Chapter Eleven
“Let go of anger, and see what life can bring you.”
—Blu Johnson, life lesson #66
“I call that one.”
Cal glanced toward the door of the Buffalo Nickel, eyeing the woman his buddy Travis had just indicated was his, and silently acknowledged that Trav could do worse. The woman looked to be in her early twenties and wore a skintight red minidress with a zipper running the length of the front, oversized gold hoops, and fuck-me heels. Chances were, she didn’t intend to go home alone that night. Might as well go with Travis.
“That one’s already taken,” Pete added from beside Cal.
“And how do you know that?” Travis asked, and Pete pushed back from the table.
“Because I’m taking her.”
Laughter followed Pete as he went after the woman, the tableful of men both ribbing Travis and encouraging Pete. The group of them had decided to take the Friday night to wind down. They all either worked directly for Cal or subcontracted for We Nail It from time to time, and each of them had been on the Cadillac project at some point over the last three weeks. It was straight down the middle of the road to the finish line, and they could all do with letting loose for one night. Cal included.
It had taken exactly two steps into the bar, however, for Cal to realize that he wouldn’t be relaxing at all that evening. Because his gaze had landed on a head of inky-black hair . . . that had been far too close to Doug Caldwell.
Cal took a drink of his water and cast a glance toward the back booth.
Yep. Still there. Still smiling.
Still making him want to show her that Doug wasn’t the man for her.
No wonder the twenty-five-year-old had declined Cal’s invite for the night out. Doug already had plans.
“Another round, boys?” their server asked. She smiled at Cal as she stopped at his elbow. It was Cinco de Mayo, and the bar was in full swing, but given that his wallet was open wide, their table had yet to find themselves wanting for alcohol.
“Make it a double.” A couple of the men raised their voices to be heard over the crowd.
Cal acknowledged the order with a nod of his head. Nothing for him, but he’d spring for another round for the table.
The server disappeared, and Cal watched as Doug talked Jill onto the dance floor for the third time. Heather and Len went out with them—they’d been occupying the other side of the booth with Jill—and as the music in the bar thumped out a popular pop hit, Cal thought about the night Jill had come over to the Cadillac House. There’d been music playing then, too. And she’d danced.
Nothing like the gyrations she had going on at the moment, though.
His back teeth ground together when Doug’s hands landed on the top curves of Jill’s hips. Doug didn’t pull her in close, though. Or maybe it was Jill who didn’t allow it. Either way, the touch was too much. Cal looked away. He couldn’t watch Jill with another man, no matter what he’d told himself for the last decade. And he certainly didn’t need to be present the night she finally decided the time had come to “get out there” again.
He’d asked her about dating the other day, but even though she’d avoided his question, he’d known the answer. She’d dated no one for the last five years. Or if she had, the guy hadn’t lived in Red Oak Falls. He’d watched for it. For a long time. It had been none of his business, and he’d been well aware of that fact. But that hadn’t kept him from keeping an eye out for her. Or wondering who filled her bed at night.
Yet in all that time, he’d never once seen her with another man. And though he’d had no right to care—the thought had pleased him way the hell too much.
The server showed back up with a tray of drinks, and after distributing them to the waiting hands, she also put a shot glass down for Pete. Pete hadn’t made it back to the table, though, and Cal spotted him in one of the darker corners of the bar. With the pool table at his back, Cal’s friend worked like the champ that he was, no doubt trying to talk the woman in the fuck-me heels into kicking those heels off under his bed tonight.
He’d likely succeed, too. The ladies were big fans of Pete’s.
Cal’s eyes landed on Jill once more, and he wondered how Doug was doing with his mission. Cal hoped he crashed and burned.
“What’s on tap for next week, boss?” Jacob asked as he changed seats and squeezed in next to Cal. Jacob was an eager twenty-two-year-old who would one day turn out to be a heck of an employee. He just needed to quit being such a suck-up first.
“You really want to talk work tonight, Jacob?” Cal motioned to the growing crowd. “Ask a woman to dance, why don’t you? Buy one a drink. Heck”—he motioned to the shot of tequila sitting next to him—“take Pete’s and hand it out. He’s not going to need it.”
The younger man seemed to sense Cal’s mood and backed off—quickly returning to his original seat—and Cal found himself eyeing the shot of tequila himself. Maybe he should down it.
If his father were there, he would. Just because he could.
His irritation swelled to full bloom then. His father had shown up in his head more times in that week alone than he had in the last year, and Cal had the woman on the dance floor, currently dancing with a man who was barely more than a boy, to thank for that.
He shoved Jill from his thoughts yet again and slid the shot of amber liquid over in front of him. Tequila had been his liquor of choice the night his dad had gotten the call to pick up his only son at the hospital. Friends had dropped Cal off, passed out drunk, at the emergency room, before hightailing it out of the parking lot. Thankfully, after the hospital staff had dragged his inebriated ass inside, they’d chosen to call Cal’s father instead of the police.
Cal had been fifteen that night, and the conversation the following morning had not been a pretty one. It had also only encouraged Cal to drink more. Why not? he’d thought. His dad didn’t give a shit about him, anyway. Neil Reynolds had been more worried about “what people would think” than about why Cal had been drowning himself in a bottle in the first place.
Hell, if Cal were to drown today—bottle or not—his father would likely still be more concerned about people’s perceptions.
Someone stumbled on the dance floor, a whoop going up as several others were taken down with the offender, and Cal slowly turned his gaze to follow the action. It wasn’t the same area where he’d last seen Jill—but he knew who he’d find there.
Rodney Reynolds got tugged back to his feet as Cal watched, blowing the ordeal off as he always did. “No big deal. I just tripped. Let me buy another round.”
Everyone returned to their partying ways, accepting the free drink from their favorite supplier, and Cal pushed the shot of tequila back over to Pete’s seat. Cal hadn’t had a drop of anything since the first night he’d had to go rescue Rodney. It worried him, how much his uncle drank. It had worried him for years. But Rodney seemed to be heading for a really bad place these days, and the speed at which he was getting there was only accelerating.
Cal had no idea what else he could do for the man, other than continue to try to hide the problem. He took note of how many pairs of eyes were currently turned on his uncle, though, and accepted that Rodney’s issues hadn’t been hidden in a long time.
He also had the thought that Rodney wasn’t quite as different from his brother as Cal had always imagined. Neil Reynolds cared about himself, work . . . and anything more than Cal. But then, Rodney would sell his only nephew up the river for a pint of Wild Turkey.
It made Cal wonder how different he was from the two of them.
He looked at Jill again. He’d certainly dumped her in a fast hurry when a choice had to be made.
Pete and the woman wove their way back through the crowd, stopping at the table long enough for Pete to hand over the shot of tequila to the brunette. As she tossed it back, Pete leaned in toward Cal. “You okay if I get out of here?”
Cal shot him a confused look. “Of course. Have a good time.”
Pete nodded. “But I’m not asking if I can leave, so much as if I need to stay.”
Cal had no clue what he was talking about, and then Pete shifted his gaze until it locked on Jill.
Ah. Pete had been watching Cal watch Jill.
“I’m good,” Cal assured the other man. He nodded toward Pete’s date. “You go.”
Pete’s gaze flicked to the woman, who was currently undressing him with her eyes, and when she caught Pete looking, her lips began to curve. They continued their upward tilt, her gaze heating at the same degree that her red lips teased, until all conversation at the table came to a halt. And even though Pete paused in thought along with the rest of the men, he eventually pulled himself together enough to turn back to Cal.
Cal watched as his friend reset his mind from no-strings-hot-sex to worry-about-my-friend, and he appreciated the effort he knew had gone into it.
“I don’t want to get a call from the sheriff.” Pete kept his voice low.
“And I guarantee that you won’t.”
There’d been a handful of teenage fights Pete had to pull him out of back in the day, but through all of it, the sheriff had never once been involved. He wouldn’t be called tonight, either. No matter how much Cal might want to pummel the redhead’s face.
Pete finally gave a nod of acceptance, then tossed a two-fingered salute to the rest of the table, and as he and the woman exited through the front door, Cal returned his attention to the back booth. The sheriff wouldn’t have to get involved tonight, because Cal had another weapon at his disposal. If Doug Caldwell so much as thought about crossing the line with Jill, Cal would simply fire his ass.
“Another turn on the dance floor?”
Jill blatantly eavesdropped on the other side of the booth as Len tried to wheedle Heather back onto her feet. Len was a dancer. And a charmer. And if Jill didn’t know how difficult it was to get Heather to play, she might think the big man stood a chance tonight, whether he had fifteen years on her or not.
But as it was, the night was quickly rolling to a close.
“A few more minutes to recover?” Heather begged. “You’re too much man for me, Big Red.”
Len growled with the nickname, while at the same time, he caught Jill listening in and graced her with a wink. She ducked her head and smiled. Len might be her temporary pain in the butt, but their almost constant closeness had caused them to form a budding friendship.
“If I were to guess,” Jill added, once again looking at Len, “I’d say you’re too much man for most women.”
Len’s teeth flashed white. “That so? How about we test your limits, then? What do you say, should we give Little Red a rest with Heather, and you and I take a spin?”
Doug groaned before Jill could reply, and everyone at the table laughed.
“Just stop it,” Doug begged. “You know I hate that name.”
Heather had accidentally given away their secret earlier in the evening, and as suspected, Doug hadn’t been pleased. It was also apparently not the first time he’d been called that. Nor had Len fallen on the side of empathetic with the man. Instead, he’d spent a large portion of the evening egging it on.
“No to your offer, Len. Thank you very much.” Jill turned back to Doug. “And how about if everyone at the table”—she shot Len a hard look—“stops calling you that, and in return, you don’t try to talk me back out into the middle of that chaos.” Jill nodded to the dance floor. The four of them had spent a lot of time out there tonight, and though Jill had just “gone with it” as Heather had coached her to before they’d shown up, she’d had her fill.
“Not even one more?” Doug angled his puppy dog eyes at her, and she couldn’t help but laugh. The boy was cute.
“You’re a troublemaker, Doug Caldwell.”
“But I’m worth it.” He waggled his brows at her.
She supposed he might be for some women, but though he was fun and she was actually having a good time, he wasn’t exactly her cup of tea. First, he really was too young for her—she suspected he’d also figured that out. But also . . .
She pulled her glass of diet soda closer and cut a glance to the man who was her cup of tea. And as had been the case for most of the night, Cal’s gaze was on her.
His mouth shifted, and she thought he was about to mouth something to her across the crowded bar, but Loretta from the diner landed in his lap before Jill could find out what he might have to say.
Jill looked away.
However, a few minutes later, she found herself seeking him out again, and this time when their gazes connected, he made a quick motion with his head. He was asking her to meet him by the restrooms.
Loretta was nowhere to be found. Nor was Marci. Or any other woman.
But that didn’t mean she should step away with him just because he asked.
She gave an equally quick negative response, and he volleyed with a pleading look.
She shook her head again, but this time his lips curved, and she felt that charm his family was so proud of being directed her way. Then he motioned with his head once more.
Damn him. She wanted to go.
Glancing at her date, she listened as Doug recounted a story about “the good ole days” with a buddy of his. His friend had shown up a few minutes earlier, dragging a chair over to Doug’s end of the booth, and he and Doug had been engrossed in conversation since. Heather and Len were still involved in the conversation they’d been having for the last few minutes, as well, and Jill found herself once again turning to Cal. And once more, he grinned. He knew he had her.
And she knew he was right.
“Excuse me,” she said before she changed her mind. She stood, and Heather quickly looked up.
“Want me to go, too?” She set her drink on the table.
“No,” Jill answered, the single word stopping Heather in midscoot across the bench, and without intending to, Jill flicked a glance to the other side of the bar. Where Cal’s seat was now empty.
Her foster sister caught on fast, and straightened on the seat. She also asked a question without speaking.
Really?
Jill lifted one shoulder, almost apologetically. Heather and Trenton had picked up on Jill’s modified attitude around Cal over the last few days, but Jill had produced little explanation for it. She hadn’t told them about the walk to the park, nor about the conversation concerning Cal’s dad. That one was something just between the two of them, anyway. It always had been.
But she had told them about going over and listening to music with Mrs. Wainwright.
Heather had been seriously jealous.
“I won’t be long,” Jill told her.
Heather nodded, her brow just the tiniest bit furrowed. “Let me know if you need me.”
Len speared Jill with a look before she could turn away, and she could read in his eyes that he, too, understood where she was headed. He’d been there when she and Cal had come out of the park together, after all. And though he’d told neither Heather nor Trenton about that evening—nor had he commented on the shift in Jill’s behavior toward Cal—she’d been aware that he’d picked up on it, as well. It was hard to spend that much time in such close proximity to another person and not start to think along the same wavelength.
“Why do women always need other women to go to the bathroom with them?” he teased now, proving himself an even better guy than Jill had thought. “What do they do in there, anyway?”
Jill chuckled under her breath and sent the man a look of thanks for not pointing out her traitorous behavior. “All kinds of things, Len. But don’t worry, I won’t take your date away from you. I can handle it all by myself tonight.”
Doug glanced up from his conversation before she walked away, tossing Jill a quick smile, and she almost felt bad for slipping off. He was an attentive date, even if he had already figured out that what he’d hoped would happen tonight would not be happening.
She made it to the hallway where the restrooms were located, expecting to find Cal waiting there, but the hallway was empty.
Turning to look back the way she’d come, she saw only the packed crowd on the dance floor and servers weaving their way through with more drinks. No Cal. She frowned and stood on tiptoe, then she lost her balance when warm fingers wrapped around her wrist from behind and tugged. She stumbled through the open outside door, almost landing against Cal, but caught herself just short of being plastered to the man.
The door closed with a thud behind them, and they were alone.
“Cal.” She narrowed her eyes at him.
“Jill,” he mocked. Then he grinned at her, and she forgot whatever she’d been intending to say. The man could ooze charm without a single word.
She sighed. “Why did you just pull me outside?”
“Because it’s too damned loud in there to be heard.”
“And what is it that you wanted to make sure I heard?”
She thought she might be flirting with him, but she wasn’t sure. She pretended she wasn’t, though. Just to be safe. Because that likely wouldn’t be wise.
Also, because he had a girlfriend.
“I wanted to know if you’re still mad at me,” he told her.
“About what?”
His eyes grew darker, and the corners of his mouth turned up. “So there’s no more anger?”
No more . . .
What was he talking about?
And then she got it, and she blushed as hot as her date was prone to do. They couldn’t have sex if they were still angry with one another. That had been their long-ago rule. She stared over his shoulder, her gaze locking onto a twenty-year-old two-tone Ford sitting in the back parking lot, and silently commanded her mouth to produce a frown. “Of course I’m still angry.”
He leaned to his left and put his face in front of hers. “Are you sure about that?”
She didn’t know what to think or what to say. Because she’d completely forgotten to be mad at him tonight. She’d forgotten for a few days now. Even though she’d assured him while they’d been in the park that she’d bring it back out.
Refusing to give in to his teasing, she propped her hands on her hips and cocked her head at him. “You did see that I’m on a date tonight, right?”
“Oh, I saw that.”
She didn’t ask why he wasn’t on one. “Then you can understand why I need to get back.”
“Nope. Because you shouldn’t be on a date.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant by that.
“You’re fraternizing with the competition,” he explained. “I haven’t decided if you’re trying to get info out of my boy, or if I should give him a raise for trying to get info out of you.”
She caught the way he stressed the word “boy” and suspected the man’s ego was at play.
Was he jealous at seeing her out with another man?
And if he was jealous, what did she think about that?
She decided to delve into that question later, and returned to the conversation at hand. She smirked. “No info is exchanging hands.”
He leaned in and put his mouth next to her ear. “Maybe nothing should be exchanged.”
A tiny trickle raced down the back of her neck.
“Plus . . .” He retreated before she could get used to the warmth of his breath. Then his dark eyes flashed a fast up-and-down over the front of her. “He’s too young for you.”
She got offended as quickly as she’d almost been turned on. “And how old is Marci? And come to think of it, where is Marci?”
Cal gave no hint as to where his girlfriend might be, so she put her hands to his chest and shoved. He needed to take his charming self back inside with the boys. But he didn’t budge. “I do need to get back to my date,” she told him. “He’s quite the charmer.” She then gave him a matching up-and-down, same as he’d done to her. “I suspect he’s pretty good at other things, too. What with so much youth and all.”
Without waiting for a reply, she opened the door and left Cal standing outside alone.