Typical Callie. FYI, she’s not my girl.
A few minutes later as I stare at what is left of my pad thai, with no urge to eat it suddenly, Donahue texts me again.
Dude, she’s a little out of control. She needs rescuing.
I don’t respond. I don’t know what to say. My heart starts to beat a little faster as I think about all the things that statement could mean. All the very bad, dark things…But Callie isn’t mine to rescue.
Then it occurs to me that Callie isn’t the type who ever needs rescuing. Even Donahue should be able to see that. No matter the crazy situation she seems to get herself into, she’s always in control. She’s Little Callie Control Freak.
My text message goes off again and this time there are no words, just a picture. It’s of Callie looking incredibly drunk sitting on the actual bar, her head tipped back with a hipster douche bag–looking bartender pouring vodka straight out of the bottle into her open mouth. His tatted-up arm is wrapped around her middle and his big fat hand is nearly groping her breasts. I feel nauseated and furious all at the same time. I can’t dial Luc’s number fast enough.
“Callie is at a bar called Black Horse Pub on Fifth and she’s obliterated,” I blurt out as soon as he says hello. “You need to go get her.”
There’s a slight pause as he takes in the information. “You go.”
I want to reach through the phone and punch him. “Luc, stop being a fucking moron. Go get her! Something could happen to her!”
“Donahue already texted me, Dev. I told him to text you,” Luc explains. “Tommy told me he tried to get her to leave and she won’t listen to him. She isn’t going to listen to me or Rose either, but she’ll listen to you.”
“Luc. No,” is all I can get out.
“Devin. Yes,” he responds and then hangs up on me.
“Fucking goddamn asshole,” I swear under my breath as I storm into the front hall and shove my feet into my shoes.
Chapter 55
Callie
Callie! Callie, come on…please?” Tommy’s voice is incessant in my ear.
Geoff, the bartender who is now finished with his shift and is completely focused on being my entertainment for the night, kisses my neck again where remnants of the salt he put on there to lick off before his tequila shot still remain.
“Callie!”
I sigh and turn my barstool to face Tommy and promptly fall off it. My ass hits the tile floor with a hard, painful smack. “Ow! Fuck!”
Geoff laughs and slaps the bar with his tattooed arm. Tommy bends and scoops me up under the arms, pulling me to my feet. I let my body drape over him. He tenses.
“Thanks, Tommy,” I whisper in his ear and kiss his cheek, leaving my lips there long enough to get a flush. The kid so wants me. So does the bartender. This is what used to thrill Old Callie. I should be thrilled right now.
I try to turn and walk away but Tommy grabs me around the waist. For such a young pup, with a gimp knee, he’s incredibly solid and strong. He turns me back to face him.
“Callie, you can’t go home with that dude,” he tells me in a tense whisper. “Devin and Luc will kill me if I let you.”
Geoff stands up and stares at Tommy menacingly. “Dude, I was here first.”
I giggle at that. “Wow. Suddenly I feel like a fire hydrant in between two Chihuahuas.”
“Did you just call me a Chihuahua?” Geoff asks, unimpressed, but I ignore him and so does Tommy as he starts to pull me toward the table where he and his buddies are sitting. I don’t fight him. When we get there, he drops me into a chair and I lay my head on the table to stop the room from spinning.
Tommy turns back to Geoff. “Dude, she’s related to three of the biggest hockey players in the National Hockey League and they’re coming to get her right now, so if you want to take that on, be my guest. But I wouldn’t if I were you.”
Geoff thinks about it and then shrugs and walks away.
“Wait!” I call out way too loudly, but he keeps walking anyway. I glare at Tommy. “I amnotrelated to any NHL players! Those boys aren’t my family.”
Donahue smirks at that like I’m the most amusing thing in the world and sits down in the chair beside me, propping his leg with the knee brace up on the chair across from us.
