“I don’t want your reasons,” she interrupts, still calm. “I don’t want anything from you, except for you to do your job when you’re in my place.”

She turns to walk away, and it feels like I’m burning from the inside out.

“Callie, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It was a shitty week.”

She glances over her shoulder at me and smirks. “That’s one way to describe it.”

And without another word, she goes back to stocking the beer, making it clear that I’m no longer welcome here, so I walk back downstairs to the bar where Adam is flirting with a group of women, mid-twenties, obviously out on the town for a bachelorette party, due to the sash and tiara on one of the girls.

When he sees me, he winces. “Doesn’t look like it went well.”

“I couldn’t get a word in edgewise,” I reply, feeling shell-shocked.

Adam just shrugs and shakes his head, looking at me like I’m the biggest idiot on the planet.

The worst part is, he’s right.

Chapter Four

~Callie~

He has his reasons for not calling. I just bet he does. Probably a woman. Or work. Or family. But nothing, nothing makes a person too busy to just send a simple text to say hi, or hope you’re well, or kiss my ass.

Anything.

Instead, I've spent the past four days with my phone permanently attached to my body in the hopes that Declan would call, only making me feel like a complete, embarrassed idiot as each day passed.

Beer bottles clink against each other as I slam the cooler door closed, making me wince.

I like him. The second I saw him downstairs, my nipples puckered and the sound of his voice as he groaned while coming the other night were front-row, center in my brain, which only pissed me off more.

I’m reliving some of the best sex I’ve ever had, and he couldn’t even be bothered to send me a simple text this week.

The thing is, he was nice, and apologetic, and he should be, but if I just smile and say it’s okay, he’ll think that the behavior is okay.

And it’s not.

I wipe down the bar one last time, satisfied that the rooftop is clean and ready for business tonight, then walk back downstairs to help Adam man the bar. Our third bartender will arrive in about an hour, and I’ll send her upstairs.

I may not want to date him, but I’m not going to pass up the chance to watch Declan play. Masochistic? Probably, but I can’t help it.

“Did you tell him to fuck off?” Adam asks as he pours a beer and I join him.

“I’m not talking about this here.”

“He looked like you told him to fuck off,” he continues, completely ignoring my statement. “But, in my defense, I warned you, Cal.”

“Shut up,” I reply and walk to the other end of the bar, smile at a customer, and focus on what I do best, work. “What can I get you?”

“Gin and tonic,” the girl replies and flashes me her ID. I turn to fill her order, my eyes skimming the room, looking for Declan. He should be on stage in a few minutes. I find him standing at a table, laughing. I don’t recognize the two women he’s talking to, but his hand is resting on the small of the slender brunette’s back, and the other brunette, more petite than the first, is laughing and gazing at Declan like he’s the best thing since the invention of the cosmopolitan she’s sipping.

Tramps.

I shake my head and continue to serve drinks. The thing is, those girls don’t look like tramps. They look like people I would like.

And maybe that’s what pisses me off the most.

“What’ll you have?” I ask a tall, light brown-haired guy standing with his head turned the other way. When he looks at me, my eyes widen and I feel myself smile. “Pete?”

“Callie? Holy shit, I didn’t realize you were home!”

I run around the bar and hug Pete tight, then walk back around and grin. “What’ll it be? On the house.”

“A hurricane,” he replies, his familiar brown eyes shining. “How are you, Cal? I was sure sorry to hear about your daddy.”

“Thanks.” I settle in, building Pete’s drink, thankful to have a friendly person to talk to. “I’m doing okay. Renovating this place has helped a lot.”

“It’s fantastic,” Pete says and sits on a stool, as if he’s going to stay and chat. “And so is this drink.”

“Just one of my many talents.”

“I remember,” he says, his eyes wandering up and down my body. I’ve changed a lot since we were sixteen and I lost my virginity to him in his childhood bedroom. Of course, so has he. Pete and I dated until we graduated from high school, and then it just felt right to break it off and go our separate ways.

Long gone is the tall and lanky boy that charmed me back then. He’s filled out, not super muscular, but not big. He’s a man now. Unfortunately, there isn’t the chemistry here that I feel every time Declan enters a room, but it’s great to see Pete.

“What are you up to these days?” I ask.

“Real estate,” he says and pulls a business card out of his back pocket, passing it to me.

“Really? Hold on.” I hold my finger up, signaling for him to wait, just as Declan takes the stage and the crowd cheers. I fill several more orders, and when I’m satisfied that all the customers are taken care of, I turn back to Pete. “I may be in the market for a real estate agent.”

Pete’s eyes narrow just a bit and he leans forward. “Is that so?”

“It is. I like to flip houses, I’m pretty good at it, and I’ve been thinking about finding something down here to sink my teeth into.”

“I’m pretty sure I can help you out with that. You have my number. Just call any time.”

“I will.” I smile and tuck his card in my bra. I don’t have any pockets in this dress. “Thanks.”

Pete takes a sip of his drink. “I don’t see a ring on your finger.”

I laugh and shake my head. “No. You don’t.”

“Good to know.” He winks and then takes his drink and stands. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Sounds good.” I watch Pete walk into the crowd and sigh.

“What are you doing?” Adam asks as he comes to stand next to me, arms crossed.

“This is called working,” I reply, enunciating each word in case he’s slow.

“No, it’s called flirting with men.”

“Oh please. Like you don’t spend every evening you work flirting with the young girls you pour drinks for.” I roll my eyes and wipe the bar with a wet rag.

“I’m not you,” he says simply and then nods toward the stage. “And I don’t put on a show for the person I was with just days ago. And the thing is, that’s not you either.” He gives me a pointed look and walks away.

I glance up at the stage with a frown, surprised to find Declan’s eyes on me, but he blinks and looks away without missing a beat of the bluesy song he’s playing.

I was not trying to make Declan jealous. I was talking to an old friend. I didn’t do anything wrong. Declan was flirting with a table of women—touching them!—not thirty minutes ago!

Not to mention, he’s not my boyfriend.

But there’s a small part of me that feels just a tiny bit bad. So, I do what I do best. I raise my chin, fasten a smirk on my face and do my damn job.

***

It was a long night. The Odyssey was busier than ever, and Declan even played for an extra fifteen minutes when the crowd yelled for more. He looks so comfortable on a stage, an instrument in his hand. He makes the singing sound easy, when I know that it’s anything but.

He’s at home there.

The stage is empty now, along with the rest of the place, and I sigh, enjoying the quiet and the solitude. How an introvert fell into a career that involves so many people, I have no idea.

But I love it. Almost as much as the quiet. I glance around, then flip off the lights and slip through the front door and lock it behind me.

“You’re later tonight.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” I screech, jumping about five feet in the air, then clutch at my chest and scowl at Declan. “Stop doing that!”