Chapter Three #2
The tank top and knotted shirt didn’t help either, soft and effortless, as if she hadn’t tried at all but still managed to look like every country song he’d ever secretly liked.
Caspian said something, but it was lost under the low buzz in his ears.
He took a sip of his beer to cool down what was definitely not a tactical response.
She hadn’t even glanced his way yet.
Smirking, Caspian nudged his arm. “Eyes up, sailor.”
“Shut up,” Matthew grumbled, not bothering to deny it.
Callie’s gaze landed on Holden and Emily’s table, then flicked briefly to Matthew. A single beat of recognition passed between them, followed by something cooler. Drier.
Before he could figure out if it was disdain or indifference, Maggie leaned in and whispered something that made Callie snort and shake her head.
Whatever it was, her gaze came back to him. This time, there was heat behind the cool. Or maybe that was just him losing his grip on common sense.
“She saw you,” Caspian said under his breath.
“Yeah,” Matthew muttered. “And judged me with her eyebrows.”
Holden stood and waved them over, gesturing to the empty seats at their table only a few feet away. “Evening, ladies.”
“We already ordered for you,” Emily said with a wink. “Don’t worry. No onions.”
Maggie grinned. “Thanks.” She hugged Emily while Callie offered a polite nod.
Matthew straightened in his seat as she drew closer. “Morgan.”
“Walker.” She didn’t stop walking, but the corner of her mouth twitched.
Maggie, meanwhile, had no problem taking in the ESI crowd like they were on display. “Well, don’t y’all clean up nice.”
Cooper raised his drink. “Don’t sound so surprised.”
“We’re very versatile.” Carter leaned back with a smirk. “Look good in tactical gear and denim.”
Caspian’s attention remained on his burger. “Still not letting you pick our team shirts, Carter.”
Matthew bit back a grin, watching the familiar rhythm play out. These guys could banter through a firefight, and half the time he wasn’t sure they wouldn’t.
Callie claimed a seat with her back to them. She was quiet, composed, and currently acting like he didn’t exist.
Which, for some reason, only made him want to exist harder.
Challenge accepted.
Cooper leaned in, his voice low. “Man, you’re in trouble.”
“She’s got your number already.” Mac smirked.
Matthew shrugged. “She might. But she hasn’t blocked me yet.”
Carter snorted. “She didn’t even flinch. I think you’ve officially been civilian sniped, my man.”
“From thirty feet,” Cooper added. “No casualties, but your ego might need a medic.”
He rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “You all finished?”
Caspian finally looked up. “Not even close. This is the most fun I’ve had all week.”
“Glad I could provide tonight’s entertainment,” Matthew muttered, his gaze flicking back to Callie.
She sat with her back and shoulders straight, one arm resting casually on the table, but there was a tension in the way she held herself.
A deliberate stillness that told him she was aware of every word being said behind her.
She was pretending he wasn’t there.
And that? That was going to be a problem.
One he suddenly had every intention of solving.
The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of two servers balancing trays stacked with brisket plates, burgers, fries, and baskets of fried pickles that made Carter perk up, even though he was finishing his meal.
“Thanks,” Holden said, grabbing his plate like a man who’d just survived a siege.
“Careful,” Cooper said loud enough for the other table to hear. “Pretty sure you gave Carter emotional whiplash.”
“Can’t help it,” Carter said. “Kerri’s kitchen is sacred. I’d marry her grilled cheese if I didn’t already have a wife.”
Emily laughed, scooting her drink aside to make room for her brisket. “Don’t let Mel hear you say that. She’ll make you get another tattoo.”
Carter winced. “One was enough.”
Mel owned the tattoo salon next to the bakery and was damn good at inking. Matthew had an appointment with her, but she was so popular, she was booked three months out.
He reached for the burger placed in front of him, but his gaze drifted toward Callie again. Her posture was more relaxed as she thanked her server.
She hadn’t turned to look at him again, but that didn’t stop his pulse from stirring every time she lifted her glass or smiled at something her sister said.
It wasn’t the dramatic kind of attraction, it was the subtle kind.
The kind that crept up on a guy, pulled at something stubborn inside, and made him forget why he'd sworn off complicated women in the first place.
Maggie, of course, had no such filter. “So, what’s the verdict?” she asked, holding up a fry like a microphone. “Is the new guy surviving the locals?”
Matthew glanced at her and shrugged. “So far. No pitchforks. No banishment.”
Cooper grinned. “Give it another hour.”
“Depends on if he dances,” Emily added sweetly.
Callie didn’t flinch. Didn’t react. But Matthew caught the flick of her napkin, the subtle stiffening of her spine.
Oh, yeah. She was definitely aware of him.
And he was officially planning to use that.
They had just finished eating when the speakers kicked into a fast-paced country track, and the crowd around the dance floor began to shift, boots tapping, couples parting for a classic line dance.
Jordan’s familiar voice rang out over the mic from the small DJ booth near the stage. “Alright, Harland—y’all know this one. Let’s see those grapevines and boot scoots!”
“Up,” Maggie ordered, grabbing Callie’s wrist.
Emily rose to her feet. “Yeah, I’ll give my husband a break, but you’re not sitting this one out.”
Callie laughed but didn’t resist, weaving through the tables to the dance floor. She caught Jordan’s eye and shot her a salute, which earned her a wink in response.
As the music picked up, Callie settled into the rhythm like she’d been born to it. Confident, smooth, feet tapping in perfect time with the beat. Her denim skirt hugged her sweet, swaying hips with every turn, while her loose hair bounced down her back and shoulders.
From his seat, Matthew tracked her with a slow blink. He couldn’t quite decide if he was watching a woman or a storm rolling in. One he had absolutely no plan for, but suddenly every intention of chasing.
He knew he should look away. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and enjoyed the view.
She moved in time to the music. Her steps were confident, relaxed. Perfect. That skirt was going to haunt him, and so was the sway in her hips that somehow felt both unbothered and deliberate.
Herb Boy, huh?
He took a long pull from his beer, already losing whatever argument he was having with himself.
Carter let out a low whistle. “Buddy, you’re circling the drain.”
“Fast,” Caspian added, sipping his drink.
Matthew didn’t respond. He was too busy watching the way Callie nailed the final heel tap and half-turn as if she’d challenged the entire room to keep up.
The moment the song ended, Callie and the girls wove back through the crowd. Her cheeks were flushed, skin glowed, and when she stepped beside their table so close her hand brushed the edge of his chair, Matthew turned slightly in his seat to face her.
Their eyes met for barely a second.
Long enough for the noise of the room to fade into the background. Long enough for Matthew to catch the flicker in her eyes. A split-second shift from surprise to something sharper. Curious. Calculating.
She didn’t move, not right away.
Neither did he.
“You always that good at making people look twice?” he asked, his voice pitched low, the words curling slowly and deliberately between them.
He didn’t know what answer he expected.
But damn if he didn’t want to hear it.
Callie tilted her head, one corner of her mouth lifting like she couldn’t decide if he was amusing or irritating.
Maybe both.
“Depends,” she murmured. “Can you two-step?”
He leaned back, one arm slung across his chair, the other curled around his drink. He met her gaze head-on, his grin unapologetic. Hell, if she was going to pretend he didn’t rattle her, he could return the favor—with interest. “Careful, Morgan. I’ve been trained for high-pressure situations.”
She let out a soft, unbothered laugh. “Then this place should feel like home.”
He set his drink aside and stood, stepping close enough for her to feel the shift in air as he held out his hand. “Let’s find out.”
She hesitated for the briefest second, her gaze searching his before her fingers curled around his hand. He experienced an unexpected jolt from her touch as she let him lead her onto the dance floor.
Incredibly, they moved together like they’d done this before. Not in reality, but in rhythm. Her steps were light, effortless. His were grounded, steady. Muscle memory kicked in for something he’d never known he remembered.
It was the strangest damn thing.
Callie’s hair brushed her shoulders as she turned, and her skirt swayed with each shift of her hips. The crowd faded. The heat didn’t.
“You actually can dance,” she said, a note of surprise threading through her voice.
Matthew leaned in, his smile slow. “And you’re less terrifying up close.”
“Flattery?” She arched a brow. “From a man in combat boots?”
“Careful,” he murmured, his hand adjusting slightly at her waist. “I might start thinking you like it.”
Her lips twitched, but she didn’t pull back. “Careful, yourself. I might start thinking you’re charming.”
The music swelled around them. Another turn. Another shared breath.
Their steps remained casual, but something shifted in the space between them. It tightened, not inappropriately, but close enough to notice.
By the second chorus, the teasing quieted. She looked up, her gaze meeting his with something softer now, less guarded. As if she’d momentarily forgotten why she kept her distance.
“You’re full of surprises,” she said.
Matthew didn’t blink. “Stick around. I’m just getting started.”
The music faded, applause rising in a soft tide around them. Before Callie could respond, a voice rang out from across the room.
“Hey, Callie! Got a minute?”
She turned toward the sound, brow lifting at some guy waving from the bar. She waved back, easy and familiar. Matthew didn’t recognize him. That alone wouldn’t have bothered him. The way she smiled? That was another story.
Callie looked back at him with a hint of reluctance that didn’t quite match her smile. “Duty calls.”
Matthew released her hand, watching as she made her way through the crowd. No rush. No apology. Just a woman who knew exactly where she was going and how to get there.
The man at the bar leaned in to speak to her, gesturing toward something outside the pub’s front window. Callie nodded, her brows drawing together briefly before she masked it with another smile.
By the time she returned to her table and slid into her seat beside Maggie, her laugh was back in place like nothing had happened.
Matthew, however, wasn’t so quick to forget. Whoever that guy was, he’d knocked something loose behind those honey-brown eyes.
And he intended to find out what.