But I don’t say that out loud. Instead, I let my eyes roam again, holding my breath for…well, I’m not even sure what it is I’m waiting for. All I know is I can’t seem to shake the feeling that someone is watching me.
Of course someone is watching you. It’s a packed bar. People are drunk and have no boundaries. It’s expected, Chloe. Just focus on what’s happening in front of you.
Still, the thought doesn’t comfort me, and I force myself to let it go as the bartender makes their way over to us.
“Finally,” Dirk snaps. “I’ll have a whiskey on the rocks, whatever is on special tonight, and the lady here will take a white wine.”
“Actually, I’ll have a Diet Coke, please.”
“Really?” Dirk’s brows pull together. “I thought you wanted to get a drink.”
No,youwanted to get a drink, I want to remind him.
“I’m, uh, still full from dinner. Not sure a drink would be a good idea right now.”
“I’m sure you are. You finished off that pasta in record time.” He squeezes my hip, and that very same pasta threatens to crawl back up my throat. I’ve never felt comfortable about my body, but I’ve been working hard to overcome that in the last few years. I am not about to let this prick undo all the work I’ve done.
I’m about two seconds away from telling him to fuck all the way off, the job be damned, when I hear a voice I haven’t heard in months.
“Clover.”
The entire room comes to a halt, or at least that’s what it feels like, and my knees buckle beneath me. Dirk’s hand is still on me, and he catches me. I wish it were someone else.
“Get your fucking hands off her,” that same haunting voice commands. His words are snarled. Angry. Full of rage I haven’t heard from him before.
I turn and look into the same eyes I once swore I loathed, then loved more than anything in the world. Even though they’re shrouded in darkness, just like they did a decade ago, they remind me of looking into a bottle of whiskey, the good stuff that sits on the top shelf. My heart rate kicks up ten notches, my ears overpowered by the sudden pumping.
Thu-thump. Thu-thump. Thu-thump.
“Who the fuck do you think you are, buddy?” Dirk barks back at him, his hold tightening on me, and I try to squirm free, but I can’t move. Hell, I can barely evenbreathe.
Thu-thump. Thu-thump. Thu-thump.
“Definitely not yourbuddy. Now, get your goddamn hands off her before I take them off myself.” He steps closer, right under one of the dim lights. “And I really don’t think you want that, now do ya,buddy?”
Dirk drops his hands as his eyes widen, his mouth opening as he registers just who it is he’s talking to. “Holy shit. You… You’re…”
Thu-thump. Thu-thump. Thu-thump.
“Callum.”
His eyes snap to me, and it’s like being hit by a freight train. Everything—each soft touch and sweet kiss and whispered word—comes flooding back to me all at once. The edges of my visionblur, and I rest my hand on the sticky bar top, trying to keep myself upright.
He looks good.Toogood. He’s put an easy fifteen pounds of muscle on his tall frame, and his light brown hair, which always felt like the world’s softest blanket when I ran my hands over it, lies neatly on top of his head. His long-sleeved shirt is pushed up to show off his forearms, and though they’ve always been decorated in ink for as long as I can remember, it’s obvious they’re sporting new art. It extends down to the backs of his hands, over his fingers, new additions that are far more attractive than I could have imagined. And while the yellow-ish bruise on his cheek should draw more concern, all it does is make me want to reach over and trace my fingers across it, then maybe kiss it better.
He’s nothing and everything like I remember, and that thought makes it hard to breathe. Or maybe it’s just being near him again. Either way, I’m struggling to catch my breath, and I’m grateful when my host for the evening breaks the lingering tension.
“Wait a second,” Dirk says. “You know him?”
I nod, unable to take my eyes off the tattooed man before me. The man I’ve known for over a decade. The one who used to mean everything to me.
The one looking at me with such contempt that I can barely stomach it.
Fuck, here comes the pasta again, I think, choking down the urge to vomit.
Dirk laughs. “Well, shit. How come you didn’t tell me you knowtheCallum Keller? I told you the Seattle Serpents like to hang out here.”
“I, uh, I didn’t think he’d be here.”
