Free Going All In by Alannah Lynne, Cassie McCown

on so many levels, one of which was standing in front of him, eying him suspiciously. But Wade had never been the cautious type, and he supposed not even the threat of death or castration would change him. He just needed to make damned sure he didn’t fuck up.
    *
    “Are you ever going to finish that thing?” Jen asked, settling into Callie’s sofa, a margarita in her hand, a sour expression on her face.
    For the past month and a half, Callie had been working on an old dressing table she picked up at a consignment shop. The ornate corner carvings called her like a siren’s song, and she’d immediately envisioned painting the piece in bright colors to showcase the details. For her, it had been love at first sight. She was still waiting for the dressing table to share its feelings, but she was pretty sure, once finished, it would be thrilled with its new paint and thankful to have been rescued from its previous boring existence.
    Holding back her huff of annoyance with Jen, she concentrated on her paintbrush. She swirled the sable bristles in the well of blue paint, dipped the tips in the white pot, then swiped most of the paint off on the towel lying across her knee. “Finishing is my plan.” Leaning in close and focusing on the edge of the carved flower, she touched the end of the bristles to the top of the petal, then pulled a downward stroke so light she barely left any paint.
    Perfect.
    “You’ve been working on it for weeks. Why not go buy something new and be done?”
    This time she wasn’t nearly as successful at hiding her irritation. They’d had this conversation three, possibly four times, but Jen never listened. Mostly because she didn’t bother to try and understand.
    She changed her bedroom furniture nearly as often as she switched boyfriends. Once she got bored looking at the same pieces, she’d shop for a new suit, charge it all to her father’s account, then call the movers. They’d show up, box up her personal items, move out the old, move in the new, then replace her things. It happened so often, Callie couldn’t begin to guess how many bedroom suits—or boyfriends—Jen had been through.
    By comparison, Callie had changed bedroom suits twice. The first when she graduated kindergarten, the second when she started high school. And she hadn’t had that many more boyfriends. She wasn’t a big fan of change, so once she got comfortable with something, be it a bedroom suit or favorite pair of pants, she tended to hold on.
    Admittedly, that thinking caused her problems sometimes, like when she latched on to her infatuation for Gavin and refused to let go. But overall, she’d rather be a keeper than someone like Jen, who tossed things away when they were no longer new and shiny.
    “I don’t want something new. This table has a lot of character and reminds me of the summer I spent in the south of France.” She sat back on her heels and admired the detail. Someone put a lot of time and effort into making this table, and she took pride in adding her personal touch.
    Gavin always referred to her parents’ home as a mausoleum, and at the time, she didn’t understand why he disliked the marble floors or heavy, highly polished pieces filling her father’s office, or the cool, crisp whites in her mother’s sitting room. But as she traveled Europe, especially the various regions of France, she noticed not only the differences in decorating styles, but also a difference in the way the homes felt. They were warm and inviting, perfect for relaxation.
    As soon as she moved into her own condo, her personal decorating tastes revealed themselves, and they were nothing like her mother’s. She painted the walls soft, muted colors and started collecting painted, not polished, furniture. Her condo felt like a home, not a house, and she finally understood why Gavin always seemed so uncomfortable at her parents’.
    “Okay,” Jen said, refusing to give up the battle. “Go buy something new that’s similar