Chapter 2 Callum
TWO
Callum
“That’s it. I can’t take Manny’s micro-managing anymore. I quit.”
Russ Wheaton had just stormed over to the bar, where I was unloading the glass washer. I smirked and continued stacking clean pint glasses on the shelf. “No, you don’t. You love your job.”
“But I’m tempted, O’Neal. Swear to God, Manny has got me down to my last nerve. That old man needs to be put out of his misery.”
“Hey. Come on, now.” I bit back a smirk. “Let’s not wish ill on anyone. Especially our boss who’s already injured.”
“I’m not talking about him kicking the bucket. I’m not a monster. I just mean retiring. Even before the broken bones, it was way overdue.”
I shrugged, but I couldn’t disagree.
Things had been a little extra hectic around here since Manny’s accident. He’d been texting and video-calling us to check up on things. Like, every five to ten minutes. It was a lot.
He never should’ve been up on that ladder in the storage room anyway. But was I going to say that to an eighty-year-old guy who ruled the brewery like a dictator? Fuck no. I valued my own life.
At least I’d found him quickly after he fell. Kept him stable and had the paramedics there in no time flat. Fall like that could’ve killed him.
Manny Alvarez had been the owner and operator of Hearthstone for the last three decades.
It had started as just a small tasting room before Manny expanded it into the thriving restaurant and bar it was today.
We’d been getting accolades for the brews that Russ, as brewmaster, created.
He’d been taking Manny’s recipes and updating them to the latest trends.
This place was Manny’s entire life. So I couldn’t blame him for a case of separation anxiety.
I’d been here for the last four years, rising from bartender to manager of our entire bar business. It had been 50% hard work, 50% people skills, and a healthy dash of old-fashioned charm.
Good thing I had all three, in spades.
“Look, I’ll take care of Manny,” I told Russ. “When I visited him in the hospital a couple days ago, he told me he’s starting the hiring process. Once he has his replacement, he’ll retire. He’s really doing it this time.”
“You don’t think he’ll change his mind and show up here on one of those scooter things, zooming around and shouting orders and hitting us with his cane?”
“Nah. Manny knows it’s time. I promise I’ll bear the brunt of his crazy until we can get things sorted out and replace him.”
Russ’s shoulders relaxed, and he exhaled a heavy breath. Then a new worry seemed to take over his expression. “Yeah, but that’ll mean a brand-new general manager. I like the way things are. The culture of this place might change.”
As I wiped down the bar, a wild idea popped into my head. Not an uncommon occurrence, because my mind was a wild place sometimes. “Maybe I’ll apply for it.”
“You?” Russ laughed.
And laughed some more.
My towel paused on its cleaning duties, my hip cocking as I frowned. “It’s not that funny. I’m already bar manager.”
“But running the entire Hearthstone operation? That’s a lot of logistics and contracts and spreadsheets. Budgets. You weren’t any better at math than I was in school.”
“Fuck you. I did okay.”
“If it was your sister, maybe, but you…”
“Grace already does the books for this place. She’s not looking for another job.”
“No kidding. She’s shacked up with a rich dude. Why would she?”
My jaw tightened. “Enough about Grace. I was talking about me. Why couldn’t I handle being general manager?”
“I didn’t say you can’t. It’s just a lot of numbers in that job, you know.
You’re more of a front of the house guy.
That’s a compliment. Besides,” Russ added with a grin, “you’d have to act all professional if you were the top boss.
Couldn’t hook up with customers. Your status as Silver Ridge’s biggest man-whore would be in jeopardy. ”
“Okay, I get it.” I tossed the bar towel at his face. “Don’t you have some hops to sniff or yeast to babysit?”
Before Russ could respond, my other bartender working tonight hurried over, looking frazzled. “You okay, Winnie?” I asked.
“I’m so sorry, but I just got a call. My niece Ally’s got a stomach bug. Apocalyptic level barfing, apparently. My sister’s babysitter just scooted, and there’s nobody to cover for her.”
I held back a wince. “Say no more. Go help your sister. I’ve got things covered here.”
“Thank you.” She clasped her hands together. “You’re a saint, O’Neal. Seriously.”
“Saint might be pushing it,” Russ muttered. I almost flipped him the bird, but I was being professional.
Before she could leave, I asked, “Hey Win, do you think I could handle being general manager?”
“Of Hearthstone?”
“No, of the Denver Broncos.” I winked. “Yeah, I mean Hearthstone.”
She paused. “I mean…maybe? You’re awesome. But that would be a big jump, you know?”
Russ snorted. “There’s a vote of confidence, right there.”
Seriously? Did nobody believe in me?
That kinda hurt.
Winnie hurried home, and Russ did whatever brewmasters do at night. Debate the merits of west coast versus east coast hops, probably.
But despite my persistent smile and continuous banter as I served our customers, I contemplated the future. My future. The possibility that I might want to be general manager, an idea that hadn’t even occurred to me before tonight.
But why the hell not? If somebody had to fill Manny’s shoes, why not me?
I was a Hart County boy. A native who, despite playing football for the high school team and then a stint in the military, had never wanted to live anywhere else. I loved Silver Ridge, and I loved Hearthstone. But that didn’t mean I lacked ambition.
My older brother Ashford was married and settled. My baby sister Grace was madly in love. Our friend Teller had fallen so hard he upended his entire life to be with his lady.
My point was, I was in my mid-thirties now. Why not try for something bigger?
Not a relationship, of course. I wasn’t built for one-and-onlys. Even if I was great at spotting love matches for other people. It was a gift of mine.
But more responsibility could be ideal. More money. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I loved getting to know people, and pretty much all people loved me. When combined with my work ethic, wouldn’t that make me a good head manager?
The real question: would Manny agree?
Russ had a point about my hookup habits. I was always clear about not wanting anything serious, but plenty of women hoped for another ride on this pony. Who could blame them? That’s why I only hooked up with tourists. They were already in the mood for something fun and temporary.
What better place to pick up vacationing hotties than this very bar, where I spent nearly every night?
But in the name of professionalism, that would have to change. No more hooking up with women I met while at work. I could handle that. Piece of cake.
Next, I would just have to convince Manny I was the guy for the job.
Maybe I could start my no-hooking-up resolution tomorrow.
The most gorgeous woman I’d seen in a while had just walked in the door.
Straight dark-brown hair fell down her back to her waist. Her jeans hugged her curves like my truck on a mountain road.
And when she settled on a barstool, her eyes landed on me and widened.
She glanced away, biting her lip hesitantly.
How was I supposed to resist that?
My smile grew with every step I took closer to her. “Hi, there. What can I get you?”
“I don’t know yet.” There was something in her tone I liked. A mix of challenge and breathlessness, like I’d made her heart rate increase, but she hadn’t decided if that was a good thing.
“Hungry? Thirsty?”
“Just thirsty.”
I passed over a menu. “We’ve got plenty to choose from. Take your time. When you’re ready, just wave and I’ll hurry back.” After adding a wink, simply because I couldn’t resist, I gave her some space.
But I kept her in my peripheral view. Her eyes were huge and dark, and her lips were full. The kind that begged to be kissed. She was the type of stunning that took a guy’s breath away.
And she kept looking over at me, like she was assessing me too. Something I was well familiar with, but it never got old.
Anticipation rose in my stomach like sparks rising from a campfire.
Had I mentioned I really loved sex?
In particular, I loved showing a woman a fantastic time.
Making her feel beautiful. Making her moan leading up to that moment when she lost control.
But the opening chase, that seductive will-we-or-won’t-we dance, was almost as fun.
The next morning, if we felt like a second round, it was like a victory lap before parting ways.
Happy memories all around, no drama, no repeats.
Already, my endorphins elevated. I could always swear off meeting women at work tomorrow. If this one was interested, there was no way I’d turn her down.
But first, I had to reel her in.
I made my way back over. “Any decisions yet? If you’d like suggestions, I’m partial to the kolsch.”
“Then I’ll have a vodka soda.”
My grin spread. “You got it.” She was staking her own ground. I could work with that. I took her menu, turning my smile all the way up. “I’m Callum, by the way.”
“I know.”
That response caught me off guard. “You do?”
“Callum O’Neal.” My name sounded sharp in her mouth. Like she was going to use it against me.
Kinky.
“Have we met?” I asked.
Her dark eyes glittered. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
My smile slipped.
Oh, shit. Had I already slept with her before?
Or maybe I’d hooked up with her best friend or sister or something, and she didn’t approve. Whatever the answer, I truly didn’t recognize her, though I racked my brain for some trace of her in my memory.
There wasn’t much I could do except take the blame and shrug it off. Something I had no problem doing. When I screwed up, I was man enough to admit it.