“I have a busy day ahead of me tomorrow.” She started to slip off the stool, grabbing her clutch purse from the bar.
He reached for her arm, intending only to stop her, to keep her from leaving too soon. But the fire that rocketed through Jared’s veins told him that nothing had died between them, at least not on his end. Every bit of the attraction that had been left undone in high school, barely explored in college, lurked under the surface, like tinder simply waiting for that spark.
“Callie—” He cut off the sentence. What ending did he have? He hadn’t had a “Cool” transplant in the last nine years, which meant he was still the man he’d always been, the kind of man she hadn’t wanted.
Only a fool went for a third strike. Yet, Jared found himself drawn again, wondering if the distance of years would give each of them another shot.
“I should get home,” Callie said, stepping out of his grasp. “Nice seeing you again, Jared.”
And then she was gone. The door shut behind her, whisking in a cool burst of air as a goodbye.
In an instant, regrets blasted Jared. What the hell was he thinking, letting her get away again? At the very least, he should have asked her out, just to see…
What?
He didn’t know, really. They’d been over for a long time—if they’d ever really been anything at all—yet something inside him still wanted to know. Still felt that sense of something undone, that insistent need to complete the storyline.
Why didn’t he just leave the past alone—leave her alone?
When he met her gaze, he knew why. Because a part of him still wanted answers to his questions. Wanted to know how Callie felt about those days. Jared didn’t want a relationship. He wanted closure.
“Hey, where’d sh-she go? The pretty lady?”
Sam. Jared had forgotten all about him. He turned to find the man, looking a little better with his face washed, and a cup of coffee in him. “She had to leave.”
Sam sighed. “The pretty ones always have to go, don’t they?”
“Seems that way.”
Several people trickled into the bar. None of them Callie. Jared didn’t look for couples, no longer cared about his research.
Sam sank onto one of the stools. Jared signaled for a refill of the coffee cup. “My Angie, sh-she’s gone now. Lost her, lost my res-sh-tauraunt, lost everything,” Sam said. “That’s why I’m a…a drunk.” He ran a hand through his hair, then shook his head. “My Angie, she’d yell at me, tell me to straighten up. Get it together for the grandkids.”
“Why don’t you?” Jared asked, his voice almost bitter and angry. As the words left him, he knew the question wasn’t just for Sam, but for someone else, someone who wasn’t here, and who couldn’t answer.
Sam shrugged, then paused for a long moment, staring into the coffee. “Would they really care?” he asked, his voice low, full of regret. “After all I’ve done?”
“Yeah,” Jared said. “They would.”
Sam looked up, the bleariness in his eyes cleared and for a second, he seemed as sober as a minister. “You think we all get second chances, Jared?”
Jared’s chest tightened. He hoped so. If his father had lived longer, Jared knew now, with the wisdom of age and experience, that he would have given him a second chance, too. “I’d like to think so.”
O’Malley cleared his throat. “Cab’s here.”
“That’s my cue,” Sam said, rising. He put out a hand to stop Jared from paying the tab. “I’ve got it from here. You’ve done enough. Go after her. Don’t wait too long, like me.”
Jared watched Sam leave. The words “we all get second chances” rang in his ears. Maybe it was possible.
Jared scrambled off the stool, tossed a few more bills onto the pile for the tip and moved to grab his clipboard. As he picked it up, a germ of an idea sprang to his mind.
What if…he combined a little research with the answers he wanted? What if he found a way to not only peek inside Callie’s mind but also use their time together to analyze her reactions? He could do his research—
And find his answers to the past, all at once.
It would solve his problem perfectly. Give him exactly the kind of intimate knowledge his game research needed.
What harm could come of a few days with Callie Phillips? Not a real relationship, just a few dates. After all, Callie hadn’t been divorced for very long. Surely she wasn’t interested in anything permanent. And neither was he. Once his research was done, he’d be hip deep in work anyway, which meant no time for a life—
Again. Which was what he had done in his last two relationships. Yet, even as he told himself this was the perfect solution for both of them, a tiny bell of doubt rang, telling him things with Callie always had been more complicated than that.
Jared ignored the warning signals and strode out of the bar. Had to be the buzz of beer. Or the part of himself that wasn’t interested in signing up for Broken Heart Duty a second time in a decade.
But seeing her, for just a little while—
He couldn’t resist that, no matter how much he tried.
He caught up to her a little ways down the sidewalk, her arms wrapped around herself, to ward off the evening chill. He slipped off his jacket and slid it over her shoulders before she could protest.
“Thanks,” Callie said. “You were always Sir Galahad.”
“That’s me. The nerd in waiting.” He tipped at his glasses.
“You’re not so nerdy, Jared. Just…nice.” She smiled. “And that’s not so bad, or so easy to find.”
Damn, he was tired of her thinking he was nice. Tired of being seen as “just Jared.”
Nice guys finished last. And Jared had been left in Tony and Callie’s dust.
For one brief moment, she had seen him as something—someone else. Maybe he could give her that peek again. His mind scrambled for a way to connect, to find a path back to who she used to be, to the people they had been nine years ago. And in the process find out what had gone wrong. Why she had found him so lacking and Tony, the heartbreaker, such a better choice.
Then maybe that continual ache would stop hurting.
Music drifted out of O’Malley’s bar as the door opened and closed, releasing the fighting couple, who had apparently made up and were now holding hands and snuggling as they left. Other people headed in, the place finally beginning to fill as the night deepened. The music’s volume swelled, bass nearly drumming the sidewalk.
Jared took a step forward, and leaned close, his pulse ratcheting up with the nearness of her. “Do you still do that one thing you used to do?”
Her eyebrows arched. “What one thing?”
Jared took another step closer, invading her space now, inhaling her perfume, his research forgotten, his reason for being here long since left by the wayside. “You know what I’m talking about, Mariah Callie.”
Callie took in a breath, her chest rising with the movement, and it was all Jared could do not to bend forward and kiss her, just to see if she would still taste as she did. Feel like she used to, her mouth beneath his, her sweet lips against his.
Damn. What kind of game was he playing?
“Yes,” she said.
He grinned. “Good. Then let’s go do it now.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Maybe,”