by Levine, Nina
“Another dud?” Tyler asks as he joins us, distracting me from Luke.
“She’s better off without him in my opinion,” Avery offers her thoughts.
I sigh. “Yes, another dud. Why are good men so hard to find?”
Tyler grins. “I know one right in front of you, who I don’t think you’ve ever considered giving a shot. The way he watches you is a dead giveaway but you seem to be blind to it.”
“Please enlighten me so I can rectify that.” I’ve no clue who he means.
Before Tyler shares the name, a guy runs into me, spilling his drink all over my new dress.
Can this night get any worse?
“Fuck!” Tyler says. He grabs the guy by his shirt and hauls him away before I even get the opportunity to give him a piece of my mind.
Avery passes me a roll of paper towel, and I attempt to soak as much alcohol out of my dress as I can. The smell of rum fills my nostrils, and my annoyance builds.
“I’m going to the ladies, babe,” I say to Avery as I dump the paper towel on the counter. “This is going to take more than paper towel. I’m freaking covered in rum.”
She stares at me with sympathy and nods. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”
“Make me a vodka? A double, please.”
“I’ll make you a huge-ass vodka,” she promises, and I leave her to head to the bathroom.
First order of business: clean my dress.
Second order of business: drink as much vodka as is needed to put tonight out of my mind.
“So let me get this straight, you waitress to pay the bills, but your dream is to publish books? And you’ve already got a tonne of rejections for your first two manuscripts?” The guy I’ve been drinking with for the last hour struggles not to slur his words as he recounts what he’s learned about me so far.
I drink what’s left of the vodka in front of me. “When you lay it out like that, it’s almost depressing, but yes, that’s me in a nutshell.” The feelings of inadequacy I’ve held onto over my rejected manuscripts resurface, and my soul shrivels a little more.
Will I ever succeed?
I’ve been writing since I was a teen and am currently working on my fourth book. I never submitted my third to anyone for fear the rejection would finally cripple me. As it is, I go to battle with myself every day. Between the constant back and forth of ‘I’ve got this’ to ‘You’ve got no idea what you’re doing’, the mind whiplash feels like a beating I give myself day in and day out.
The guy—I’ve long forgotten his name—nudges me. “Life’s depressing. Don’t feel like you’re the only one who has that covered. It’s why I drink.” He raises his beer at me before taking a long swig.
Geez.
So negative.
This guy is not the kind of man I need to be spending any time with.
Taking a step away from the table, I signal my intent to leave. “Thanks for the chat.”
He frowns. “You’re leaving? The night’s only young.”
“I’ve gotta get up early for work tomorrow.”
As I attempt to leave the table, he places his hand on my arm and halts my progress. “Stay.” His voice takes on a darker tone as if he has no intention of letting me leave, and concern slides through me.
Plastering a fake smile on my face, I argue, “No, I really have to get up early. I’ll be wiped if I don’t get to bed soon.” I’m suddenly feeling a hell of a lot more sober than I did five minutes ago.
His grip on me tightens, and his eyes flash with determination. “Sweetheart, I’ve just spent an hour of my time talking to you and buying you drinks, the least you can do is give me some of your time and attention.”
My mind swims with confusion.
I’m sure I bought all my own drinks.
How the hell do I always pick the dickheads?
I seriously need to consider celibacy as a life option.
“The lady has made herself clear. Let her go and get the fuck out of my bar.”
Luke.
I catch sight of his face as he forces his way between me and the dude, and my breathing slows at the anger I see there. I’ve never seen him so mad.
The guy lets me go and raises his hands defensively. “Sorry, man, I didn’t realise she was taken.”
I don’t know where he got that idea from, but I’m not going to correct him.
Luke’s shoulders remain tense, and his eyes don’t leave the asshole. He jerks his chin at the door. “Leave.” He utters one word only, but holy mother of God, everything about that word screams “don’t fuck with me”.
With one last scowl, the guy stalks out of the bar while Luke tracks his movements before turning back to face me. His shoulders remain tense, but his features soften a little. “You okay?”
My tummy flutters at the concern I hear in his tone. I nod and try to put his mind at ease. “Yes, I’m all good. Thank you.”
He takes that in and then says, “I’m taking you home now. I had another woman complain about that guy earlier, and I don’t want to take any chances that he’s gonna come back looking for you.”
“I doubt he will, Luke. You were pretty forceful, and besides, he thinks you and I are together. He wouldn’t chance pissing you off.”
“I know guys like him. They don’t give up easily when they want a woman. Take my word for it, he’ll be back.”
“You don’t have to take me home. I know you’re busy tonight.”
“Fuck, Callie, can you ever just let me help you?”
I stand straighter and take a deep breath. I’ve managed to frustrate him yet again. It’s like he’s got a short fuse with me, but not with everyone else. “When I need help, I’ll ask for it, but you’ve got a bar to run, and I am capable of getting myself home.”
He bends his face closer to mine and takes charge like he’s never done before. “I’m all out of patience, so get your ass outside and in my car.” His bossy tone hits all the right spots and desire shoots through me, lighting me up with a need I’ve never known.
I don’t even hesitate. I do as he said.
As I move through the crowd in the bar, Luke places his hand on the small of my back and guides me. People talk to him as we walk, but he hardly responds, and instead, keeps directing me towards the front door of the bar.
When we finally arrive at his car, I’m so freaking turned on I can barely concentrate. He unlocks the doors, and I slide into the front seat of his BMW. I’ve never been in his car, and it’s not at all what I would have expected him to drive. Luke is not a flashy guy, and I didn’t think he was wealthy, but his car leads me to now assume otherwise.
A few moments later, he starts the car and drives in the direction of my apartment. It’s less than a ten-minute drive to my place in New Farm, and we make the trip in silence. My brain is firing haphazardly as I sift through my thoughts and feelings.
Hopefully, he’ll just drop me off and keep going.
There is no way you can let him into your apartment because you’ll end up jumping his bones.
Who are you kidding? There’s no way he’s going to just drop and run.
Oh, God. Please send help.
We reach my apartment complex, and he parks the car. As he switches off the ignition, I know how this is going to go down. He’s going to walk me in, and I’m not going to be able to stop myself from making a move. I’m so damn horny, and a woman can only control herself to a certain point.
I want Luke and there’s no more denying it.
“You don’t have to walk me in,” I blurt out, making one last attempt at trying to control myself. As the words pass by my lips, even I’m hoping he ignores them.
And he does.
“I’m walking you in, Callie. Don’t even try to argue with me.”
He unfastens his seat belt and exits the car.
Five minutes later, he follows me into my apartment after guiding me inside with his hand on my back again. To say I love the hell out of his hand on me is an understatement.
“Is
James home?” he asks as he looks around the lounge room. It’s been a good three months since he’s been here and I’ve made a lot of changes since then. Not that Luke has really seen much of my home. He came over once when I had a gushing tap. I rang Avery in desperation and Luke overheard. Twenty minutes later, he turned up to fix it and we exchanged numbers in case I needed help again. Since then, he’s helped me out a couple of times because James was useless at male things.
“He moved out last week.” Luke never liked my ex-roommate, and I catch the smile that flickers across his face at the news.
I kick my heels off and almost moan at the instant relief. Heels and I don’t have a good relationship, but I had to wear them tonight. I mean, what else do you wear with a little black dress?
Luke’s gaze is drawn to my feet, and I savour the slow burn of heat as his eyes slowly move back up my body. When they meet my gaze, my legs go weak, and my heart begins beating faster.
He wants me as much as I want him.
How have I missed this?
Holding his gaze, I close the distance between us and place my hand on his chest.
My gaze drops to his lips.
I need those lips on mine.
Now.
“Don’t,” he says in his husky voice, and my thoughts come to a screeching halt.
Don’t?
I look back up into his eyes, searching for a sign that I misheard, but the way he’s staring down at me tells me I didn’t.
Conflict sits heavy on his face.
Frowning, I remove my hand from his chest and ask, “Why not?”
His chest rises as he draws a deep, ragged breath. “We don’t want to start something that can’t go anywhere. I don’t want to do that to you.”
I don’t understand his reasoning. “What do you mean it can’t go anywhere? And besides, who said this couldn’t just be a one-night deal?”
His lips press together, and he rakes his fingers through his hair. It’s clear he’s torn over this decision. “We’re friends, have been for a year now, can you honestly see us sleeping together once and then acting like nothing happened?”
No.
“Yes.” God, I want him. Even more now that he’s telling me no.
“Bullshit.” He watches me closely for my response, and I want to scream out my need for him, but I refrain.
“Okay, so maybe not, but why can’t we see where it leads?”
“Because I know where it will lead. To heartbreak, and I refuse to hurt you.” He speaks with a finality that irritates me. As if he gets the final say and I get no input.
“I know you think that you know everything, Luke, but on this, you don’t. You have no idea where it might go, and I want to know what’s holding you back.” I train my eyes on him in an effort to make it clear I’m not giving in to him on this.
“Jesus!” He rubs the back of his neck as he takes a step away from me. When he begins pacing, I wonder what the hell is going on in his mind. I’ve never been turned down by a man before.
Maybe I read him wrong.
Maybe he doesn’t want me.
And then, he surprises the hell out of me by stalking back to me, taking hold of my face with both his hands and kissing me.
Oh, dear Lord.
His lips fit perfectly to mine.
He caught me off guard for a moment, but I quickly get back in the game and wrap my arms around him while pressing my body close.
No man has ever kissed me the way Luke is kissing me.
It’s like sunshine on a rainy day, when all the doom that’s been cast your way during the pounding rain finally clears, and you see those first rays of a rainbow mixed with glints of sun.
Sweet, sweet, happy rays of sunshine that make you want to dance. That make you feel happy and thankful when all you were feeling before was sad and gloomy.
That’s how Luke’s kiss makes me feel.
I don’t ever want this kiss to end.
His tongue dances with mine, and my body lights up with pleasure.
Don’t ever stop.
Please.
My fingers tangle in his hair, and I moan into his mouth as he deepens the kiss. And when he growls his pleasure, I press even harder against him. Against his erection.
He wants me as much as I want him.
Thank you, sweet, sweet universe.
And as I’m clinging to him and drowning in his kiss, he does the one thing I don’t want him to do.
He pulls away.
Pained eyes stare at me as he attempts to get his breathing under control. I stare back in complete confusion waiting for him to explain why he stopped.
Eventually, he gives me two sentences that only confuse me even more. “I can’t do this. Not yet.”
And then he’s gone.
And I’m left staring at the spot where he stood a moment ago.
Where he stood kissing me as if I was also the sunshine to his rainy day.
3
Callie
Two days have passed since Luke kissed me.
Since we spoke.
I haven’t heard from him, and I’ve been too busy to visit the bar. Work has picked up and the long hours I’ve pulled over the last two days have almost kicked my ass. It’s only 9:00 p.m. and I’m ready for sleep.
My phone rings and I flick the television off and move from the couch to rummage in my bag for it.
“Why haven’t I seen you for two days?” Avery demands when I answer her call.
I sigh. “I’ve been busy at work, and I’m exhausted. Twelve hour days aren’t my calling in life.”
“You know what’s not my calling in life?”
“What?” I’m not too tired to pick up on the sarcasm dripping from her words.
“Dealing with a cranky, moody Luke Hardy, that’s what.”
Oh.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“Fucked if I know, babe. He came back to the bar after he took you home the other night and he was really quiet, and then the next day his moods began. My guess is something happened after he dropped you home, but I’m not game to ask him.”
My breathing slows as I process her words.
I can’t do this. Not yet.
What did he mean when he said that?
“He kissed me,” I admit quietly. If it had turned out differently between us, I would be shouting it from the rooftops.
“Holy shit! And what? That’s all?”
“Yes, that’s all. But it was the best kiss I’ve ever had.” I linger in my memories, not wanting to believe they’re all I’ll ever have from him.
“Wait, back this up because I don’t understand how this all went down. Tell me from the beginning and don’t leave anything out.” I can imagine her settling back on her couch for the full story.
“There’s not much to tell. He kissed me, it was amazing, and then he stopped kissing me and said something about not being able to do this yet. And before you ask, I have no clue what he meant because he left without giving me a chance to ask.”
“Holy shit!” she exclaims again. “I think it’s about time we did some digging into Luke Hardy. We’ve let him evade all our questions over the last year, but this calls for some investigating. We need to know everything there is to know about him.”
“God, no! Don’t you go there, Avery.” I know she won’t listen to me, though. When Avery decides to do something, nothing can stop her.
“You can’t throw me something like that and expect it to be enough.”
I slump back onto my couch. This is bad. “I don’t want any part of it.”
Her mind is already three steps ahead of mine. “Leave it with me.” I can practically hear her mind ticking over as she speaks.
I’m about to beg her not to pursue this when someone bangs on my front door. “I’ve gotta go. There’s someone knocking on my door.”
“All good. You go,” she says, dismissing me, and I know I have no chance of changing her mind.
We say goodbye a
nd finish the call as I drag myself off the couch so I can answer the door. I’m almost relieved someone is here because they saved me from Avery, but I’ve no idea who would be visiting me at this time of night.
Whoever it is bangs harder on the door. So impatient.
“I’m coming!” I yell out, and the banging stops.
I yank the door open, ready to give them a piece of my mind but freeze when I see who it is.
Luke.
His dishevelled appearance is in stark contrast to the cool, controlled Luke I know. He stares at me through anguished eyes, and all the hurt and confusion that has been churning in me over the past couple of days dissipates. The man standing in front of me looks broken, and all I want to do is pull him close and wrap my arms around him.
“Hi,” I greet him a little awkwardly while my mind goes to war over hugging him.
He doesn’t reply, but rather simply stands there, staring at me as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders.
And then—“I’m married.” His voice cracks on the two words a woman never wants to hear, and where I should be pissed off at his confession, I know deep in my gut that there’s more to this.
I’m not sure what to say, so I say nothing.
“Her name is Jolene…” He stumbles over her name as if it’s the last word he wants to escape from his lips. I sense his distaste and instantly dislike Jolene while wondering what she did to him to make him feel this way.
The silence swirls around us and the winter chill of the July night cuts through to my bones. Or maybe it’s the thought that a married man kissed me two nights ago, and all I can think about is kissing him again. And even though it’s wrong and I’ve always sworn I’d never get involved with a married man, it feels so damn right, and that scares the hell out of me.
I remain silent, waiting for him to say the words that could make this all right.
We’re separated.
That would work.
“We’ve been married for five years,” he says, and I hear the same emptiness in his words that I can see in his eyes. “Fuck!” He shoves his fingers through his hair as he snaps, and I sense the fury punching through his body. I’m guessing those five years haven’t been the happiest five years for him.