Chapter 5

Chapter Five

This can't be happening.

Liddy blinked numbly as Callum stood beside her, talking to the customs agent. She hadn't known he spoke Spanish, but it was proving to be a useful skill.

How could I have been so stupid?

She'd replayed the scene in her mind several times, trying to think straight. After getting through immigration, she'd had to use the restroom but had found nowhere to hang the dress. She'd even tried draping it across the top of the stall, but it had fallen ingloriously on the floor, which had made her nervous.

So she'd exited and bumped into Sergio, waiting by baggage claim.

Sure, maybe she didn't know him, but they'd spent the entire flight talking and flirting. He'd seemed trustworthy, and she'd asked him if he could keep an eye on the dress while she went to the restroom.

And when she'd come out, he was gone.

Along with Elle's dress.

Callum turned away from the customs agent and scanned Liddy's profile. "He says they can try scanning the video security footage and calling you if they find anything but that's about the extent of it. He suggested we talk to the airline."

"Did you tell them we already did that?" Or that the airline told us they couldn't do anything since I gave the guy my bag to hold?

Ugh, I can't believe I'm so dumb.

She'd even exchanged phone numbers with Sergio—or thought she had. She'd tried the number he'd given her when she'd first come out of the bathroom, but it had gone right to a generic voicemail.

The panic she'd felt as she searched for him, feeling helpless, returned.

"Yeah, I did." Callum's deep voice was soft. He pressed his lips together as though deep in thought.

"That's it, then?" Liddy tried to control the urge to burst into tears again, wiping her nose with a tissue. "I just have to face my sister and tell her I lost the wedding dress that's been in her fiancé's family for forever? The dress that she's supposed to wear in a week?"

"Well, you are in an airport. You could just catch a flight to Bali and hope no one finds you." The corner of his mouth twitched, but his eyes were sympathetic.

Somehow, the ill-timed joke made her feel a little better. At least he wasn't being a jerk about it. He'd helped her, even filling out the paperwork for the customs agent when her hand had been shaking so badly.

But what in the hell am I going to tell Elle?

Would she ever forgive her?

Elle deserves to be mad at me. I messed up—big time.

"Come on," Callum said, taking the handle for her carry-on. "I'm sure we can soften the blow."

Yeah, right. I'm sure my sister will take the news super well.

But her greatest concern was the Camdens. How on earth would she explain that she'd lost their irreplaceable, much-loved family heirloom? And they'd thought Logan was irresponsible.

He tilted his head toward the exit from customs, and they started walking. "How are you getting to the hotel?"

She released a slow breath, her chest feeling tight. "Elle said a shuttle goes to the beach town."

Callum gave her a curious look but didn't comment on her answer. After a moment, he said, "I rented a car. If you want, I can drive you there. It's about a two-and-a-half-hour drive."

A two-and-a-half-hour drive?

Elle had not mentioned that. Maybe she hadn't known, though. She'd only arrived a couple of days earlier, and Liddy hadn't talked to her much since then.

The idea of riding in a shuttle that long was awful. Her body already hurt from the plane trip. Buses weren't known for their comfortable seating.

Ordinarily, she wouldn't have considered traveling with Callum, but somehow, there was a strange comfort in the notion right now. Her palms ached, and her chest was so tight she had to fight for more than just a shallow breath. Like Sergio took more than that damn dress. Callum might be an asshole, but at least she knew him.

He's a familiar asshole.

And that thought made her smile to herself.

The white Kia Sportage SUV rental hadn't looked especially promising as they'd loaded their luggage into the back, but almost an hour and forty minutes into their trip, Liddy worried more about the way the back bumper was bouncing every time they hit a pothole in the road—which was often.

Even though she and Callum had barely talked, and she'd mostly used the trip to take in the rugged Costa Rican terrain around her, as Callum dodged yet another bump, she asked, "Did you see the back bumper is hanging loose on this side?"

"Yeah, I noted it in the inspection. It looks as though someone went off the road with this one."

Liddy ran her hand over a questionable stain on the fabric. Whatever Callum had paid for this jalopy, he'd paid too much. It surprised her he'd been cheap about the rental, given that Elle and Quinn were covering so many of the travel expenses. Callum seemed to have expensive taste, but then again, what did she know?

She frowned at the air coming through the vents. If she had regretted the choice of clothing in the morning, now it was torture. The air hadn't appeared to work the entire time.

She twisted her long hair into a bun and clipped it at the back of her head, then fanned herself, sweating in the humid, sweetly scented warm air of the car. She put her hand near the air-conditioning vent. "I keep hoping this will work."

God, their conversations were pathetic.

Callum frowned and flipped the air to full blast. Hot air poured out with force. "I guess not."

Maybe I should go back to silence. He certainly didn't seem to mind it. But given that he'd been helpful in the airport after Sergio had stolen the dress and the fact that he'd invited her to ride with him, she felt awkward not attempting to be nicer.

"I thought Costa Rica was supposed to be milder. The website I checked said to bring jeans and sweatshirts." She was glad that she'd worn a short-sleeved shirt underneath her hoodie. Otherwise, she would be frying by now.

"The valley is. The coast is hot."

Lydia gave him a curious look.

The way Callum spoke about this country and the fact that he spoke Spanish were interesting. Almost like he's spent a lot of time here. Yet she'd never heard him talk about Costa Rica during the time she'd known him. Not that he took vacations.

Or had any life outside of work that she knew of. She'd heard him speak of women he was dating two years ago on that day they'd first met, so she assumed he dated, but she'd never seen any woman come to the office or attend a business function with him—if he bothered to attend.

And given his short, clipped answers all the time, trying to get a conversation going with him was painful.

"Have you spent a lot of time here?"

"You might say that."

Typical.

She could leave it at that. Since she'd started working for him, she'd learned to drop questions she had when he gave an evasive answer. But they still had forty-five minutes to go of this drive, and she was already uncomfortable enough. "You speak Spanish fluently."

"Yes, I do." His icy-blue gaze settled on the road, his expression blank.

Just give up already.

Glancing out the window, she focused her gaze on the lush green terrain. Costa Rica was an adventurous destination—filled with mountains to climb and treks, zip lines and white water, volcanoes, and fishing. And whereas, once in her life, she might have longed to take part in all those things, she'd learned after a lifetime of being told that her body couldn't handle intense sports that it was better not to let herself dream of them.

Not that lying on a beach in a bathing suit appealed much either.

Sweat dripped down the backs of her knees, and she rolled the window down for relief. This trip was proving to be a disaster, and she closed her eyes, envisioning her cozy couch in her flat surrounded by bookcases. She was proud of that little place, even if it wasn't fancy and the rent was outrageous. Miranda helped offset that cost. But when Liddy had first struck out from Tennessee to move to London, her parents had acted like she wouldn't survive two days.

And I wasn't entirely convinced I could either.

Despite her parents' concerns, she'd built a life in London, though. And she had real friends.

For the first time.

The fresh start had been exactly what she'd needed.

Until now, Mom and Dad would have agreed.

Trusting Sergio was not the sort of slip-up she really needed.

She pulled out her phone and pulled up her text messages with Miranda. The picture she'd taken of Sergio taunted her, and she gritted her teeth.

Liddy: It turns out the hot guy was a thief. Stole my sister's wedding dress.

Miranda: What?!

Miranda: Did you at least get to shag him first?

Much as she usually appreciated Miranda's sense of humor, something about it right now was . . . disheartening. She ignored it instead.

Liddy: I have no idea what I'm going to do.

Miranda: Can you file a claim with the airline?

Liddy: Technically, I gave it to him to hold, so they won't do anything.

Miranda: Ooof. That's awful.

Liddy: Yeah, it's been the worst. Fortunately, Callum helped me talk to them. Did you know he speaks fluent Spanish? I caught a ride with him to the hotel.

Miranda: Wow, how did that come about?

Liddy: Idk, he just asked if I needed a ride. He was weirdly nice about the whole stolen dress thing.

Miranda: That *is* strange. So . . . what has he told you? Any interesting office gossip?

Liddy: Nothing. Once he started driving, his normal lack of conversational skills came back. Cat got his tongue, apparently.

Miranda: Eye roll. I'm sure he can do a lot with that tongue. He's just an arsehole who thinks everyone who works for him isn't worthy.

A phone ringing broke into her conversation and she glanced over as Callum picked it up. He frowned at the number on the screen, then answered. Actively lowering the volume on the side, he set it to his ear as though he didn't want the speaker to be overheard.

That's interesting.

"Hey there."

Callum's deep voice had always intrigued her. He had an English accent, but used more American slang and terms than the average Brit would—like a strange amalgam of an American and an Englishman. Or something. Maybe he'd just spent a lot of time with Americans.

"I've just arrived . . . yes . . . on my way."

She snuck a look at his profile, and his eyes darted away from the road toward her. He shifted his body away slightly.

He's clearly not happy with the thought of me eavesdropping.

Why am I not surprised?

Her gaze refocused on the windshield. Who might he be talking to? And why was he so discomforted?

"Look, we've been over this. This isn't the time or the place for that. I'm only here for Quinn's wedding?—"

A brief silence followed, as though he'd been interrupted, then he burst out, "Enough. I wish I could trust you not to bring it up again, but since I can't, this conversation is over. See you shortly." Callum hung up the line, tossing his phone into the console with a thud.

Well.

Ladies and gentlemen, the charming manners of Callum Scott.

A thick, awkward silence hung between them, and Liddy clasped her hands in her lap, unsure what to say.

Why did I decide to ride with him again?

After several tense beats, Callum cleared his throat. "Sorry about that."

She gave him a sidelong glance. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, it was just my mother."

Oh.

She tried to conceal her surprise. He hung up on his mother like that? "Okay."

He released a slow breath, his shoulders bunched with tension. "It's a long personal story. My mother and I don't get along."

Obviously. She bit her lip. "I'm sorry to hear that. It's none of my business, don't worry." And you don't do personal stuff.

"It's not that—" He ran his fingertips through his short, dark hair, his jaw clenching and unclenching.

For several moments, he appeared to be struggling, his level of agitation clear that Liddy couldn't help wondering why a simple phone call would get him so angry. But she didn't want to ask either. Callum had made it clear that he didn't fraternize.

She twisted in her seat, trying to get comfortable. She needed a break to stretch her legs, but the end of this car ride couldn't come fast enough. "I get it. Family is complicated."

He rolled the window down. "My mum—she owns the place where Elle and Quinn are having their wedding. Co-owns it. With my ex-fiancée, who Mum would still like to see me get back together with."

He has an ex-fiancée?

Wow, she hadn't expected that.

Liddy stared at him, half stunned that he'd shared so much with her in a momentary burst. No wonder he seemed to know his way around Costa Rica. If his mother owned property here, he'd probably been here often.

And no wonder Elle said something about Callum suggesting to Quinn to have the wedding there—not that it entirely makes sense. She frowned, then asked, "Why does your mom co-own it with your ex?"

He sighed. "My ex . . . her mum was my mum's best friend. They bought the place together in Samara after my parents got divorced. It was their dream to run it. But then my mum's best friend died, and the ownership went to her daughter."

She cringed. He'd probably broken more than just his ex-fiancée's heart when things had ended. Callum's mom had probably dreamed of him marrying her best friend's daughter.

"Making your mom business partners with your ex."

"Yeah. Basically. And my mum adores her, so there's that." His voice was terse as he turned off the main road.

Before she could say anything else, he said, "It doesn't matter. That's the short story. And that's why I was curt. That's all." He reached over and flipped on the radio, a burst of Spanish music cutting the conversation off abruptly. Apparently, he was done sharing.

She turned back to her own phone to find a message waiting from Elle.

Elle: You on your way to the hotel yet? When can we expect you?

Liddy had avoided texting Elle after the whole thing with Sergio. She'd fired off a message when she'd landed, but then fear had stayed any further communication. No doubt her sister was worried.

Liddy: Yeah, I caught a ride with Callum. Let me ask him.

The phone rang in her hand—Elle must have tapped the dial button immediately.

Liddy answered, and Elle started speaking before Liddy could. "You're driving with Callum?" she asked, surprise in her voice.

"Yeah." Liddy tried not to look at him, then turned the music volume down. Between the wind rushing in through the open window and the noise in the car, she could barely hear Elle. "It's a long story."

"Put him on speaker, I want to talk to him. We both do."

"We?" Liddy asked and rolled the window up. The noise eased, but the heat seemed to smack her instantly.

"My favorite sister," Quinn said as though he and Elle were on speaker. "How was the flight?"

The flight. Sergio. Liddy made a face, and that horrible feeling came back. I won't be Quinn's favorite sister for long. "It was . . . interesting."

"Are you on speaker yet?" Elle pressed again.

Liddy groaned and reached over to turn off the music. To Callum's questioning look, she said, "My sister and Quinn want to talk to you." She turned on the speakerphone.

Callum smiled—a genuine smile that dissolved his usually stern expression. "Hi, Elle. Quinn."

"Callum Scott, I'm going to murder you. You're lucky you have family here who might report you missing. Because otherwise, when you get here, I would definitely kill you."

Wow, Elle sounds . . . frustrated.

Callum raised a brow.

"She didn't understand that when you said rustic bungalows, you meant rustic," Quinn explained, his tone apologetic.

Elle spoke up again. "It's not that I didn't get what rustic was—believe it or not, I can do rustic—but full-sized beds in all the rooms? Not to mention the size of the rooms. My closet at home is bigger than what most of our guests have to work with. And none of the ceremony amenities that were on the website appear to be here. I didn't want to complicate anything—with Jasper here to perform the ceremony, I figured we didn't need a lot—but there are no chairs for people to sit and watch. And the caterer we hired closed up shop without telling us, so now I have to find food for the reception."

Yikes.

Just how much planning had Elle put into this wedding?

She was a fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants person, but not Quinn. Then again, knowing Quinn, he'd do whatever Elle wanted without questioning her.

I should have reached out and asked if she needed more help.

But every time Liddy talked to Elle about the wedding, Elle just said how much she wanted things to be relaxed.

"Isn't there an on-site coordinator to handle the wedding details?" Liddy asked, avoiding looking at Callum. This was his mother's place, after all, and she didn't want to step on his toes if Elle was implying things were being shoddily run.

Elle gave an exasperated grunt. "I don't even know. Everything just feels so chaotic. Grandma brought Leo with her, and now she's claiming there's not enough room in the room she booked for the both of them—which there isn't—but I don't have any place to put her. And don't even get me started on the monkeys."

Callum chortled. "You're in Costa Rica, Elle. You should have expected monkeys."

"Oh, yeah?" Liddy could practically hear Elle's glare as she continued speaking. "Should I have expected to find a three-inch-long roach in my tennis shoes the first morning I arrived? After I put my shoe on?"

"Is the room dirty?" Callum asked, without reacting.

"No, everything is spotless, but?—"

Quinn said, "Darling, I think you'll have plenty of time to air your grievances with Callum?—"

"Roaches are pretty much par for the course for this part of the world. No matter how much you try to keep bugs out, they'll find a way in." Callum flexed his arm, then casually set it on top of the steering wheel. "And I never tried to sell you on La Hacienda. It's no luxury hotel—just a low-key place for people who don't mind roughing it a bit."

Elle's voice grew tearful. "Yeah, well, joke's on us because Quinn's mom is threatening to stay at the Four Seasons, which will make the entire schedule even more of a nightmare because it's apparently several hours away. I had this dream of a wedding on the beach here and relaxing in hammocks and doing all the fun adventures people talk about, but . . . I just don't know how much more I can take of this." She sniffled loudly. "I'm so stressed out, guys. I'm sorry. I'm a mess."

Oh God.

Guilt ate its way up Liddy's core. As though she hadn't already felt horrible about what she had to tell her sister about the dress.

"Um . . ." Liddy cleared her throat. She should just confess and get it over with. "Look, there's something I have to tell you, Elle. It's about your?—"

Callum turned toward her sharply and took the phone from her hand.

Liddy startled. What the hell?

"So sorry about everything, Elle. Listen, I'll do what I can when I get there. See you soon." He hung up almost as quickly as he had on his mom.

Her jaw dropped open. "Did you really just hang up on her?"

"Are you mad? Your sister tells you she's stressed, and you think it's a good time to tell her you lost her wedding dress?" Callum dipped his chin. "I may not know anything about women, but I know enough to know your timing couldn't be ghastlier. Elle doesn't need that right now."

Liddy frowned. That Callum might care about her sister's feelings was . . . strange. And he's also right. Her cheeks warmed at his scolding. "I just didn't want to wait and drop the bomb on her when we arrived. Let her think I was pretending everything was fine."

Callum's eyes were deep in thought. He turned, pulling the car into a small town. Nothing here was over two stories. The buildings—which appeared to be a mix of houses and shops—were close together, built on rows facing the street. Bars covered the windows, small patios with flowers, and verdant green tropical plants hid behind gates—some of which were topped with razor wire.

Liddy rolled the window down again, her body relaxing some in the rush of cooler air that came in. "What's with all the bars and gates?"

"Theft can be a problem here." Callum pulled the car up to the curb, letting the engine idle. "It's not likely someone will come up and mug you while you're walking around in the resort areas or towns like this or beach towns, but the towns near San Jose and the city itself can be dangerous."

Why was he being so negative about a place so many described as paradise? "What about ‘Pura Vida' and all that?" The Costa Rican slogan seemed to be everywhere and appeared on all the guides she'd picked up about the country.

"It's all shite." He nodded to her open window. "Also, I wouldn't leave windows down. You staying in the car?"

Callum's dislike for his surroundings clearly had a personal edge to them, which didn't surprise her, given what he'd revealed about his mother. She let it go rather than question anything he said, and closed the window.

"Are we going somewhere? We're not here yet, are we?" They didn't appear to be anywhere near the beach.

"Not quite. About thirty minutes away." He killed the engine and rolled his sleeves up to his forearms, revealing a tattoo there. An emblem or crest of some kind. She'd never seen his arms bared before, and somehow, she never would have expected him to be tattooed.

She'd never cared for tattoos, but it looked good on him. Suited him, even. Or maybe it was the fact that his surprisingly tanned forearm was well-muscled and spoke to the care he took of his physique. He looked fine in a suit, and the women at work had admired that about him on more than one occasion.

"I'm hot, and I could use a cold drink."

Yeah, you are.

She moistened her lips. Where had that thought come from? And . . . ugh. I'm really having an off day, aren't I?

He pointed toward a little shop on the corner of the street. "There's a pulperia there—a convenience store. You want something?"

Her eyes flicked back toward the razor wire on the gated house they'd parked next to. Given her experience with Sergio and what he'd just explained, a clammy feeling broke out on her palms again. And my back needs a break from this seat. "I'll go with you. I wouldn't mind stretching my legs. Will the luggage be safe?"

"Yeah, it's fine. We won't be inside that long." Callum opened the door and swung his long legs out. She tore her gaze away and hurried after him since he hadn't bothered to wait for her.

They crossed the street, and Callum breezed into the small shop, which had the door already propped open. The interior was cluttered but clean, with shelves of packaged goods and food, newspapers, and even baked goods like loaves of bread near the register. Callum went for the refrigerated drinks and grabbed something. "Soft drink or iced tea?"

"Iced tea, I guess."

He took another bottle of what he'd grabbed and handed it to her. Starting toward the register, he paused at the freezer of ice cream bars. A hint of a smile came to the corner of his mouth. He grabbed two and took them up to the register as well.

After they'd paid, he handed her one. "I loved these as a kid."

"Oh—" He bought me ice cream? "Thank you."

They started back toward the car, and she unwrapped the ice cream. It didn't look too different from chocolate-covered ice cream bars from back home—but maybe the nostalgia of it had made him suddenly generous. "I take it you spent a lot of time here as a kid?"

He bit into the ice cream, and his features softened. He chewed and swallowed, then nodded as he opened the car door. "Yeah, my mum is from here. I spent every summer here as a kid. Was born here, too."

He's part Costa Rican? She never would have expected that.

She settled back into her seat and took a bite of the ice cream. Delicious. Nothing particularly unusual, but even so, it was amazing for a simple ice cream from a convenience store freezer.

"What do you think?" Callum asked, glancing at her.

"So good."

He smiled, then started the engine. "It'll melt too fast with the windows down if I drive." Giving her a thoughtful gaze, he licked some chocolate off his lip, and Liddy focused on the ice cream. Costa Rican Callum seemed different somehow.

"You know, we might still be able to track down Sergio." He settled deeper into his seat, then rolled down his window.

Liddy's brows drew together. What?

That came out of nowhere.

"How do you mean? Airport security said they couldn't do anything."

"Yeah, but airport security doesn't know where Sergio might be tomorrow. I do."

Liddy turned in her seat as sharply as she could, wishing this was one of those times that her fused spine didn't make it difficult to move like that. "What in the hell are you talking about?"

Callum's expression was blank, and he shrugged. "I heard Sergio talking to someone on the phone while we were in line at immigration. He said something about some event he was invited to in a church in the middle of the country tomorrow."

She gaped at him, her mouth parting. What. The. Fuck. She wanted to beat him with the rest of her ice cream bar. "Why didn't you say something about that sooner?"

He polished off his ice cream, then set his hand on the shifter. "I didn't think it would be worth mentioning."

"Not worth mentioning . . ." How in the world would it not be relevant? He knew how upset she was and what that wedding dress meant. "And now you do?" Lydia asked, baffled by his logic.

The ice cream no longer tasted as good with his words. Was that why he bought it for her? To butter her up? Without the ability to dispose of it, she finished it, then opened the iced tea to wash it away.

He pulled away from the curb. "Yeah. Well, after hearing Elle so upset...I might try to look for that bastard. But seeing as nothing may come of it, and it's a monumental task, I have a favor to ask of you in return."

She should have known Callum was being too pleasant.

He's still the same jerk from London.

"What sort of favor?"

Callum gave her a deliberate look, up and down. "You won't like it. And to be honest, neither do I, but it's the only chance I have of escaping the next week with my sanity intact."

She crossed her arms. "I already don't like the sound of this."

"My mother is going to be driving me mad about Sophia for the next week . . . unless I show up happily attached to someone else."

Oh. Man . . .

He wants me to pretend to be in a relationship with him?

She almost barked with laughter. Her with Callum?

"I don't know if Elle would buy it. She knows . . ."

"How much you loathe me? Yes, I assumed." He turned a palm up. "You're welcome to tell her, but then?—"

"You mean, if I agree to it. Because I would have to be out of my mind to agree to that." Also, I clearly haven't been that great at hiding my dislike of him.

His smile indicated he was losing his patience with her. "Of course, if you explain to her why you feel the need to repay me a favor, you may have to explain about the stolen wedding dress. Or, you could do things my way, potentially find Sergio, and attempt to get the dress back without her knowing a thing about it being stolen."

Son of a bitch.

Was this even a tenable plan? Sergio wouldn't hold onto the stolen dress that long, would he? But if they tracked him down in a day, it narrowed the window of time he had to get rid of it. And how easy could it be to get rid of a priceless heirloom wedding dress?

Or I could not do this ridiculous plan, then face telling Elle that I lost her dress and didn't try the only ludicrous idea to get it back.

Elle. Who was clearly stressed as it was. Who would do anything for her.

Who had done everything for her.

When their mom had gotten into a terrible car wreck while Elle had been in college, her older sister had quit school—sacrificing her career plans—and come home to take care of Liddy and their younger brother, Kyle, because they'd both been in high school and needed the help.

Elle had also used the money she'd gotten from her career as a country singer to buy their parents a better house and get Liddy started in London—as well as paying off Liddy's loans from college.

Acid rose in Liddy's throat. That Callum had a way to help her and would only do it in return for a favor was despicable. "You know, as Quinn's friend —and groomsman— you should help with no strings attached. Sorry that your situation with your mom sucks, but that's not my problem. I could just as easily tell Quinn about how you're trying to bribe me, you know."

Callum's face darkened. "I didn't have to say anything about what I overheard with Sergio. Trying to find this fellow—which might not even be possible—means giving up my time to go scrambling halfway across the country to fix your mistake."

Ouch.

Lydia scowled at him. "Yeah, well, I reject your offer. You're a real piece of work thinking you could twist and use this horrible situation to your advantage."

Grabbing a pair of sunglasses from the console, Callum slipped them on, his expression hardening. "All right. Forget I asked." He turned the radio back on, his jaw clenching.

As if. Once Quinn and Elle heard about this, he'd have to tell them what he knew about Sergio anyway. And then, maybe, once and for all, everyone would see Callum for the asshole he was.

She tugged her phone out of her pocket again, her stomach clenched, then fired out another text message to Miranda:

Liddy : I think our boss just sank to an all-time low.