I take a deep breath, annoyed at the way he’s speaking to me. “I did, but he came into the bathroom where I was talking to that woman. I could hardly ignore the situation. She was scared out of her wits.”
“You could have come and gotten me to help.”
“There wasn’t time, Luke.”
“There was plenty of time.” He doesn’t give me an inch, and it pisses me off even more.
“Will you listen to yourself? You’re being ridiculous now. No harm was done, and we all survived, so this conversation is pointless.”
His eyes flare. “This conversation is not pointless. While you’re in my bar, it’s my responsibility to keep you safe. I knew those guys were a problem, that’s why I told you to steer clear.” Now, he’s just being obstinate.
“I understand that. Can you understand where I’m coming from? I didn’t go looking to get involved in their drama. I was just reacting to what was in front of me.”
He stares at me for a long beat. And then he shoves his fingers through his hair and mutters something under his breath. His control snaps a little when he says, “Jesus, why do you have to argue with me over this? I’m just trying to make sure you’re safe.”
“And I’m just trying to point out that you’re taking it too far. I appreciate your concern and that you look out for me, but there’s no need to go all dictatorial on me.”
He holds my gaze as he blows out a long breath, his fight gone. “Maybe I just want the opportunity to take care of you from here on out,” he says, his voice gruff.
Oh. My.
My annoyance with him suddenly turns into something else completely. I’ve never had a man say anything like that to me before, and it makes my heart all mushy.
Moving into my space, he slides his hand around my waist. His eyes search mine before he says, “I need to know you’re okay, Callie. For me to do that, I’m going to need you to let me take charge sometimes. Are you good with that?”
His face is so close—so close I could stand on my tiptoes and kiss him—and that proximity is fucking with my mind. I can’t think straight when he does this. While my inner feminist wants to tell him there’s no way in hell I’m conceding control ever, my inner princess wants nothing more than to be swept off her feet by a knight in shining armour. I mean, what woman doesn’t want that at some point in her life?
He only said sometimes.
You could totally take charge all the other times.
Yeah, like Luke’s really going to let that happen.
My princess wins.
She and I are going to be having words later.
I nod. “I’m good with that.”
He holds my gaze and doesn’t let me go. “Good.”
And just like that, Luke steals another little piece of my heart—the piece that totally wants a man to protect her and take charge when needed.
The piece I never knew was in there.
9
Luke
“Do you want a drink?” Callie asks as she peers inside her fridge.
I spend a moment admiring her ass while she bends at the waist to search a lower shelf. This friends routine she insisted on is causing me some physical pain, but if it means I get to spend time with her, I’ll happily do it forever.
Her head whips around to look at me and she catches me staring. I grin. “Have you got a drink on the very bottom shelf there?”
Shaking her head at me in mock exasperation, she says, “Do I seem like the kind of woman who knows what’s in her fridge at any given moment?”
“I refuse to answer that question.” I’m not getting on her bad side this early in the night.
“Good decision, buddy. Now, I have water, coke, beer or vodka.”
“Since when do you drink beer?”
“I don’t.”
I consider that for a moment. “Fat Yak?”
She smiles. “Of course.”
Jesus. She’s bought my favourite beer. “Beer it is then.”
She passes me a Fat Yak and grabs a Vodka Cruiser for herself. Closing the fridge, she turns and walks to where I’m standing in her tiny kitchen. Callie’s apartment is small and cluttered. Her decorating style is the complete opposite of mine. Walls are filled with paintings, photos, and quote prints. Shelves are stacked with books and ornaments. But as different as her place is to mine, this space that is all hers feels homely and welcoming. It’s Callie all over—just like she’d draw a new friend in for a hug, her home envelopes you and encourages you to open up to her.
I’ve been looking forward to this night for days. I couldn’t give a fuck about the roast she’s promised me; I’m here only for her. Having her stand so close to me is dangerous, though. When she lifts up onto her tiptoes to brush a kiss across my lips, a shudder of need consumes me.
“Sorry,” she murmurs. “I know I shouldn’t have done that, but I’m all sorts of distracted by having you in my kitchen.
I don’t touch her. I refuse to snake my hand around her waist even though it’s begging me to. Pinning my gaze to hers, I rasp, “If you do that again, I won’t be held accountable for my actions.”