When my bus arrived, he gave me a few more soft kisses and made me promise to text him when I got home. I’d never in my life not wanted to go home.
But that afternoon, I wanted to be wherever Callan Keen was.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
BETH
Present day
While the men in my life enjoyed football, Mum hated it, so I hadn’t grown up in a household where it was playing on the television all the time. Luke watched it on his laptop in his room where it wouldn’t annoy the rest of us, and my dad usually caught the games at my uncles’ houses.
In fact, I’d had a rather negative outlook on football, since most of my information regarding it came from the media. The news or movies told me that football incited hooliganism and violence. Whenever I saw a group of drunk men, celebrating their team’s win, I’d cross the street.
Then I met Callan, and his love of the sport was infectious. It had given him purpose when he’d needed it most. And now as I watched a clip of his game on the news, I realized it had given him a home.
Seeing him in the pub with Baird and John last night, I couldn’t help but note the closeness between them. Watching him celebrate on the pitch with his teammates, there was affection and pride in their interactions. The first time I’d seenhim play on the telly, I’d felt a pang of remorse and regret. Then I saw him plastered on local and national ad campaigns, those gorgeous green eyes smoldering at the camera, and he’d suddenly seemed like a total stranger.
And I realized he was.
Callan Keen and I didn’t know each other anymore.
Now, as I watched him pass to his teammates, setting up the goal that would win the game, I felt a rush of self-directed anger.
Sometimes my inflexibility made me hate myself a wee bit.
And in return, it made me resent my neighbor upstairs.
Not just for that, though. He’d inadvertently ruined my date last night. Dean was nice. Friendly. But as soon as I realized Callan was in the Orchard, I couldn’t think about anything else. Eventually, I asked Dean if he wanted to relocate. But even that hadn’t helped. There was no zing of chemistry between us. So I called it a night. When Dean asked if he could see me again, I gently told him it wasn’t going to work out. He’d seemed surprised by my honesty but then thanked me for it. We said good night, and I went home alone to use the vibrator stashed in my bedside drawer.
Three months was not a long time to go without sex. I’d gone longer. But I wasfeelingthe drought this time around. Probably because the last time I had sex was with my ex Josh (in his car, a fact my whole family knew, thanks to Luke outing me at Sunday dinner). Josh and I had dated for a few weeks. It was like I was getting desperate to find that connection, that great love, by that point, so I’d hung around in the relationship far longer than I should have. I think I’d known from the start he was wrong for me. But after we had sex, I knew for certain. No chemistry.
I’d made one last attempt to spark fire between us by initiating sex in his Volvo. We’d parked up on a dark lay-by after a Sunday drive. The car sex had been awkward and uncomfortable … and so bad. It was almost as bad as the fact thathe wanted to “make love” to me. He was all emotional and into it while I was in my head, attempting to make sex between us better. That night in the Volvo, I realized while he was inside me that it was never going to get better and that I never wanted to have sex with him again.
It had taken me a week of avoiding him to finally face Josh, only to break up with him.
And I was back on the dating apps the very next day. Because if I was going to spend the rest of my life working my arse off, then I wanted someone special to come home to. I wanted love and companionship and fantastic fecking sex to take the edge off.
“You’re into football?”
I jerked my head back to my companion, realizing I’d zoned out looking at the TV screen above the bar. It was Tuesday afternoon and I’d moved around a meeting with the girls in order to make a quick lunch with Samuel Green. Upon walking into the bar restaurant, I noted a table of four women across from Samuel looking at him. He should be over there, enjoying their attention, not having to coax me into focusing on him.
The thought of losing out on a client like Aura Beauty because I hadn’t been cordial enough to Sheera’s grown son made me straighten in my chair. I smiled softly at him and watched the way his gaze dropped to my mouth. “I am,” I lied, because I wasn’t going to tell him it was the sight of Callan Keen on the telly that had drawn my attention. “You?”
“Not at all.”
I nodded, not knowing what to say after that.
“These are all great recommendations.” Samuel changed the subject, looking down at the list he’d made on his phone. “Which is your favorite?”
In an effort to be as efficient as possible and get back to work, I’d ordered a sandwich for lunch, and as soon as our foodarrived, I began listing off the best places for him to take his clients, depending on their vibe and the mood he was looking for.
“I love Mexican food, so Wahaca is a great choice for clients who are looking for something fun and delicious, perhaps for clients who don’t take themselves too seriously.”
“Wahaca.” Samuel nodded. “I love Mexican food too.”
“Aye, it’s great,” I replied inanely. Between my determination to have his mother as a client and our astonishing lack of chemistry on any level, I was finding easy conversation difficult with him.
“Mother is back in town on Friday and asked if you’d like to meet for dinner.”
