Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
CALLISTA
" W ould you like another, miss?"
I glance up from my phone and nod at the bartender who holds a bottle of whiskey in his hand. I might as well get drunk. Good and stinking drunk.
That way, I can feign amnesia about the blatant pleas I sent to Keegan, begging him to join me, all while drinking enough to erase my mental image of him shagging some model type.
Good plan.
"I'm shocked," the bartender states, resting his hands against the bar. “How does a pretty woman such as yourself not have a date tonight?”
Thanks for the extra blow to my ego, buddy.
"I did.” My reply is simple and to the point, my gaze focused on the bottles lining the shelves behind my nosy barkeep.
He snorts out a laugh. “Ended already? That good, huh?"
I offer a nod, grateful when a customer interrupts our chat. This whiskey wielding stranger, while well-intentioned, doesn't need the details of my evening.
Hell, I’m trying to forget them. Hence, my ass perched on a barstool in this darkened pub.
My date—if you can call it that—was dead in the water from the start. The man was lovely in all aspects. Kind, accommodating and handsome.
Instead of listening to his small talk during dinner, I spent the minutes mentally comparing him to Charlie.
No, that isn’t true, either.
I compared him to Keegan.
Poor bloke didn’t stand a chance.
The irony is that Charlie and Keegan are opposites in every sense of the word. Charlie was light—physically and emotionally—with a dry wit and calming manner. Keegan is dark, arrogant, and a bit on the brooding side.
But both men stir something inside me.
Sadly, my date did not.
We survived dinner, but immediately afterward, we both proclaimed to have this laundry list of chores that needed to be completed right at that very moment. Seems he was equally underwhelmed with our meeting.
So, I went home, but as I watched Domino roam the backyard, I realized I wasn’t ready to face my empty house again. Not yet. I needed some padding between me and the loneliness. Liquid padding.
Now, here I sit in the king of all dive bars, trying to ignore the local patrons' lewd stares and sucking down whiskey that I know I'll regret tomorrow.
Isn't life grand?
"This seat taken?"
My head flies up, a smile splitting my face.
Keegan.
He came.
I motion to the row of empty seats at the bar with a dry laugh. "They're all free. "
"This one suits me just fine." He settles onto the stool and motions to the bartender. "A vodka gimlet, please."
I quirk my brows at his order. Not standard fare in this local haunt. “What are you, Bond or something?"
"Eh, eh, eh. Bond drank vodka martinis, although I do possess all his other qualifications.” He blows on his fingers, dusting them across his chest with a smirk.
No doubt he does. In spades.
"You have his humility on lockdown, at least,” I tease. “Likely have scores of adoring women, too, Baby Maker.”
Keegan laughs and takes a pull from his drink, but he doesn’t deny my claim. "Dare I ask how your date was tonight?"
A guffaw flies from my lips. Where to begin? “How do you think? I'm alone in a dive bar downing whiskey. It was not a banner evening."
“You’re not alone now.”
"Not anymore." I tear tiny pieces off the bar napkin, feeling a bit foolish that I begged him down here to keep me company. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything important."
He shrugs and maintains his focus on the television, but a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "Eh, I finished up and sent her home."
"What a guy," I croak, although my dinner—and whiskey dessert—threaten to make a reappearance.
Keegan laughs in earnest now, pushing a lock of my hair behind my ear. "I'm joking, Calli."
"You sure?"
"Quite positive, although you do owe me for this rescue. You interrupted a Fawlty Towers marathon, right in the middle of one of my favorite episodes.”
Now it's my turn to chuckle. "You watch Fawlty Towers? I call crap on that answer. ”
Keegan rests his glass on the bar and fixes me with his azure gaze. “How is it easy to fathom me screwing some nameless woman but impossible to believe I watch Fawlty Towers?"
"Like you said, you're a player. Remember?"
"No, my words were that you thought I was one. I'm actually a gentleman."
Deep down, I know his words are true, even though he was anything but gentlemanly the other night, when his mouth and hands claimed me.
Those incredible hands sliding against my skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. How much further could it have gone?
I know how much more I wanted … and how much more I want still.
I fan myself as warmth floods my body from the memory. When Keegan shoots me a look, I snicker and shake my half empty whiskey glass. “The alcohol is getting to me.”
It’s a lie, of course. Keegan is getting to me, just as he has since the first moment our eyes met across his office space.
But, he’s off limits. He’s beautiful and talented—holy hell, he’s talented—but he’s also a celebrated bachelor.
And I’m the resident hot mess currently in his care.
Talk about a tricky situation, although the more whiskey I imbibe, the less insurmountable the obstacles between us seem.
Maybe it’s just my hormones talking.
I clear my throat and rub my palms against my pants.
Time to get it together, Calli. For God’s sake.
“Well, if I interrupted your binge watching, I apologize, although I still think your claim of being a Fawlty Towers fan is bollocks.”
His dry chuckle rises up into the heavy air surrounding the bar, as his fingers drag the condensation across his glass. “You'd be wrong. My mom loved the show, and I grew up watching the reruns. We still sneak in an episode or two when I visit. It's my definition of family bonding time. I take it you’re not a fan of the show?”
“On the contrary, I love it, but Charlie hated it with a passion. Threatened to chuck a shoe through the television whenever it came on.”
Keegan swivels on the barstool, facing me. "Tell me about Charlie."
I bite my lip and shake my head. "You don't want to hear about my husband."
He takes another sip from his drink, but his eyes never waver from my face. "Sure, I do. We're friends, right? Friends know these things."
Friends. What a comforting, warm, and wholly awful term.
That word sticks in my craw in a most uncomfortable way, even though I’m the one who first used the descriptor.
Deep down, I want him to rail against it, declaring we are far more than friends. That this delicious tension building between us should not be ignored, but rather, explored fully.
Some declaration that my feelings are not one-sided, or the sad lamentations of a broken widow. That night, for those brief moments, Keegan made me feel desirable. Beautiful. Wanted.
In short, he made me feel .
After so many months of feeling nothing but sorrow, I crave that heat.
Even if a future with Keegan isn’t a possibility.
Hell, at least he's a lovely distraction. That counts for something, right?
And our brief interlude plays on repeat through my dreams, both sleeping and awake. I chew my nail, reliving the memory of Keegan’s mouth against mine, the feel of him pressed against me, his body daring me to argue his advances .
That man’s mouth …
"You okay?"
Keegan's innocent question jerks me from my x-rated daydream. "Sure. Why do you ask?"
He motions to my cheeks. “You’re flushed. Guess the whiskey really is warming you up.”
Sure, we'll go with that answer. "I'm fine.”
Another smile quirks his lips. “You sure?”
Of nothing.
I motion to the barkeep and order a water. Time to downgrade into small talk before my fuzzy feelings take over and I throw all caution to the wind.
And throw myself at the gorgeous man seated next to me.
A brilliant idea right now. A terrible one in the morning, when I’m sober and alone. Again.
“You asked about Charlie. Let's see … he worked in banking?—”
Keegan shakes his head, waving his hand to halt my end of the conversation. "Don't feed me the bullshit information. Tell me the good stuff. Why did you love him?"
I sigh and smile as my darling Charlie enters the forefront of my mind. “It’s been so long since anyone has asked me about him.”
“It’s been about thirty seconds, actually,” Keegan jokes, but there’s a softness to his words, as if he senses how simultaneously difficult and necessary this is for me.
“Charlie and I met at a pub in Scotland. Shawn was there, too.”
“He served as your wingman?”
Chuckling, I nod. “I guess he did, which is amusing, considering only a few weeks earlier, he was my boyfriend.”
Keegan’s eyes widen. “You dated Shawn?”
"For about a minute, and it was a terrible idea. But, we stayed friends because we loved each other too much to part ways. So, Shawn and I went to this dank pub in Edinburgh, which was freezing cold. I think it was colder inside than out, and that's saying something.”
“Makes this place look fancy, huh?”
“At least this place has heat. Shawn and I walked to the bar and as we awaited our drinks, I scoped out the place. My gaze fell on this man sitting a few seats down. He was staring at me in the most obvious fashion. Suddenly, I wasn't cold anymore."
A muscle jumps in Keegan's jaw, but his face remains impassive. "Love at first sight. Isn't that what they call it?"
"I don't believe in love at first sight. I believe in recognition at first glance. Your soul recognizes something in the other person's soul. There's a familiarity there, and they're not a stranger to you, even if you've never said a word to them. It's such an unusual feeling, and it's rare."
"Once in a lifetime, huh?"
"I always thought that, and when Charlie died, I believed my chance at love died with him. But I hate to think I'm destined to live out my life alone. I possess a tremendous capacity to love, and it seems ironic I no longer have anyone to give it to. Domino will only accept so many snuggles."
I snatch up the bar napkin to wipe the tears slipping down my cheeks, but Keegan is quicker. He leans over, his thumb warm against my skin as he smoothes away the pain lacing my face.
Somehow, that gentle maneuver calms me, or maybe it’s just the nearness of him that brings me peace.
Either way, I’m grateful for him.
With a sniffle, I eke out a sad chuckle. "God, I'm a mess. I don't cry in front of people. I didn't cry at Charlie's funeral. Yet here I am, bawling in front of you. Again."
Keegan leans in, pressing a tender kiss on my forehead. “My mom always said that crying is the body's way of healing itself. Perhaps you can't hold it in anymore. Perhaps you shouldn't try."
But the idea of letting go is far more terrifying. A fear that if I release the valve holding back the dam of emotions, there might never be an end to my grief.
I roll my shoulders, releasing a long sigh. “My friends all try to be supportive, but their timeline is so different from mine. For them, it’s been almost two years and I need to step back into the world.”
“There’s no timeline on grief, Calli.”
“So I’ve read. In my defense, I’m far better than I was, because I want to embrace life again. Six months ago, I barely left my bed. Now, here I am, out for a drink with my friend. That’s an improvement, even if I subjected you to a minor meltdown in the process.”
We’ll ignore the fact that calling you a friend is physically painful.
“I’ll take you having a meltdown any day of the week. I enjoy you—being with you.” Keegan bites his lip and shifts in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with his own words.
I lean over and rest my hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I enjoy being with you, too. Far better than my terrible date.”
“Was he that bad?”
I shake my head. “No. He was a nice man, but he wasn’t?—”
I catch myself before I finish the sentence.
“He wasn’t Charlie?” Keegan asks, swirling the contents of his glass.
He wasn’t you.
Thankfully, I keep that thought in my head. “Have you ever been in love? Really and truly in love?”
Keegan considers my question for a moment. “I haven’t.”
“Hmm. ”
A smirk colors his lips. “You don’t like that response, do you?”
How in the world do I answer that?
I wave my hands, as if a retort might magically appear in the air. “Look, I get that you don’t believe in marriage and babies and all those shenanigans?—”
“I’m a big fan of shenanigans, actually,” Keegan replies with a wink.
“I’m sure you’ve had more than your share,” I concede. “But I’m looking at it from the other side of the table. You don’t believe in love, while I had a tremendous one with Charlie. I know that level of devotion exists, and I know love saved me once, so of course I recommend it.”
“A true romantic.”
“To the core, and I won’t settle for anything less. So, sadly, I may be bound for the single life, right along with you. Although, instead of busty blondes, I’ll have several cats and Domino for company.”
"And a baby. Can't forget that."
I cross my arms over my chest, hugging away the emotion that threatens to spill forth again. That nagging thought, deep in my brain, which whispers how I might not be able to fulfill Charlie’s wish.
That his legacy will end and it will be all my fault.
“If I’m able to have a baby. I had three miscarriages that I’m aware of, and likely countless more I suffered without knowing it. Maybe the universe was trying to tell me something, but I didn’t care to listen."
"It was. It was telling you to come and find me."
My breath whooshes from my lungs at Keegan’s words and I shift to meet his gaze, my entire body trembling. Deep down, that’s exactly what I feel towards the comely doctor.
That he spoke the words aloud makes my heart race with anticipation. A serendipitous match .
“You think the universe set it up for us to meet?"
He offers a nonchalant shrug, choosing to focus once again on the television behind the bar. “I do. I am the Baby Maker, after all."
My emotional high smashes onto the pub floor, as the intention behind his statement rings clear.
On that note, it’s time to stage a hasty retreat. “Quite right. You are indeed the Baby Maker. Time for you to get busy and do your job.” I pull my wallet from my purse and motion to the barkeep. “I’m at my limit for the night. I’m leading a sunrise yoga class tomorrow, and I will no doubt be a lovely shade of green for my students."
Keegan stays my hand and slides the bartender his credit card. “I’ll pay the tab. It's the least I can do after your crappy date."
"Thanks. I’ll owe you one,” I mumble, flushing at my earlier presumption.
Seriously, world, what is wrong with me? I know Keegan is unattainable, so why does my heart seize at his laid-back disposition?
I wanted him to be my friend. This is what friends do.
"No worries, Calli,” Keegan assures me. “I'm happy to be of service."
We stroll into the night, and I huddle deeper into my jacket to ward off the chill. The early spring weather from last week has left for parts unknown, leaving winter firmly in her stead.
Pausing under a streetlight, I point up the hill in the direction of my house. "I walked here, so I'm off. Thank you for sharing a drink with me. Listening to my sob story."
"I'll drive you home. Come on, I'm parked right over here."
He presses a button on his key fob and the headlights on a Jeep Wrangler blink. Surprising. I was expecting a luxury vehicle—a sleek BMW or Mercedes—not a lifted Jeep with mud on the tires.
"I must say I never pictured you driving a Jeep."
"Be nice to her. I love Bessie."
I stifle a laugh. “You named your truck?"
"First, she's a Jeep, not a truck. Second, of course, I named her. Everyone names their Jeep. It's a requirement."
"Is that unofficial Jeep code?"
Keegan chuckles, opening my door for me. "Something like that."
I pull myself into the seat, acutely aware of his hand's proximity to my ass. "I only live a few blocks from here. I really could have walked."
Keegan slides into the driver's seat, Led Zeppelin filling the interior when he turns the key. Another surprise.
The man is apparently full of them.
"I really wasn't going to let you, so I'm glad you agreed to let me drop you off. Otherwise, I would have had to force your hand, and the passenger seat is more comfortable than the hood."
"Strapping me to the hood of your Jeep. What a pal."
Keegan chuckles, pulling onto Main Street. "I have my moments."
You have many of them, Keegan.
I twist my hands in my lap, embarrassed by my earlier show of emotion. “I feel bad. I spent the evening talking your ear off, and I still know nothing about you. Next time, I won't say a word. You'll do all the talking."
"I'm not that interesting."
"I'll be the judge of that. Besides, you can't know everything about me while I know nothing about you. That’s hardly fair. Make a right here, and it's the fourth house on the right."
He pulls into my driveway and shifts the Jeep into park. "Nice house."
"It is, even though I hate the damn place."
“Why do you hate it? Because it reminds you of Charlie? "
“No, that’s the only reason I like it. I wanted to live on the water, not in town, but the lake is thirty minutes away and the beach is half a day’s drive. Charlie wanted something convenient to his job, and this fit the bill. But it was his style home. Not mine.”
“The lake is a bit out of the way, but that’s why I chose it. There is a peace out there that is unmatched.”
I swivel in my seat, releasing a huff of indignation. “Of course you live on the lake. Do you love it?"
"I do. But I’ve considered selling."
Please, God, don't tell me he's moving. I've only just met him.
"It's a good market for it,” I reply, pulling my key from my bag before shooting him a coy smile. “Maybe I’ll buy it from you and truly enjoy the peace. Lucky bastard.”
“In many ways.” There’s that sexy as hell grin again. Gets me every time.
“Wait a minute. You drove thirty minutes to hang out at a hole in the wall bar?”
Even in the dim light, I watch a slight flush climb his cheeks. “Definitely not. I drove thirty minutes to see you.”
His words wash over me and just like that night in Edinburgh, I no longer feel the late winter chill.
Fumbling for my keys, I volley between my next decision. Do I keep chatting? Invite him inside? Kiss him?
So many choices with so many less than stellar outcomes.
Time to be brave, Calli, old girl.
I motion toward the house, smiling when my dog peeks through the curtain. “Do you want to come in? I can make you some coffee. You can flirt with Domino."
An air of uncertainty hovers about his face as he drums the steering wheel. "I better get back. I have a long day tomorrow."
So much for bravery.
I nod and grasp the door handle. “Of course. Please drive safely and thank you for saving me from myself tonight. You must let me know how I can return the favor.”
"Come with me to a wedding."
I pause at Keegan’s unexpected statement. “Sorry. What was that?"
He shifts in his seat, and rubs his hand along his jaw. “My cousin is getting married next week on Long Island. I'd like you to be my date."
“Why me?”
Okay, perhaps not the question to lead with, although I really need to understand the man’s thought process. He turned down a nightcap, only to ask me to a full-on family affair moments later?
What am I missing? I swear, it’s been too damn long since I’ve played the dating game. I don’t even know the rules anymore.
He furrows his brow at my question. "Why not you, Calli? I think it might be fun. Get you out of town for a few days?—"
"It's a three-day wedding?"
"It's a wedding weekend.” Keegan drums his steering wheel again, his blue eyes focused on the darkness beyond the glass. “My family is tired of me bringing dates who behave like Megan. I'd like to show them I know some classy women, as well."
Ah, a fake showing. Wonderful.
"But we're not dating.”
His drumming increases pace. No doubt the man is growing aggravated by my arguments. How many women turn down a doctor of his caliber?
My answer is one, and she looks shockingly like me.
“They don’t have to know all the details. Come on, we’ll have a good time. I’ll cover all the expenses for the weekend. All you have to do is pretend to like me for a few hours.”
"Lord, that might be tricky," I tease, although the idea of a weekend with Keegan sounds incredibly enticing. Even if I leave behind a shattered heart on Long Island.
"I'll ply you with whiskey and make it a bit easier for you." He releases a slow exhalation as his gaze shifts once more to my face. "Just think about it, okay? You don't have to answer right now."
Do I want to say yes? Of course, but I’m entirely unsure if I can manage to fake care about the man. Especially when my true feelings deepen with every encounter.
"Fair enough. I appreciate that you consider me classy enough to meet your family. It’s quite a compliment.”
“Classiest woman I know,” he replies with that dimpled smile.
Once again, the warmth in my core threatens to overtake my senses. This man has me all twisted up … in the best possible way.
“You’ll never know how much that meant. Goodnight, Keegan.” Leaning across the Jeep’s interior, I press a kiss to his cheek and catch a hint of his cologne. Never overpowering, just mixing perfectly with his body chemistry into the most delicious scent.
For a split second, I consider grasping his chin and directing his gorgeous mouth to mine, but I think better of it.
We’ve already agreed it was a bad idea for us both.
But in that same instant, I feel the energy perking between us. It’s the same energy that has been present since the moment we laid eyes on one another.
And he feels it, too, even though he doesn’t say a word. His slight intake of breath when my lips touch his skin is proclamation enough.
I exit his vehicle and enter my home, waving him off from the front door.
As his headlights are eaten up by the darkness, I once again feel the heaviness settle over me .
A heaviness that doesn’t exist when he’s near me.
But what do I do with these feelings? Particularly when they’re aimed at a man who doesn’t believe in forever?
I told him I wouldn’t settle for anything less than amazing. He’s told me he isn’t built for long-term love.
There’s no future there, but there might be a ton of frivolity and fun times.
Question is, will that be enough?