’

Callan’s face softens at my admission. ‘You’re right. My father is not a subject I like discussing.’ Callan sets his laptop to the side and scrubs his palm down his face. ‘My father left my mom and me when I was ten. And when he walked out the door, he left us with nothing.’

‘Oh, Callan. I’m so sorry.’

‘My father met my mom when he was on a business trip to Vegas. She was a waitress in the hotel restaurant he was staying in. According to her, their romance was a whirlwind. He swept her off her feet in one weekend. They were married three days after meeting, and I was born less than a year later. My mom quit her job, left her home, and moved to New York with my father. The thing I remember the most about him growing up is him hardly being home. I also remember how sad my mom was all the time when he was away, and how much they fought when he was home. Mom was good about keeping that part of their marriage hidden. When I was eight, I overheard one of their arguments. They were fighting because mom had accused my father of cheating. The fighting went on for another two years. Until one day, my father came home and announced right at the dinner table, he wanted a divorce and that he was giving my mom until the end of the month to replace another place to live.’ Callan’s features harden as he reflects on his past.

‘Oh my god.’ I put my hand over my mouth. I imagine a ten-year-old Callan sitting down for dinner with his family and his dad telling his mom they have to leave their home. ‘That’s why you do what you do. Why you take on the cases you do?’

He confirms with a tight nod. ‘The only family my mom had were her parents. They had her late in life and didn’t have the means to take us in, not that she would ask. Mom refused to move back to Vegas. I was established in school and she didn’t want to disrupt my life more than it already had been. A part of me knew she was holding out hope my father would one day change his mind and come back to us. Even with all the bullshit he had put her through, she was still in love with him.’ His scowl deepens and his jaw tightens. ‘My mother worked her fingers to the bone with two jobs to keep me in the private school I had been in since kindergarten because she wanted me to have the best education. The commute from our shitty neighborhood to school was an hour twice a day. Not once did my mom complain. Even when I became a rebellious teenager, and started acting out and being an all-around shit; she still never complained. I was your typical mad at the world kid. I was skipping school and getting into fights. The final stunt that landed me in hot water was the time I skipped school and took the train to the city. I snuck into the parking garage where my father worked and vandalized his car. A car he paid one hundred grand for yet didn’t pay my mom a dime for child support. All because he was the rich and powerful Thomas Rowley. He had an endless amount of cash at his disposal and my mom couldn’t afford a lawyer.’

‘What did your father do for work?’

‘He owned a media company.’

‘I read online you inherited all his assets?’

‘I did. At first, I didn’t want anything to do with his money. My father had reached out to me a month before he passed. He wanted to make amends. I refused to see him. I washed my hands of my father when I was ten. I was pissed when I found out he’d left me everything in his will. His company, his money, his house; all of it.’

What did you do?’

‘In the end, I took it. I sold off his company and his possessions. I had no desire or use for any of it. The money allows me to do all the pro bono cases I take on.’

I sit and ponder what Callan has told me. ‘So, what happened after you vandalized your dad’s car?’

‘I was arrested and sent to juvenile detention. The whole incident was caught on camera. My father didn’t hesitate to press charges.’

‘How long were you in detention?’

‘A week. That was how I met Judge Marshall, Frances’s husband.’

‘Frances did mention she has known you for years.’ I smile.

‘It was Richard who saved me from continuing my downward spiral. He didn’t look at me like I was just another troubled teen. He saw a boy desperate for help; for guidance. He ended up giving me community service working for him. It was years later I asked him what made him choose to help me. He said that after reading my case, he called my mother. They ended up having a lengthy conversation about our situation and the lack of relationship I had with my father. Richard said it was his heart that lead him to make the ruling I serve my community service alongside him. It was then Richard became my mentor. He has been like a father to me ever since. And Frances is like a second mom.’

‘I’m glad you have that with Frances and Richard. You’re lucky to have had an amazing mom. What was her name? I don’t believe you’ve mentioned it.’

‘Kathleen Hawk.’

I think back to the initials on Callan’s tattoo. ‘The letters scribed below your hawk tattoos; are they for your mom?’

Callan nods. ‘I got the hawks as soon as I was old enough to get inked. To remind myself that no matter what, my mom and I always have each other.’

‘That’s beautiful, Callan.’

Callan gets a faraway look on his face. ‘You know, Richard did the same for Spencer. That’s how we met. His story is a lot different than mine, but he too was a troubled young man that Richard saw potential in. The two of us have been friends since we were sixteen.’

I laugh. ‘I have a feeling that Spencer is still trouble, but in a different way. Especially with the ladies.’

Callan levels me with an irritated look. ‘What do you mean by that?’

I roll my eyes. ‘Calm down, caveman. I mean he’s a terrible flirt.’

‘Yeah, well, the next time he tries that shit with you, he’s going to get his ass kicked.’

‘Oh, please. Spencer likes to push your buttons. Besides, I think he’s sweet.’ Calling Callan’s best friend sweet was the wrong thing to do, because, in a flash, Callan is on me, my back pinned to the bed.

‘Care to repeat that, baby?’ he smiles down at me.

A giggle escapes my mouth. ‘No.’

‘I didn’t think so.’ Callan’s mouth crashes down on mine.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, he settles his weight between my legs, and I sigh into his mouth. His hand reaches under me, slides past the waistband of my panties, and grabs hold of my butt. My pussy clenches as the rigid length of his erection pressed against my center.

Without hesitation, I reach down and begin pulling at the boxer briefs separating us, and keep my eyes on Callan’s the whole time, silently communicating I’m ready to become his in every sense of the word.

‘You sure, baby?’

‘Yes, Callan. I’m sure.’

Sitting back on his haunches, Callan hooks his fingers into the sides of my panties, pulling them from my body the same time I rid myself of my sleep shirt. Leaving me completely exposed.

Callan runs his finger through the seam of my pussy. ‘I’m going to get you ready for me.’

Cupping my butt in his hands, Callan brings his mouth to my pussy. He takes a slow, swipe at my center, licking me from bottom to top. A scream escapes my mouth when he takes my clit into his hot mouth and sucks. There’s something erotic in how he not once breaks eye contact. When he pushes in with those long digits of his, hitting that magical spot, while his tongue continues to flick over my clit, my walls start to flutter. I protest when he breaks our connection and my impending orgasm fades. I whimper. ‘Callan.’

‘Shh, Baby.’ Callan settles his weight over the top of my body. This time when he kisses me, I taste myself on his lips. When the head of his cock nudges at my opening, my hips thrust forward, taking him in an inch. With just the head being a tight fit, I momentarily wonder how the rest of him will follow.

‘Relax for me, Denver. Open up and let me in.’

Thrusting forward, Callan sinks in another inch before pulling out. He repeats the move several more times. It doesn’t take long before his length is drenched with my arousal, making me a needy bundle of nerves. As soon as Callan knows I’m relaxed enough, he thrusts forward, breaking through that final barrier, making me his entirely. My nails dig into his back as I cry out his name.

Callan rests his forehead against mine and lets out a curse. ‘Fuck.’ The pain isn’t too bad. It’s more getting used to the feeling of being so full. ‘Baby. You okay?’ I flex my hips, giving him my answer, and causing Callan to hiss. ‘Fuck. You keep moving and I’m going to come before I’m ready.’ He kisses me. His tongue delves into my mouth, tasting me for several seconds. A moan escapes my mouth when he starts to move again. ‘So, fucking tight.’ Callan moves at a torturous pace. His cock glides in and out of me with slow, long strokes. Leaning down, he takes one of my nipples into his mouth, and I pant.

‘Oh, God.’

‘Come for me, Denver. I want to feel you come all over my cock.’ When Callan snakes his hand between our joined bodies and uses the pad of his thumb to strum my clit, I explode. My orgasm crashes through me as my walls clamp down around his length, sending him with me. With one final push, he stills, the head of his cock swelling as he spills his release inside me.

Breathing heavy, Callan kisses my shoulder, up my neck, and finally my lips.

‘You’re mine,’ he states, his eyes searching mine as he hovers above me.

I brush my lips softly against his, a mere breath away from saying what my heart is singing. ‘I’m yours.’

That night, after an invite, Callan and I arrive at Frances and her husband Richard’s house for dinner. They live in a two-story brownstone. Greeting us at the door is Frances. She gives me her usual warm smile, making me feel welcome. ‘Come in you two. Hang your coats and follow me into the living room. Richard had a phone call to make but will be down in a minute.’

Callan helps me with my coat then hangs his and mine on a hook by the front door. ‘Smells good in here, Frances.’

‘Oh, you know I have to make your favorite when you come over.’ Frances swats at Callan’s arm before turning to me. ‘Callan loves my homemade lasagna. I don’t make it often on account of Richards cholesterol.’

‘Yeah. My wife is a real hardass when it comes to my diet. I look at it as she wants me to stick around on this earth a while longer.’ A tall man with grey hair, kind blue eyes and an impressive handlebar mustache strides up behind Frances and kisses her cheek. ‘I think she likes me,’ he waggles his brows, being playful with his wife. Frances giggles like a schoolgirl, and I replace it endearing.

‘Richard, stop being a mess long enough to meet our guest. This is Denver,’ Frances introduces me.

The older gentleman regards me. The top lip under his bushy mustache turns up in a knowing smile. ‘So, this is Callan’s Denver.’

‘Oh, Jesus,’ Callan mutters.

I hold my hand out. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Sir.’

‘None of that sir stuff. You can call me Richard.’ Richard turns his attention to Callan. ‘Son. Good to see you. Though it’s been a while.’

‘Yeah. I just wrapped up a case, and I have court again Monday morning.’

‘I heard you handed Dennis his ass and the judge awarded his wife a pretty hefty settlement. Serves the son of a bitch right. I met him at a charity dinner some years back. He is one sour bastard.’

Callan chuckles. ‘Yeah. Well, he’s even more so now that he’s paying his wife half of everything he’s worth.’

‘Enough talking shop, boys. Let’s go eat.’ Frances ushers us into the dining room.

Just as we are about to sit down at the table, the doorbell chimes, and Frances excuses herself. ‘That must be Spencer. He said he might stop by.’

A second later, Frances returns with Spencer in tow. ‘I know you all didn’t start without me. What’s for dinner?’ Spencer’s eyes cut around the table, landing on me. ‘Well, well. Hey there, sweetheart.’

I give him a little wave. ‘Hi Spencer. How are you?’

‘Better now that I’ve seen your pretty face.’

Callan jumps in. ‘Unless you’re looking to end your night in the emergency room, I suggest you shut the hell up.’

‘Boys. Play nice, and Callan, watch your language,’ Frances scolds.

‘Frances. How come you don’t get on to the old man for cursing but ride mine and Callan’s tails about it?’ Spencer asks.

‘It’s because I’m old and set in my ways. She thinks you two are still young enough to be taught better,’ Richard answers.

The remainder of dinner is spent listening to Richard tell stories about Callan and Spencer, and some of the mischief they got into. For once in my life I feel what it’s like to be around a family who genuinely cares for one another.

As we’re putting our coats on and getting ready to leave, Frances stops us. ‘I almost forgot. When I left work early Friday, I left the Branson file on my desk. Kelly was nice enough to bring it to me. I knew you would need them first thing Monday morning since you are going straight to court and not the office.’ She hands the file to Callan.

‘Thanks, Frances.’ He kisses her cheek then shakes Richard’s hand.

The four of us say our goodbyes before Callan, and I take our leave.