Courting Calla

Dixon Brothers Book 1

by

Published by

Olivia Kimbrell Press™

Courting Calla

Table of Contents

Copyright Notice

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Personal Note from Hallee Bridgeman

Readers Guide

Readers Guide Recipes

Readers Guide Discussion Questions

Excerpt from Valerie’s Verdict, the Dixon Brothers Series book 2

More Books by Hallee Bridgeman

The Dixon Brothers Series

The Jewel Series

The Song of Suspense Series

About Author Hallee Bridgeman

Hallee Online

Newsletter

Courting Calla by Hallee Bridgeman

Copyright © 2017. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or recording—without express written permission by the authors and publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed or broadcasted articles and reviews.

Courting Calla, original copyright © 2017 by Hallee Bridgeman.

Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the authors’ imagination or intended to be used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, organizations, places, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental and beyond the intention of either the authors or the publisher. The characters are products of the authors’ imaginations and used fictitiously.

PUBLISHED BY: Olivia Kimbrell Press™*, P.O. Box 470, Fort Knox, KY 40121-0470. The Olivia Kimbrell Press™ colophon and open book logo are trademarks of Olivia Kimbrell Press™.

*Olivia Kimbrell Press™ is a publisher offering true to life, meaningful fiction from a Christian worldview intended to uplift the heart and engage the mind.

Some scripture quotations courtesy of the King James Version of the Holy Bible.

Some scripture quotations courtesy of the New King James Version of the Holy Bible, Copyright © 1979, 1980, 1982 by Thomas-Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Original Cover Art by Amanda Gail Smith (amandagailstudio.com).

Library Cataloging Data

Bridgeman, Hallee (Hallee A. Bridgeman) 1972-

Courting Calla / Hallee Bridgeman

Summary: Ian knows Calla is the woman God has chosen for him, but Calla is hiding something big. Can Calla trust Ian with her secret, or will she let it destroy any possible hope for a future they may have?

Identifiers: ePCN: 2017959951 | ISBN-13: 978-1-68190-111-4 (ebk.) | 978-1-68190-112-1 (POD) | 978-1-68190-113-8 (trade)

1. clean romance love story 2. women’s inspirational 3. man woman relationships 4. Christian living 5. identity theft debt 6. forgiveness redemption 7. secrets and lies

This book is dedicated to my husband Gregg's grandmother, Calla. Thank you for stepping in and being a loving maternal figure in the wake of his mama's death. I know how much he loved you and how much he still misses you.

This book is also dedicated to the missionaries fromVision International who work at the real orphanage in Ti Palmiste that I modeled my fictional orphanage upon. Thank you for your love and dedication to Christ’s Great Commission that pours out onto the orphans in your village, and for the example of love and servitude that you give to us all. May God bless your service.

Calla Vaughn felt the telltale shudder of the car through her seat just as she started to pull through the gate. No, no, no, she said out loud, as if the machine might actually hear and decide not to die in the middle of the post-lunch rush to the parking deck. Despite the feeble attempt to stop it, with a lurch and a cough and a cloud of black exhaust, her car sputtered to a stop.

Resigned, Calla slipped her glasses off and lay her forehead on the steering wheel, closing her eyes, the smell of burning oil stinging her nose. If this week would just end, if she could just get through this afternoon, then tomorrow, and make it to the weekend, everything would turn out fine. It had to. Surely, the domino effect of her life would still and cease if she could just shut the door to her little apartment and hide from the rest of the world until Monday.

The tapping on her window startled her, and she hastily sat up, slipping her black-framed glasses back on. She knew with her black hair and dark brown eyes the thick black frames made her face stand out. She’d resisted buying them, but Sami, her best friend and confidante, had insisted, claiming they gave her a striking appearance. She said the glasses made her look like she just needed a nearby phone booth to transform into a courageous and strong heroine in primary colors. Calla knew nothing could help her not ugly but certainly not beautiful features, but she kind of wanted to see if the new frames would change her life in any way. They hadn’t, of course. They were just glasses. So much for wanting to look like a superhero in disguise.

As she rolled down her window, her face flooded with uncomfortable heat. Of course, the car behind her would belong to Ian Jones, one of the mechanical engineers in the Dixon Contracting firm where she worked as a file clerk. She saw his signature a dozen times a day in her job but hadn’t ever spoken to him beyond an uncomfortable hello whenever they passed in the halls. He had bushy brown hair, light hazel eyes that shifted from gold to brown to green, and a face better suited to some rakish Duke in one of her favorite Regency romance novels. She’d carried a crush for him since her second day on the job three years ago, though he barely glanced at her whenever their paths happened to cross.

Trying to keep from actually crying out of embarrassment, something that would make this whole horrible moment a thousand times worse, she simply drawled out, Hi there.

His right eyebrow rose and his lips twitched up into a half grin. He had a dimple. Need some help?

If he only knew. The fish and chips lunch she had just wolfed down started to feel like bad sushi. She smiled weakly and asked, Do you have a tow truck handy?

He looked at her little Geo Storm that had rolled off the assembly line the year she was born and tapped the sun faded yellow roof. Put her in neutral. We’ll just move it out of the way of the gate. He gestured with his head, and she looked in the rearview mirror to see the growing line of cars behind them. She watched him wave an arm, and another man got out of a car three cars back.

With a sinking, burning feeling in her chest, she recognized him as one of the Dixon sons. She suddenly started wishing she believed in portals that would open up and suck someone into another dimension. Mr. Dixon, owner of the massive Dixon Contracting construction and architectural firm, had three identical sons. Triplets. No one could really tell them apart, so they were all simply Mr. Dixon. She guessed this was Jon from his pickup truck but honestly had no idea whether maybe one of his brothers, Brad or Ken, had borrowed Jon’s truck this morning.

The little Storm shifted when Calla felt Mr. Dixon’s hands grip the sooty back bumper. Following Ian’s directions from the driver’s window, she put her car in neutral and glanced out the window in time to see Ian’s biceps bulge and bunch beneath his shirt as he maneuvered the car while Mr. Dixon pushed. Let’s get it to that spot there, he said, and she turned the steering wheel as they propelled her into the senior Mr. Dixon’s space.

As soon as she set the parking brake, she hopped out of the car. I can’t park here. Mr. Dixon—

Is nowhere near Atlanta today. He’s inspecting the New Orleans job for at least another three days. You’re fine. Don’t worry about a thing, the young Dixon said. He smiled, clearly trying to put her at ease. Turning to the man next to him, he said, Hey, Ian? You’re next, bro.

As the two of them rushed back to their cars that still sat blocking the entrance through the gate, she lifted a hand at their retreating backs. Thanks. It sounded weak even to her own ears.

Sighing, cheeks burning with embarrassed heat, she pulled her phone out of her purse intending to call a garage. Her hands shook slightly from chagrin and, as the phone cleared the purse, it slipped from her fingers and crashed to the concrete parking deck floor. A flood of tears blurred her vision, making the cracks that appeared on the screen all blur together.

Calla! She looked up with tear-stained cheeks as Sami’s zippy little convertible pulled up next to her and her best friend put her head out of her open window. Sami’s eyes went from Calla’s face to the ground next to her feet, then she put her car in park, and hopped out. Oh, Calla, honey, let me help. She bent and picked up the broken phone, slipping it into her own pocket. She had on a brightly flowered shirt, mustard yellow leggings, and red boots. Somehow, with her blue fedora sitting on top of perfectly curled black hair, it worked. I’ll call my uncle. He has a garage in Decatur.

Don’t bother. I couldn’t pay to fix it, anyway. I’ll just get it towed to a junk-yard. It’s where it belongs.

Sami raised an eyebrow. And then what?

Realizing she had started to grit her teeth, she intentionally relaxed as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath and held it. In with the good, out with the bad. Letting out a long, slow sigh, she said, Then I ride the Metro until I can get out of the hole my stepmother has so graciously dug for me. She reached into the pocket of Sami’s shirt and snatched her phone. I’ll be fine.

You’ll get out of that hole faster once you press charges, Sami said. When Calla opened her mouth to protest, Sami held up her hand. I know. I won’t say it again. That’s between you and God and the local police. She looked at her watch. Get back to work. No reason to add trouble at work to your load. I’ll take care of this. I have personal time saved, and you don’t.

Calla hugged her, tightly, knowing God had blessed her with a true friend. She retrieved her bag from the back seat, made sure she didn’t have anything in the glove box she didn’t need, and rushed to the elevator just as Ian Jones reached it. Feeling the clumsy awkwardness that he always invoked overtake her, she smiled an uncomfortable smile and pressed the button for the second floor. Thank you. Sorry to block your way.

He turned to look directly at her. Glad you had a small enough car that it was easy to move. What brings you to Dixon this morning Ms…?

She stammered a reply, Vaughn. Calla. Calla Vaughn. Realizing Ian didn’t even know her name made it even worse. Did he think she was married? It’s, uh, Miss. Not Mrs. Had she really just said that? Not Miss, either. Don’t call me Miss Vaughn. It’s just that I hate that Ms. nonsense and I’m not married. So I’m not Mrs. Vaughn. But don’t call me Miss Vaughn. I mean… She closed her eyes one heartbeat after she shut her mouth. She took a breath, exhaled through her nose, raised her head, smiled, and said, Call me Calla. And I, uh, file.

The dimple had reappeared. Throughout her entire babbling introduction, he hadn’t so much as moved. He cleared his throat and nodded. You file?

Here. I file here. At Dixon. I, uh, work in the file room.

Ah. He nodded as the elevator stopped on her floor. When she just stood there, he held the elevator door open with his left hand and gestured with his right hand. I believe the files are that-a-way.

She glanced through the open doors and saw the oversized glass doorway