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“Well, she wants to stay just friends until I’ve got the divorce happening, so we’re taking it slow for a while.”
“She’s gonna give you some hell, big brother,” he says with a grin. At my frown, he adds, “You have to admit you two set each other off sometimes. She’s always arguing with you.”
“Well, we’ve had one date, and she didn’t argue with me once. I think we’ve moved past that.”
He laughs. “You’re kidding yourself. Women don’t change that easily.” Pulling his wallet out, he says, “I’ll put fifty down on that.”
“You’re on.” This will be the easiest money I’ve ever taken from him.
Four hours later, I’m at least four customers deep at the bar when Callie arrives. She catches my eye as she waits her turn to be served. When she finally makes it to me, she leans across the bar and plants a kiss on my lips. Raising my brows, I say, “We’re not just friends anymore?” If she says yes, I’ll find someone to cover my shift for the rest of the night. I wouldn’t even care if it was someone who didn’t know what the hell they were doing.
“We are, but I’ve been dreaming of doing that all day.” She shrugs. “It’s Friday, time to let my hair down.”
“We could make every day, Friday.”
“There’d be no fun in that, nothing to look forward to all week.”
“I could make it worth your while.”
She gestures towards the alcohol behind me. “Make me a vodka, Luke, before I screw up and make a decision I’ll regret. You are too damn sexy to be saying shit like that to me.”
I chuckle and make her a drink. As I pass it to her, an argument breaks out between a woman and a group of men in the bar. Turning to Avery, I yell over the noise of the crowd, “You be right if I go take care of that?”
She nods. “Yeah, we’ve got this.”
I tap the counter in front of Callie to get her attention. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.” The last thing I need is for her to get involved, and this would be something she’d take on. Guys harassing a female is right up her alley of battles to fight for the good of the world.
By the time I push my way through the crowd, the woman is cowering in the corner while one of the men abuses her verbally. His hand keeps clenching, and I figure he’s close to using that fist.
When none of his friends step in, I reach for his shoulder, yank him back and swing him around. “That’s enough, mate. You need to leave now.”
His dark eyes bore into me, and he moves in my direction. “I’m not your fucking mate, asshole. Back the fuck off and leave me and my woman to sort our shit out by ourselves.”
I square my shoulders. “I may not be your mate, but I’m the owner of this bar, and when I tell someone to leave, I mean it.” My chest tightens with anger. I have zero patience for men who treat women this way.
He glares at me for a long moment, and his woman attempts to escape while his attention is diverted. He’s too fast for her, though, and his arm snaps out, and he catches her by the wrist. Pulling her back to him, he snarls, “Where the fuck do you think you’re going, bitch?”
“Johnny…” She hardly gets his name out in between her sobs. “Please don’t do this. I’ll be good, I promise.”
His murderous gaze falls on her, and he lets her wrist go, only to grasp her further up her arm. He squeezes her and spits out, “Too right you’ll be fucking good. I’ll make sure of it.”
I’ve seen enough. Stepping into the small space between them, I try to move him away. However, he clenches his fist and punches me in the gut. I knew it was coming, though, and respond by returning the punch. He stumbles back, but quickly recovers, coming towards me. I block his fist and manage to punch him hard on the cheek.
His woman screams as he goes down and I watch as she moves to help him.
Jesus, she’s gotta be kidding. But I’ve seen it over and over in here—women begging assholes for attention—so I shouldn’t be surprised.
My security guy joins me, and I motion for him to help me remove the asshole from the bar. Ten minutes later, the situation is dealt with, and I make my way back to where Callie is waiting for me.
“That looked nasty,” she says as she hands me her empty glass.
“Stay away from those guys, okay?” I’ve only kicked one out. The rest of his friends seem to have settled down, but I don’t want her going anywhere near them.
The frustrated look she often gives me—the one I haven’t seen in days—returns. “I wasn’t planning on waltzing over there and interrupting their little party, Luke.”
I pass her the drink I’ve just made, ignoring the attitude in her voice. “Good.”
A few moments pass between us and then she says, “You should go and look after your customers.” The attitude has disappeared. Soft Callie is back.
