She smiled at Jason and tried to be
flirtatious without being as obvious as Jen. “This is great.
Thanks.”
While Jason pulled out chairs to seat them,
Callie glanced around the mostly empty dining room, then into the
side room reserved for groups. Her gaze landed on a familiar face…
with features nearly identical to hers. On a gasp, she said,
“Ohmigod.”
Jason, Jen, and Tiffany all swung their
attention to Callie. Concern filled Jason’s eyes as he let go of
the chair and reached for her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m sorry. Yes, I’m fine. It’s just… well…”
Her fingers went to her throat as she turned to Jen and made big,
our-mothers-are-in-that-room eyes. Smiling nervously, she said, “I
was supposed to get something for my mother while I was shopping,
and I forgot. When I saw her standing over there”—she narrowed her
eyes at Jen—“with Jen and Tiffany’s mothers, I remembered.” She
straightened and pinned an all-is-well smile onto her face. “No
biggie. I overreacted. Sorry.”
Jason laughed and let go of her forearm. She
was in such shock over seeing not only their mothers, but the
entire women’s investment group in which their mothers belonged,
she didn't even realize he had hold of her. But now that he’d let
go, she missed the heat of his palm and the tender concern in the
touch.
Somewhere, in the recesses of her mind, she
realized that was an inappropriate reaction. She shouldn’t have
liked his touch. She shouldn’t have had any reaction at all. But
she did, and at some point, she supposed, she’d have to consider
what that meant.
Right now, however, she needed to speak with
her mother. “We’ll need to wait to be seated,” she said to Jason.
“If we don’t speak, we’ll never hear the end of it.”
Tiffany and Jen were already headed toward
the private room, leaving Callie alone with Jason. He laughed and
pushed the chairs back into place. “I understand. I made sure I
spoke to my mother as soon as she arrived.”
“Your mother is part of that group?” Why did
that shock her?
Probably because she assumed anyone who
worked here didn’t come from a family wealthy enough to be a member
of the country club. Let alone have a mother with enough expendable
income to belong to an investment group that required a twenty
thousand dollar membership fee.
If he was offended by her surprised response,
he didn’t let on. His smile didn’t falter, and his eyes showed no
signs of cooling. “She’s one of the founding members.”
“Oh, wow.” If that was the case… “Why do
you…?” Realizing how rude her question was, she let the sentence
fall off.
“Why do I work here?” he asked.
She cleared her throat and tried to meet his
gaze, but failed miserably. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”
“It’s okay. It surprises most people.
Especially those who know I have a large enough trust fund that I
don’t have to work a day in my life. But I can’t hang around and do
nothing but play golf and tennis. I have a degree in finance, but
the idea of sitting in an office all day makes me itch.” He
shrugged and smiled confidently. “I like working here. I get to see
old friends and their parents. I get to meet new people.” His gaze
softened, and she had the impression he considered meeting her a
good thing. “Someday, I’ll do something different. For now, I like
this.”
Callie was stunned. She and Jason were more
alike than she believed. Yet they were very different. She had no
problem hanging around all day, doing nothing. The idea of getting
a job, especially in the service industry, made her shudder.
Agitated by the conversation and, she
realized, with herself, she said, “I guess I should go.”
He nodded and smiled. “Hopefully I’ll see you
again. Soon.”
She started to walk away, then turned back.
“Are you working tomorrow night?”
He smiled, and something shifted in his eyes.
“I am.”
A flitter of anticipation rushed through her
system and settled low in her belly. She pressed a hand to her
stomach to soothe the unease, but the pressure caused the
excitement to fragment and spread to a thousand locations
throughout her body. Uncomfortable with the response and anxious to
leave before she embarrassed herself, she muttered, “I’ll see you
tomorrow night,” then rushed to the safety of her mother.
***
While Robby worked on the leaky sink and
Sunny worked on a new copper sculpture in her workshop, Gavin sat
on the stoop of her porch like a stray dog. He should be gone by
now, but for some reason he kept hanging around.
He’d been sitting on the stoop, phone in
hand, Max’s number brought up on autodial for ten minutes. All he
needed to do was hit the “send” button, but he couldn’t bring
himself to do so.
Mostly because he still didn’t have a
freaking clue what to say to Max.
He’d never been faced with a situation like
this, and he was at a total loss as to how to proceed. Max knew
Gavin so well, it would take less than twenty seconds of
conversation for him to figure out Gavin was as big an obstacle as
Sunny.
If this were any other woman, he’d use
Robby’s leaving for college and her fear of running the place by
herself against her. He’d exploit her insecurities. He’d point out
how helpful the proceeds from the sale would be in paying for
Robby’s college tuition, along with his other expenses. It wasn’t
something she mentioned, but it had to be a concern.
He would remind her of those fears and keep
reminding her of them, until they grew and expanded into giant,
scary monsters she didn’t think she could slay. At that point, she
would agree it was in her best interest to sell and be out from
under the bar.
But the thought of doing any of those things
to Sunny made him physically ill. The fact that he would have done
it to anyone disgusted him and left him so full of self-loathing he
felt like he needed to scrub his insides with bleach.
She may feel like Robby was an integral part
of getting the bar up and running, but aside from the physical
labor, how much help could an eighteen-year-old have been. Whether
she admitted it or not, the lion’s share of work and stress had
been on Sunny, and she was more than capable of running the
business alone.
Gavin wouldn’t—couldn’t—crush her spirit by
planting any doubts in her mind about her ability to keep things
going after Robby left for college.
He glanced at the phone in his hand and
cringed. He still didn’t know how to handle this, but he couldn’t
put the inevitable off any longer. He took a deep breath, hit the
send button, and waited for Max to answer.
By the time Callie put away her purchases and
returned to the living room of the guesthouse, Tiffany and Jen had
the blender whirling. Three o’clock was margaritas-by-the-pool
time, and after the harrowing afternoon she had at the club, she
needed several. However, before she changed into her swimsuit and
dove into a tall, frozen glass, she needed to go to her father’s
office.
Gavin didn’t come by the house every evening,
but since he was sent to Anticue on that special project, she
thought he might stop by today. If he was expected, she wanted to
be in her best swimsuit, sitting in the right chair when he
arrived.
The problem was, she couldn’t remember which
chair was the
right
one.
She tapped on the French doors and peeked
through the glass. As expected, she found her father sitting at his
desk, motioning her to come inside.
“Good afternoon, princess. How was
shopping?”
“Wonderful.” She kissed him on the cheek
before taking up residence in Gavin’s chair. “I found a gorgeous
Valentino to wear tomorrow night. It’s not like the dresses I
usually wear, so I’m really excited about it.” And petrified.
Max beamed. “I'm glad you found something you
like.”
Without being obvious, she glanced out the
door and scoped out the chairs lining the far side of the pool.
Sitting in the pink one, she’d be in Gavin’s direct line of sight.
She would wear her purple two-piece.
That settled, she turned her thoughts back to
the conversation. “I hope Gavin likes it.”
Or Jason.
The thought was so strong she almost expected
to see someone standing behind her, whispering in her ear. She
hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since leaving the club,
and she found it disconcerting. He wasn’t only handsome; he was
also nice. But the thing she liked the most was the way he looked
at her.
Really
looked at her.
The desk phone rang, jarring her from her
thoughts. Max looked at caller ID and smiled as he hit the
speakerphone button. “Hey, Gavin. Give me some good news.”
Gavin muttered something that sounded an
awful lot like cursing, then said, “Sorry, Max. No can do.”
Her daddy’s eyes narrowed and his lips
thinned. “Why not?”
“The owner adamantly refuses to sell. She
won’t even discuss the possibility.”
She?
Max leaned back in his chair and glared at
the phone like it was a noxious piece of debris. “So change her
mind.”
Gavin cursed again. After a pause that seemed
to drag on for hours, he said, “She’s pretty strong-willed and
determined.” He laughed. “She even has a tattoo on her wrist that
reads
‘
never give up.’”
Callie didn’t like the way Gavin’s voice went
soft and mushy, and an icky sickness began to build. She grabbed a
piece of paper and pen from Max’s desk and wrote,
Ask him if
he’s talking about the bartender.
Max flipped his gaze to Callie and nodded
before turning to stare out the window. A blank expression—what she
always called his thinking face—settled over his features. The
house could fall down around him when he was in this mode, and he
wouldn’t notice. “What’s your next move?” His voice was as tight as
the set of his jaw.
Gavin didn’t answer, and she knew he was
wearing his thinking face, too. When Gavin didn’t want to answer a
question, he’d pause and think it over, carefully choosing his
words. Finally, he said, “I’m not sure.”
The uncharacteristic lack of confidence in
his voice sent a lead weight rolling around in her stomach. Gavin
was supposed to convince the owner, who Callie now realized was
also the bartender, to sell her property. Max wanted Gavin to do
whatever
was necessary, and she wanted Gavin to come home.
Trying to grapple with the mounting hurt and frustration, she
wrote,
Is he coming here this evening?
Her father nodded in acknowledgment of the
note and said, “I guess we need to discuss this further and figure
out our next move. How soon can you be here?”
Another long pause. “I won’t be able to make
it tonight.”
Max’s expression remained impassive. “Why
not?”
“I’m still in Anticue.”
Callie swallowed the rising nausea and panic.
Her father’s plan was working. Gavin was with the bartender. And
not with her as in working out negotiations, but with her in the
way Callie wanted to be.
She wanted to yell and scream and cry and
punch something. But she was an adult, so she’d settle for getting
drunk. Her father had gone from annoyed to smiling… until he
glanced across the desk at Callie. His face fell and he snatched up
the receiver.
“I guess if you can’t make it back tonight,
we can spend some time talking about this tomorrow night.” He
paused, listened to Gavin, then said, “Lorraine’s retirement
party.”
Her father seemed momentarily caught
off-guard, then said, “You can’t disappoint Lorraine by not
showing.”
She couldn’t hear Gavin’s response, but Max’s
eyes narrowed and his jaw popped. “Watch yourself, Gavin.”
Callie knew her father and Gavin argued at
times, but she never witnessed it. Hearing her father’s tense
chastisement sent nervous jitters down her spine.
After another long pause, her daddy said, “I
don’t know how much vacation time you have. What the hell does that
have to do with anything?” Another pause. “You can’t be serious.”
Another pause. “Fine. We’ll discuss all of this at the retirement
party.” Without giving Gavin a chance to respond, her father
slammed the receiver into its cradle.
Callie was stunned. She’d never seen her
daddy upset with Gavin, and it unnerved her. “Is everything all
right?”
Max took a deep breath and smiled. “Of
course. Now, go on out and enjoy the pool with your friends. Don’t
worry about a thing.”
She tried to smile as she slipped through the
french doors, but it was kind of hard to do with her bottom lip
quivering. She led a sheltered life, and that’s probably why this
seemed like such a big deal. But she had a really bad feeling about
this situation.
She saw the way Gavin looked at that
bartender and the way the bartender responded to Gavin. No matter
how hard she tried, Callie couldn’t make herself believe this would
turn out okay for her.
***
Growling in frustration, Gavin disconnected
the call and slammed the phone down on the stoop. He jammed his
elbows onto his knees and dropped his head into his upraised
hands.
He didn’t know why he was so annoyed. The
conversation had actually gone better than he expected. The only
thing Max went ape-shit over was Gavin missing the retirement
party—like Lorraine gave a shit if he was there or not. She’d
probably rather not be there herself.
Knowing she’d go crazy with nothing to do,
Gavin planned to visit her next week, anyway. Now, he’d have a good
excuse. He’d also send her a dozen roses, along with a note of
apology.
However, Gavin was smart enough to read
between the lines and figure out the real problem with him not
going to the party wasn’t Lorraine, but Callie. The time was coming
for a sit down with Max, or with Max and Callie, to spell things
out for them… slowly…. and plainly.