Going All In (6 page)

C
allie zipped her silver-and-black ankle boots, then stood and examined her reflection in the antique floor mirror. Another tug on the hem of her skirt didn’t garner more inches, so with a resigned sigh, she twisted at the waist and looked over her shoulder, making sure her butt was mostly covered. Jen and Tiffany constantly harassed her to dress less conservatively, so as a concession to their nagging, she got a shorter skirt to wear to the club. As a concession to her angst, she got thick, black tights to wear underneath.

“Are you ready?” Tiffany called impatiently.

Ready
or not…
“Just about.” Even though the rain had stopped, her silk blouse wouldn’t provide any protection against the cold, so she grabbed her wool coat from the back of the chair, picked up her black-and-white polka-dot Kate Spade handbag from the dresser, and gave another futile tug on her skirt.

“Tell me again. Why am I doing this?” she asked Tiffany as she slipped on her coat and walked down the short hallway leading from her bedroom to the living room.

“Because you haven’t been out with us all week, and you’re going to turn into a crazy cat lady if you keep sitting at home by yourself.”

Callie flipped her hair out from under her collar and turned to stare at Tiffany. “Do you really think I’m going to turn into a crazy cat lady? Especially since I don’t have a cat. Or are you being a parrot and repeating something Jen said?”

Pink crawled up Tiffany’s neck to her cheeks and she cut her eyes to the side. She cleared her throat, preparing to speak, but before she answered, the door burst open and Jen stepped inside. “What’s taking so long? If we don’t hurry, we won’t get a decent seat.”

Callie rolled her eyes. “Oh, c’mon. We all know you already called Mario and had him reserve your favorite table.”

“Okay, you got me.” Jen’s smile was smug and unapologetic. “But if we get there early enough, we’ll get backstage before the bands go on.”

The Blue Lagoon, a favorite Myrtle Beach hangout, had gained popularity with the locals by booking up-and-coming local bands, as well as regional bands gaining widespread acclaim. Jen’s father was one of the original investors, so since inception—which was before Jen, Tiffany, or Callie reached the legal drinking age—they’d been able to sneak backstage to meet the bands, then park their prissy little butts at the front table and pretend to be college students. Jen thrived on the attention and the chance to be a groupie. Tiffany and Callie just tagged along, pretty much like they’d done all their lives.

How it came about, Callie didn’t know, but Jen had always been the leader of their trio. She decided what they did, who they did it with, and how long they’d stay. For years, Callie had been content to follow along—wasn’t that a constant theme in her life—but that wasn’t working for her anymore. She didn’t want to continue traipsing after Jen like a well-trained puppy, and her growing disobedience was becoming a source of conflict between them.

An unbidden image of Wade flashed through her mind. One day of working together didn’t make her an expert on the man, but she’d bet every penny she had he didn’t ever blindly follow anyone. He might do things he didn’t want to, but there was a difference in not wanting to do something and
choosing
to do it anyway, and doing something because he was afraid to stand up for himself and say no.

She envied anyone strong and sure enough about themselves to live life on their terms, without consulting parents or friends or anyone else for that matter. She wasn’t there yet, but she was getting closer and she liked the progress.

As they made their way down the steps to the sidewalk and the waiting car, she was forced to admit hanging out with Jen had some perks, Raul, the family driver, topping the list. Whenever they went out, he picked them up at home, dropped them off at the door of the club, then remained on call until they were ready to leave. They’d never been tempted to drive drunk, had never gotten in the car with someone who was drinking, and had never waited for a cab.

Fifteen minutes after Raul helped them into the back of the car, they were bypassing the line and walking in the front door of The Blue Lagoon like Hollywood celebrities. A large crowd comprised mostly of twenty and thirty-year-old working professionals had already gathered, and Callie sighed at the thought of spending the night crammed into a club with a thousand other people. She’d much rather be at home in comfortable clothes, working on her current project, daydreaming about Wade.

She checked the clock on her phone. She could probably survive the next three hours. And then she’d be back home, crawling into bed, having real dreams about the man she couldn’t stop thinking about.

*

“Aw, shit in the fire and fuck me running.”

Even though Callie hadn’t told Wade which clubs she frequented, he should’ve known this one would top her list. The swanky club was too upscale for his personal tastes, but Alex saw an ad for the band that was playing, so the guys decided tonight was the perfect night to dress up and hit the town. Since they all lived in the boonies, they didn’t get many opportunities like this, so Wade rummaged through his closet, found a decent button-down and a nice pair of jeans, cleaned up his cowboy boots, and attempted to put a little shine on himself as well.

Running into Callie wasn’t part of the plan, and it certainly didn’t help his efforts to get her off his mind. It also didn’t make him feel any better about finding a nice, willing body to crawl into to help him scratch his mad itch.

Following his line of sight, Tyler looked at the VIP section in the center of the club, then coughed and sputtered around his drink. “Shit. Is that Miranda?”

Wade sighed, then drained half his beer. Prior to today, he would’ve said Callie might as well be Miranda. They had the same chestnut hair, same deep-brown eyes, same petite frame, and he thought they had the same attitude of entitlement. But after spending the day working with Callie, he barely saw the resemblance anymore. “No, it’s not Miranda. Her name is Callie, and I work with her. She comes in after I’m finished with a project and pretties shit up.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Tyler studying him. “And.”

“And what?” The fact he refused to meet Tyler’s gaze head-on should’ve been a clear indicator there was something going on where Callie was concerned, but he was too damned stubborn to address the possibility, even privately to himself.

“You’ve got the hots for her.”

“What?” He glanced at Tyler, then looked away. “No. I barely know her.” He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax his defensive stance before continuing. “I normally do everything within my power to ignore her, but”—he shrugged—“after working with her today, I think I might’ve been wrong about her. She’s actually pretty nice.”

“Nice,” Tyler repeated before cocking his head to the side and watching, along with Wade, as a preppy-looking dude sat down in the empty seat next to her.

Wade strong-armed back the inclination to get his back up as Callie’s lips curved into a smile. Propping an elbow on the bar and leaning into it like he didn’t have a care in the world, he reminded himself this was a good thing. She would find a nice guy, he’d find a stranger, and they’d all go home happy.

But the longer he watched, the more irritated he became. Especially when her smile faltered and her eyes grew wary. She either didn’t know the guy or didn’t like him, because when he leaned in to speak, she stiffened and shifted away.

Wade’s eyes narrowed and his neck muscles tensed as the guy ignored her obvious signs of discomfort and scooted his chair a little closer.

“What a dick,” Tyler muttered, echoing Wade’s thoughts. “Are we gonna have to go over there and kick his ass?”

Wade swiveled his head around and laughed. “We? You think it’ll take two of us to toss his scrawny ass out of here?”

“No, but your feet aren’t moving yet, sooo…”

Callie’s desperation grew as she turned to her friends for backup but found them talking and pointing to something he couldn’t see, unaware of her distress. The last thing he needed was more face time with the woman he was determined to forget, but he couldn’t sit back and let the asshole continue to encroach on her personal space and make her more uncomfortable. With a vision of bucks locking horns and fighting to the death flashing through his mind, he slammed his beer down on the bar, then put his feet into gear, muttering expletives to himself as he crossed the open bar area into the VIP section.

She didn’t see him approaching, so when he reached her side and said, “Hey, baby,” she jumped like she’d been shocked.

Her head whipped around and wide eyes stared at him before a big, breathtaking smile spread across her face. She seemed confused, but not unhappy about seeing him, and a fresh wave of carnal longing tightened his body and sent his inner caveman into kill-to-protect-what’s-mine mode.

He leaned down to kiss her cheek and whispered, “You know this guy?” After a slight shake of her head, he said, “Want some help?”

He leaned back to see her face and was totally unprepared for the way her bright smile and eyes, shining with gratitude, punched him square in the gut.

“Where’ve you been?” she asked, playing along. “I was getting worried.” Okay, scratch that. She wasn’t playing. This guy, whoever he was, had her concerned, and that was absolutely not okay with Wade.

He pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger and held her gaze, making sure she saw his sincerity and that he recognized her nervousness. “I can tell. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

He wasn’t the least bit worried about his ability to take out the scrawny asshole whose oily look had turned murderous, but for fun and added effect, he drew himself up to his full height of six-four and bowed up as he glared down at the guy. He might be dressed up—at least as dressed up as he ever got—but a spit shine didn’t cover up a red neck or the proclivity for busting heads, especially when provoked. “Who the hell are you?”

The guy’s eyes narrowed and his jaw locked, like he was considering his options, which made Wade laugh. Dude only had two choices: leave on his own, or get tossed on his ass. Fortunately for him, he came to the same conclusion. Common sense had him pushing the chair back, nodding good night to Callie, then beating feet toward the bar like his ass was on fire and he needed a drink to douse the flames.

But that left Wade with a problem. If he retreated back to his place at the bar, the guy would know it had all been an act and he would undoubtedly come slinking back, probably pissed off and carrying an oversized chip on his underwhelming shoulders. So taking one for the team—he was such a friggin’ hero—Wade spun the recently vacated chair around and sat facing Callie.

Starting the conversation over on a more pleasant note, he smiled. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” Her smile and dimples carried a one-two wallop, and just that fast, the other guy was forgotten and no one else existed but her and him. Re-tucking her hair, she said, “Thanks for the save.”

“No problem.” Feeling a lot like the predator he just sent packing, he couldn’t stop his eyes from taking a leisurely stroll over her tightly buttoned silk blouse, awesome short skirt, hideous tights, and cute ankle boots. “I like the boots.” He grinned and leaned in closer. “Although, I’d really like to see you in those boots that come up to here.”

He ran his finger across the middle of her thigh and smiled when she drew in a sharp intake of breath in response. After a harsh swallow, she licked her lips, then parted them to draw in a slow breath, which caused her chest to expand and push against the blouse, which caused his already primed cock to start a little expansion project of its own.

Nothing had changed since the afternoon when he’d lectured himself about the dangers of messing with Callie. He still believed she was a good girl who wouldn’t engage in one-night stands. He was still wavering between finding someone to satisfy his ravenous sexual appetite—so he could cease and desist the crazy thoughts about Callie—and trying a new way of doing things. A way that definitely didn’t including indulging the Callie fantasy. And, last but not least, Kevin would still castrate him if he fucked with Callie, literally or figuratively.

Given all that, he should push his chair back about four feet and give them both plenty of breathing room. But the primal drum that had beat within men since the beginning of time drowned out the warning cries of his mind and drove him forward.

When she turned sideways in her chair to face him, he also shifted so his legs framed the outside of hers. Leaning closer, he wrapped his arm around the back of her chair and said, “I’ve thought a lot about those boots.”

If his admission surprised her, she didn’t let it show. She also didn’t blink or look away as he moved his finger to the side of her neck and swept it along the top edge of her cool, silk blouse. When he bumped into the delicate silver chain of her necklace, he followed the links like a trail of water would, down to the chunky pendant hanging in the center of her deep cleavage.

He paused and gauged her reaction as his finger lingered on her top button. Had she appeared nervous or apprehensive or, worse yet, repulsed by his touch, he would’ve dropped his finger and breathed a sigh of relief. But rather than shunning his behavior, her eyes dilated, her breathing grew choppy, and the pulse in her neck pounded in rhythm with his.