Easy Melody (Boudreaux 3)

I have a feeling I’m in way over my head.

***

After my night with Callie, the week took a serious nose-dive into the pit of hell. I’ve been down with food poisoning—I’m pretty sure it wasn’t the flu—and still had to perform every night this week. So I basically spent every minute not performing wishing I was dead in bed. Now that the weather is starting to cool down from Satan’s neighborhood to just normal warm, tourist season is ramping up again, and with that comes gigs. I am fortunate to not have to play every night to make ends meet, but I love it. The music, the audience, all of it. And I refuse to cancel a gig with only a few hours' notice.

I’m finally beginning to feel human again as I walk into The Odyssey Friday night for my gig. There is a decent crowd already enjoying drinks and the small but delicious bar menu offered. My eyes skim the room, looking for a certain tall blonde. I haven’t seen or spoken to her since Tuesday morning, and I need to get an eyeful.

Maybe even a handful.

Adam waves from behind the bar as I make my way through the tables.

“How’s it going?” I ask.

“It’s busy, so it’s good,” he says with a grin. “You look like shit.”

“And here I thought I covered it up before I left the house.” I scrub my hand over my face and sigh. “It’s been a hell of a week.”

“I don’t think it’s going to get better in the very near future,” he warns me then gestures for me to turn around. Callie, draped in a killer red dress with matching red lips and black heels is marching across the room. She’s stunning.

And her amazing blue eyes are… cold.

“Adam, can you help me get some cases of Corona in the elevator so I can stock the bar upstairs?”

“Sure.”

“Hey,” I say and slip my hand on her waist, but she backs away and cocks a brow.

“Declan.”

“How are you, Callie?”

“Busy.” The fun, sweet woman from Monday night is nowhere to be found, and I’m smart enough to know that it’s my own fault.

“I think we need to talk.”

“I’m working.” Her tone is calm and nothing but professional, her face passive, and yet I get the distinct feeling she’s telepathically telling me to go fuck myself.

Callie marches back across the room and up the stairs just as Adam returns from the elevator.

“I think I screwed up,” I mutter with a sigh.

“Probably a safe bet,” Adam says, with way too much joy in his voice.

“Fuck.” I stalk toward the stairs and climb them, eyes scanning the rooftop for Callie. They haven’t opened the roof yet, so it’s deserted. Her blond head pops up behind the bar where she’s currently stocking beer. “Can I help with that?”

“This isn’t in your job description,” she says without looking over at me. She’s pissed.

Really pissed.

“We need to talk,” I say again.

“I’m. Working.”

“Look, let’s do this now, while we’re alone.”

“Fine. Let’s do this.” She stands and props her hands on her hips, and my eyes immediately zero in on her tits, and the lust is a million times worse than it was before. Now I know what they look like under that dress. I know how she gasps when I tease the tips with my teeth. “My eyes are up here, Declan.”

“I’m aware,” I reply lazily without looking up.

“You’re an ass.”

My eyes find hers now, and I see that she’s not just pissed. She’s hurt.

“Talk to me, sugar.”

“You don’t get to call me sugar, or baby, or darlin’,” she says, mimicking my accent.

“Okay. What’s wrong, Callie?”

“Look.” She sighs deeply and rubs her forehead with her fingertips. “I get that I probably misunderstood the signals on Monday. I’m a big girl, and I can take responsibility for my own actions. I enjoyed myself.”

“I did too. I’m glad we’re on the same page—”

“I just wish,” she continues, interrupting me, “that you had made it clear from the beginning exactly what the score was, because I wouldn’t have been as open with you about my family as I was. I dropped my guard with you, and since then you made it clear exactly what I am to you. At first, when I didn’t hear from you at all, I felt a little cheap, a little used, but then I just felt… stupid. And I’m not a stupid woman.”

“I never said you—”

“So I appreciate that you find me attractive, and the chemistry is pretty great, but I’m not looking for a fuck buddy. And you know what?”

God, I wish she’d slow down for two seconds so I can get a word in edgewise.

“What?”

“I also realized that I’m not looking for anything from you, Declan Boudreaux.”

“Callie, I admit, in the past I’ve not been great at understanding women, or even taking the time to try to. There are reasons for why I didn’t call this week—”

“I don’t want your reasons,” she interrupts, still calm. “I don’t want anything from you, except for you to do your job when you’re in my place.”

She turns to walk away, and it feels like I’m burning from the inside out.

“Callie, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It was a shitty week.”

She glances over her shoulder at me and smirks. “That’s one way to describe it.”

And without another word, she goes back to stocking the beer, making it clear that I’m no longer welcome here, so I walk back downstairs to the bar where Adam is flirting with a group of women, mid-twenties, obviously out on the town for a bachelorette party, due to the sash and tiara on one of the girls.