Page 36 of Screwed
Chapter Eight
Or maybe she was crazy.
Callie was in her kitchen working on flowers for the wedding cake on Monday afternoon. For some reason, she really wanted to talk to Cash about her idea of starting her own business. He never laughed at her or made her feel inferior, even though he liked to tease her. But after what had happened on Saturday, she wasnotgoing to call him. Definitely not.
She’d relived that hot encounter in her kitchen repeatedly, and every time she thought about it, she got wet all over again. Jumping June bugs, Cash was amazing. He was gorgeous and sexy and funny and…and she’d put him in a terrible position.
Seeing how upset he was afterward made her regret what she’d done. Beau had been the last person she’d been thinking of at that moment, but she understood Cash’s dilemma. How wouldshefeel if Beau started messing around with Kristy?
Yuck. She would hate that. Mostly for Kristy’s sake, because she deserved better. But it would be totally awkward, no doubt about it. It could even ruin their friendship…
Oh God. Callie paused with her paintbrush poised above some sugar flower petals that she was carefully shading the edges of.
Okay. It would be okay. She and Cash had had sex. Crazy, fast, impulsive sex. That was all it was, and it would never happen again. They were friends.
Or maybe not anymore. Kind of hard to go back after that.
Sadness hollowed out her chest. She liked Cash. A lot. He’d been there for her since she and Beau had split, quietly supporting her and letting her know that even though her marriage was over, they could still be friends. And she’d totally messed that up.
She painstakingly rolled out more gum paste into a thin layer. She’d gotten the eggplant color perfected after numerous trials and errors and was preparing to build what would hopefully be the finished flowers for the wedding cake.
Yes, she needed to talk to someone, but if it couldn’t be Cash, then it would be Kristy. She paused to pick up her cell phone and called her friend. “Hey, it’s me.”
“Hi, Cal. What’s up?”
“I might be about to do something crazy.”
“Oooh, I like it already!”
“Want to meet for dinner tonight?”
“Hell yeah. Where should we go?”
“How about the Wild Turkey?”
“You bet! Meet you there at six.”
Callie worked the rest of the afternoon on her flowers, then cleaned up and changed from yoga pants and a T-shirt stained with food coloring into a pair of jeans and a tank top. A short time later, she cruised slowly through the parking lot at the Wild Turkey, one of the last classic icehouses left in the area, searching for an open spot. The lot was full of pickup trucks that reminded her of Cash. She squeezed her Beamer in between two Fords and jumped out. The low building needed a new paint job, and she already knew the inside did, too. At this hour, the neon sign glowed faintly.
Inside, she squinted into the darkness after the bright sunlight, pausing until her eyes adjusted, listening to Frankie Ballard singing “Young and Crazy.” Most of the tables appeared to be full, but many of them were long picnic-table style so she made her way to one that was only half full.
“Okay if I sit here?” she asked.
“Damn straight.” One of the men tipped his hat.
“Hello, beautiful,” another said. “You here alone?”
Callie smiled. “I’m meeting my girlfriend.”
“You are prettier than a beer truck pulling into my driveway.”
She laughed. These guys didn’t bother her. They might be giving her the eye, and they’d probably flirt like crazy, but she felt safe in this place. And if she’d learned nothing else over the last year, she now knew she could take care of herself.
Unless she was high on endorphins. Then she apparently became a sex fiend. And that was just atinytattoo. What would happen if she got a bigger one? Whoa.
She spread her hand flat on the wooden table and inspected her tattoo. She’d been taking care of it as instructed, and it looked awesome. The redness had gone away, and the fine black swirls curved gracefully over her finger, looking exactly as she’d hoped. Strength out of adversity.
“What can I getcha, hon?” The waitress appeared with a round tray propped on her hip.
