Free Claiming Callie: Part one by Paige Rion

the small of her back as they move, making her stomach dip.
    He walks up to the maître d’ while Callie hangs back, waiting for him. In seconds, Jason shoves his hands in his pockets, and she can hear the raised octave of his voice. His face turns red as he speaks—now clearly worked up—and when she moves to his side to see what’s going on, flashbacks of her date with the balding Rick O’Toole come back full throttle.
    He turns to her and she shakes the memory of the doomed date away.
    “Oh, God,” he says, placing a hand over his face.
    What is he shielding himself from? Embarrassment?
    “This is… Well, this is not the way I planned tonight…” He stares at his feet, unable to look her in the eye.
    His mortification is palpable, and a stab of sympathy hits her. “We don’t have a reservation, do we?”
    He meets her gaze. “No. I, uh… My parents usually secure a table at least once a month, but it turns out they’re using it. Right now, in fact.” He steps forward, his hands fluttering in front of him, as if he’s suddenly unsure of what to do with himself. “I’m sorry. I had no idea. But the only way we’re dining here is if we sit with them.”
    Um. Sit with his parents on a first date? One he’s paying me a great deal of money for? AWKWARD!
    The idea sits in Callie’s gut like a lead brick. “That’s okay. Really, I don’t mind going somewhere else. It’s no big deal. I’m just enjoying being in your company.”
    Is it okay to say that? I am being paid, after all.
    His eyes light up. “Yeah?”
    Callie nods. “We can go anywhere. Your choice.”
    He rubs his jaw and then smirks, and something about the gesture twists Callie’s stomach, and not in a good way—in a weird way she can’t pinpoint.
    “I know the perfect place. The atmosphere is more laid-back, and the food’s just as good, in my opinion.” He reaches out and envelops her hand in his.
    “Okay, let’s do it, then.”
    “If you say so…” He grins and leads her out of the restaurant.
    Five minutes later, they pull into the lot of a towering apartment building. Callie glances up at the stone monstrosity and swallows.
    “I happen to make killer Italian. And we were only a few blocks from my place. So…” He shrugs, like he’s trying to come off as nonchalant, but Callie senses he loves the idea of hanging at his apartment far too much.
    Or am I just being paranoid again? Sheesh, get a grip, Callie. It’s not as though this is your first time alone with an attractive man. It’s fine. Totally fine.
    But I don’t feel fine. Her heart jumps in her throat. Something about going up to his place after he paid her a great sum of money for this date feels…wrong. Dean’s whacked-out, overly furious expression flashes in her head at the thought, and she grimaces. He would completely disapprove, and she’s totally letting him play with her head.
    Strap-on your big girl shoes, sister, you’re going in. So what if he paid you for this date? He’s paying for your company, after all. And that’s all you’re giving him. Your company. Whether it’s in a crowded restaurant or in his fancy-schmancy apartment should make no difference.
    Right?
    Callie pushes her shoulders back and meets Jason’s expectant gaze. “Sure. This is fine. Sounds great, actually.”
    Jason’s posture visibly relaxes at her response. “Great. Let’s go.”
    He moves out of the car and around to her side, opening the door for her before she can do so herself. She steps out, being careful to keep her legs closed in the short dress she’s wearing, and follows up the walkway to the huge glass doors, where a greeter murmurs his recognition to Jason and gives him a polite nod, then lets them inside.
    Callie gasps as she takes in the expansive foyer with its dark marble floors, huge chandeliers hanging above like clusters of fallen stars, and stark white walls boasting huge contemporary pieces of art she imagines must cost a fortune.
    Jason smiles