Lately, though, business had slowed due to the depressed oil price, and he and Beau had been increasingly concerned that they might have to actually lay off staff. Their business would survive, but their rapid growth had slowed.
Cash knew Beau was stressed about that. Hell, he was, too. He had his own reasons for wanting the business to succeed. He’d come into this partnership with so much less than his friend—no money, no connections, and without Beau’s easy charm and charisma. From the start, he’d worked hard to bring in new contracts to prove he was Beau’s equal. He wasn’t sure anymore what Beau’s reasons were; he didn’t have to work for money, given his parents’ wealth, and he had the Sutherland family connections behind him due to his marriage to Callie. At times he wondered if Beau was more interested in status and the appearance of success than in actually building something that mattered. But despite their separate reasons, they each wanted Talmadge Hale Consulting to succeed.
They were also working on a bid for the big project he’d been telling his mom about, to build a new substation at one of the Sutherland Industries oil refineries. This was the largest project they’d ever bid on, and Cash was painfully aware that it was Callie’s family they’d be dealing with. He was also painfully aware that they really needed this job.
He still had two meetings and a shit-ton of work to do. Hence the plan to be working on a Friday night.
Now he was escorting Callie to the gala and then taking her tomorrow to get her tattoo. Christ. He rubbed his tight forehead. He was supposed to be staying away from her. What the hell had he been thinking, offering to go to this event with her?
They were just friends. Nothing more.
So maybe it was a little weird that they were still friends, since he was Callie’s ex-husband’s friend. But it wasn’t weird that he felt protective of her and believed that someone should be looking out for her after Beau screwed her over.
He focused his attention on work, attending the meetings, grabbing a sandwich to eat at his desk at noon, spending the afternoon at his computer working on the Sutherland Industries refinery bid—goals, deliverables, time frames, and budgets. A couple of engineers stopped by his office late afternoon and interrupted his concentration.
“Hey, Cash. It’s nearly five o’clock and it’s Friday. We’re heading over to Bar None for happy hour. Come on, man.”
“Jesus, it’s five already?” Cash straightened. Damn. He had to get his ass home and into his tux. “Sorry, guys. Got a date tonight. I have to head home and change.”
“Who’s the date?” Brent asked. “Is she hot?”
Jose grinned. “That last chick you dated was hotter than a freshly fucked fox in a forest fire.”
Jesus. He rolled his lips in to keep from laughing at his employee’s inappropriate comment. Damned if he could even remember who his last date was.
“Okay, it’s not really a date. I’m going to some charity thing with Callie.”
They both stared at him. “Callie Talmadge?”
“Callie Sutherland.” She’d gone back to her maiden name. “But yeah.” He shrugged as he ejected the USB drive and popped it into his briefcase with a bunch of files. “She needed an escort so I offered to go with her.”
“Oh. Uh. Okay.”
“We’re still friends,” he explained, keeping his tone light. Cash grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair and made a face. “I gotta go dust off my tux.”
He walked to the elevator and rode down with them. Brent and Jose got out on the main floor. “You guys have a good weekend.”
“Yeah, you, too, Cash.”
The elevator continued to the underground parking garage, where he’d left his truck. He zoomed out onto the West Loop moments later. Traffic on Memorial was insane and had him smacking his steering wheel more than once. Finally he was at his condo. It wasn’t that far from Callie’s house, and the country club wasn’t far, either, as long as traffic cooperated, but they were never going to make it there by six.
He stripped off his clothes, pausing to rub his jaw in front of the mirror, debating a clean-shaven look for tonight. Nah, no time. The stubble would have to do.
With an eye on the alarm clock next to the bed, he quickly dressed in the tux he pulled from the back of the walk-in closet, fiddling with his goddamn cuff links. He shoved his feet into his best black Lucchese boots, grabbed his wallet and keys, and headed to the door.
Soon he was at Callie’s, ringing the bell. The door swung open right away, as if she’d been watching for him, which she probably had since he was late.
“Hi!” She eyed him. “You look great.”
“Thanks. Uh, you, too.” That was an understatement. She looked fucking edible in a short purple beaded dress, her long dark hair in loose waves around her face. His hands itched to reach for her, and he curled his fingers around his keys until they dug into his skin painfully, clamping down on a hot surge of need. “Sorry I’m late. We should get going.”
“Oh, come in for a minute.” She stepped back. “We can be fashionably late.”
Yeah, he had never fully understood the rules about punctuality and fashionable lateness. In his mind, when you were supposed to be there at six, you were there at six. Sometimes that was required, like at a theater event, and sometimes showing up right on time made you look like a dork. But he trusted Callie’s judgment when it came to things like that.
He followed her into the kitchen, his gaze dropping to the back of her dress where the neckline curved down low on her spine and the tight skirt hugged her ass, then lower to her bare legs in strappy high-heeled sandals. He swallowed and tugged at his tie.
She sauntered over to unplug her cell phone. The island was covered with boxes and a couple of cake stands holding layer cakes covered with glass domes.
“You’ve been busy.”
Callie grimaced and shoved her phone into a black satin purse. “Yes.” She tucked the purse under her arm and picked up a big box. “Here. These are for you.”
Seriously, she was trying to give him a heart attack. “Will they be okay in the truck while we’re inside?”
Her forehead creased. “No. You’re right. We’ll just leave them here, and you can pick them up when you bring me home.”
“Sounds good.”
“Want a drink?” She lifted a bottle of Maker’s Mark.
He spotted the glass on the counter with a trace of amber liquid in the bottom and a smudge of pink lipstick on the edge. Apparently she’d already had one. “No thanks. I’ll wait till we’re there.”
She shrugged and splashed some bourbon into the glass. “Okay.” She tossed back the contents of the glass and clinked it down on the marble. “Let’s go.”
He grinned. “Liquid courage, darlin’?”
Her smile was luminous. “Maybe.”
He pulled up in front of the country club and climbed out of his Ford truck. At one time he might have been embarrassed at his unpretentious ride, compared to the luxury vehicles others were arriving in, but hell, now he had more than enough money to drive an Escalade if that was what he wanted. He just didn’t choose to, and anyone who’d look down their nose at him for that didn’t matter to him. He left his door open for the valet, who climbed in to take the vehicle and park it.
He set his hand on the small of Callie’s back as they entered the country club. She immediately saw people she knew and began the ritual of exchanging air kisses and compliments and “How’s your mama?”s. Cash shook hands as she introduced him. Then he ran into a client and made introductions. As he gave Callie’s name, it occurred to him how bizarre it was that he was introducing his business partner’s ex-wife, and this client had no idea who she was.
They made their way toward an area where wineglasses hung from the ceiling, sparkling glass flutes suspended with multicolored ribbons. For a donation, they got to choose a glass and have it filled with champagne. Callie started to open her purse, but he waved her away and handed over some bills.
Callie gazed up at the various glasses before finally selecting one. Cash just motioned to the nearest one. With full glasses in their hands, they turned to each other, alone in the crowd for a moment. He lifted his glass and touched the rim gently to hers. “Cheers.”
She met his eyes as she sipped. “Thanks for doing this, Cash. We don’t have to stay long.”
“Well, we’re not leaving before we’ve had food. And it better be good.”
Her lips twitched at his teasing. “Okay then.”
They followed a saxophone player who led the guests to a bourbon bar, where they switched from champagne to spirits. There, Callie ran into Manon, who greeted her with more hugs and kisses. Cash watched Callie as they chatted, Manon trying to persuade her to come work at the boutique again. Callie smiled sweetly as she vaguely said she wasn’t sure what she was going to do now. Then they ran into another of Cash’s clients. He shook hands with Bob Cosmas, CEO of the Houston Health Center, and started to introduce Callie, but Bob said, “Hi, Callie. Nice to see you again. Is Beau here, too?”
Shit.
They’d finished up that project just before Callie and Beau had separated, and apparently Bob hadn’t heard the news of their divorce.
Cash watched Callie deal with the question with composure, although he did catch the faint tightening of the corners of her mouth. “No, he’s not.” She shook Bob’s hand. “Actually, we’re divorced.”
“Oh.” Bob’s eyes flickered. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
Shit. He hated that she’d been put in this position. He wanted to jump in and protect her, but she handled the situation with her usual charm and grace.
“No need to apologize.” She smiled. “It happens.” She turned her gaze to the woman with Bob. “Hi, Sarah. Good to see you again. How have you been?”
Bob’s wife’s gaze bounced back and forth between Cash and Callie, curiosity evident on her face. “Um, great, thanks.”
“And your family? You have two boys, if I recall correctly.”
“That’s right. And they’re both well, too.”
“I remember your oldest broke his leg playing football. But that was some time ago, so he must have made a full recovery.”
She continued chatting with the couple, making small talk, impressing him as well as Bob and Sarah with her sharp memory for details. No wonder Beau wanted her for his wife.
Ugh. Cash closed his eyes briefly. He hated thinking snide thoughts like that about his friend and business partner.
Callie was definitely an asset, with her beauty, charm, and social connections because of her family. But Beau was a fucking idiot if he thought that was all there was to her. Why would he fuck up such a good thing?
He tried to focus on the conversation, but his insides were burning. Callie’s poise and manners couldn’t completely dispel the awkward tension that buzzed around them. Who knew what Bob and Sarah were thinking about why he and Callie were here together? They hadn’t heard about the divorce, so obviously they weren’t aware of Beau’s cheating, and there was every chance they were making up some shit in their heads, like he and Callie’d had an affair or some other such bullshit.
Moments later, Bob and Sarah excused themselves to go refresh their drinks, and he turned to Callie with a tight jaw.
“I am so sorry,” she said immediately in a low voice, setting a hand on his arm. A small current of electricity ran through him. “I didn’t even consider what people would think, seeing us together.”
“Yeah.” He clenched his teeth and gripped his drink to stop himself from touching her. “I wasn’t thinking about that, either.”
She eyed him. “Are you concerned? He’s a client. If you want, I’ll go find him and tell him we’re just friends.”
“Fuck no.”
Callie flinched.
“I just mean, the more we go on about it, the more likely people will think we’re trying to cover something up.”
“I’m so stupid.” She pressed the base of her thumb to her forehead. “I never even thought about something like that.”
“Callie. I don’t give a shit what people say about me, so stop apologizing. It’s you I’m concerned about.”
She gazed back at him, openmouthed. “What?”
Christ, had nobody ever said that to her? He knew her parents were all about the image, and to a certain extent, so was Beau. “I don’t want rumors going around that you cheated on him. You know how people talk.”
She blinked. “Oh. Um. Geez.”
“Yeah. I need another drink. Be right back.” He paused. “You want one?”
“Sure.”
He took her glass and made his way through the growing crowd to one of the bars. He sipped his bourbon while the bartender refilled Callie’s champagne glass, needing a few minutes away from her to strengthen his resolve to keep his distance.
Once again, he cursed himself. He could see how arriving at an event like this solo wouldn’t be much fun, but he was way too softhearted when it came to Callie.
She was all apologetic, but he should never have offered to accompany her here. In fact, he had to stay the hell away from her. The last thing they needed was people gossiping about them and word getting back to Beau that Cash was screwing around with his ex-wife. Not that that was happening, but gossip in this social crowd had a tendency to run as wild as a peach orchard hog.
He carried Callie’s drink back to her. The guests soon moved outside to the tent for dinner and entertainment. Of course, dinner was fabulous, and the song and dance numbers were amusing. He loved the smiles of delight Callie flashed him and the amused looks they shared. After dinner, a video presentation highlighted the charity’s accomplishments, followed by entertainers singing and dancing. The last singer blew away the crowd with a rendition of “Let’s Misbehave.” Ha.
There was more partying with a late-night speakeasy theme back in the country club after dinner, but Callie felt she’d done her duty and they could leave.
“Well, at least I’m not carrying you in this weekend.” Cash smirked as he followed her into her house a short time later.
“You didn’t carry me last weekend.”
“How do you know?” When she turned to frown at him, he grinned and touched her nose with the tip of his finger. “Do you remember dancing on the bar at Nebula?”
Her eyes flickered, but her frown intensified. “No, because it never happened.”
“You sure, darlin’?”
“You’re pulling my leg.” She turned and marched into the kitchen, flicking on lights as she went.
He followed her. “Your memories Saturday morning were fuzzy. You admitted it yourself.”
She shook her head. “Not that fuzzy.”
“Okay, okay, I admit I didn’t have to carry you in. Though I did wonder if I should.”
“I overdid it one night, and I’ll never hear the end of it now.” She picked up the box she’d tried to give him earlier and turned back to him. “Maybe I shouldn’t give you these after all.”
“Hey, hey, now. No crazy talk.” He accepted the box and smiled down at her. “I’ve been waiting all day for these.”
Actually he’d been waiting all day to see her, but he couldn’t say that.
“So what time is my tattoo appointment tomorrow?”
Shit. He’d forgotten about that. All evening he’d been telling himself he wouldn’t see her again, but he’d completely fucking blanked out on that appointment. He considered how he might get out of it, but there was no way without looking like a dick. He swallowed a sigh. “Four o’clock. I’ll pick you up about three thirty.”
Chapter Five
Six years ago
Tonight was the big game against Kansas State, the game everyone would be at, the game the team was all pumped for, and Cash was lying in a hospital bed doped up on painkillers because he’d just had his fucking appendix removed. Why now? Jesus.
He rolled his head on the pillow, the hospital bed raised so he was half sitting, and
looked out the window. The late-afternoon sun slanted into the room, highlighting the bare starkness of pale yellow walls, linoleum floors, and the ugly vinyl chair in the corner.
His mom had hurried to Austin when he’d had the appendicitis attack, freaking out that he had to be rushed into surgery. She’d stayed with him yesterday and today but had to get back to Houston for work, and he’d assured her he’d be fine. He picked up the remote for the TV and glumly flicked through channels. Zilch. Nothing interested him.
“Hey,” a soft, feminine voice spoke from the door.
He turned his head and blinked, his forehead tightening. What the…?
He had to be hallucinating from the drugs. A princess stood in the doorway of his hospital room. A beautiful, elegant princess with long dark curls, wearing a bright golden ball gown, tight on top, with a full skirt billowing out from her tiny waist. Pink flowers adorned the dress and her hair, and she wore matching gloves that reached up to her elbows. He blinked again.
“It’s me. Callie.” She advanced into the room. “How are you doing?”
His frown deepened. “Callie?”
His best buddy’s girlfriend. He still gazed at her in confusion. “What are you doing here? And why are you dressed like that?”
She smiled and moved closer, seeming to float across the room in that big poufy skirt. “I came to see you. How are you doing?” she asked again.
He rolled his head back and forth on the pillow. “I’m okay. Pissed that I’m missing the game.”
Her eyes softened. “Yeah. How long will you be in the hospital?”
“I might get out tomorrow, or the next day.”
“Oh, that’s good. Are you in pain?” Her eyebrows pulled down.
“Eh. A little. They’re giving me good drugs.”
“Oh, that’s good.”
“Why are you dressed like that?”
Callie’s family was rich as sin, and she was a pampered, pretty sorority sister who flitted through life surrounded by glitter and rainbows and smiling friends, but even she wouldn’t dress like this to visit someone in the hospital.
Screwed Page 5
