“I’m sorry,” he says with a lazy grin. He looks tired. Actually, as I take a closer look, he looks worse than tired.

Do not ask him what’s wrong.

“Why are you here?” I ask and walk briskly down the sidewalk toward my car.

“Walking you,” he replies simply and easily keeps up with my stride. His legs are so long, it’s nothing more than a leisurely walk for him.

“Why?”

“Are we going to do this again?” he asks with a sigh. “Because it’s dangerous here at night. Why isn’t Adam walking you out? You guys could just ride together.”

“That would cramp Adam’s sex life up,” I reply with a laugh. “I don’t want any part of that.”

“Where are you parked?”

“About four blocks up,” I admit and bite my lip. I will never admit this out loud, but I’m glad he’s here to walk me. He’s right, it is dangerous in the Quarter at night.

“Why in the hell did you park so far away?” He reaches down to take my hand, but I pull it away.

“It’s all I could find.”

“Isn’t there parking in the alley?”

“It was full when I got here.” I scowl up at him. “I didn’t ask you to walk me.”

“No, you’d be too stubborn for that,” he mutters and sighs. “Since your car is so far away, let’s talk about this week.”

“I already told you—”

“I know what you told me, sugar, but you didn’t give me a chance to tell you anything, and I’m going to have my say.” He takes my hand again, holding tightly so I can’t pull away, and rather than be a baby about it, I let him keep it.

“Fine. Say whatever you want.”

“I was sick this week, and I had to work every night. So, I was either in bed, wishing I was dead, or I was singing, still wishing I was dead.”

Do not offer to make him soup, Calliope Marie. “I’m sorry you were sick.”

“So that’s why I didn’t call.”

“Let me ask you something.” I stop us on the sidewalk and face him, looking up into his eyes, which are almost gold in the streetlights. “If you hadn’t have been sick, would you have called? Not that it matters now, but I’m curious.”

He swallows and frowns and I already know the answer. Probably not.

“I figured.” I nod and keep walking.

“Look, Callie, it’s not that I didn’t have fun.”

“I get it.” I shrug and almost do a happy jig when I see my car in the next block over. “This is all on me, Declan. You didn’t make me any promises. You never said you’d call. I just thought the chemistry was on point and that we had a great time, in and out of bed.”

“I agree,” he says, that frown still in place. “Like I said earlier, I’ve never claimed to understand women. I do enjoy you, and I like you, a lot.”

I nod. “Okay. Thanks for the walk. I’m fine, Declan.”

“Hey.” He grips my elbow and stops me beside my car. “Are we okay? Friends?” He smiles softly. His hair is disheveled and sexy, and I can smell him. I want to climb him and have my way with him, but that is a definite bad idea, especially knowing that that’s not what he wants.

“Friends.”

And then, to my utter bewilderment, he leans in, his eyes pinned to my lips, and I barely have time to duck out of the way before he could lay those lips on mine.

“Not that kind of friends, Declan.” Without looking back, I get in the car and drive away.

What in the hell was that?

Why do I pick men who are emotionally unavailable and commitment-phobes? Keith made it pretty clear from the beginning that the sex was great, and he enjoyed my company, but that’s all it would ever be. We didn’t see other people, it was exclusive, but it was never going to be forever.

And I settled for that. Looking back on it, I’m irritated with myself. Even if I was content with the arrangements, I should have known that I deserved better. And I don’t even think I was content with the arrangements; I just went along with it because that’s what he wanted.

And I wanted him.

And now I find another guy who is interested in my body and a few laughs, but that’s it. And he just made it clear that we could go on that way if I want to, but we would always just be friends.

I’m not just a friends with benefits girl.

Yes, the sex with Declan was fantastic. On a scale of one to ten, it was about a thirteen and a half, and I’m being conservative on that number. But what I enjoyed the most that night was the fun. The banter at the game, when he showed me his amazing house.

Talking about my family and his and how we feel about the loss of our fathers.

That’s what I didn’t even realize I’d been craving in my life. Yes, I work hard to keep the packaging looking good, but damn it, I want someone to be interested in what’s happening in my head and my heart too, and for one evening, I thought that might be Declan.

But, just like always, I was dead wrong.

***

It’s time to focus on me for a while.

I spent the weekend cleaning Adam’s condo, steering clear of his bedroom and bathroom, because only God knows what happens in there, although I have a pretty good idea from the noises coming through the wall that connects his bedroom to mine.

I need to invest in earplugs.

The result of all of the scrubbing and sweating was the realization that I need to focus on me and what I enjoy. Make myself happy.

I can do that. I don’t need a man for that.

Now that the bar renovations are finished and business is running smoothly, I’m ready to find a house to fix up and flip.

So I’m meeting Pete at his office, and he’s going to take me to see a couple of homes that might be perfect for me.

“Hey,” I say as Pete lowers himself into my car. “Thanks for doing this.”

“My pleasure,” he says, his eyes surveying the inside of my car. “Nice ride.”

“Thanks. Where to?” He pulls up the first location on his phone and shows it to me. “I know where that is.”

“It was so great to run into you the other night,” Pete says.

“It really was. It’s been a long time. Are you married?”

“Divorced,” he replies with a shrug.

“Kids?”

“Three,” he confirms and flips through his phone, then turns it so I can see a photo. “Mike is six, Emma is eight and Dina is ten.”

“Wow. That’s a handful. Congratulations.” Pete, the boy who couldn’t keep his mouth off of me just fifteen years ago, has three kids.

Crazy!

“How about you? Kids?”

“No.” I shake my head and pull up in front of the first house we’ll see today, already thinking it’s a no. That entire roof needs to be replaced, and on a house this size, that’s a large chunk of a reno budget. But it doesn’t hurt to look.

“Ever married?” he asks as he joins me on the porch.

“Nope.” I flash him a smile. “Too busy with work and other things to get there.”

He simply nods and unlocks the door, pushes it open, and gestures for me to go first.

“It’s empty,” I say as I enter a small foyer and look left into a formal dining room.

“It’s been empty for about three years,” he says, consulting the information on the papers he printed out on the property.

“Not good,” I murmur and continue through. There’s obvious water damage along the ceiling in the living room, and the brick fireplace is crumbling.

But there is a gorgeous staircase with a solid oak banister that, with some wax and elbow grease, would be magnificent.

The kitchen is small and sorely outdated, as are the two small bathrooms upstairs. The bedrooms just need new flooring and paint.

“What do you think?” Pete asks as he locks the door on our way out.

“I think this is a no,” I reply, inspecting the porch, and not happy to see evidence of termites. “This place is going to have to be gutted, and I think that’s outside my budget.”

“I understand. I have one more to show you today.”

This house is only a few streets over from the first one.

“This is better,” I say. “The roof is in better shape.” The house is larger, too, and definitely needs work.