The Girl With Daisies (Midtown Brotherhood #3)

by Savannah Blevins

  “Penny!”

  Wincing, Penny shoved her foot back into her shoe before leaning out the open door of the bathroom. “What now, Betsy?”

  “What now?” Betsy came around the corner and stuck her entire head past the door frame to frown at her. “It’s three o’clock. You know exactly what’s now. Are you coming to watch the show or not?”

  Penny tried to suppress the smile that threatened to burst across her face. She failed. “You’re referring to it as a show now?”

  Betsy placed a hand on her hip, her greying hair with the red stripe down the side bounced at her shoulders. “What would you call it? It comes on every couple days at the same time? I tune in every week hoping to find out what’s going to happen next.”

  Penny rolled her eyes. “You know he has a name, right?”

  “Yes. That’s why I call it the Copley Show.” Betsy grabbed Penny by the hand and pulled her out of the bathroom.

  Penny followed her back out to the counter. The quaint little coffee and sandwich shop was quiet, the lunch rush hour gone. Only a few stray customers remained behind, and they were busy with their own business of reading or chatting on the phone. Penny and Betsy took their normal viewing spots behind the cash register because it gave them the perfect angle out the front window to see the street. Betsy was right. This had become their afternoon routine. It was absolutely, without a doubt, ridiculous.

  Yet…Penny waited. She waited, fingers twisted around the hem of her shirt, watching the corner of Becker street like a fountain of gold would spring forth from the sewer drain at any moment. Callen Copley would be there shortly. He’d turn the corner, jogging at a steady pace, a hoodie pulled up to cover his silky, coal black hair, with a pair of ear buds in his ears. His lips would move, singing along to whatever song played through the speakers. Always so focused. Those chocolate brown eyes would remain directed forward, narrowed toward whatever goal he pursued.

  At least, that had been the winter show, and it was nice. Penny could always count on it to brighten her day and kick start her adrenaline. Callen Copley was a different kind of gorgeous. He had this quiet confidence that left her stumbling for words. However, the new spring weather had caused a deviation in the normal routine. In the spring edition of the Copley show, there was no hoodie. There wasn’t a shirt at all.

  Penny really liked the new spring edition. It had abs of steel.

  Betsy started tapping her fingers across the edge of the counter. “There he is,” she said in a singsong voice, full of amusement.

  There Callen Copley was indeed.

  A pair of team issued athletic shorts that molded against his muscular frame. A backward hat that failed to tame the unruly black hair that peeked out around the edges. The black metal lip ring in his bottom lip that he tugged between his teeth as he focused on that last grueling mile.

  Unspeakable. That was the kind of sex appeal that boy had. If you tried to put it into words, it would burn your tongue. Callen glanced in the direction of the shop. He always did that, and every single time it caused a shy smile to creep across her face.

  Penny’s gaze dropped to the numbers on the cash register.

  Guilt consumed her.

  No, it ate at her. It gnawed at the fibers of her soul until it caused her to fall all the way back against the wall behind her. As if she didn’t want Callen to see her there. It had been the goal when she scouted out the Bistro job last year. She’d chosen it specifically because of who she saw walk through that door every day. It wasn’t necessarily Callen she’d been hoping to catch a moment with, but since Henrik and Austin moved out of the neighborhood, Callen was her last shot at gaining the insight she needed.

  Penny gritted her teeth at the thought. She didn’t want to use Callen Copley. He was too nice to be used. Too sexy to be discarded and forgotten about later.

  It was her only choice, though. She had to find out the truth. Manipulating sweet, kind hearted Callen Copley was merely a means to an end. An end she had to achieve for the sake of her own sanity.

  It didn’t mean she felt good about it.

  She hated herself for it, and she hadn’t even done it yet.

  Betsy leaned a little further across the counter as Callen jogged in his shirtless glory down the street in front of the store. In twenty minutes, he’d be back. He’d make a loop somewhere and come back to the Bistro, where he’d stop in and chat while he picked up a bottle of water and a salad. Penny hadn’t had any kind of real conversation with Callen yet, but she was at the point that she could, if she wanted to do it. She knew his regular order by heart. They had an official buyer/provider relationship, and that meant casual pleasantries could be exchanged.

  It didn’t mean she could interrogate him.

  That would take time.

  Betsy leaned over the counter, her feet off the floor, watching as the last view of Callen’s spectacular backside disappeared out of sight. Penny had twenty minutes to get her act together. To get her head straight before Callen waltzed in the shop with those big brown eyes shimmering at her in that way that made her forget everything she wanted except him. She couldn’t allow this physical attraction…this preoccupation with the kindness of her target to blind her to the goal she came to New York to achieve.

  Her time ran short. It slipped away, second by the second, like sand through her fingers. She’d have to leave New York soon. She couldn’t continue to live her life in this limbo of the unknown. If she didn’t leave soon, Angel would find her. She always found her when she stayed in one place for too long. Penny had to either complete her task, or leave town and forget it.

  Penny bit her lip, her palms clammy. She’d never be able to forget about the reason that brought her to Midtown. So there was only one option left. And he’d be walking through that door in twenty minutes. “Hey, Betsy. Do you mind if I take my break now?”

  Betsy stood back up, fanning herself. “No problem. I need one next, and maybe a cigarette after that.”

  Penny disappeared into the break room and found a nice quiet place to sit. She took off her heels and curled her feet underneath her in the chair. She played anxiously with the end of one of her long blonde braids. She closed her eyes and focused. Her heart already started to beat wildly in her chest. She couldn’t let herself think about what she needed to do. She sat there in the silence, nothing but the buzz from the vending machine echoing in her thoughts. Penny concentrated, keeping her mind mute, allowing her breathing to slow and steady.

  Finally, when no unwanted thoughts entered her mind, she pictured a garden. The garden overflowed with lush green plants. Vines grew wildly up toward the sun. Daisies tapered along the edge, trying to sneak their way into the fertile soil. This place of peace and sincerity was familiar to Penny. The garden she pictured was her childhood sanctuary. She spent countless early mornings tilling the soil, watering the budding blooms, and checking each plant for the perfect time to harvest its bounty. This place kept her sane in a life of chaos.

  In moments like now, when her nerves and insecurities threatened to burst to the surface, she allowed herself to return there.

  The bell above the door dinged, and Penny’s eyes popped opened. No other noise followed it. No voices of a couple chatting about their day. No businessman discussing his latest deal. There was nothing but silence. It had to be Callen.

  Penny slipped on her shoes and moved over to stand at the break room door to listen. Still nothing. She moved into the hallway and through the kitchen to peek around the corner. It was him.

  For all things holy and corrupt, it was him.

  He’d at least put on a shirt. A fitted piece of gray cotton that gracefully hinted at everything she already recalled in happy memories. She suddenly wondered if her grandmother’s garden was still her most desired happy place, replaced now by that street corner on Callen Copley’s jogging route.

  “What can I get you?” Betsy asked in a sultry tone that wasn’t acceptable in any form or fashion when taking someone’s
order.

  Callen pulled the lip ring in his mouth as he stared at the menu board. Penny took a deep breath then stepped around the corner. It was time. Now or never. “Water, Greek salad with dressing on the side, right?”

  He glanced over, and she shot him her best megawatt smile then crossed her arms as she leaned against the door frame.

  “Go ahead, tell me I’m right.”

  At least she sounded calm and collected. She wasn’t. Not even a little bit.

  His smile was slow, but powerful. He inched a little closer to the counter. “I do believe you’ve cracked my code.”

  Betsy glanced back and forth between them, her amusement growing with every second. Yes, Betsy noticed the same thing she did. Callen evaluated her. It wasn’t sexual, but rather honest intrigue. “I’ll go make your salad,” Betsy said to him. “Penny here can ring you up.”

  Penny moved over to the cash register, and Callen pulled out his wallet. He handed the money to her. He looked as if an internal battled erupted inside of him and he couldn’t figure out what side he was on. Suddenly, he looked up at her and smiled. “Penny, huh? Is that short for something?”

  She shoved the bills into the drawer and picked out change before handing it back to him. “No. It’s just Penny.” She took another breath. “You know, like you’re just Callen.”

  His gaze shot up from his wallet. “How do you know that?”

  Penny snorted and pointed at the television in the corner. “I work the late shift most nights. It’s hard to miss your face flashing across the screen every other minute.”

  “Ah.” He nodded like that made sense.

  It was a lie. She knew his name before she even applied for the job. He didn’t need to know that, though. Not ever. Right now she needed to worry about keeping the dialogue she started with him going. She leaned her elbow on the counter while she waited for Betsy to return with his food. “That lip ring is different, though. You definitely don’t wear that during games.”

  He laughed a little. “That’s me…different.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I like it.”

  Penny’s knees gave at the blush that crept up in his cheeks. She didn’t realize guys even did that. Callen did, and she really liked it.

  “Thanks,” he said softly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I like your braids. That looks really complicated.”

  Penny self-consciously touched the end of her hair that hung over her shoulder. “That’s me…complicated.”

  He laughed. It was rich and deep this time. He held up his hands apologetically. “I didn’t mean it like that. I like it.”

  Penny giggled. It was a small, tiny hint of a laugh that simply said…say more.

  This would be so much harder than she anticipated. Faking a crush on Callen Copley and using him was one thing. But an actual crush. One that caused her stomach to flutter and common sense to go fuzzy. She didn’t know if she could actually like him and still go through with this plan.

  “Here you go,” Betsy announced, dancing up to the counter to hand over his order.

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Betsy narrowed her eyes at him. “Do I look old enough to be called ma’am to you?”

  Callen’s eyes rounded, and he glanced at Penny for help. Penny sighed, happy for the intervention. She shrugged at Callen and smiled. “You’re on your own.”

  Callen took in a breath as if preparing for a challenge. He stepped close to the counter and grinned at Betsy. Penny’s co-worker was definitely old enough to be a ma’am. Heck, she was old enough to be Callen’s grandmother. It didn’t stop him from changing his smile from polite to seductive with one tiny twist of his lips. “Yes,” he said simply. “But that’s okay, because I like my women older.” Then he winked at her.

  Betsy’s annoyance melted like a popsicle in the Sahara. Then she gave him one of those aw shucks laughs. “You better behave, young man, or this old bird will teach you a new thing or two.”

  “I bet you would.” His smile turned back to its usual sweet self. “Thanks for the salad.”

  Betsy set her chin in both of her palms as she gazed appreciatively at him. “My pleasure.”

  Penny immediately stepped closer to him to try and regain his attention. “I look forward to your game tomorrow,” she said quickly before he could leave.

  Callen deflated a little, but then smiled. It was forced this time. “I’m glad someone is.”

  Penny cocked her head to the side. That was different. She’d never seen his confidence vanish like that before. “What do you mean?”

  He quickly shook it off and threw back on a smile. This time it was fake. “Ah, nothing.” He held up his bag of food. “Same time on Thursday?”

  Penny tried to match his grin. “I’ll be here.”

  Callen nodded. “See you ladies soon.”

  He quickly disappeared out the door and down the street toward his apartment which was less than a block away. Penny watched him, cemented in place, replaying that look on his face over again.

  Why wouldn’t he be excited about his hockey game?

  It shouldn’t matter, except that it did. That uncertain look on his face didn’t suit him. She was curious now. Involved. She was exactly where she didn’t need to be.

  Chapter Three

  CALLEN’S STAT SHEET

  Callen glared at the piece of white paper sitting in his locker. He wondered if anyone would notice if he set the damn thing on fire. The sheet held his list of stats for the past ten games. One of the trainers had delivered it to him. It was a message.

  A very loud and clear message.

  His coach wanted him to look at the paper and be reminded of the things he already knew to be true. Callen was in a slump. A horrible slump, at that. He hadn’t gotten a single point in almost ten games. He wasn’t a defenseman. That sort of thing wasn’t acceptable for him. He was a forward, specifically one chosen for this team because he was goal scorer. They paid him a lot of money to put the puck in the back of the net.

  He folded the paper and stuck it in his gym bag. He didn’t need to see the zeros by his name. He knew they were there. They haunted him every shift. It had been heavy on his mind lately.

  “Hey, Cali.” Austin strutted in the locker room, pulling his ear buds out before throwing his bag down on the floor. “What’s with the face?”

  Callen scowled as he stripped off his suit jacket and threw it haphazardly into his locker instead of hanging it up. “What face? This is the same face I have every day.”

  Austin laughed, glancing over at him. “Somebody is in a mood.”

  Callen shoved his shoes into the locker. “I’m not in a mood.”

  Austin leaned over and pressed his finger on the giant grumpy crease between Callen’s eyebrows. “You look like that cat everyone shares online that hates everybody.”

  Callen knocked his hand away. “I’m not a grumpy cat, and I’m not in a mood.”

  Except he was in a mood. A horrible mood. Not only was his coach watching his every move, making sure he actually started contributing to this team again, but she would be watching him too.

  Penny.

  She would be working tonight, that wretched TV in the Bistro would be turned to the game, and she would get the glorious pleasure of watching him suck it up for an eleventh game in a row. He’d finally talked to her. They had a conversation that didn’t involve his food. And the best part—he didn’t puke on her shoes.

  In fact, he hadn’t felt nauseated, anxious, or anything at all except pure joy at the fact that he finally talked to her. After setting himself the personal goal, he thought for sure it would take weeks for him to build up the courage, or rather the simple ability to speak. He’d done it. The ice between them officially broken. But now, that confidence high he’d ridden the previous night and hoped to capitalize on tonight during the game shattered.

  Knowing that zero-ridden stat sheet sat in his bag ate at him. It chipped away at his confidence. Once the anxiety
hit him, it took hours for him to work himself down from the frenzy. His coach couldn’t have picked a worse time to point out his disappointment. Now, instead of skating out on that ice with his head high, with the plan to use his good mood to swing luck back his direction, his chest would be tight and restricted. His thoughts would be messy and chaotic. He would dwell. When he should be focused on the game, waiting for his next shift, he’d still be thinking about the sheet of paper.

  He didn’t want Penny to see that. He didn’t want anyone to see that. They would, though. The whole world would see it, and it made it worse.

  Austin took the stretchy shirt he wore under his pads, twirled it around into a knot, and flipped it, causing it to snap on Callen’s hip. “Spill it. You’re turning funny colors again.”

  Callen shook his head, trying to keep his breathing calm and in rhythm. “I told you I’m fine. I’m just eager to get on the ice. I need to have a good game.”

  “You will.” Austin grabbed his arm, catching his attention. “Relax. Let the game come to you.”

  How did Austin know he wasn’t relaxed?

  Then Callen noticed the death grip he had on the locker in front of him. “Relax,” Austin said again. Then he pried his fingers off the locker. “Let’s get dressed and go warm up.”

  Callen got ready and followed behind him. His heartrate hitched up another notch. He knew that instant. The very moment his feet hit the ice that it would be his worst game yet. And he was right. He only got five shots on goal. Three of which hit the post, and the others didn’t even come close. Zero points. No assists. No hits. Nothing.