Chapter Thirteen
Callum
I was behind the bar, elbow-deep in lemon-scented degreaser and exactly zero patience, when the door flew open with the kind of force that rattled the hinges.
I didn’t even have to look up to know who it was.
Only one person could blow into a room like that—fury in her steps, purpose in her stride, and a fire in her eyes that could melt drywall.
Lydia.
Wearing boots that somehow made stomping look sexy, a jacket that flared when she moved like it was part of a superhero costume, and a glare that could wither crops.
She was pissed.
And God help me. It was doing things to me I didn’t have time to unpack.
I straightened, wiped my hands on the bar towel, and forced the part of my brain that had wandered directly into she’s hot when she’s mad territory to shut the hell up.
“Let me guess,” I said, tone flat, “you ran out of reasons to ruin my day from down the street, so you came over for a personal touch?”
She marched right up to the bar and planted her hands on it like she was about to deliver a ruling from the high court of Do Not Mess With Me.
“I need access to the back hallway between the units,” she snapped. “Today. There’s wiring back there I need the electrician to look at before he bails for a bigger job, and I do NOT appreciate all the handmade notes telling me to buzz off.”
“And what makes you think I’m just gonna roll over and hand you a key like a well-behaved tenant?”
She leaned in slightly, eyes narrowed, voice low. “Because I already asked Riley, and she said the last time anyone had a key, it was you.”
My mouth twitched.
Damn it.
Of course, Riley ratted me out.
I made a show of sighing like she was personally dragging my soul out of my body. “You planning to tear the hallway down next? Put in one of those trendy neon signs that says Good Vibes Only ?”
“If I did, it’d be to balance out your entire existence. Your idea of Karma is…
“I don’t believe in Karma.”
She narrowed her eyes on me. “Obviously.”
“You’re hilarious,” I said, deadpan.
She didn’t flinch. “I’m serious, Callum. I’m not here to fight. I just want to do my job.”
“Funny,” I muttered. “That’s what I said right before I met the woman who keeps showing up with clipboards and a mission to turn the town into a Pinterest board. I just wanted to show up to work and serve the people booze and beer.”
She blinked. Once.
Then leaned even closer, her eyes locked on mine. “I don’t have a clipboard.”
“And yet you walk like you’re holding one.”
I could practically see her biting back a curse, which only made my chest tighten in some twisted combination of satisfaction and… well, interest .
Because of this woman? This stubborn, fire-eyed, too-pretty-for-her-own-good woman? She was not scared of me. And that made her the most dangerous thing to walk into this bar since Jerry Perkins tried to deep-fry a bratwurst inside.
I’d only met that determination once, and my heart was ripped out of my chest the moment I let myself fall.
“Look,” she said, voice calmer now but still tight. “I know you don’t like me. That’s fine. I didn’t come here to braid your beard and swap life stories. But you do live in the same building I own, and this isn’t a turf war. It’s maintenance.”
“Wait. Braid my beard?” My brow lifted.
She didn’t respond.
I stared at her for a long beat, doing my level best to focus on her words and not her mouth, which—infuriatingly—looked even better when she was trying not to yell at me.
Finally, I moved. Not because I was ready to be helpful, but because I couldn’t keep standing this close to her without doing something stupid, like leaning in, smiling… or kissing her.
Where I’d surely get slugged in the mouth and come out with a black eye.
I turned, rummaged under the register, and found the old key ring. It held a dozen unlabeled keys, including one that looked like it might open a cursed treasure chest.
“This one,” I said, holding it up. “Bottom left hallway door. Don’t lose it.”
She reached out and took the key, her fingers brushing mine for half a second too long.
Electricity thrummed through me, and I swallowed back the surprise that followed it.
She yanked her hand back like it burned.
Good. That made two of us.
“Thanks,” she said, jaw still tight. “I’ll return it when the job’s done.”
“Be careful back there,” I said, leaning back against the bar. “It’s dusty. Full of old wires and the occasional bad decision.”
“Perfect. I’ll feel right at home.”
She turned on her heel and strode out of the bar without another word, the door swinging shut behind her with the same energy she came in with.
I stared after her, chest tight and jaw clenched.
God help me, I had no idea what the hell was happening.
But I knew two things for certain:
One…Lydia wasn’t going anywhere.
Two…neither was the fact that she had completely taken over the part of my brain that used to be dedicated to common sense and self-preservation.
I turned back to the bar, grabbed a rag, and started wiping down the counter like it had personally offended me.
Because if I didn’t, I would start imagining what it might feel like to pull her back into this room and kiss that smug, stubborn look right off her face.
And that?
That would be a problem.
A big, sexy, maddening problem with perfect hair and too much fire for someone who claimed she wasn’t here to make waves.
She was a damn tsunami.
And I was already half-drowning.
I had my business to focus on.
The bar had just opened for the day. Sunlight poured through the front windows in angled streaks, catching the dust motes in a lazy swirl. The jukebox hadn’t been turned on yet, and the place smelled like lemon cleaner, old wood, and coffee I hadn’t finished.
Trying to get Lydia out of my head, I stepped behind the bar and started to restock napkins and mentally review my list for the day.
But my mind kept flopping back to the new landlady.
Lydia.
All fire and purpose, marching in like she owned the place.
Which, technically… she kind of did.
But that didn’t mean I had to like it.
I pretended not to notice the jolt that hit my stomach at the sight of her.
The bell jingled, and in she flew again.
“Wrong key, and somehow I think you knew that.” Her brows pulled together as she eyed me.
I bit back my laugh. “I would never…”
“Yeah, you would. Now, instead of having to pay for the contractor to try every damn key, why don’t you try out becoming a decent human being?”
“I never agreed to being decent.”
She leveled me with a look. “I have a job to do, and I’m going to do it whether you like it or not.”
“And yet here I am, still unimpressed.”
She reached the bar and rested her palms on the worn wood like she owned it. Damn her, she didn’t flinch when our eyes met.
“I’m not here to impress you, Callum,” she said coolly. “I’m here to ensure this building doesn’t fall apart while you’re too busy glowering at it to notice.”
My jaw tensed. “This bar’s been standing just fine for decades. Doesn’t need you sweeping in to save it.”
“I’m not trying to save it. I’m trying to keep it upright long enough for another decade. You ever look at your back exit door lately? That hinge is one good slam away from giving up.”
I pushed off the bar and crossed my arms. “So, you came in here to check on my hinges?”
“I came in here to get the damn key,” she said, straightening, “because I scheduled a walk-through with the electrician and your part of the building is next. Thought I’d give you a heads-up before we start unscrewing things and your ceiling falls on someone’s head.”
“Gracious of you,” I muttered. “Do all landlords come with this much attitude, or did I just win the lottery?”
She leaned a little closer across the bar. “I think your sparkling personality brings out the best in me.”
It was infuriating how fast my pulse jumped at that. I clung to my grumpiness like a damn life raft.
“I don’t need you fixing what isn’t broken,” I growled.
She held my gaze. “Then consider this a preemptive strike. Before it does break.”
For a beat, neither of us said anything.
The room felt hotter than it had ten seconds ago.
She was standing close enough for me to catch the scent of whatever she used in her hair—something soft, a little citrusy. It made me feel like I’d wandered too close to a fire and didn’t have the sense to step back.
I cleared my throat. “You always this hands-on with your other properties, or am I just lucky?”
She refused to answer but had another one-liner. “I’ve never had tenants who acted like replacing a faulty wire was a personal insult.”
“That wire’s been there longer than you’ve been alive.”
“That might be the problem.”
I glared at her.
How did she do it? Always one better.
She smiled again, and I hated how much I liked that smile. It was knowing, confident, the kind of smile that said she wasn’t afraid of a fight and maybe even liked one.
Which meant I was very, very screwed.
“Fine,” I said gruffly. “Do your walkthrough. Just don’t touch anything without telling me first. Here’s the correct key.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Good.”
She started to turn, then glanced back at me, her eyes glinting. “But you should know—when I get around to touching something? It’s going to be worth it.”
My breath caught, just for a second.
But I didn’t let it show. I smirked instead, slow and mean.
“Just try not to burn the place down, princess.”
She gave me a look like she might throw something…maybe a wrench, but instead, she lifted her chin and backed away toward the door.
“See you soon, Callum,” she said, and it wasn’t a threat or a promise. It was both.
And then she was gone, the bell on the door jingling sweetly behind her like the bar hadn’t just been turned upside down by a woman in boots and sass.
I stood there, still gripping the edge of the bar.
Still trying to catch my breath.
This woman…
She wasn’t like anyone I’d ever known. And the more she pushed, the more I stepped forward instead of back.
Which was a problem.
Because I didn’t have time for feelings, I didn’t have time for flirty fights in the middle of the bar, or how her mouth curled around my name like she was trying it out just to see how much it would bother me.
And yet…
I knew she’d be back.
And damn it all, I’d be waiting.