“Being underappreciated is like being a ghost. They know once upon a time you were there, that you made a mark, but they already stopped caring before you even said good-bye. That’s shitty. And maybe being a flight attendant isn’t making someone’s home or office a place they love to spend time in, and it’s not making sure a tech company stays on the right path upward financially … but it’s making sure someone who is afraid of flying, or is tired and grieving, has a good flight at least. That they didn’t have to put up with obnoxious service. The same with Emily tonight. She got our food out to us and she did it with a smile. And we don’t know what kind of day Emily is having. If those assholes over there have been giving her a hard time.
“So maybe a please or a thank you doesn’t seem much to you. But I’m pretty sure that every time I say thank you to Emily—including the thank you I’ll leave in my twenty percent tip—it helps her deal better with the assholes who were rude to her while she stands on her feet for a twelve-hour shift in the four-inch heels her boss insists she wear.”
I drew in a breath after my rant and sat back in my chair, waiting for his sarcastic reply. It didn’t come. Instead, he just stared at me, his expression inscrutable.
“What?”
His answer was to look at the menu. “Are you getting dessert?”
Would it have been wrong of me to pour my champagne over him?
Yes, yes, it would have. That didn’t mean I didn’t feel the urge. I sighed and looked over the menu. “I am.”
We didn’t speak as we waited for Emily to return. “Dessert?”
“I’ll have the chocolate fudge cake.”
“Whipped cream or ice cream?”
“Ice cream, please.”
“Great.” She turned to Caleb.
He shook his head and handed her the menu. “Nothing for me.”
As Emily walked away, I frowned at my companion. There was a possibility if I stuck around him any longer I was going to form permanent wrinkles between my brows. “I thought you were eating dessert. I wouldn’t have ordered if you weren’t.”
“Why not? Frankly, it’s refreshing that you eat steak and chocolate cake.”
“I don’t normally. It’s a treat.”
“Because you’re grieving and tired?”
Stunned that he’d picked up on that and that he was curious enough to ask, I attempted to shrug it off. “I’m not drunk enough to talk about that.”
“Fair enough. But I’ll still wait with you while you have your dessert.”
“Well, as begrudgingly as it is given, I’m grateful.” I snorted. “I’m looking forward to that damn cake.”
This time there was no mistaking the male appreciation in those spectacular eyes. “Aye. Me too.”
He was obviously referring to my reaction to eating good food. I flushed and hoped he attributed it to a champagne blush. But if that cocky smirk of his was anything to go by, he didn’t.
Oh boy.
Six
Somehow after cake we still hadn’t left the table. After we’d paid for dinner (separately!), Caleb said he needed another drink. When I stood up from the booth to leave, he’d put a hand on my lower back and led me to the bar.
I was so hopped up on sugar and bubbles that I followed, completely bemused.
An hour later I was still sitting at the bar with this obnoxious Scotsman I didn’t like very much, sharing my wisdom about life in general and teetering over the edge into drunk. I was perfectly aware of my surroundings, but all the snark and defensiveness had leaked out of me as my alcohol consumption increased. Suddenly, I didn’t hate Caleb. We were just different people, and just because you didn’t agree with someone on everything didn’t mean he was a bad person. Caleb had sat with me during dinner to stop other men from harassing me, which was very thoughtful, I thought.
“It was thoughtful, Caleb,” I found myself saying.
He smiled at me over the rim of his third glass of whiskey, and I felt that now familiar flutter in my stomach. God, he was handsome! “What was, babe?”
And being called “babe” by him wasn’t so bad. When Harper called me “babe,” I found it cute. I felt something a little different when Caleb called me “babe.” “Sitting with me. Acting as a barrier between me and those awful men. That was thoughtful. You can say it was you owing me, but it was still thoughtful.”
“I thought you didn’t need me tae rescue you?”
“I didn’t. I don’t. That doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the effort.”
His lips did that twitchy thing again. “Noted.”
“I mean, it has been such a shitty week. I just … I didn’t need guys acting like their usual asshole selves and bugging me. Just because a woman dresses nice”—I gestured to myself—“doesn’t mean she’s advertising that she’s looking for a guy to take notice.”
“No, you’re right. It doesn’t. But it would be naive tae think that some men dinnae still think that it does.”
“Oh, I know that. But I refuse to let misogyny and sexism and sexually aggressive a-holes dictate what I put on my body and how I do my makeup or my hair.”
“So this is all just for you?” Caleb waved a finger over the air in front of me.
I scowled at him, momentarily forgetting I didn’t hate him anymore. “Yeah, it is! This is my ‘Screw you, Nick!’ ‘Screw you, everyone!’ Being pretty doesn’t mean being empty.”
Caleb lifted an eyebrow. “Who is Nick?”
I laughed bitterly. “Ah, the million-dollar question. Nick, Nick, Nick. Nick Kane. He doesn’t like me very much. He used to. But he stopped. He … he was married to my best friend, Gemma.” Tears glittered in my eyes before I could stop them. “She died. Childbirth. They struggled to get pregnant and then … God … she needed a C-section and there were complications. She and the baby died.” I brushed a tear away, sucking them back. “I went back to Arizona for the funeral this week and, uh … I wasn’t welcome. It was a crappy experience and, you know, burying my ex–best friend and all, my expectations were already kind of low. But, shoot … those people managed to take that experience and make it shittier than fleas on shit. That, my friend”—I leaned toward him—“is a gift.”
Either I was getting really drunk or Caleb’s expression softened. “I’m sorry tae hear that, Ava.”
“That’s the first time you’ve called me Ava instead of ‘babe.’ You’re nicer than you let on.”
He scowled instantly. “I’m not nice.”
“Okay.” I leaned away from him and drank the rest of my champagne. “You may not be nice, but I am grateful to you tonight. This is the first time I’ve relaxed all week. It feels good.”
“Ava.”
“Mmm.”
“Ava, look at me.”
I looked at him.
Oh boy, he was so attractive. I wondered what those unshaven cheeks would feel like between my thighs. “Hmm?”
And as if he read my thoughts, he leaned into me. The scent of his sexy cologne made my senses prickle and tingle. “How drunk are you?”
“How drunk are you?”
“I’m not drunk but I’m not sober.”
I nodded. “I’m that too.”
“So if I ask you tae come up tae my room, I wouldn’t be taking advantage?”
My breath faltered as I stared into those beautiful eyes of his. I tried to remember how only a few hours ago I didn’t even like this guy. But that was hard to remember when he was so yummy and Scottish and talking to me in that accent. The only conclusion I could come to was that I’d been feeling uptight and defensive earlier. Now … not so much.
And I hadn’t had sex in a really long time.
Like a really, really, really long time.
Suddenly there was a tall Viking with a hot accent asking me up to his room and I was not really sure I wanted to say no to that.
The tingle that was growing in intensity between my legs and the tightness in my breasts also seemed kind of unsure that they wanted to say no.
“You don’t even like me. You said you wanted me to hate you so I wouldn’t want to sleep with you.”
His lips curled up at the corners. “I dinnae need tae like you tae want tae have sex with you.” He leaned in, making my breath falter. “And aye, I was going tae ignore the urge but it seems you keep getting thrown in my way. And just because you dinnae like me either, babe, doesn’t mean you dinnae want tae have sex with me tae.”
In that moment, I thought he was wrong. Not about the wanting to sleep with him part, but the liking him part. He didn’t seem so bad. And I wanted him. That in itself was unusual enough to make up my mind. “I could come up to your room.”