Stay with Me (Callahan Series)

  Stay With Me

  By AC Marchman

  The Second Book in the Callahan Series.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, or events in this book are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, alive or deceased, events, or locales is completely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. Self-published by the author. Any use of this book without the explicit permission of the author is strictly prohibited.

  Cover design by Indie Pixel Studio:

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  Editing and Formatting by:

  Michael R. Burhans of Baalat Professional Services

  baalatproservices@gmail.com

  http://baalat.webs.com/

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  Table Of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Allie

  The wind blows through my long chestnut brown hair. The afternoon sun is beating down, making it entirely too hot, but what can you expect in Georgia? I slide my sunglasses down from my head to cover my eyes, hoping to mask the anxiety that is surely etched all over my face. Donovan is cruising down the interstate toward Savannah. We are heading to his family’s estate, and this is the first time I’m meeting them. I know that meeting your boyfriend’s family is nerve racking, but since Donovan’s family is insanely wealthy and holds such a high status in society, it sends me into full panic mode. His father is the owner of Callahan Winery and Vineyard, which rakes in millions of dollars a year. Sure, Donovan has told me about how caring his father was for him and his sister, Megan. He certainly had a lot to deal with; an alcoholic wife and a mother that beat his children. However, it doesn’t make me any less nervous about meeting one of Georgia’s wealthiest men. I sigh quietly, hoping that my first impression will be a good one.

  “Are you okay?” Donovan cuts his dazzling blue eyes toward me, placing his hand on my knee and giving it a light squeeze. “You haven’t said much today.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just terrified, that’s all.” My voice quietly cracks.

  “Babe, don’t worry. They’ll love you. Trust me.” He then returns his hand back to the 3 o’clock position on the wheel.

  “I hope you’re right.” I return his smile. His calm demeanor always as a way of soothing me, especially when I’m wound up so tightly that I can’t focus on anything. Donovan and I have only been dating for a short time. It’s only been several weeks since we bumped into each other for the first time. We went from being strangers to lovers very quickly. Of course, I hesitated with the relationship, thinking everything was moving too fast, as did Donovan. But our hearts told us to just go with it; this feeling that we have for one another is like nothing either of us has ever felt before. The relationship is still new, and we are learning as we go, but so far, everything has been almost perfect. Well, except one thing: his ex girlfriend, Claire Dubois, who happens to be sitting in prison for the murder of her husband. That’s the one thing that keeps nagging me. Donovan never wants to talk about it, but I happen to think it’s an important part of his past. It’s a past where he was having casual sex with a number of women, and not a normal relationship until me. Everytime I bring her up, he changes the subject or distracts me, usually by luring me into the bedroom. Trust me, I’m not complaining about the sex; it’s mind blowing to say the least. I just feel like a hole needs to be filled and that dirt is Claire.

  “How much longer till we get to Savannah?” I ask, picking up his iPod and scrolling through the list of songs. I find a great song, one I haven’t heard in ages, and hit play. Poison’s lyrics about being talked dirty to start flowing out of the speakers. I look over at Donovan and see him roll his eyes. “Hey, it’s on your iPod, not mine.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. I must have been drunk that night.” He shakes his head, embarrassed that an 80’s hair band is on his playlist. “Anyway, we have another couple of hours.” He runs his hand through his dark brown hair, making it flop to the side. Something must be wrong; he only does that when he’s nervous or anxious.

  I slip off my black flip flops and rest my freshly pedicured feet on the dashboard. “Might as well get comfortable then,” I smile and start humming to the music. I peek over my sunglasses to look at Donovan. His gaze runs up my legs and stops at the hem of my yellow sundress. I smirk and slightly pull up the hem of my dress, inching it up my legs.

  “I know what you’re doing, and you need to cut it out. I can’t exactly fuck you while I’m driving,” he growls, the rumble of his voice gives me chills, even in the summer heat.

  “What are you talking about? I’m not doing anything wrong, I’m just hot,” I say innocently, pressing one of my hands on my chest, acting offended.

  “Oh, baby, you don’t even know how hot you’re gonna get when I get my hands on you,” he almost purrs, causing my goose bumps to rise. His voice is deep and Southern, a sexy Georgian drawl that rolls off his tongue. His words alone are enough to make me combust.

  His hand returns to my leg, inching his way up my thigh. He notices that I tense and draws lazy circles with his thumb. If he keeps this up, I’m going to make him pull over at the next rest stop and having my way with him.

  “Eyes on the road, please,” I scold, even though I asked for it; his touch has a crazy effect on me.

  “Yes ma’am, if you say so.” He holds up his hand in defense and rests it on the gear shift. “But you’re the one that’s making it difficult to watch the road.”

  “Fine, I’ll play nice, Doc” I smile and I pull the dress back down to a reasonable length. It’s fun to tease him because I know he’s going to give me what I deserve later. I’m pretty sure the Callahan mansion has enough rooms that we can sneak away for a bit.

  I shake my head to clear my thoughts and pull out my phone to text Livey. I’ve known her almost the entire time I’ve been in Atlanta. She has been a source of strength for me, and I can always lean on her for support. She knows that Matt, my ex-boyfriend, coerced me into having sex, and one of his friends blasted it all over Facebook. What she doesn’t know is that Jackson, my son, is the product of that night. I will break it to her at some point; I just didn’t want her to think I was some sort of tramp that just gave up my kid. I had found a wonderful couple, the Andersons, who couldn’t have children. I wasn’t ready to be a mom, and I wanted my baby to have a good life. We came to an agreement that I would be able to see Jackson whenever I wanted, and they happily accepted. I never regret the decision to let the Andersons raise my son; I know he’s loved and he’s taken care of in a way I couldn’t provide. Donovan is the only one in Georgia that knows about Jackson. I broke down one day and told hi
m. I only told him because I didn’t want to embarrass him with my past, and to my surprise, he accepted my decision without judgment.

  Hey, almost halfway there. Miss you! Details later.

  Yay! Be careful, sweetie. Have fun.

  I smile at my phone and stick it back in my purse. I look up when I hear Donovan clear his throat. His lips are pressed in a hard line and his knuckles are white from the grip on the steering wheel. “What’s wrong?” I ask, concerned over not knowing the reason for the sudden tension.

  “I know you’re going to be pissed, but I have something to tell you.” His voice just barely audible. I bite the inside of my cheek nervously. “You know how I told you that we needed to push back seeing my family by a couple of weeks?” I nod, giving him a “what the hell are you talking about” look. He told me it was because they went out of town unexpectedly because his father had business he needed to attend to. “Well, the reason is . . . my friend from high school, Gabriel Vanderbilt, is getting married this weekend at the vineyard, and I’m in the wedding party.”

  My mouth drops open in shock. That’s why he lied to me? “Are you serious? You didn’t tell me this? Why?” I spit out, a bit harsher than I intend, but at this point, I don’t care. “You didn’t have to hide that detail from me. I didn’t bring anything to wear to a wedding!”

  “Baby, I know, I’m sorry. I just figured you were already going to meet my family and that you would change your mind if I told you there was a wedding that we were going to. You were already stressed enough about meeting them,” he says quietly, obviously expecting my reaction from his little white lie. “I didn’t want to lie to you. I did it for my own selfish reasons, so that you would still come and be able to spend time with me.”

  “Well, I said that I would come, and I don’t go back on promises. I also like honesty, especially from someone that I’m in a relationship with,” I hiss, and he cringes at my venomous tone. I wouldn’t have minded going to the wedding, in fact, it might actually be fun. Only now, I have to come up with something to wear.

  “Look, babe, I can’t take it back, but I do feel bad. I should have known you would go; you always try your best to make me happy.” He slides his hand over mine and interlaces our fingers.

  “You’re damn right I do. Now, no more lies,” I say with resolve in my voice. That’s one thing I’m not going to tolerate is lying. Matt lied to me so many times about, well, everything. I’ve been an open book for Donovan, not holding anything back, but I don’t feel like he is doing the same for me. I wish he would let his walls down for me. I just pray I’m making at least a crack in those barriers.

  “Okay, no more lies.” Donovan crosses his heart, just like a kid would do, and it makes me giggle. I can’t stay mad at him long; he’s too cute when he does things like that. Once again, the distraction wins out, and I turn my attention back to the iPod. I can only take so much rock from the 80’s. I slide through again to find Nickelback. I love this band. I lean my seat back and listen to Chad Kroeger’s raspy voice belt out, “Burning it to the ground and having a fistful of whiskey that makes me bat shit crazy.” I make a mental note to buy tickets next time they come to town.

  “Hey, are you hungry? I stop at this little diner every time I go home.”

  “Sure, sounds great. Just hope it’s not too far away, I might waste away to nothing before we get there,” I joke, trying to make the mood light. The tension from just a few minutes ago is still lingering.

  “God knows I don’t want that to happen. Then you might lose that perfect ass,” Donovan banters back and winks.

  “So, where is this diner? I am actually pretty hungry.”

  “Off Exit 36. It won’t take long.” I notice that we are only two exits away, and I feel the rumble in my stomach. I try to listen to the music to take my attention away from my hunger pangs.

  By the time the last song plays Donovan is pulling off to the exit. Long car rides and a hefty dose of stress will give you one monster headache. I dig into my purse and grab my ibuprofen. I down two of them with a shallow of my water.

  “This place has been here since I was a kid. I think most of the same people still work here,” Donovan says as he pulls into the parking lot. I’m surprised at the amount of cars that are here; it’s three in the afternoon, way past lunchtime.

  He gets out and opens the door for me, always the Southern gentleman. I glance at the diner. It’s shiny silver, reminding me of chrome, with a large sign that’s flashing “Danny’s Diner” in red neon lights. It looks like something straight out of the fifties.

  Donovan offers me his hand and helps me out of the BMW. We walk in, arm in arm, through the big red door, and I feel like we step into a timewarp. Pictures of Elvis and Buddy Holly are plastered all over the walls. The black and white checkerboard floors have a glossy sheen finish and the bright red booth stick out, catching my attention. A woman wearing saddle shoes and a poodle skirt greets us in typical Southern drawl and shows us to a booth in the back. I slide in, leaving room for Donovan to sit next to me. “Heather will be right with you,” she says with a bright smile.

  “I told you this place is awesome,” Donovan says as he hands me a menu. I look through it and find that all the items are named after famous people from the fifties and sixties. “I always get the same thing here,” Donovan says.

  “And what’s that?” I ask, as I scan the extensive menu. For being such a rinky-dink place, I didn’t think I’d have a hard time deciding. Is the food named after the celebrity because it was their favorite? Or is it just random? I lay the menu down for Donovan to show me what he’s talking about.

  He points to a picture of a huge burger called the Ritchie Valens “La Bamba” burger. “This one. It’s really spicy, and it’s so good. It has jalapenos and green chiles on it.”

  “Okay, works for me” I shrug and close my menu. “I like it hot.” I wink.

  Donovan looks at me with lust in his eyes and licks his bottom lip. “Allie, you don’t have to tell me. I already know this,” he leans in and whispers in my ear.

  I feel my face flush from his comment, and I nudge his side as I see our waitress, Heather, walk up to the table. She’s younger than the rest of the staff, but just as perky.

  “Hi, guys. I’m Heather,” she greets us; then she gets a good look at Donovan. It’s the same reaction every time: girl sees him, girl gets flabbergasted and can’t speak, Donovan waves it off. Her mouth hangs open, and the same flush creeps onto her cheeks as it does any other woman.

  “I know, honey. He’s beautiful,” I think to myself, even chuckling about it. I’ve gotten used to these responses from women, even some men, when it comes to my man. His bedroom blue eyes, the dark brown hair that hangs on his forehead, and the amazing rock hard chest you can see even when he is dressed are all just a few reasons eyes follow him everywhere he goes. I’ve learned to accept the fact that he’s going to get eye fucked regardless of where we go, so it doesn’t bother me anymore.

  “Hi, Heather. We are actually ready to order,” Donovan says with a panty dropping, perfect white smile.

  “Uh, sure, what can I get for you?”

  Donovan spouts off our order, complete with a Coke for each of us. She feverishly writes it down, takes our menus and walks off to place our order. Donovan gives me a puzzled look when I start laughing.

  “Oh, come on. You honestly didn’t see the way she was looking at you?” I playfully roll my eyes at him. How can he not know he’s the sexiest man in Atlanta, if not the whole state? “She was totally undressing you with her eyes.”

  He gives me a sexy, crooked smile. Yeah, he knows, and I believe it strokes his ego a little, but he really isn’t interested. I can see it on his face when he gets those looks, and it makes me feel better about our relationship. Just knowing I can trust him . . . well, with the exception of the wedding news, is good for me.

  Chapter 2

  Donovan slips his arm behind my back and rests his hand on my hip. I snuggle ag
ainst his chest and close my eyes. I inhale his scent, a mix of his Issey Miyake body wash and the love we made this morning. I open my eyes and glance up to find him looking down at me. I reach up and kiss his lips lightly. “You know, it’s hard being so close to you and not be able to have you,” he whispers so only I can hear him. His words make a direct hit to my libido, making me squirm. His chuckle is throaty and deep, making me want to take him on this table right now. He’s always so damn distracting.

  “So, tell me more about this wedding we’re going to,” I ask, trying to get my mind off of straddling him and getting arrested for crude behavior in public. Heather comes with our drinks, stealing a glance at Donovan.

  “Yep, he makes my panties drop, too, girl,” I think to myself.

  “Gabe’s a good friend of mine from school; we grew up together,” Donovan says after he thanks our waitress. He went to the most prestigious, as well as most expensive boarding school on the East coast, St. Paul’s School for Boys. It also happens to be in Atlanta. I don’t even think you can attend if your parents don’t make at least two million dollars a year. He has shown me pictures of himself wearing the St. Paul’s uniform, a navy blue blazer, khaki pants and a striped tie. He was so handsome, even as an awkward teenager. “He’s marrying his girlfriend from Harvard, Stacey. I’ve meet her a couple of times; very sweet girl.”