She blinks once, then again.

“That’s what I thought.” I plunge one hand into her soft hair, fist my hand in it and tilt her head back, and kiss her. Hard. She moans, long and deep, pulling me to her with those hands, and I’m lost in her. Our tongues explore each other, and then I nibble the corner of her mouth and kiss her softly. “I’m tired of trying to keep my hands off of you,” I murmur, my lips still against hers. She’s hitched one mile-long leg up around my hip, and my cock is hard and pulsing against her. “I know you just want the friend thing, but damn it, Calliope, I don’t.”

Her eyes widen, and when she would speak, I cut her off. “No, this is my turn to talk. If you want to waste your time with the douche with the flowers, fine, it’s none of my business, but I can’t watch it. I’m sorry, I can’t just hang back and be your friend when I want you so badly I can’t breathe. Yesterday was the best day and the worst, all at the same time because I had you with me, but I couldn’t touch you.”

“Declan—”

“I want to talk with you, learn you, lose myself in you. All of those things. And I don’t have any experience in that shit, but damn it, I want it with you. Because those little things, Callie? The talking as I walk you to your car, or laughing with you as we demo my house? Eating pizza on the porch? They aren’t little things to me. I’ve never done that with any other woman that I’m not related to by blood. I never wanted to.

“Until you, and it’s confused the hell out of me. All I want is a chance to start this over with you. We did it all backwards, and that’s on me. I get it. But damn it, let me try it again, because if you don’t, it’ll be the biggest regret of my life.”

Her mouth opens and closes, as though she doesn’t know what to say first. But finally she says, “Pete’s waiting.”

Well.

I guess I know where she stands.

I back away, untangle my hand from her hair and walk away, not looking back, through the bar and out into the dark evening.

I poured my heart out and she chose someone else.

Fuck.

***

The music is loud, but not loud enough to drown out my thoughts. Boy, did I blow it. I’m a grade-A asshole. I had the chance to have something really great with Callie, and I messed up so bad that all she sees when she looks at me is a friend, and she’s sweet on the moron with the flowers.

Probably because he’s nicer to her than I ever was. Although he looked pretty smarmy to me.

Not my problem.

I sigh and rub my hands over my face. It’ll be fine. It’s not like I don’t have plenty of women in my life that are more than willing to have a good time.

But I don’t have the need to confide in any of them. To listen to them talk about their day, or watch football with them.

No, they’re pretty much only around for one reason, and until a sassy blonde walked into my life, that was fine with me.

But now, it just doesn’t seem like enough.

The doorbell rings. I scowl and stay where I am, hoping they’ll go away. I’m definitely not in the mood for company.

But it rings again, and then again, and I can’t stand it anymore. I stomp through the foyer and yank the door open, shocked as fuck to see Callie standing on the other side.

“Hi,” she says softly.

“You’re working,” I reply, hating the cold in my voice.

“I left.”

I nod and watch her, not inviting her in. “What do you need?”

She winces and I immediately feel like an asshole. “I don’t need anything.” She shakes her head and frowns and I let my eyes rake up and down her. She’s in a ripped Metallica T-shirt and a denim skirt with the same black heels she wore to the football game.

I shouldn’t have looked.

“Can I come in?” she asks.

I push the door back and step aside, gesture for her to come in, then lead the way back to the sitting room I’d been crashed in when she arrived.

I turn the music off, bathing the room abruptly in silence.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“For what?”

“Earlier. Can I tell you what you saw?”

“I’m not slow, Callie. I know what I saw.”

“Look.” She squares her shoulders now and lifts her chin. There’s the girl I know. She’s determined, and I have a feeling I’m in for quite a show. “I know what you saw, but you don’t know how I feel about it.”

“How do you feel, Calliope?”

“Bulldozed,” she says and paces around the room. “I feel fucking bulldozed.”

God, she’s magnificent. The way her legs move as she walks, the strength in her arms, the determination on her face.

“Pete is an old boyfriend from high school. Until two weeks ago, I hadn’t seen him since I was eighteen. Now he suddenly thinks that we should get back together.”

My jaw tightens at the thought, but I don’t interrupt.

“He showed me two houses, and that was it. And I’m pretty sure one was involved in the slave trade.”

“Excuse me?” My voice is deceptively calm.

“He sells real estate,” she says, waving that aside as if it doesn’t matter. “He asked me out twice, and I didn’t go. And I don’t even know why I feel like I need to defend myself or explain myself to you, but damn it, I do. So I am.”

She turns to me now, her blue eyes on fire, and she’s never looked sexier.