Easy Melody

  “I’m aware,” I reply lazily without looking up.

  “You’re an ass.”

  My eyes find hers now, and I see that she’s not just pissed. She’s hurt.

  “Talk to me, sugar.”

  “You don’t get to call me sugar, or baby, or darlin’,” she says, mimicking my accent.

  “Okay. What’s wrong, Callie?”

  “Look.” She sighs deeply and rubs her forehead with her fingertips. “I get that I probably misunderstood the signals on Monday. I’m a big girl, and I can take responsibility for my own actions. I enjoyed myself.”

  “I did too. I’m glad we’re on the same page—”

  “I just wish,” she continues, interrupting me, “that you had made it clear from the beginning exactly what the score was, because I wouldn’t have been as open with you about my family as I was. I dropped my guard with you, and since then you made it clear exactly what I am to you. At first, when I didn’t hear from you at all, I felt a little cheap, a little used, but then I just felt… stupid. And I’m not a stupid woman.”

  “I never said you—”

  “So I appreciate that you find me attractive, and the chemistry is pretty great, but I’m not looking for a fuck buddy. And you know what?”

  God, I wish she’d slow down for two seconds so I can get a word in edgewise.

  “What?”

  “I also realized that I’m not looking for anything from you, Declan Boudreaux.”

  “Callie, I admit, in the past I’ve not been great at understanding women, or even taking the time to try to. There are reasons for why I didn’t call this week—”

  “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!”

  “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.