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Unfortunately, I bought Callie a pale pink dress. When her white wine splashes onto it, Callie’s panic rises.
“Callie, baby, look at me.” Her gaze moves anywhere and everywhere but on me. I finally reach out and put a hand on each side of her face.
“Ryker, can you tell us who your new lady friend is?”
“Concentrate on my voice, Callie. Block out everything and everyone else. It’s just you and me, here.
“Damn!” One of the other diners at the table beside ours laughs, “That woman spilled her wine, and now you can see through her dress,” he says, and my body goes solid.
“She’s got some nice tits,” one of them jokes.
Callie turns to look at them, her face stricken as the crowd around us gathers.
“I wouldn’t mind burying my face there,” the other guy says, and I finally spring into action. I get up and take off the jacket of my suit and cover her immediately. Then I go over to the two men, and without saying a word, I plant my fist in one’s mouth. The other guy hits me, but I manage to bury my elbow into his gut and bring the back of my hand against his nose. I’m rewarded with the spray of blood. Everyone starts screaming and shuffling away from the fight. Camera flashes are going off like crazy, and I know security will be involved soon, but I concentrate on making each hit count.
I just hope Callie doesn’t use this as an excuse to give up. The mere thought of that terrifies me, and I strike out at one of the guys again in frustration. This is not how I wanted our night to end, damn it.
CHAPTER 43
Reed
“I can’t believe they arrested you,” Callie whispers. “I mean, you did kind of beat the crap out of both of them. Maybe you should have been a boxer instead of a singer?”
“Don’t make me laugh, Bluebird. One of them got a pretty good hit in around my ribs.”
“Maybe we should have gone to the doctor?” she asks, worried.
“I’m fine.” I pull her closer to me, kissing the top of her head.
We’re lying in bed at my place in Nashville. It’s about two in the morning, but by the time I dealt with being hauled into the police station, calling my lawyer, and releasing a statement to the press, we didn’t get home until after midnight. I know Callie is worn out, but she’s been a trooper. I demanded they let Callie call a taxi for her before the police took me in. They were pretty easy going. Luckily, they like my music. Callie did call a taxi, but she had them take her to the police station. She had a couple of bad moments. I could see them on her face, but once lawyer helped to speed up my release, her tension eased.
“I made a mess of tonight, Reed,” she says quietly. I hate that I can hear the worry in her voice. Fuck, I hate that all this happened in the first place. I was supposed to show her that she could handle being in my life and instead, I lost my head and put her through hell.
“Stop, sweetheart. I think I’m the one that cornered the market on that.”
“You didn’t, I’m the one who got scared and spilled the wine. Being scared makes me very clumsy.”
“That could and has happened to everyone at one point in time. Hell, I once dropped my male vocalist trophy on the foot of Fred Grayfield one night.”
“You didn’t,” she whispers.
“I really did,” I acknowledge. “It wasn’t my finest hour. I drank a little too much. I don’t do well with drinking—”
“Reed, you don’t really drink,” she says, shaking her head as she cranes her neck back to look at me.
“I don’t. I have on occasions, and it always results in moments that I’m not proud of.” I don’t tell her that the incident in question happened on her birthday. I was stuck at the ACM awards, missing her more than I was grateful about winning the Male Vocalist of the Year award.
“You don’t drink around me,” she says, turning her body so she rests her chin on my chest. She reaches up and drags her finger down an imaginary line along the side of my face.
I put a finger under her chin and bring my lips to hers, kissing them lightly. “That’s because you’re my drug of choice, baby.”
She scrunches up her nose. “I’m not sure it’s good to be compared to a drug.”
“Trust me. You’re the best kind. You give the high of a lifetime and are addicting as fuck. Plus, you feed the soul, not destroy it.”
“I haven’t done a great job at that,” she sighs.
“Callie, everything is going to be okay.”
“I don’t see how. I mean this was just a dinner between us. What happens if I go to some industry event and drop a platter of food on this Fred Bluefield’s lap and you know with me it won’t just be simple. It will probably be a tray of very hot food. He’ll get third degree burns, and have to go to the hospital to have skin grafts—”
