Chapter 2
Chapter Two
L iam
The low hum of conversation at The Devil’s Brew does little to calm my nerves. I walk in, boots heavy on the creaky wood floor, the limp in my left leg more noticeable when I’m tense. The familiar smell of sawdust, stale beer, and fried food greets me, but it doesn’t soothe me like it usually does. Not tonight.
When my eyes land on her, sitting at the bar, my chest tightens. Callie Baker. Of all people. Her dark hair is swept into a messy bun, a few loose strands framing her face. She looks tired—no, wrecked—but still manages to be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I wasn’t ready for this. Hell, I wasn’t ready for any of this. Posting that flyer was a joke, a way to shut up the guys and their constant ribbing about my “hermit lifestyle.” I didn’t think anyone would actually call. Is this woman really my mail-order bride? It’s been years since we’ve even had a conversation–always passing like two ships in the night–casual aquaintances at best for all these years. I push the memories out of my mind of the last time we were together. Before my stint in the military, before life left me with a busted up knee and pain that digs in a little deeper every day.
Young love, what a joke.
She hasn’t noticed me yet, too busy staring at the glass of whiskey in front of her. I let myself look at her a moment longer, the way the soft bar light catches on her cheekbones and the hint of a frown pulling at her full lips. Lips I haven’t forgotten, not since that awkward, too-fast kiss behind the middle school gym.
I clear my throat, stepping closer. “Callie.”
Her head snaps up, her eyes locking onto mine. For a second, her expression is blank, like she can’t place me. Then recognition flares, and her lips part in surprise.
“Liam?” Her voice is soft, unsure. It hits me like a punch to the gut.
“Yeah.” I shove my hands in my jacket pockets, trying to look casual, like I haven’t been picturing this moment for years. “From the flyer.”
Her eyes widen, and a flush creeps up her neck. She laughs, a sound that’s as strained as it is genuine. “You’re the guy?”
I shrug, my lips twitching into something close to a smirk. “Surprised?”
Her gaze sweeps over me, lingering on my broad shoulders, the faint scars on my knuckles, and finally my limp as I shift my weight. “A little.”
“Disappointed?”
“Not yet,” she quips, her smile softening the sting of her words.
God, I’ve missed this—her quick wit, the way she never let me get away with anything even as kids. “Well, don’t get your hopes up.”
She shakes her head, her laugh a little easier this time. “I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this.”
I glance at the whiskey she hasn’t touched. “That makes two of us.”
We take a booth in the back, away from the curious stares of the regulars. Callie sits across from me, her arms crossed on the table, her posture guarded. I can tell she’s sizing me up, trying to figure out what I want.
“You called me,” I remind her, breaking the silence.
“I was desperate.” The honesty in her tone is a punch to the gut. “My yoga studio’s gone, Liam. Everything I had… it’s just ash now.”
Her words hang in the air, heavy and unspoken. I don’t know how to comfort her, so I fall back on practicality. “You need a place to stay.”
She blinks at me, surprised. “What?”
“My cabin,” I say, leaning back in the booth. “It’s not much, but it’s got a roof, heat, and more space than I need.”
Her lips part, but no sound comes out. I can tell she’s weighing the offer, her pride battling with her circumstances.
“Look,” I add, my voice softening, “it’s just until you figure out your next move. No strings. You’ll have your own room.”
She hesitates, her gaze dropping to her hands. “I don’t know, Liam.”
“What’s there to know?” I shrug. “It’s better than this place.” I gesture toward the bar, where Wendy is now glaring down a guy trying to flirt with her. “Unless you’re planning on renting a booth.”
She snorts, a small smile breaking through her uncertainty. “You’re still as sarcastic as ever.”
“And you’re still stubborn.” My tone is playful, but the look I give her is serious. “Take the damn offer, Callie.”
Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment, something passes between us—something I can’t name but don’t want to let go of. Finally, she nods. “Okay. But just for a little while.”
I nod back, relief and something warmer settling in my chest. “Good.”
The truck ride to my cabin is quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound. Callie stares out the window, her expression unreadable. I want to say something, to ask her what’s going on in that head of hers, but I don’t. Words aren’t my thing. Action is.
When we pull up to the cabin, I steal a glance at her. Her mouth parts slightly as she takes it in—the simple wood structure, the barn off to the side, the faint glow of the porch light. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s home.
“This is yours?” she asks, her voice tinged with disbelief.
“Yeah,” I say, killing the engine. “It’s not much, but it works.”
She doesn’t respond, just grabs her bag and climbs out of the truck. Rocky, my chocolate lab, comes bounding out of the barn, his tail wagging furiously. Callie kneels to greet him, her laughter spilling into the night as Rocky plants muddy paw prints on her jeans.
“He’s friendly,” I say, stepping out of the truck.
“I can see that.” She grins, scratching Rocky behind the ears. “He’s beautiful.”
I don’t respond, watching the way her hands move, gentle and sure, as if she’s known Rocky forever. Something about the sight stirs a warmth I’m not used to feeling, something I don’t know what to do with.
“Come on,” I say gruffly, turning toward the cabin. “I’ll show you your room.”
Inside, the cabin is quiet, the faint smell of cedar lingering in the air. I flick on the light, revealing the cozy living room with its worn couch, cluttered coffee table, and the stone fireplace that’s the heart of the space.
“It’s… cozy,” Callie says, her tone neutral.
I glance at her, catching the hint of amusement in her eyes. “That a polite way of saying it’s small?”
“No.” She smiles, and for a moment, it’s like the weight of the past few days lifts off her shoulders. “It’s nice, Liam. It feels… safe.”
Safe. The word hits me harder than it should. I clear my throat, gesturing toward the hallway. “Your room’s down there. Second door on the left.”
She nods, heading down the hall with Rocky at her heels. I stand there for a moment, watching her go, before shaking my head and heading for the kitchen.
Callie Baker. The girl I’ve been in love with since middle school.
This is going to be interesting.