Finally, we rip the carpet out, roll it into manageable strips, and take it out to the dumpster together. After the last of the carpet is in the garbage, I brush the dust and dirt off my clothes then Declan’s back, and he returns the favor.
“We are dirty.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know it was the wrong thing to say.
“Not in a couple weeks,” Declan says, right on cue, making me laugh.
“Har har,” I reply. “Okay. I’m starving. You promised me pizza.”
“Coming right up.”
***
“It’s so nice out here,” I say between bites of loaded pizza. We’re sitting on the front porch now, me on the top of the steps with my back leaning against the top of the railing, and Dec sitting opposite me, in the same position. The box of pizza is open between us.
It’s early evening now. Traffic, both motor and foot, has slowed. The trees are moving a bit in the breeze.
“Mmm,” he agrees, his mouth full.
“How old do you think these oaks are?” I ask, looking up into their branches.
“A few hundred years,” he replies lazily.
This. This right here is what I want with someone someday. I want the comfort. I want to be able to laugh and work hard together. Share a pizza and soak up a nice evening.
It’s a good start, anyway.
I reach for a third slice and sigh in happiness with the first bite, then swig the beer Declan opened for us.
A piece of my hair slips out of the bun on the back of my head, so I set my pizza down and fix it, then glance at Declan, who’s stopped eating and is just watching me quietly with sober eyes.
“What?”
He shakes his head and turns his attention back to his pizza. I feel like I just missed something, but I have no idea what it is.
Finally, after a long ten minutes of silence, I wipe my hands on a napkin and then throw it at Declan, hitting him in his hard head.
“You have a habit of throwing things at me, sugar.”
“What are you thinking?” I ask with a smile.
“That you throw things at me.”
“Before that.”
“Why do women always ask what men are thinking when they don’t speak for a while?”
“Because we want to know,” I reply and sip my beer. “Come on. Spill it.”
He laughs and shakes his head, takes a sip of his own beer, then leans in like he’s going to tell me something really good. “Do you want to know that big secret? The answer to the question every time a woman asks a man what he’s thinking?”
I nod.
“Nothing. He’s not thinking anything, except maybe damn, this pizza is good.”
“You were that quiet because the pizza tastes good?” I tilt my head to the side, not buying it, but he just shrugs good-naturedly and sips his beer.
“Tell me about your tats,” he says, looking at my arm. “They’re amazing.”
“Thanks.” I glance down and look at the ink, thinking of the dozens of hours I sat in Brock’s chair while he worked his magic. “I found a great artist in Denver.”
“Do they mean anything?”
“They all mean something,” I reply and bite my lip. “I’ll tell you about them sometime.”
“But not now.”
“Not now.” I shrug and lean my head back against the post, watching Declan through my lowered lashes. “Are you going to tell me what you were really thinking?”
“Are you going to tell me about your ink?”
I shake my head slowly, and he joins me, moving his head slowly back and forth while watching me with a soft smile on his full lips. The electricity between us is a living entity, crackling and popping. Can’t he feel it too? How could he miss it?
Finally, I stand and gather the empty pizza box and beer bottles and carry them into the house to the garbage. Dec follows me, but he’s a man of few words tonight.
He has something on his mind, but doesn’t trust me enough yet to talk it out. That hurts, just a little, but I understand it too. There’s still plenty I don’t want to talk about with him.
I turn to go back outside, and bump right into a solid six foot four inch wall of muscle.
“Sorry. I didn’t see you there.” I brace my hands on his arms to catch my balance and before I can back away, he reaches out and brushes his thumb over my lower lip.
“You have some pizza sauce here,” he says softly. But he doesn’t just wipe it away. Oh no, that would be too friend-like. Instead, he tucks his fingers under my chin, lifting my gaze a little higher, tilting my lips toward his. He’s leaning into me, and I’d bet all of the tea in China that he’s going to kiss me.
Please, God, kiss the fuck out of me.
His warm fingers are burning my skin, his hazel eyes holding on to mine. I couldn’t look away if I wanted to. When his lips are mere inches from mine, he pulls in a long, deep breath full of regret, and backs away with the exhale.
“You’d better go,” he says softly. I lick my lips and blink rapidly, as if I’m coming out of a trance.
Without a word, I walk past him, but before I can get out of the kitchen, he says, “Callie.”
I glance over my shoulder, cocking a brow.
“Thanks for today.” He smiles softly. His body is still tight with lust, and I want nothing more than to run back to him and fuck him, right there on the kitchen counter. Even if it is just a one-night stand.
Except, that’s not what I want. And that’s all he’d offer me.
Not good enough.
Instead, I nod once and walk out of the room, scoop up my handbag and beeline it to my car.
I don’t take a breath until I’m three blocks away.
“What in the hell just happened?”
Chapter Six
~Declan~
The door closes behind her, and it feels as if all the air in the room went with her. I lean my palms on the counter and drop my head. God, I’m such a fucking idiot. I should have kissed her. I should have boosted her up on the counter, sunk to my knees, and ate her out for about an hour, and then I should have fucked her for the rest of the night.
But what am I doing instead?
I’m missing her.
I sigh deeply as my phone rings in my pocket. I don’t want to talk to anybody. I should go in the music room and close up in there for the night. Playing soothes me.
But when I glance at the phone, it’s my baby sister Gabby.
“Hey, Gabs.”
“Hi Dec. I’m calling to invite you out for dinner on Sunday. We’re inviting the whole family. Y’all haven’t been out in a while, and Ailish is getting so big, and she misses you.”
“She’s an infant,” I reply, but can’t help but smile. “As long as she’s fed and dry, she doesn’t miss anyone.”
“Not true,” she says. “Say you’ll come.”
“I’ll come.”
“Good. Now tell me what’s wrong.”
I shake my head and pace the kitchen. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“Don’t lie to me, Declan Francis.”
“You sound like Mom.” I chuckle as I rinse a glass out and load it into the dishwasher.
“I’m a mom,” she reminds me. She’s the best fucking mother there is. Her son, Sam, is smart and funny, and has had me wrapped around his little finger since the day he was born nine years ago.
And little Ailish is the sweetest baby ever born. Gabby and Rhys did a good job there.
“Talk to me. Is this about Callie?”
“How do you know about Callie?” I ask and resume pacing the kitchen.
“Beau told me,” she says cheerfully. “He says you’re deeply in love and that we can expect you to elope any day now.”
“Beau is delusional, and we should get him medical help as soon as possible.”
Damn brother.
“I figure the truth is somewhere in the middle,” she says. She always was a smart girl.
“I like her,” I confess softly. “
I want her.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“I’m an idiot.”
“Duh.” I roll my eyes and try to figure out how much I want to tell her. But before I know it, I’ve told her everything, from the moment I told Callie I was taking her out to dinner, to the moment she walked out of my house not half an hour ago. Gabby is quiet the whole time, letting me tell the story.
“That’s it?” she asks.
“That’s it.”
“I really think you need to talk to her. Tell her how you’re feeling.”
“She’s decided that we’re friends, Gabs. And the thing is, she’s an awesome friend. I enjoy her. She’s smart, we laugh, we have a good time together.”
“But you want more.”
I take a deep breath. “I want more. I don’t know where it will lead, but I want more.” There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “Are you sniffling?”
“It’s just so great,” she says with tears in her voice. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever find anyone, and you have.”
“I’m not proposing.”
“No, but this is the first time I’ve ever heard you this smitten with anyone.”
“Men don’t get smitten.”
“Yes they do.”
“No. They don’t.”
“Hold on.” She doesn’t even bother to take the phone away from her mouth when she calls out to Rhys, her husband. “Babe! Declan says men don’t get smitten, but they do, right? That’s what I thought. Rhys is smitten with me,” she informs me.
“Of course he is. He wants to get laid tonight.” I laugh, only slightly uncomfortable at the thought of my baby sister having sex.
“My point is, just talk to her. Tell her how you feel. Maybe she feels the same way, but doesn’t want to tell you.”
“I’m scared,” I admit. “If I tell her I want more now, she could pull the rug out from under the whole thing, and then I lose her altogether.”
“You could lose her anyway,” she says softly. “But you never know if you don’t try.”
“Thanks, baby girl. I’ll see you on Sunday.”
“Bring Callie!”
“Too soon. Bye.”
I hang up before she can argue further and march into the music room.
I need to play.
***
Here goes nothing.
It’s still early in the evening, but it’s not a typical busy night, and I’m hoping I’ll be able to get Callie alone, even if it’s just for a few moments so I can talk to her. I don’t want to wait until later tonight to walk her to her car.
I walk in and sigh in relief. It’s slow in The Odyssey, with just a few tables occupied, and a couple of guys at the bar. The roof is closed, which tells me it’s been mellow all day.
Perfect.
As I walk toward the bar, I see Callie at the far end talking to a tall suit-type who’s handing her flowers.
“Oh, Pete, you didn’t have to do that.” She’s smiling as she buries her nose in the blooms.
“Well, dinner out just hasn’t worked out, so I decided to come to you.”
Who the fuck is this?
“We’ve both been busy,” Callie says as she shifts her gaze and finds me standing not far behind Flower Boy. Her eyes widen and her cheeks pinken. I stand firm, cross my arms over my chest, and watch unapologetically.
Mine.
“I know things ended between us a long time ago,” the dude continues, “but I’ve never forgotten you, Cal. Let me take you out, like old times.”
Fuck that.
“Callie,” I say, my voice calm but firm. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Adam can get you a drink. We’re having a conversation,” Pete says, obviously pissed at being interrupted.
I bet he’s been practicing his speech for a week.
“Now,” I say simply.
“I’ll be back,” she says to Pete, then walks around the bar and motions for me to follow her. As soon as we’re in her office, I close the door and move her against it, caging her in.
“Is he who you want, Callie?” I’m panting, adrenaline taking over. Callie’s blue eyes are wide and pinned to mine. She’s gripped on to my shirt over my ribs, holding on tightly. “Say he is, and I’ll leave right now.”
She blinks once, then again.
“That’s what I thought.” I plunge one hand into her soft hair, fist my hand in it and tilt her head back, and kiss her. Hard. She moans, long and deep, pulling me to her with those hands, and I’m lost in her. Our tongues explore each other, and then I nibble the corner of her mouth and kiss her softly. “I’m tired of trying to keep my hands off of you,” I murmur, my lips still against hers. She’s hitched one mile-long leg up around my hip, and my cock is hard and pulsing against her. “I know you just want the friend thing, but damn it, Calliope, I don’t.”
Her eyes widen, and when she would speak, I cut her off. “No, this is my turn to talk. If you want to waste your time with the douche with the flowers, fine, it’s none of my business, but I can’t watch it. I’m sorry, I can’t just hang back and be your friend when I want you so badly I can’t breathe. Yesterday was the best day and the worst, all at the same time because I had you with me, but I couldn’t touch you.”
“Declan—”
“I want to talk with you, learn you, lose myself in you. All of those things. And I don’t have any experience in that shit, but damn it, I want it with you. Because those little things, Callie? The talking as I walk you to your car, or laughing with you as we demo my house? Eating pizza on the porch? They aren’t little things to me. I’ve never done that with any other woman that I’m not related to by blood. I never wanted to.
“Until you, and it’s confused the hell out of me. All I want is a chance to start this over with you. We did it all backwards, and that’s on me. I get it. But damn it, let me try it again, because if you don’t, it’ll be the biggest regret of my life.”
Her mouth opens and closes, as though she doesn’t know what to say first. But finally she says, “Pete’s waiting.”
Well.
I guess I know where she stands.
I back away, untangle my hand from her hair and walk away, not looking back, through the bar and out into the dark evening.
I poured my heart out and she chose someone else.
Fuck.
***
The music is loud, but not loud enough to drown out my thoughts. Boy, did I blow it. I’m a grade-A asshole. I had the chance to have something really great with Callie, and I messed up so bad that all she sees when she looks at me is a friend, and she’s sweet on the moron with the flowers.
Probably because he’s nicer to her than I ever was. Although he looked pretty smarmy to me.
Not my problem.
I sigh and rub my hands over my face. It’ll be fine. It’s not like I don’t have plenty of women in my life that are more than willing to have a good time.
But I don’t have the need to confide in any of them. To listen to them talk about their day, or watch football with them.
No, they’re pretty much only around for one reason, and until a sassy blonde walked into my life, that was fine with me.
But now, it just doesn’t seem like enough.
The doorbell rings. I scowl and stay where I am, hoping they’ll go away. I’m definitely not in the mood for company.
But it rings again, and then again, and I can’t stand it anymore. I stomp through the foyer and yank the door open, shocked as fuck to see Callie standing on the other side.
“Hi,” she says softly.
“You’re working,” I reply, hating the cold in my voice.
“I left.”
I nod and watch her, not inviting her in. “What do you need?”
She winces and I immediately feel like an asshole. “I don’t need anything.” She shakes her head and frowns and I let my eyes rake up and down her. She’s in a ripped Metallica T-shirt and a denim skirt with the same bl
ack heels she wore to the football game.
I shouldn’t have looked.
“Can I come in?” she asks.
I push the door back and step aside, gesture for her to come in, then lead the way back to the sitting room I’d been crashed in when she arrived.
I turn the music off, bathing the room abruptly in silence.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“For what?”
“Earlier. Can I tell you what you saw?”
“I’m not slow, Callie. I know what I saw.”
“Look.” She squares her shoulders now and lifts her chin. There’s the girl I know. She’s determined, and I have a feeling I’m in for quite a show. “I know what you saw, but you don’t know how I feel about it.”
“How do you feel, Calliope?”
“Bulldozed,” she says and paces around the room. “I feel fucking bulldozed.”
God, she’s magnificent. The way her legs move as she walks, the strength in her arms, the determination on her face.
“Pete is an old boyfriend from high school. Until two weeks ago, I hadn’t seen him since I was eighteen. Now he suddenly thinks that we should get back together.”
My jaw tightens at the thought, but I don’t interrupt.
“He showed me two houses, and that was it. And I’m pretty sure one was involved in the slave trade.”
“Excuse me?” My voice is deceptively calm.
“He sells real estate,” she says, waving that aside as if it doesn’t matter. “He asked me out twice, and I didn’t go. And I don’t even know why I feel like I need to defend myself or explain myself to you, but damn it, I do. So I am.”
She turns to me now, her blue eyes on fire, and she’s never looked sexier.
“He shows up tonight and hands me flowers, and before I could say anything to him, there you were, in all your sexiness, and I was just… thrown.”
“What happened after I left?”
She bites her lip and looks down at her hands, but I catch her chin in my fingers and tilt her head up to look at me. “What happened, Callie?”
“I gave him back his flowers and said thank you, but I’m not interested in dating him.”
“Why?” I’m whispering now as hope surges through me. Her eyes drop to my mouth. “Why, baby?”
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