Pensive? “I-” I stop, not sure what I want to say. As I work through my thoughts, my mouth opens and closes like a fish, but no words follow.
Cautiously, Calla carries our plates to the table, placing one in front of me and the other in front of her chair.
“Calla, last night….” I start.
She cuts me off. “I'm sorry, Wes. It won't happen again. I shouldn't have….”
I’m flabbergasted and stop at her words. She won’t let it happen again? She shouldn’t have what?
“That's not what I was about to say,” I grumble before taking a bite of my sandwich.
“We're just friends. You've told me that many times before. We need to keep it professional. Got it.” She drops her eyes and eats her breakfast.
Without saying a word, I pick up my half-eaten sandwich and walk out, leaving her alone at the table. What the fuck just happened?
Calla
After my spectacular discussion with Wes, I have to get out of my loft. Hell, I have to get out of my own head, but that is going to be difficult. I just freaked the fuck out on the man I’ve wanted for years. I really do have issues.
Images of Wes touching my body, and the pure ecstasy he provided, won’t go away, even as I pound the pavement. I need a change in routine, especially since Wes isn’t running with me today. Heading north toward Trey's apartment and the capitol building, I try to clear my mind. The two-mile jog lets me zone out while the music from my smartphone pounds in my ears. As the tempo rises and falls, so does my pace. Rounding the corner of the capitol building, I slow my pace so I can make a call.
The phone rings three times before he answers.
“Hey, Darlin’! What’s up?”
“Trey, can you meet me at the café around the corner from your place?”
“Give me ten minutes.”
“See you then,” I tell him and disconnect.
The music starts again, and I pick up my pace, running faster than I had been. Turning up the street, I find Trey sitting outside the café with a drink in each hand.
“Alright, Darlin’ what happened? You sounded flustered.” He sips his drink and passes the other to me.
“I slept with Wes,” I deadpan.
Trey spits out his coffee and takes a seat, his face going pale. I let him have a minute before I go on and take the chair next to him. Before attempting to explain everything that happened after leaving Belladonna last night, I taste my drink.
“I don’t think I heard you right. Did you just say you slept with Wes?”
“Yep.”
“Why are you here with me and not home with him?” He sips his coffee and studies me, and I swear he can see right through me.
“Because I said some things that pissed him off... because I didn’t want him to say them first.”
“That was stupid. So what do you want, Darlin’?”
“Not to get hurt again.” I rub the rim of the paper cup, not willing to make eye contact with him.
Trey reaches over, grabbing my hand and squeezing it. I glance up at him.
“There’s no way to know if he’ll hurt you or not. But, Darlin’, you have to take the chance with someone. ‘Cause let’s face it, you’re not happy alone.”
“You’re right. Thanks, Trey.” I push back my chair and stand as Trey does the same.
Before turning to head in the opposite direction, I lean toward Trey and wrap my arms around him in a tight hug.
When I finally make it back home, Wes is nowhere to be found. I kick off my shoes and pull off clothing while I stroll down the hall to my room, not seeing a need to close the door all the way.
Wes
When I return to the loft, I head straight for Calla’s room. Her door is slightly ajar as if Baggie pushed it open. From my position, I can see Baggie sprawled on her bed. In the distance, I hear running water shut off. Wrapped in a towel, Calla walks into her room, headed for the jeans and t-shirt laying on the bed. I raise my hand to knock when her phone rings, and she answers it.
“Hello, Caleb.” She pulls on her jeans, moving the phone away from her ear while she unwraps the wet towel off her hair, and lightly pats it dry. “I don't think we have anything to talk about.”
I scoot away from her door as to not eavesdrop so easily, and wait for Calla to get off the phone. There is silence, and I guess Caleb responds.
“I guess I can meet you there.”
Calla says her goodbyes, and a door slams. I knock once and wait a second or two, but she doesn’t respond, so I move away, fuming. Why the fuck is she meeting Caleb? And where the fuck are they meeting? She won’t even talk to me. God damn it! Once I’m back in my room, I quickly shower, dress, and grab the few things I need for the day. I step out of my room and head toward the front door.
“Wes,” Calla squeaks.
I stop and look back at her. The contrite expression on her face says it all, and I throw my hands in the air. I turn away and hastily pick up my pace. I slam the front door as I walk out, unable to have the conversation I need to have with her. How could she go meet with Caleb after what we did last night? Does she want that with him now?
I stand in the flower shop discussing what I want to buy with the clerk. I ask if they have calla lilies. They do, so the shop owner shows me all the different types to choose from. I buy a dozen multi-colored calla lilies and schedule them to be delivered.
Chapter 28
Calla
I open Belladonna’s heavy back door cautiously. Every eye in the kitchen is staring as I get my bearings and walk through the doorway. Even from the other side of the room, I can sense Wes’s eyes boring into me. He fumes, unable to contain his anger. Considering the man already stormed out on me twice today, I have no patience for him right now. Besides, I’m not willing to let him fuck up my good mood. My meeting with Caleb was not what I was expecting, but it’s an offer I can’t pass up. I had planned on talking with the guys about it when I came in, but now I just want to say, “Fuck you!” to Wes, and that’s not how this discussion should go.
After last night, or rather this morning, I wouldn’t have expected Wes to act like such an ass. I guess it goes to show that you never truly know a person. Hell, you’d think I would have learned that lesson with Torrance, but it seems that I’m a glutton for punishment. Or maybe I’m just naive. Fuck that. No pity party. The sex was fucking amazing, but if that’s all he wants, then fuck him. I don’t need that shit. Not now.
I roll my eyes and glance over at Trey, who just shrugs as I step into the office and put my things down on my desk. I quickly check to make sure nothing needs to be ordered and make a couple of calls before heading back into the kitchen. I get right to work as we prep for the first wave of orders that have come back. I don’t know what happened before I arrived, but the intense pressure of the staffs’ eyes on me makes me feel like I have a bullseye on my back. I try my best to ignore it, but it's not easy.
“Are the brussels sprouts in the walk-in, or do one of you fuckers have them?” I growl, glancing up from the order in front of me.
“Walk-in,” someone calls out.
I head for the the fridge, not paying much attention to my surroundings as I open the metal door and step in.
“What the fuck, Calla?” Wes’s voice is rough. “Why did you even meet with him?” His arms are crossed over his chest, and his stance says all sorts of, “Don’t fuck with me.”
I’m taken aback, not sure how to respond to his defensiveness.
“I can't believe you'd be that stupid after what you saw last night with him.” His eyes narrow on me, and all I want to do is punch him for calling me stupid and giving me this attitude.
I take a deep breath so I won’t actually punch him in the balls. He fucking knows I never take this shit. “Whatever you think I’m doing, you’re fucking wrong! Not that it’s any of your business.”
I grab the veggies and push open the door.
“Why go see him then?” he yells. He grabs my arm, startl
ing me, and from the expressions on the staffs’ faces, he surprises them as well. All food prep stops as they all focus on us.
“Let go, and get the fuck out of my way.” My voice drops, and to my ears at least, it sounds menacing.
I pull on my arm to get out of Wes’s tight grip, but I can’t break his hold, and he isn’t budging. Now, I really do want to punch him, and I would if he didn’t have my better punching arm in his firm grip. Hell, I don’t even have room to deliver a roundhouse kick to him. I fight back the tears that threaten to form in my eyes. Ben would be so disappointed in me right now. Not to mention how pissed he’s going to be at Wes.
We keep glaring at each other, neither one of us backing down. I wasn’t expecting this after we slept together. God, can I fucking pick them? Something must be really fucked up with me, because I tend to see guys as something they’re not. Not that I would’ve ever pictured this reaction from Wes. He’s normally the laid back, don’t give a fuck one out of everyone I know. Even with his Dom tendencies.
More and more servers come back checking on orders. Order tickets are spilling out of the machines, and the kitchen is getting in the weeds. Which means we will have a lot of fucking mistakes while we try to catch up if we aren’t careful. Trey and Forest stalk toward us.
“Can we do this later?” Trey slaps his hand on Wes’s shoulder. “Let go of her.”
Wes faces him, and Trey quickly removes his hand. Not that I blame him. The expression on Wes’s face makes me think he might rip his hand off.
“Stay out of this Trey,” Wes growls.
“Do this after work.” Trey stands with his arms folded, staring Wes down. “I mean it, man. Let go of her.”
Wes finally lets go, and Forest pulls me around Trey. He hugs me while he walks me back to my station. Trey holds out his hand toward Wes's station, and Wes heads in that direction. A little order returns to the kitchen as we all get back to work. But I’m left shaking. My nerves are shot, and my good mood is completely gone. The fact that my hand is shaking, and I can’t fucking cut the brussels sprouts, is not helping me settle down, either. Suddenly, a loud crash fills the room, and curses stream from Wes's station.
“Motherfucker! Son-of-a-bitch! Damn it all to hell!” he roars out.
I glance over my shoulder to see he’s spilled whatever he was working on. It’s a fucking mess, and honestly, I couldn’t fucking care less. He glares at me, mumbling more curse words. I really want to scream at him, but I don’t have the time. We’re in the weeds because of his issues. I normally prefer a clean kitchen, and usually would yell at him to clean that shit up, but I’m not in the mood to say a damn thing to him. Hell, if I didn’t really need him here tonight, I’d tell him to get the fuck out of my kitchen.
“This is going to be lovely,” I grumble under my breath, but loud enough that both Trey and Wes hear.
A deep growl emanates from Wes as Adam darts through the door.
“Whore.” Wes slams his pot down on his station.
“That's the pot calling the kettle black. You're such a child,” I retort, slamming my knife down.
The muscles in Trey’s neck tense, and he sets down his own knife.
“Both of you knock it off,” Adam admonishes. “The patrons can hear you. Damn, get over it! Nessa’s not here, and I don’t need this shit tonight!” Exasperated, Adam stomps back out of the kitchen.
The tension in the room keeps the staff on edge. No one speaks above a whisper, leaving an awkward, unsettling silence filling the kitchen. It’s like they are waiting for Wes and me to lose our cool and start fighting again. Even the wait staff are cautious not to say anything when they enter the kitchen, their conversations always stopping when they push through the door. I try to ignore the issue and keep my head down, paying attention only to the foods I’m preparing, until it's time to clean the kitchen.
When dinner ends, and only a few patrons remain in the dining room, we start cleaning. We’ve sent many of the staff home already, so there are maybe eight of us remaining to finish up. I’m scrubbing down my station when Wes stalks over. I glance around, trying to gage where everyone else is standing in case this gets ugly again. Trey watches intently as he cleans his own station. Forest looks up from rolling out dough, and pots and pans stop clanging in the background.
“So that's how it is then? Have sex with me and run to that asshole, Caleb?” Wes leans against the counter, facing Trey's direction.
I stop cleaning, toss my rag on the counter, and cross my arms over my chest. All eyes are focused on us, including Adam’s as he returns to the kitchen.
“What the hell? You slept together?” Adam huffs, placing his hands on his hips. “Why the fuck didn't you say that when you came over today?”
I don’t give Wes time to respond.
“It's not like that.” I inch closer to Wes, and he steps away, not letting me near him. “And if you didn’t fucking jump to conclusions and storm out, you’d know what actually happened.”
“We fucked. You said it wouldn’t happen again. That it shouldn’t happen again. Then you went out to meet Caleb. I’m pretty sure I can figure shit out.”
“You left the table without a word! And when I got back from meeting Trey, you were gone.”
“So, instead of hanging around and talking to me, you run off to blab to Trey then you go and meet up with Caleb. After you saw him and Max making out with their hostess! Really? That’s a fucking step down. But if you want to be treated like a toy, by all means,” Wes continues his rant.
“Wes, knock it off. You are the one who pushed her the hardest to go out. You wanted her to get laid in order to get over Torrance, so you could have her free and clear,” Trey reminds him. I glance over my shoulder to find him on this side of his now-clean station.
Wes’s eyes flick to Trey, and a shocked expression crosses his face. Adam tosses his hands up, shakes his head, and stalks out of the kitchen. I look back and forth between them while comprehension sets in. I’m guessing I wasn’t supposed to know that last part.
“Stay out of this, Trey. You don't know-” Wes quickly composes himself. He tries to recover when Trey cuts him off.
“No! You love her, asshole.”
Tears fill my eyes as Trey drifts closer, wraps his arm over my shoulder, and pulls me into a side-hug in comfort.
“Stop that,” Wes snaps at both of us.
“Fuck you!” I’m glaring daggers at him.
“I already did, sweetheart,” he quips.
Trey stiffens, and my attention is diverted for a second as Adam walks back into the kitchen, followed by Caleb. Wes notices my distraction and turns to see who has entered. A spark flashes again in his eyes, and he rounds back on me.
“Look who's come to join the party.” He narrows his eyes at me.
Lightly, I tap Trey's arm, and he lets me go. I straighten, wiping the tears from my eyes.
“What's going on?” Caleb asks Adam in a hushed voice.
Adam turns to look at him as if he is stupid.
“We’re discussing you, motherfucker. You think you can have Calla and your bitchy hostess at the same time? You’re out of your fucking mind! She deserves better than being shared between you and Max!”
Caleb is stunned and a little tongue-tied. His expressions run the gamut of “what the fuck,” and a whole lot of pissed off. Though, I’m not sure whether they’re directed at me or Wes.
“What did I…?” Caleb starts. It looks like he’s still trying to process what he’s walked in on.
“You're not good enough for her.” Wes points over to me, and I shake my head.
Wes glares back at Caleb, and I can see the gears turning in his head. I doubt whatever he’s about to say is going to help this situation. I step forward, reaching for Wes and trying to get him to listen. But he retreats, making sure I can't touch him. Caleb intently watches Wes, and makes his move.
“Can't handle the heat? Then get out of the kitchen.” Caleb’s eyebrow rises in challenge
.
Fuck me. How does a simple request to help cook for a fundraiser turn into who has the bigger dick? I toss up my hands as everyone else in the room turns to look at Caleb, surprise and shock crossing their faces.
Wes's whole body vibrates in fury. He hits my counter, slamming his hand down so hard it breaks some of the dishes underneath as it rattles. Then he storms out before he can break anything else. Except, of course, my heart. The fact that he’s one of my best friends, and he thinks I’d jump straight from his bed to Caleb’s speaks volumes. And... it makes me wonder if I could actually have had a real relationship with him at all. Stupid me, I reach for him, but I don't get far. Trey wraps his arms around my waist, not letting me get anywhere close to Wes.
“Darlin’, he needs to cool off,” Trey whispers in my ear.
“Caleb, man, I think it's time for you to leave.” Adam gestures for him to leave the kitchen. “Whatever you came to talk to Calla about can wait.” He follows Caleb out.
I turn in to Trey when the sobs begin to burst out of me. Unable to continue standing, I slide down to the floor, bawling and grabbing my chest as the panic attack hits me full force.
“Caleb only asked me to meet with him to see if we could help with a fundraiser,” I finally choke out while more tears fall.
“Well, fuck,” both Trey and Forest grumble.
Wes
I stalk to my truck. I can’t believe I let that motherfucker get the best of me. I hit the unlock button on my key fob then climb into the cab and hit the steering wheel with my palm. I have to get the fuck out of here. My brain shifts to autopilot as I start the truck and drive off.
Fifty different things cross my mind as I drive to Calla’s, but I can’t focus on any of them. Except the fact I let that son-of-a-bitch get the better of me. I didn’t even give her a chance to tell me what really happened.
Fuck!
When I get to her place, I park and take the stairs all the way up to her floor. I’m in need of an outlet for my anger. Baggie meets me at the door of the loft.
Calla's Kitchen Page 19
