Screwed

by Kelly Jamieson

  Some of them glanced at each other, grinned, and nodded.

  “I’m up for anything if you’re involved,” one guy said.

  Charlotte giggled and fluttered her eyelashes at him.

  “I’m a pretty good two-stepper,” he continued, and swept Charlotte into his arms to dance a few steps, twirling her around expertly.

  She laughed breathlessly when he stopped, setting a hand on his chest. “You are good.”

  “That’s what my last girlfriend said.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  Laughter rose in the group.

  Callie tried not to look at Cash, keeping a smile fixed on her face. It took everything she had to appear unaffected by his presence.

  As some sexy banter ensued between her friends and these guys, she stared into her margarita glass. Awareness of Cash made her skin prickle all over. Her heart continued to thud erratically.

  Kristy nudged her and murmured in her ear, “You okay, hon?”

  She gave a tight nod and guzzled down the rest of her margarita. Oh Lord. The festival was spinning a little around her. She may have overdone things just a teensy bit. “I need another drink.”

  Okay, so, bad decision, but whatever, it got her away from the crowd of good-looking guys, and more importantly, away from Cash. She headed toward a drinks tent, a wee bit unsteadily.

  She smiled at the guy working and requested a margarita. “Make it a double.” She reached for the money she’d stuffed into her little cross-body purse, peering at the bills.

  “Callie.”

  Her head jerked up at Cash’s voice next to her. She swallowed, then beamed a smile. “Hey! So surprising to see you here.”

  “Yeah.” His eyebrows pulled together. “You okay? You seem a little…”

  “Drunk? Hell yeah! That’s what the Crab Festival is for, right?” She paid for her drink and grabbed it. “Cheers!”

  “When did you get here?” Cash asked, his forehead still furrowed.

  “I dunno. Around eight? Kristy picked me up after work. Hey! I have a job! I had to work until five!”

  “I know you have a job.” His face softened. “How’s it going at Caked?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, anger flaring inside her. “Haven’t you heard from Ginnie? She works there, you know.”

  His eyes flickered. “I know.”

  “Because you haven’t bothered to stop by, or ask me anything about how it’s going.”

  His face tensed again.

  “But whatever.” She shrugged and guzzled her lime-and-tequila beverage. Wow, you could really taste the cheap tequila in this one. “I know you were pissed when I fell asleep on you that night and we couldn’t fuck.”

  He winced. “Callie—”

  She waved a hand in a sloppy gesture. “No, no, don’t worry, it’s fine. I get it. I apologized.”

  “I wasn’t mad about that,” he began again.

  “It kind of seemed that way from the text you sent the next day. And it kind of seemed that way because I haven’t seen or heard from you since.” She couldn’t prevent the bitterness that saturated her voice. She lifted her chin and met his eyes head on. She let the anger burn through her, needing that to stop her from throwing herself into his arms. Asshole.

  “I’m not mad. I’m just…” He rubbed his face.

  “You’re just blowing me off.”

  A guilty look made his gaze drop briefly and his lips dip.

  She smiled tightly. “Don’t worry, Cash. I get it. I knew what was happening with us. It could never go anywhere, and I’m just not…” Her throat squeezed, and she couldn’t actually get the words out.

  I’m just not good enough.

  She pressed a hand to her aching throat, her eyes stinging. All those raw, painful feelings she’d grown up with rushed back over her, nearly sending her to her knees.

  She’d never been good enough.

  Never good enough for her parents—they cared more about image and money than about her. She remembered longing to hear words of praise for the good report cards or the awards she’d won for her art. Longing just to hear the words “I love you.”

  She hadn’t been good enough for Beau—he’d cheated on her with someone else, their marriage a humiliating failure. She remembered sobbing alone in her bed, asking herself why she wasn’t enough for him. What was she lacking that he’d had to find it with another woman?

  And now she wasn’t good enough for Cash. Well, maybe good enough for sneaking around having sex. But not good enough to mean more to him than Beau.

  She got it.

  She flipped her hair back and tried to relax her throat. She stretched her mouth into a smile, a desperation to save face surging inside her. “Never mind. You know what they say.”

  The corners of his eyes creased up, and he regarded her somberly. “What?”

  “The best way to get back at a man who cheats on you…is to fuck his best friend.”

  Cash’s eyes flew open, and his lips parted. Then his eyes narrowed, and his lips tightened into a thin line, his jaw rock hard. She whirled around, thankfully keeping her balance, and bolted across the field back to her friends.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Revenge fuck.

  Cash spent the next week in a fog, starting the week hungover, progressing to hurt, sadness, then anger. He’d been a revenge fuck.

  He’d gone for long runs in a pissed-off rage, running until he couldn’t take another step, sweat stinging his eyes, his legs on fire, lungs heaving. It was an attempt to make the physical pain distract him from the heartbreak deep inside. It didn’t work. But that was okay, because he deserved it.

  He deserved it because he’d been an asshole. He’d fallen for a woman he could never have, and he’d given in to the temptation to be with her, knowing it could never be long term, knowing he was hurting his best friend, knowing he was risking their business and risking Callie’s reputation.

  The worst thing was, if Callie’d been using him to get back at Beau for cheating on her, that meant she still cared about Beau. Because why would she bother trying to get back at him if she didn’t care? Christ.

  That twisted the knife even deeper.

  That weekend at the beach should have been fun—hanging out with his football buddies and a few other guys, golfing, trash talking, eating seafood, and drinking beer. The beach house was impressive—big enough for eight guys to stay there comfortably, near enough to the ocean to hear the waves. So maybe he hadn’t been totally into it, but he’d tried. Friday night at the Astros game had been torture, listening to Ginnie go on and on about the bakery and how amazing Callie was and how much fun she was having working there. When he’d arrived at Crystal Beach Saturday, he’d tried to take his mind off Callie by getting to know the guys and drinking a lot of beer. He’d been mostly successful…until he’d run into her at the Crab Festival.

  She’d been all sexy in her short little cut-off jean shorts, showing lots of tanned leg, and a lacy white top falling off one smooth shoulder. Her smile had beamed, even though he could tell she’d been drinking and she wasn’t exactly pleased about seeing him.

  And then she’d made that comment—and figuratively held up her hand, dropped the mic, and walked away.

  It still burned inside.

  Beau walked into his office. “Okay, let’s have a look at the RFP for the new transmission line.”

  Cash tried to corral his thoughts. Picking up a file folder and his coffee, he rose and rounded the end of his desk. He dropped the folder on the small table in his office and sat, hoping he could focus enough to make sense as they talked business.

  “We need to make sure we’re managing right-of-way clearing and access road construction,” Beau said.

  “That’s covered.”

  “Right. Okay. So. We got our bid in to Sutherland Industries. I mentioned it to Joshua on the weekend.”

  Cash’s gut tightened, remembering Beau’s veiled threat. “I expect them to evaluate the bids fairly and make the b
est business decision.”

  Beau laughed. “Come on. You know as well as I do that who you know in this business is just as important as what you know.”

  Cash nodded reluctantly. Yeah, he’d learned the truth of that, one more reason to be grateful to Beau for the extensive family connections that had helped their consulting business take off rapidly.

  It was a battle inside him, the gratitude and the shared history he had with Beau versus the way he felt about Beau now. The ways he thought his friend had changed, or perhaps revealed his true nature—his obsession with success and making money to the point of using people. And a battle with the revulsion he felt at how Beau had treated Callie; the dismay that Beau wanted to get back with her versus the belief that she was better off without him.

  She would never do that, would she? Get back together with Beau?

  Then another thought struck him like a hammer blow. If she’d been using Cash for revenge…was she going to tell Beau about them?

  He rubbed the sharp ache in his chest.

  Christ. If that happened…

  He studied his friend and business partner, not even listening as he talked about conductor and fiber optic shield wire installation. No. He couldn’t let Callie be the one. He had to sack up and come clean.

  “I slept with Callie.”

  Jesus Christ. Did he really say that out loud? He waited, hoping Beau would keep talking about the RFP.

  But Beau gaped at him. “What?”

  Cash rubbed his forehead. “I slept with Callie.”

  “What? When? My Callie?”

  “Your ex-wife. Heavy on the ‘ex.’”

  Beau shook his head. “I don’t understand. What are you saying? You two have been having an affair?”

  “Yeah, basically that’s it, I guess.”

  “Wait,” Beau said slowly. “You went to her divorce party. You took her home that night. You went to fund-raisers with her.”

  “Just one.”

  Beau jerked his hand. “You were there, helping her paint. Her mom said you were at her place one Sunday morning, fixing a leaky tap. You were there because you slept with her.” He made a low noise that sounded like a growl. “What the fuck, man?”

  Cash swallowed.

  “Why’d you do that?”

  The tight look of anger on Beau’s face had Cash’s palms sweating. But he couldn’t keep up the pretense any longer. He exhaled heavily. “The truth is, I’ve been crazy about Callie forever.” He held up a hand. “But you were the one dating her, so I shut that down. I’d never, ever go there. But I got to know her, hanging out with you, and I got to like her as a friend.”

  “And moved in on her as soon as we were divorced!”

  “No.” Cash’s word was emphatic. “No, I did not. She went away to Europe. When she came home, she needed help with some things at the house. I do that for my mom all the time, it seemed normal to me. She was a friend, and you weren’t there to help her. But I wasn’t moving in on her.”

  Beau’s lips flattened as he listened. “What are you saying? She was the one who put the moves on you?”

  Cash gave a dry chuckle. “Funnily enough, that is what happened.” He rubbed his eyes. “Long story. I’m sure you don’t want details.”

  “Fuck no. Spare me the details. Jesus Christ. You fucking asshole.” Beau lunged out of his chair, grabbed Cash by the shirt, and jerked him up out of his chair. Cash didn’t even try to defend himself when Beau punched him in the face. Stars exploded in front of his eyes, and burning pain rocketed through him.

  “I deserved that,” he wheezed.

  But when Beau drew back to hit him again, he threw up an arm to block him. He tried to shove him away—Jesus, he didn’t want to fight with his friend. But Beau swung, and rage burst inside him like a bonfire. Yeah, he deserved to be punched for sleeping with his friend’s ex-wife, but Beau fucking deserved to be punched, too, for how he’d treated Callie.

  Cash landed a blow on Beau’s jaw. “That’s for fucking cheating on her, asshole,” he shouted.

  Beau tried to punch him back. A flurry of arms punching and blocking ensued. More pain stung Cash as Beau landed another hit. Cash grabbed Beau’s shirt, and they spun around, knocking over a chair. Then they gripped each other and hung on, and Cash laid one more blow on him. That was for just…being the one who’d gotten Callie. Fucker.

  Cash shoved Beau away, and they stood glaring at each other, chests heaving, shirts wrinkled and half untucked, hands clenched into fists. His knuckles throbbed. “Here’s the kicker,” he snarled. “She was only using me to get back at you.” He grabbed his suit jacket off the back of his desk chair and strode out of his office.

  It wasn’t even noon yet, but he left the office, jumping into his truck and roaring out of the parking lot onto West Loop. He had no idea where he was going. In fact, he probably shouldn’t be driving, as he made a lane change without shoulder checking, resulting in another vehicle swerving out of his way and laying on the horn.

  …

  Callie felt like a zombie. Dead on the inside. Moving and walking and talking but completely detached. She forced herself to get up in the morning and go to work. She made cakes. She talked to people on the phone. She took pictures of her macarons, adding pretty little details like flower petals and fresh strawberries, and posted them on Instagram and Facebook.

  None of it mattered. But she pretended that it did.

  She pretended to Ginnie that everything was fine. She went out with Kristy, Emma, and Charlotte for dinner and a movie and acted like everything was fine.

  She held a cake tasting for Arlyn Reyes, the daughter of the mayor of Houston. She and her fiancé came to the shop, and Callie served them the three different types of cake they’d narrowed it down to. They decided on banana cake and ordered a five-tiered design that was going to cost them fifteen hundred dollars. They wanted stunning and impressive. And Callie finally felt something—a flicker of excitement at the challenge of coming up with something that would dazzle them.

  Okay, maybe she was still alive.

  She had to dig herself out of this black hole and focus on her business. And her friends. And the family that totally ignored her business.

  She was in the back, carefully assembling cookie sandwiches one afternoon, piping pink strawberry-flavored buttercream onto strawberry-flecked sugar cookies, when she heard a voice she recognized out front reply to Ginnie’s “How may I help you?”

  “We’re looking for our granddaughter, Callie Sutherland,” the gravelly male voice said.

  Callie’s head whipped up, and she dropped her piping bag to rush out front. Sure enough, Grandma and Grandpa Sutherland stood there in her little shop, brightness among all the white. Grandpa’s smile beamed in his short white beard and mustache, his still-thick white hair shining in the sunlight pouring through the front windows.

  “Callie!” Grandma smiled at her. “Come here, child, I need a hug.”

  Callie hurried over with a smile. Nobody would ever guess Grandma’s age, with her trim figure, glossy light-brown hair cut in stylish layers, and smooth skin. “What are you two doing here?”

  “We came to see what you’re building here.” Grandpa gave her a hard squeeze. “Heard you started your own business.”

  Callie grimaced. “I bet you heard that from Mama and Daddy.”

  “Yes indeed. We were curious and kept asking questions, and your mama didn’t seem to have a lot of answers. So we came to see for ourselves.”

  “Look at these cookies!” Grandma bent to peer into the glass display case. “They’re beautiful!”

  “Do they taste as good as they look?” Grandpa asked.

  Callie nodded at Ginnie, who reached in and pulled out a couple of the salted caramel shortbread sandwiches and handed them over. They each took a bite.

  Grandma’s eyes closed. “Oh my stars! This is the best cookie I’ve ever had.”

  Grandpa nodded enthusiastically and devoured his. “I agree.”


  Happiness bubbled up in Callie, and she clasped her hands together. Others had complimented her baking, but hearing it from family was special.

  “I love your little shop.” Grandma turned in a circle to survey it. “It’s so classy and pretty. Just like you.”

  “Aw, thank you, Grandma.” Pleasure warmed Callie inside. She hesitated. “Mama and Daddy didn’t send you here to try to ‘talk some sense into me,’ did they?”

  Grandma frowned. “Certainly not.”

  “Okay, whew. They’re not very impressed with my little business venture.”

  Grandpa scowled. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Partly why I wanted to see what you’re up to.”

  “Would you like a tour? It’s not a big place, but you can come see where I do the baking and my office.”

  More customers entered the store, and Ginnie took care of them while Callie showed her grandparents her kitchen and office.

  “Are those strawberry cookies?” Grandpa asked.

  “Yes. Strawberry shortcake sandwiches.”

  “I’d try one of those.”

  “Bud, you need to watch your blood sugar,” Grandma gently reminded him.

  “Bah. I’ll skip my dessert tonight.”

  “You weren’t getting any dessert tonight.”

  Callie smiled, uncertain if she should give her grandpa another cookie. “You two could share one,” she suggested.

  “Great idea.”

  Grandma sighed after taking a bite. “Sweet Lord, I didn’t think anything could be better than that last cookie.”

  Callie beamed.

  “So business is good?” Grandpa fixed a sharp gaze on her. “Or is this just a fun thing for you?”

  “It is fun. I love doing it. But I intend this to be a successful business. I’m working hard at it. And so far, yes, business is good.”

  “That’s my girl.” Grandpa nodded. “When your mama and daddy seemed so disapproving, I wanted to see what’s going on. They seem to think you shouldn’t have to dirty your little hands with menial work.”

  “Well, actually, I have to keep my hands pretty clean. There are food-service regulations…”