19. Cale
cale
“Why did you change your mind?” Jordan slips onto the stool beside the one I’ve claimed as my territory, his fat head immediately blocking my view. I frown at him, biting my tongue, knowing if I say anything, he’ll start asking questions—more questions.
“What’re you talking about?” I ask, my tone casual, ready to play dumb.
He shakes his head. “You were adamant you weren’t coming out tonight.”
“I’m supporting my friends.” I lift a shoulder, pointing over at where Garth’s pounding on his drums, and Landon’s gone full country, singing about his lost love.
I wonder if he’s singing about his ex-wife, but then immediately dismiss the thought.
He probably thinks he got a lucky break getting away from her.
“You don’t give a shit about The Swinging Hammers,” Jordan argues.
“I might care more if they had a better fucking name,” I mumble, just as Benson comes and stops in front of us, resting his hands on the bar.
“What do you want?” he grumbles, looking like he should be lumbering through the woods in his red flannel, beard, and long hair twisted back into a bun.
“Beer,” I tell him. “Anything on tap will do.”
He nods, grabbing two chilled glasses as Jordan gives him a dopey grin. “You manning the bar tonight, Benny? You’re usually locked up in your office by now.”
Benson eyes Jordan coldly, saying nothing as he pours the beers and pushes them across the bar. I tip my chin in thanks, and Benson walks away without another word, heading to the other end of the bar.
I kick Jordan’s ankle lightly. “You know he hates you calling him that.”
Jordan scoffs. “He hates me more than he hates being called Benny. The guy owns a bar. You’d think he’d have better customer service.”
Randi appears on my other side, letting out a light laugh.
“Why don’t you just tell him to smile more?
I’m sure he’d appreciate the tip.” She lays her tray on the bar, calling out her order to the other bartender working with Benson before turning to lean against my side. “You wanna catch up later?”
There’s a suggestion in her voice that’s impossible to miss. I shake my head, lifting my beer to my lips. “Nah, Randi. I’m not available.”
I can feel her surprise, even as Jordan turns to gape at me. “What?”
I don’t say a word, and Randi shifts away. “You mean you’re shacking up with someone?” she asks, tone filled with disbelief. “What happened to ‘I don’t do relationships’?”
Benson reappears with a scowl. “You hittin’ on the customers again, Randi?”
She glares at her boss, eyes flashing. “Don’t say that like I do it all the time,” she retorts. “Where else am I supposed to meet anyone? Even if we didn’t live in the smallest town in the world, I practically live at this bar!”
Benson lifts a brow, scratching a hand through his beard. “Do you actually want to meet someone?” he asks edgily. “Thought you just wanted to fuck.”
“I’m available tonight,” Jordan pipes in, groaning when I smack him on the back of the head. “What the fuck? Stop abusing me.”
“Shut up, asshole.”
Randi ignores us, completely focused on Benson. “What business is it of yours, Hart?” She lifts an imperious brow, staring down her nose at him, even though he tops her by at least a foot.
Benson’s mouth twitches at the corners, just slightly. He nods at the full tray. “Better get those out.” He turns and walks away. She watches him go, her expression furious.
I nudge her with my elbow. “Sensing some tension there, Rand.”
“Butt out, Cale,” she snips, not looking at me. She grabs the tray, expertly balancing it and strutting away. I look over at Benson, finding him tracking her across the room.
Jordan drinks about half his beer in one go. He belches, wiping his mouth on his wrist, and I shake my head at him. He puts his drink back down, eyeing me. “Last time I talked to you, things were over with the neighbor.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Not to him, anyway. There’s a part of me that keeps thinking that none of this would have happened if he hadn’t been at my place that day, pushing my fucking buttons.
It isn’t actually his fault, and I know it.
He didn’t make me say shit, and it didn’t matter that Oakley wasn’t supposed to be there. I shouldn’t have said what I did, and the blame was right where it belonged—on my shoulders.
Didn’t mean I had to be nice to Jordan, the mouthy little prick.
“Come on, man.” His brows dip, an unusually serious expression on his face. “You’ve been off for weeks now, and missing in action. What the hell’s going on with you?”
I ran a hand through my hair, opening my mouth, not even sure what I’ll say, but then I hear her. I don’t know how. The music is loud as fuck, and everyone’s practically shouting to be heard by the people right next to them. But I swear I hear her laugh, and it hits me like a fist to the gut.
I close my eyes, dropping my chin to my chest. “I don’t know, Jordan,” I answer honestly. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”
It doesn’t take long for him to get sick of my brooding, slipping away to go hit on a table of women who all look like they’re from out of town. They’re too dressed up for a night at Benson’s, and local girls would have told Jordan to take a hike thirty seconds in.
I don’t mind that he’s dipped out, because it means I can fully focus on Melanie, who hasn’t looked in my direction once. Considering I’ve parked my ass in the middle of the bar, I have to give credit where it is due because this place isn’t that big.
My first drink is still sitting in front of me, the glass sweating and the beer warm. My eyes are on Melanie, my view unobstructed now that Jordan’s gone, watching as she chats animatedly with her friend and Jaz.
I don’t know what the woman has done to me. I can’t get her out of my head. The last few weeks have been fucking hell, regret my constant companion. It feels like she’s consumed me, stamped herself on my very being.
It’s a kick in the teeth knowing she doesn’t want me near her, even as much as I get it.
It’s the same feeling I get whenever Oakley looks right through me, acting like I was nothing more than an irritating ghost. I did a helluva lot of damage, and it’s never going to be as simple as giving them an “I’m sorry. ”
The tables just in front of the stage have all been moved out of the way to make room for anyone who wants to start dancing. The girls all finish their drinks and get up, heading that way.
Melanie’s hair is loose, flowing over her shoulders like a dark waterfall, and memories punch through me of my hands tangling in those thick strands, tugging her head back, her blue eyes glazed with desire as she blinked up at me, pink lips swollen and parted—
“That’s prime real estate you’re squattin’ on.”
I jerk, startled, whipping around to find Benson glaring at me from across the bar. It’s awkward as fuck because my dick is half-hard in my jeans, pressing viciously into my zipper, and there’s no way in hell I want anyone else knowing that—especially Benson.
I clear my throat, voice rough as I say, “Never been an issue before.”
He flicks an unimpressed look at the half-drunk beer. “You usually order more than one drink.”
I look away, shame sizzling, forcing myself to really feel it. “I’m laying off alcohol.”
He grunts. “Why the fuck you sitting in my bar, then?” My eyes drift to Melanie before I can stop myself.
He follows my stare just as she throws her head back on a laugh, watching Jaz do some weird fucking dance move that she should probably be locked up for.
“The one with Jaz?” Benson asks. “That the one who’s got you all tangled up in knots? ”
I’m tempted to play it off, deny it. But what comes out is, “Yeah. She is.”
He plants his forearms on the bar, leaning down as he gives me a discerning look. “You fucked up.” It’s not a question, but I nod. “So why the fuck are you sitting over here?”
I scowl. “What the hell?”
He shakes his head, giving me the most disapproving look I’ve ever seen. He’s almost got my father beat. “You think you’re gonna fix anythin’ by sitting here and moping?” He tips his head back to the dance floor. “And in the meantime, she’s gettin’ frisky with someone else.”
“What—” I swing around on the stool and sure enough, some fucker in a cowboy hat has come up behind Melanie. His hands on her hips, and he’s grinding on her like he has the right to. White-hot fury sweeps through me, and I slam my hand against the bar. “No fucking way.”
“Cale.” I pause at Benson’s growl, turning to glower at him. He’s glaring right back, pointing a finger in my face. “Don’t cause a fuckin’ brawl in my bar, asshole, or we’re gonna have problems.”
My lips curl in a humorless smile. “I don’t cause shit.” I grab my glass and shoot the whole thing back, grimacing at the warm beer. “But I’m sure as hell gonna finish it.”
He calls after me, but I’m already gone, stomping my way over to the dance floor. I shoulder my way past the crowd, ignoring the curses that get thrown at me. I reach them just as the fake cowboy asshole whirls Melanie around, his hands high on her waist and a smarmy grin on his face.
“You don’t mind if I cut in, do you?” It’s more of a demand than a question, my voice guttural.
“Yeah, actually, I do. Go find your own girl.” The guy looks up with a glare, pausing when he realizes how many inches I’ve got on him. It’s gratifying as fuck, but his hands are still on her, and a muscle jumps in my jaw.
“She is my girl.” Melanie opens her mouth to argue, and I cut a glare her way. She’s not usually one to be quiet, so it surprises me a little when her eyes flare, and she snaps her mouth shut.
“You know him?” the guy asks.
Indecision fills her face as she stares at me, but eventually, she nods. “Yes.”
His frown is annoyed as he finally drops his hands. “Whatever. Not worth it.”
He stalks off, probably already searching the room for his next mark.
I don’t hesitate, stepping right into Melanie’s space and yanking her against me.
She’s stiff as a board, but I don’t care, relief rushing through me at the feel of her in my arms. I catch a glance of Jaz frowning at us from the side of the dance floor.
I ignore her, swaying gently with Melanie in my arms, inhaling the scent of her like it’s air, and I’ve been starved of oxygen.
One of Melanie’s hands lands on my shoulder, the other curling around my neck, hesitant, but there. She doesn’t relax at all, even as she steps with me, letting me lead her.
“What the hell are you doing, Cale?” she hisses, her voice low enough not to draw attention. “Why are you here?”
With her in my arms, the anger and jealousy I felt dissipates like it was never even here. I lean down, brushing my cheek against hers, feeling my world is finally right after weeks of everything being so goddamn wrong.
“We need to talk,” I murmur in her ear, my lips twitching when she shivers.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” she mutters. “I thought I made that clear.”
“Melanie—”
“No.” She cuts me off, and then she’s looking up, her eyes overly bright. The anger is there, just as I expected, but there’s also anguish. My heart misses a beat, feeling like someone has sacked me in the abdomen with a concrete brick.
“No, darlin’—” My voice cracks, but she’s already pulled away, even when her body is still trapped against mine. I can see the wall she’s slamming into place between us, shielding herself from me.
“I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to hear your excuses.
And you know why?” I squeeze her closer, not saying a word.
She needs to get this out, and I need to hear it.
“I can’t listen to you when all I can see is Oakley’s face after you destroyed him.
I can’t, Cale.” A tear escapes, trailing down her cheek.
I lift a shaking hand, brushing it away.
I lean down, pressing my forehead to hers.
“Melanie.” It’s a hopeless whisper. She hears me, her lip quivering before she ruthlessly sinks her teeth into it. Her lashes drop, shuttering her eyes from me.
“You broke us,” she tells me, voice firmer, right before a bitter laugh escapes.
“We weren’t even an us, and it’s broken.
So, please, just stop.” Her hands fall away, and I feel one touch my ass, sliding into my back pocket.
I jerk in surprise, and she takes the opportunity to escape my hold on her.
Before I can grab her again, she’s gone, storming away from me and out of the bar.
“Goddammit, Cale,” Jaz snaps. I turn, finding her next to me, along with Rosie. “You couldn’t give her one night?” My sister gets a look at my expression, and whatever she sees has her softening. “You’ve gotta give her space. She has enough to deal with right now.”
My throat bobs, and I jerk my chin down in a nod. “Go after her, yeah?”
Jaz eyes me for a second, but then she and Rosie turn and walk away. I watch them go, frozen until someone shoulders me, calling out a quick apology. I wave it off, moving away and heading out the back of the bar, needing air but wanting Melanie to have a chance to get away.
I’m only out there for a minute or two before the door opens and Jordan steps out. “You okay, man?”
I lean back against the wall of the building, scrubbing a hand over my face. “Yeah. I’m gonna head off for the night.”
He nods. “Fair deal. I’ll hang out here until Garth and Paulie are finished.” He pauses, hesitating a second before asking, “You gonna be okay?”
“Yeah.” I sigh heavily, straightening up, feeling something in my back pocket. Remembering the move Melanie pulled before she disappeared, I slide my hand into it and take out a wad of cash. I don’t have to count it to know it’s $200, and I shake my head, a reluctant smile pulling at my mouth.
Good play, baby. But the game’s not over yet.