I shouldn’t be shocked to see him. Heck, this was his usual watering hole.
As if sensing my stare, he looked up and cocked an eyebrow at me. Scowling, I pressed my lips into a tight line and got back to the business of getting customers drunk.
“Hey.”
“Hey back,” I muttered. “What will it—?” The words dried up in my throat as Calum took a seat at the counter.
“Corona, thanks.”
Oh, shit. “What are you doing here?” Dammit! This was meant to be all clandestine and stuff, not him showing up in the bar where my friends and family hung out.
“I got home and realized I didn’t have your cell digits. So, here I am.”
“You could have called the bar.”
“True.”
At his smirk, I snorted. “Give me your number, I’ll call you.” I wasn’t giving mine to anyone.
“When are you free?” He got out his wallet, removed a small, white card and slid it to me.
“Not sure yet,” I said, slipping the card into my apron pocket, aware Jack was already prowling through the crowd toward us like I was wearing a homing signal. “I’ll let you know.”
“Good.” Calum grinned, sweeping his fingers through his dirty blond hair. “Can’t wait.”
Not yet. I got out his beer and set it in front of him. Jack took up space at the counter next to him.
“Moore,” he said, appearing more like Jack Frost.
“Griffin.”
“This isn’t your usual haunt.” Jack cut him another cold look.
Calum smirked. “I decided a girl like Ray is worth traipsing to the dark side.”
“Then know this, Moore, whatever your plans are with her, it’s not going to happen.”
Like sparring bulls, Calum and Jack sized each other up. Both were striking in looks, one fair and the other dark. As much as I hated to admit it, Jack had the edge in height and looks. The annoying man was too damn good-looking with his icy stare and brooding, sculpted features.
Then, with a wry smile, Calum raised his Corona to Jack as if in concession—as if some tacit treaty had been reached between them—paid for his drink, got up, and left.
What the hell?
What was I now? No man’s land? Forced to remain frustrated and unfulfilled? And that would definitely be the case if Jack had his way. My teeth ground down in frustration.
War, still seated at the back of the bar, merely shook his head.
To keep my hands busy so I wouldn’t punch Jack’s handsome face and break Jude’s decree of not hitting the customers, I poured his usual Grey Goose and thumped the vodka in front of him. “What the hell are you doing?” I bit out, keeping my voice low, which was damn hard to do when I wanted to yell.
He ignored the drink, his gaze drifting over my face. “You smell like apples.”
“What? Never mind. Jack, stop butting into my life. Who I go out with is none of your business.”
“I want to take another bite of you.”
My eyes widened. He didn’t just say that. But thoughts of his mouth on mine flared to life again, and my blood heated—
Sheesh! He was making me lose my concentration, and my righteous anger. I hissed, “I’m getting laid, and Calum ismychoice.”
