Chapter 5
Callie
The bar is absolutely packed tonight and buzzing with the usual Friday night energy. It’s still early, but the start of the weekend usually means more patrons than normal find their way here thanks to the great live music lineup kept by the owners.
Not that Ian and I are biased, or anything.
Every table and stool is occupied, with a line six people deep at the bar for service.
Thanks to the steady stream of tourists and the local university, there’s even a small line of people waiting to be fortunate enough to gain entrance.
Lucky for us, we’re with the band. We even have the stamps on our hands to prove it.
“I think I see a couple of spots near the front.” Ian points through the throng of beer and music lovers to a rickety table just big enough for two right by the stage.
Following where he points, I nod while my ponytail tickles the back of my neck.
Dead ahead, Aaron and his band are finishing final adjustments.
With his brother and friend basically staring in his direction, the lead singer pops his head up and locates us nearly immediately.
He gives us a thumbs up alongside a wide grin before getting back to business tuning his guitar of the night.
“Perfect.” I jut a thumb toward the bar. “I’ll grab the drinks while you snag the table?”
“Cool. Nothing too dark.”
“Coming right up.”
“And a water, please.”
“Got it. Next time, he needs to put out a Reserved sign.”
Ian laughs. “Yeah, I’m sure he’ll get right on that.”
“A girl can dream.”
“Hey, think Connie will come tonight?” Ian smirks.
Rolling my eyes, I groan. “Who knows. But at least she’s the most bearable of the brood.”
“Not to mention, your phone has been blowing up with texts from her since before we got here asking about the details for tonight.”
“That may or may not be a decent indicator.”
Ian grins before hightailing it to the unicorn of seats.
Wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans, I’m once again thankful the dark wash hides everything from stray marker, to sweat, to beer getting sloshed from strange mugs.
Being around this many people after a full week isn’t really my idea of a great time.
But Aaron’s band has worked hard and I’m proud to be a diehard fan.
Sweat and too much cologne mingle with telltale aromas of bar food throughout the room.
Even the air feels sticky on nights like tonight.
But the buzz in the air for my friend propels me onward.
One careful step, then another. With each one, a tiny sigh of relief escapes me as I avoid running into anyone who’s already had too much to drink.
By the time I’m ten paces away from the bar, I’ve managed to only step on two toes, be nudged by one erratic elbow and ward off one unwanted suitor.
Though, my mother would tell me to grab any opportunity that comes my way after Alexander dumped me in the spring.
I can see the whites of the bartender’s eyes when I hear, “Ms. Rutherford?”
My feet come to a crashing halt. Cringing internally, I’m suddenly cursing Ian for suggesting I wear this stupid “I Love This Alot” T-shirt.
This may be one of my favorite shirts, but not when I get caught by a parent.
Intentionally teaching incorrect grammar is no laughing matter.
Ratcheting my body one, two and three times puts me face to face with a high top table occupied by little Cici McNalley’s dad.
And none other than Dr. Oliver freaking Rhodes.
Shock and panic take hold as my fight-or-flight instinct tries to kick in with little success.
Apparently, my frozen feet have chosen to fight.
Do I pretend not to know him? That would certainly be easiest. I mean, how well can you really know someone after sitting in their office for all of ten minutes while you try to proposition them for their fake dating services? Not very well, I promise.
My no doubt wide eyes land on each of them in turn before landing back on Dr. McNalley.
“Uh, hi. Hello. How are you, Dr. McNalley?” I don’t need a mirror to tell me my cheeks are as red as my hair right about now.
Cici’s dad is often the talk of the teacher’s lounge—majorly gorgeous, amazing with his daughter, financially stable with an impressive job.
Needless to say, having Cici in my class makes me the envy of all the single female faculty members.
The one on one parent-teacher conferences don’t hurt, either.
Mrs. Johnson, our little old librarian, has suggested numerous times I try to wrangle a date out of Serenvale Springs’ most eligible single dad.
And while he is without a doubt the most attractive parent in the PTA and checks every box for any sexually active human with a pulse, Dr. John McNalley just doesn’t do it for me. Sad, but true.
“I’ve told you, call me John.” He laughs before taking a sip of his drink.
“John,” I repeat. Much to my relief, one of the giant elephants sitting on my chest decides to vacate the premises.
To his right, curiosity radiates from the obnoxiously handsome Dr. Rhodes. Silent questions that I purposefully avoid engaging with. I hate that he’s so freaking hot. Every second he continues watching our interaction, heat burns brighter in my cheeks.
Slowly dipping my chin in acknowledgment, I slide my gaze to the other person in the group.
Familiarity floods my mind as I try to place her.
Sitting next to John, it’s impossible to miss the resemblance.
“And you’re … Cici’s aunt, right? You were at the Halloween party and brought those little cookies with the chocolates smooshed into the middle! ”
“That’s right,” she says, a triumphant grin spreading as she peeks at her brother.
“You were the hit of the party,” I laugh, an easy smile stretching across my face. Less easy as I remember the blond man staring at the side of my face.
She nods enthusiastically. “Rindy McNalley.” Rindy holds out a delicate hand. “It’s nice to re-meet you, Ms. Rutherford.”
“Callie, please.”
“Well, Callie, Cici absolutely adores you,” she gushes. Like her brother, Rindy McNalley exudes easy confidence with her professional pantsuit, heels and sleek bob.
Taking her proffered hand, I ask the first question that comes to mind as I try to keep the focus off the one person to whom I don’t want to be introduced. “Do you work with John at the practice?”
“Yep. But where these two choose to focus, for God knows what reason, on families, I only work with couples.”
Stifling a laugh, my brows hike up a couple of inches. “Oh, wow. I bet that can get pretty intense.”
“Definitely. But, at the end of the day, I feel like I’ve done something. Helped someone. That kind of thing,” Rindy nods, shrugging. “Besides, sometimes a couple just need a mediator while they talk things out among themselves.”
“Really?” My nose scrunches. “All I picture is couples yelling at each other while sitting on a stranger’s couch.”
Rindy and John both let out a full laugh while their physically flawless tablemate continues his blatant staring. “Trust me, there’s plenty of that, too,” Rindy answers. “But we all need a little help sometimes. There’s no shame in admitting it.”
From the corner of my eye, a smirk slides into place across Dr. Rhodes’ face.
“Sure,” I shrug. What else am I gonna say while I try not to choke? You know, especially with all my experience being married to someone who loves and supports me.
“What about you, Callie? Are you married?” Rindy tilts her head, looking for a ring I don’t possess. Dark, manicured brows knit together while my own shoot back up and my tongue trips all over itself.
“Me? Oh, no.” Strained laughter forces its way out.
“Maybe one day.” If only the earth would swallow me whole at this very moment.
I paste a tight smile that feels more like a grimace onto an already burning face.
As an excuse to look anywhere but at the table in front of me, I send a quick look back in Ian’s direction.
My dear friend, the astute man that he is, looks up just in time to catch my wide-eyed ‘save me’ signal.
A slight nod passes between us just before I have to return my attention to the most awkward conversation of my day.
And that includes one of my students asking if not pooping for nine days would make you explode.
I reluctantly cast my gaze back to the table in question, meeting three pairs of questioning eyes that are begging for answers.
Cici’s dad leans back, clapping a hand on Dr. Rhodes’ shoulder. “Ms. Rutherford—”
“You really can call me Callie,” I insist. If the rest of the staff finds out Cici’s dad and I are on a first name basis, I’ll rule the school in no time.
John smiles warmly. “Callie, this is our other practice partner, Dr. Oliver Rhodes.”
I reluctantly slide my semi-panicked eyes to the most handsome doctor at the table.
He starts, “Actually—”
Full-on panic takes over, and I just barely manage to speak over him.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Dr. Rhodes.” Is my casual voice anywhere in the room?
Absolutely not. I sound like I just ran a marathon, and my mind repeatedly chants at me not to succumb to the desire to lean forward and catch whatever breath used to reside in my lungs.
Confusion subtly crosses his chiseled features before a few rapid blinks bring the good doctor back to the present. “Uh, yes.” He tests out each word that makes its way into the world. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”
Fully aware of our intrigued audience, I ask the only rational question that bothers to pop into my mind. “How long have you been practicing?”
“About five years now,” he answers smoothly before taking a sip from his frosted glass. Like the McNalley siblings, Rhodes looks like he just came from work in his khakis and navy button-down combo. The man shoots a pointed look in my direction. “How long have you been teaching, Ms. Rutherford?”