CALLIE (The Naughty Ones Book 1) (12 page)

The Trouble With Love Is…

Callie

I haven’t seen Jack yet and that is not for lack of trying. I drove all the way back to the city, sweaty, my bladder screaming, and my heart so full of hope it was just disgusting.

The problem with my rose-colored glasses and newfound hope—it never once stopped to consider that the way I treated Jack so callously would play a major role in the way things turn out.

According to Gruffy, the man came around to see me and got so mad at me for daring to treat him this way that he lost his shit and stormed off. I got the message that he was pissed at me when my twenty-fifth call hit voice mail again.

He’s not ready to talk to me yet.

Well too damn bad. I need to talk to him and clear this all up. So I’m now standing on his doorstep at nine at night, leaning on his doorbell for all I am worth. Praying to sweet little baby Jesus that the fool opens the door before I disgrace myself out here.

Plus it’s cold out and I’m hungry. I didn’t stop to eat but I couldn’t resist the mega slushy Indie handed to me when she went into the convenience store while I filled the van with gas.

Those things are so good and I drank it all. I would have peed in the cup halfway home if not for the fact that I was driving and Indie would probably have taken footage of it and put it up on the net.

Animal.

“Jack! I’m not leaving anytime soon, you dick, so you may as well open the door for me and let me in!”

No answer.

I keep leaning in and hitting the bell till I just know I can’t take it anymore and clench my bladder for the first time. Dammit.

Turning with a forlorn sigh I make my way down his steps and start shuffling my way back down the sidewalk, eyeing a trash can the way a dog must when it needs to go.

Dammit. I need to pee and the little kicks I’ve been feeling all day are not helping the situation.

No. You know what? I won’t leave. I’ll go back and sit on those steps all night, even if I have to christen them and sit in a puddle of pee. I want Jack. I need Jack, and I can’t just give up on the man because he may be a little peeved right now.

What did Gramps always say?
You gotta do what you gotta do, baby girl, and say fuck it when the world tries to get you down.

I shuffle back and sit my butt down on the cold stones, pulling my coat closer and thanking God that Indie made me put on my ugly jeans and sweater for warmth.

I’m about forty or so minutes into praying I don’t get haemorrhoids when a car pulls up and Jack tumbles out. Followed by a really hot brunette.

Ah hell.

You know that moxy that Gruffy keeps dressing up? That stuff that we call moxy even when we know it’s a shit name for pride and self-respect? That just sorta crumbles and gives a smoky
poof!
of sadness as they come my way laughing and hanging all over each other in the most affectionate way.

Looks like this is going to be the day of awkwardness and loss, after all.

They’re still laughing at whatever the brunette is saying and don’t notice me standing there like a lump till they’re practically on top of me. When they do finally notice me Jack comes to a hard stop and narrows his eyes at me.

“Callie.”

              “Hey, Jack, uh, sorry to just land on your doorstep, but I’ve been calling you all day and you weren’t answering.”

“Yeah. Wonder what that must feel like,” he grates, making my eyes flutter as a blush hits my cheeks.

God, I hate it when other people are right. It means I’m wrong and that just sucks. It doesn’t feel very good.

“Um, I-I need to talk you. It’s really important,” I manage to say just as clingy arms gets closer and seems to want to crawl up Jack’s tailpipe.

She’s looking between the two of us with more curiosity than I can handle right now, and just the fact that she’s here is enough to make all the courage I’ve collected over the years vanish and disappear beneath a cloud of hurt and the need to cut and run.

“Callie, I can’t right now.”

Direct hit.

“Um, look, I just can’t go another day without telling you this, so I’m just going to say it and…and get it out there, okay? We made a mistake. No, I made a mistake. I think I wanted it to be you so bad that I ignored the signs that I was wrong and…it’s not you, Jack. You’re off the hook,” I manage to say as I cover my tummy protectively and take a step back.

This hurts a lot because I know that it’s true. I wanted it to be him and he’s probably just feeling instant relief right now.

His eyes are dazed and I see his confusion before they trail down to my stomach. I see the exact moment my words become understood and then he’s looking back at me, his eyes narrowed.

“No. Don’t. Don’t say anything. I just, I found out that night at the club and I feel so bad, Jack. I…this isn’t…I’m so sorry that you thought, but it wasn’t you and…”

Don’t cry, Cal.

Oh but it does hurt when all he seems to do is stare at me blankly.

“”Er, I gotta go, but…but thanks, Jack. Knowing you was really one of the best times of my life.”

Lame. But I can’t say anything more meaningful because my throat’s closing, and I’m just that close to tears at the moment.

“Good-bye, Jack.”

Thunderstruck

Jack

I’m still reeling the next morning when my cousin Priscilla drags her hungover butt downstairs and falls into a seat at the table with a moan as her head hits the surface with a
thunk
.

“Please tell me I’m dying, because if I actually live through this I will never be the same. I hate today. Why didn’t you stop me?”

I don’t really have it in me to make idle conversation or even entertain the thought of caring right now, but I haven’t seen Pris in months and taking my misery out on her is not fair.

I’ll wait till she leaves tomorrow to drown in a puddle of gloom and unmanly tears.

“You weren’t exactly open to advice last night when I tried to cut you off, cuz. Your exact words were something along the lines of, ‘Screw off, yank. I know what I’m doing.’”

Her groan and attempts at a chuckle make my lips twitch a little and I find myself pushing coffee and a bagel at her even though my body feels like it’s gone AWOL.

I still can’t believe what Callie told me last night. I feel like my heart has been ripped out and stomped on. It took a few minutes of utter shock and disbelief, but I finally snapped out of it just as she was getting into a passing cab and made a break for her only to be stopped when Pris chose that moment to pass out.

Talk about bad timing.

“What’s got you so glum, chum? I’m the one with the hangover from hell.”

I don’t even have the energy to shrug at this point because there’s no blood to support movement. Yeah, I really have been sitting here in a daze all night after dragging Pris to bed and ensuring she was okay.

My ass is numb right now and I’m frozen in place. The only reason I moved to make coffee and toast bagels was the fact that I haven’t eaten since breakfast yesterday and I was starting to feel woozy.

“Jack? Jackie boy? What the hell is going on with you? You look like someone just handed you a killing blow, mate.”

Her British accent is thick with fatigue, and I find myself not even a little enchanted by the sound as I usually am. Not today. Not when my world just ended.

“Someone did.”

“Is this about that cute bird on your steps last night? I distinctly recall that sexy lady and her tummy. Wait! Was that Callie?”

My nod makes her groan.

“Oh God. Please tell me she didn’t see me and think…”

Odds aren’t great, and I want to kick my own ass for not telling her right off the bat that Pris is my cousin. I was just so shocked to see her waiting for me like I’ve dreamed about for days, and then I got pissed because how dare she just show up this way when I wanted to be the one to go after her and lay down the law and…

And I fucked it all up last night by not responding to a thing after the shock of her confession hit me. Admittedly I was floored. Then pissed when I thought for a split second that I’d been duped.

Then just gutted when I realized that Callie would never lie to me about something so important. After that, I hurt for my baby because she must be just as devastated about it as I am.

I sat here all night just thinking, and all I could come up with is that I don’t give a shit. That kid and that woman are mine. Whether I’m the man from the hotel or not. Whether it was my sperm that created him or not.

They’re mine and I will not give them up.

Determination grabs hold of me and I feel a return of life to my limbs just as I hear my door slam hard enough to shake the foundations before Woody comes striding in, pissed off as fuck.

“You shithead! You absolute fucking idiot.”

“Well good morning to you too, Woody. Would you like to at least say hi to Pris before you explain to me what crawled up your ass and started chewing?” I drawl, sipping at my now cold coffee.

Pris, who’s been trying to crawl into the table, lifts her head with a moan and glares at Woody.

“Keep it down, diva, my bleeding head’s about to flee for its life.”

Woody cringes in apology and comes over to kiss her in greeting before grabbing a cup of coffee and falling into a seat to glare at me with renewed ire.

“Not to sound dumb or anything, but what’s your gripe, man? Did I fuck up a deal or something?”

“No, you fucking turd. This isn’t about business, it’s about the fact that I got a call from Gruffy this morning and got to hear about how poor Callie finally screwed up the courage to talk to you, waited on your doorstep for hours, and then got nothing but the cold shoulder from you.”

“What? No. It wasn’t like that, Wood.”

“It wasn’t? Because I don’t take Callie for a liar, and Grammy is way too old to give enough of a shit to lie. Did you or did you not tell that woman you love her even though she’s got it in her fool head to believe that shit Lesley told her at the club?”

My words all freeze on my tongue at the mention of that name, and I feel my blood start boiling when recent events come back to niggle at me.

“Wood. I did not give Callie the brush off, man. I got home last night dragging this one behind me because her drunk ass could barely walk.”

“Hey!” she whispers loudly, looking sheepish before her head tilts on her neck. “Okay, it’s true, Wood. I was somewhat legless last night.”

That’s an understatement. I’m surprised I didn’t have to go back to the bar to find said limbs she was so drunk. Brits. Can’t hold their liquor like a true yank.

“Dammit. Poor Callie. She spent yesterday tracking down and meeting her real dad. Deadbeat asshole, by the way. And then she came here and you weren’t here. She tried calling you, fuck face. What? You can’t answer your phone?”

He’s yelling again and ignoring Pris’s whimpers as I sit and stew, hating like hell that my girl feels so abandoned and alone that she didn’t even mention that last night.

“Woody. I didn’t know, man. I got Pris from the airport yesterday afternoon and sat in traffic on the freeway for over two hours before we made it back in. By that time my phone was dead and Pris was yammering to go out and have some fun. I was going to go to Callie today and lay shit out for her.”

“Instead she waited for you, saw this supermodel hanging off you like a disease, and then got to go home alone after all the shit she’s been through. Fucking great.”

I will revisit and maybe murder her father at a later stage. Definitely hurt him a little if he was mean to my Callie. But for now I’m stuck on the name
Lesley
and the fact that my girl believes my baby is not my baby.

              I may not have recalled her name or face from the night at the hotel. Or the sex I know must have been smoking hot. But I do remember her scent, and that scent is the exact one that used to haunt my dreams.

No way is she not the one.

“I want to know what the hell is going on and how Lesley is involved,” I grate, my teeth grinding so hard it hurts.

Woody’s eyes narrow and I see him smile evilly before rubbing his hands together and calling dibs.

“Well see, apparently, according to a violently upset Percy, Lesley cornered Callie in the bathroom at the club and started spouting off. Long and short of that travesty is that between her and Destiny, they managed to find out the whole story about Callie and the baby. She told Callie that she was lying, that she was mistaken, whatever, because there is no way you could have been with her at the Hyatt when you were with her, in bed. All night.”

Jesus. I don’t do violence against women, but right now I could happily throttle the life out of both Destiny and Lesley. The anger is so fierce and all-consuming that it takes long minutes of deep breathing and curled fists before I can in any way respond to that.

“You know I wouldn’t touch that hag with someone else’s dick. I wasn’t with her. I was with Callie, Goddammit.”

Woody holds up his hands and leans back, his face going all soft and understanding.

“Dude, you don’t have to tell me that, I know. It’s that Callie doesn’t. She feels like crap because she thinks she lied to you and she’s already terrified that people will think she was trying to trap you or something.”

Dammit. Callie’s a fighter and nine times out of ten she’ll come up swinging at you and ready to tear your throat out. Don’t think I haven’t already heard about the Naughty Ones from Elsa.

Callie’s street name in high school was Biter, and according to them all it was a name well earned. I believe it. I’ve had first-hand experience.

              “Where the hell is she, Woody?”

“Jack. Stop. You can’t just run over there yet. We need to clear this other shit up first,” he insists, grabbing me as I try to walk past.

“What the hell is there to clear up? I’m going to get my girl and my kid and then I am personally going to make sure that Lesley and Destiny do not have a pot to piss in when I’m done with them.”

              “Jack, Callie really believes that the baby isn’t yours, that you aren’t her hotel guy.”

“Bullshit. I know that she’s my girl. I don’t need anyone to show me proof, and I sure as shit don’t need to remember to know it because my heart already does. We were destined to meet and I refuse to believe anything else.”

That gets me a smile and he’s ready to tag along and watch the show when we’re brought up short by Pris and her shrieking.

“Well wait for me, you nobs. I’m not missing this. Woody, Tylenol. Jack, if you leave before I have chance to get dressed, I’ll kick you in the ballocks. Goodness, I just knew it was going to be a good day.”