Chapter Sixteen
Lydia
The idea came on slow and soft, like a nudge rather than a decision.
I was wiped after spending all afternoon untangling a mess of receipts, contractor estimates, and an unfortunate confrontation with a rogue spider in the basement hallway. My fridge had a half-empty bottle of white wine and a leftover yogurt that had seen better days. And even though I knew how to cook, I didn’t have the energy to peel a carrot, let alone sauté anything.
So when the thought popped into my head… I should just grab something easy, maybe a burger, maybe at The Rusty Stag , I didn’t fight it.
I told myself it was for convenience. For calories. For something greasy and hot and uncomplicated.
I did not tell myself it was to see him.
But as I walked through the door, the now-familiar bell giving a lazy jingle, my stomach did this little swoop like it knew better.
The Rusty Stag was comfortably dim and already halfway full.
Locals crowded the bar and booths in their usual post-work ritual, a game murmuring on the TV above the back corner, the low hum of laughter, and the occasional thump of a pint glass on wood. It smelled like grilled meat, old varnish, and just enough lemon cleaner to make you believe someone cared.
I slid onto a stool at the far end of the bar, deliberately not looking around for a particular pair of broad shoulders and glowering green eyes. I told myself that if Callum happened to be behind the bar, I would be civil.
Polite. Cool as a cucumber, that had no interest in the man who’d just two days ago all but set the oxygen between us on fire with a look .
But of course, he wasn’t the one who greeted me.
“Evening, landlady,” said a voice to my right.
I turned and found Drew Benedict plopping into the stool beside me with a far too-knowing grin.
“Evening, barkeep’s brother,” I said with a smile.
He laughed. “Wow, full sass right out of the gate. Bold choice, considering you haven’t ordered a drink yet.”
“I have faith in your service,” I said.
“Smart woman.”
He flagged down another bartender, Travis, whose name I’d learned, who gave me a friendly wave and started pulling a menu.
“You here solo?” Drew asked as he swiveled toward me.
“Is that your subtle way of asking if I’m meeting someone?”
“Wouldn’t dream of being subtle.”
I smirked and accepted the menu. “No, just me. Long day. Kitchen’s empty. Barstool looked inviting.”
“Then you’ve come to the right place. The fries are sinful, and the burger’s borderline spiritual.”
“I like a little guilt with my dinner.”
Drew leaned in slightly, all easy charm. “You really are from the city. You even sound like a dating app tagline.”
I laughed, despite myself. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should.”
He was easy to talk to, I had to admit. Playful without being pushy, funny in a way that didn’t feel like he was trying too hard. The exact opposite of his older brother, who always made it feel like talking was a negotiation, and I was two seconds away from being tossed out like bad coleslaw.
“So,” Drew said, propping his elbow on the bar, “how’s Reckless River treating you? Besides the structural trauma of the building, of course.”
I sipped the water Travis had dropped off and shrugged. “I’m still figuring it out. People are friendly, the town’s got charm, and no one’s asked if I want to invest in a timeshare, so I’m counting that as a win.”
Drew grinned. “We save the timeshare pitches for fall. Tourist trap season.”
“Oh, good. I’ll brace myself.”
“You’re doing alright though?” he asked, and the question felt genuine, not just filler.
“Yeah,” I said, surprised by the honesty in my voice. “I think I am.”
And then the temperature of the room changed.
I didn’t need to look to know why.
I felt it in the shift of air, the hush in conversation behind me, and that weird, totally illogical way the hair on the back of my neck stood up.
Callum was in the room.
My spine straightened.
Or maybe it tingled.
I reached for my water again, pretending not to notice that Drew suddenly looked more amused.
“Well, well,” he said, not even bothering to hide it. “The bear emerges.”
Callum’s voice came from behind me—low, quiet, dangerous in its casualness. “Didn’t realize we were running a social club now.”
I turned on my stool to face him, calm on the outside, but oh-so-aware of the heat that flooded me at the sight of him.
He looked tired, but in a rugged, just-finished-splitting-wood kind of way. Shirt sleeves rolled up. Hair mussed like he’d run his hands through it too many times. Eyes trained right on me, unreadable.
“Well, we were trying to keep it low-key,” I said sweetly. “But then someone brought the torrential weather system with them.”
His jaw flexed, just once. Drew sat back like he was watching a tennis match and enjoying every second.
Callum’s eyes flicked to his brother, then back to me. “Didn’t realize you were taking dinner recommendations from Drew now.”
I raised a brow. “Is that a problem?”
He didn’t answer right away. Just stood there, looking like he was fighting some kind of internal battle.
“No,” he said finally. “Just… unexpected.”
I turned back to my menu. “Guess the new Reckless River will keep surprising you.”
“There’s nothing new about the place.”
My eyes stayed on his. “I’m new.”
Drew chuckled, low and amused. “You want a drink, big brother, or you just stopping by to radiate tension?”
Callum ignored him and stepped behind the bar, grabbing a rag like he had something to do, even though the counter was already clean.
“Burger?” Travis asked me, wisely cutting in before the air got any thicker.
“Yeah, extra cheese and bacon,” I said. “And fries. Extra crispy. Please.”
Callum didn’t look at me again. But I could feel him.
Could feel the weight of whatever that stare had been. I could feel the pull, the frustration, and the tension that crackled under every word between us like a live wire.
I didn’t know what this was.
But I knew it wasn’t over.
Not even close.
I was halfway through my burger—delicious. Drew was right. It was definitely some kind of spiritual experience, but then I felt Callum’s eyes on me again.
He hadn’t spoken to me directly since my burger arrived, but his presence behind the bar felt like a storm front rolling in that was quiet, charged, and very much not over.
Drew had wandered off at some point to check on something in the back. Or maybe he just sensed the emotional barometer dropping and decided to bail. Either way, I was alone again at the bar… except for Callum.
He was at the far end, pretending to organize liquor bottles that didn’t need organizing. Every time he straightened one, he stole a glance at me. And every time I looked up, his eyes darted away.
Childish.
I might've laughed if it didn’t make my pulse stutter like a hiccup every time.
I picked up my drink and leaned back on the barstool, taking my time. I didn’t know why I was suddenly so aware of how my legs crossed or how my bare arm brushed the polished wood. But I knew he noticed. I could feel him noticing.
And I was done pretending I didn’t care.
I waited until he was close, maybe too close, wiping down a clean bar section like it had insulted his family. I set my drink down with a soft clink and spoke.
“So, do you always hover like a passive-aggressive thundercloud, or is that just for me?”
Callum’s eyes flicked to mine.
Green. Sharp. Stormy.
“I’m not hovering.”
“You’ve circled this end of the bar three times.”
His mouth twitched. Almost a smile. Almost.
“You’re imagining things,” he muttered.
I tilted my head, letting my gaze roam up the line of his arm to where his sleeve was rolled just enough to show a stretch of ink across his forearm. A compass. Faint script.
Dangerous territory.
“Funny,” I said. “That’s the same thing I tell myself when I try not to notice you brooding in corners.”
He stilled.
And the silence that fell between us wasn’t awkward.
It was electric.
His gaze dropped to my mouth.
Just for a second. But I caught it.
My breath snagged.
Something cracked.
“You’re enjoying this,” he said, voice lower now.
“Which part?”
“This,” he said, motioning vaguely between us. “The push and pull.”
I gave him a slow smile. “A little.”
He stepped in, resting his hands on the bar, leaning just far enough forward that I could smell him—whiskey, soap, and something warm and earthy like firewood and nights that are too long to forget.
My skin prickled.
His eyes searched mine. Not playfully. Not teasing.
Intense.
Focused.
“I don’t like being baited,” he said.
“Then stop biting so hard.”
He let out a short breath, like a laugh that got caught in his chest. “You are the most maddening woman I’ve ever met.”
I shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.”
His jaw worked. “You think this is a game.”
“No,” I said softly, suddenly serious. “I think this is complicated.”
He didn’t respond.
Didn’t move.
Just stared at me like he was trying to decide whether to walk away or burn the whole thing down.
And then, slowly, he reached out. Not far. Just enough for his fingers to brush against mine on the bar. Light. Tentative. Like a question.
I didn’t pull away.
Didn’t breathe.
“Lydia,” he said, my name rough on his tongue.
That was it. Just my name.
But it held more weight than some entire conversations.
The air between us felt like it might snap.
And then, because my brain couldn’t help but interrupt moments of real feeling, I said, “You know, for someone so grumpy, you’re weirdly sweet when no one’s looking.”
He growled under his breath and pulled his hand back like I’d slapped him. “Don’t push it.”
“I’m not. I’m just observing.”
“You’re provoking.”
“Same thing, depending on the man.”
His nostrils flared. “Keep talking like that and you’re going to end up learning exactly how little patience I have.”
I leaned in, chin propped in my hand. “You say that like it’s a threat.”
He blinked once, slowly.
And I swear, for a second, it looked like he might reach for me again.
Might say something else.
Might shatter whatever line we were pretending not to toe.
But Drew reappeared behind the bar like the world’s most inconveniently timed third wheel, wiping his hands on a towel and looking between us like we were two teenagers caught with our hands in the cookie jar.
“Miss me?” he asked, grinning.
Callum stepped back like he’d been doused with cold water.
I picked up my drink and sipped, pretending I hadn’t just been two seconds from combusting.
Drew looked from one of us to the other, narrowing his eyes. “Well, then. I’m just gonna… keep moving. Don’t mind me.”
He wandered down the bar, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.
Callum muttered something under his breath and turned away, grabbing a bottle from the shelf like it had personally offended him.
I let him retreat.
For now.
Because I’d seen it.
Felt it.
Whatever was between us?
It wasn’t going away.
And soon, very soon, one of us was going to break.
I just hoped I was ready when it happened.