The Bully (Calamity Montana)

NORMALLY AFTER A HOOKUP, Cal and I would go months without seeing each other. We’d stay a thousand miles apart. It had only been three days since he’d been at my house. And three days wasn’t nearly long enough.

I hadn’t had time to forgive myself for being weak. I hadn’t had time to compartmentalize the sex. I hadn’t had time to remind myself that the only feelings I had for Cal Stark were disdain and annoyance.

I needed more than three days. And I really needed him to be in another state, not sitting two tables over while I attempted to eat my breakfast.

“How are the pancakes?” Zach asked.

“Good.” I shoved another bite in my mouth. Whatever appetite I’d come to the White Oak with had vanished the moment I’d stepped through the café’s door and spotted Cal. It took all my effort to swallow a bite and force a smile. “Thanks again for helping me yesterday.”

“No problem.” He nodded, sipping his coffee.

My own mug was getting cold. I’d been gulping ice water instead, hoping it would help me chill. My armpits were sticky. My forehead felt dewy. It took effort not to fan my face. Every time Cal’s gaze swept to our table, it was like the desert sun had settled directly over my shoulder.

I risked a glance to the side.

Cal was glowering my direction from beneath the brim of his hat.

“How are you liking Calamity so far?” Zach asked.

I barely registered his words, too focused on a different man than my date.

Wait. Was this a date? It seemed like a date. But maybe I was just reading into it.

I’d bumped into Zach at the grocery store yesterday. I’d walked there with a few empty totes, planning to carry everything home. He’d been behind me in the checkout line and we’d gotten to catching up.

Zach was Kerrigan and Larke’s older brother, and we’d met a couple of times on my previous trips to Montana. When he’d offered to give me a lift home, I’d gladly accepted because more items than I’d planned to pick up had worked their way into my cart.

He’d driven me home and had helped haul my groceries inside. When I’d told him about my car woes, he’d volunteered to give me a ride to the office this morning. It had been my idea for breakfast. A thank you for his shuttle service.

Except it resembled a date. Did Zach think it was a date? He’d kissed my cheek when I’d come in. Maybe that had just been a friendly peck? Shit. I hadn’t intended this to be a date.

Date. Date. Date. That word sounded like an emergency alarm, blaring inside my head, screaming at me to exit the building right fucking now. Was it time to leave?

Not that Zach wasn’t a nice guy. He was exactly the man I should be dating. Clever. Sweet. Employed. But I couldn’t think about the merits of this being an actual date with Cal sitting in the same room. Why was he here so early?

Zach and I had planned to meet at six thirty. That would give us time to eat before he dropped me off at the office. This should have been a safe window. But that was the problem with Calamity. It was too damn small.

“Nellie?” Zach set his fork down.

Right. He’d asked me a question. “Oh, sorry. I was just thinking about my car,” I lied.

“I can always get you a loaner from the dealership.”

“Thanks.” I gave him a soft smile. “My mechanic offered me one too. If they don’t have my car fixed by this afternoon, I might take you up on that.”

“Just holler. Or I’m happy to give you a ride home.”

“Thanks. But to answer your question, yes, Calamity has been great. I really love it here.”

“I’m glad. It’s a good town.” He picked up his fork, diving into his scrambled eggs and hash browns.

I watched him eat, studying the flex of his jaw and curve of his lips as he chewed. Zach had a nice face. He had kind brown eyes and thick, chestnut hair. He worked at the Hale family car dealership and had lived in Calamity his entire life. I doubted anyone requested his autograph while he walked down First.

But there was no chemistry. Zero. Not even the tiniest of sparks.

What would it take for a nice guy to make my pulse race? Why was it always Cal?

I stole another look at his table, and this time, his attention was fixed on his breakfast date. The older woman smirked at him, like she’d just delivered an insult and was waiting to see how he’d respond. Who was she? How’d she know Cal?

“That’s Harry.” Zach leaned in closer, having read my mind. “Her daughter, Marcy, owns the motel.”

“Ah.” What kind of a name was Harry?

“I guess Cal’s living there.”

I blinked. “At the motel?”

“Yeah. He rented Marcy’s RV that she parks there.”

“Huh.” I couldn’t picture Cal living in a camper. “How do you know that?”

“Small town.” He shrugged.

And Cal was a topic of conversation.

I tore my eyes away and studied my pancakes. If Cal was making friends, that didn’t bode well for my plan to chase him out of Calamity.

“Nellie.”

My eyes flew to Zach’s face. “Yeah?”

“I asked if your breakfast was okay. You haven’t really touched it.”

“It’s good. Really good. My stomach just isn’t in a great place this morning. And I went a little heavy on the syrup.”

“Oh, sorry. Should we go?”

“No, I’m fine. Finish eating. Please. I think it’s mostly nerves. I’m interviewing for a new assistant later, and those things always make me anxious. I hate turning anyone down.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. I was doing interviews today, and I did hate turning people down. But Cal was the reason my stomach was in knots.

“You’re sure?” he asked.

“Positive.” I gave him my fullest attention while he finished eating. When he asked me a question, I listened and asked a few in return. I ate a few more bites and did my best to block out Cal. No matter how many times I felt his eyes on me, I looked at Zach and only Zach.

My date. Sort of.

The waitress dropped off the bill, and Zach shifted to dig his wallet from a pocket.

“Don’t even think about it, Hale.” I dove into my purse. “This is my treat today since you’re acting as my chauffeur.”

Zach chuckled and pulled out his credit card. “My mother will have a conniption if she finds out I didn’t buy my date breakfast.”

There was that word again. “Um . . . can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Is this a date?”

He laughed. “If you have to ask, then I think the answer is no.”

“Sorry.” My shoulders slumped.

“Don’t be.” Zach leaned his elbows on the table. “To be honest, I didn’t think this was a date. I don’t make a habit of dating my sisters’ friends. Gets complicated. Learned that lesson in high school when I dumped one of Kerrigan’s friends and came home to find every single shoe of mine was missing its laces.”

I giggled. “That’s oddly creative.”

“I still don’t know if it was Kerrigan or the friend who stole them.”

“Well, I promise to leave your shoes untouched. And how about we split the check?”

“You got it.”

I placed my card on top of his right before the waitress breezed by, snagging them both. She returned in a flash with two receipts and two pens. We scribbled our names and added a tip, then slid from our booth and started for the exit.

Don’t look. Don’t look.

Cal was staring at me, of that I had no doubt. But I kept my face forward as I followed Zach out the door and into his truck.

It took the entire drive to the office for my heart rate to settle. I waved goodbye to Zach, then headed inside to start my work day. The building was eerily silent as I stopped in the break room to brew a fresh pot of coffee. The drip seemed to echo through the space.

With Pierce at home with Kerrigan and the baby, I’d be the only employee until I could hire an assistant. I’d made the decision this weekend to find someone local, rather than replace the position in Denver.

With a steaming mug in hand, I retreated to my office. Perks of being the first to move in, I chose a corner suite with my own bathroom. The only office larger was Pierce’s.

The view from my windows overlooked the valley. It was like working inside the pages of a National Geographic magazine. Whenever I was sick of staring at my computer screen, I could turn to the glass and get lost in the swaying grasses or trace the mountain peaks as they etched a jagged line in the blue sky.

No honking cabs. No blaring sirens. No humming traffic.

Maybe the silence wasn’t so bad.

My desk was in disarray from the boxes I’d unpacked late last week. One corner had pictures and my framed degree that needed to be hung on the walls. Most of the business texts that were still at home in a closet would come here to fill the empty bookshelf. Maybe by Friday, if I was caught up on work, I could spend a few hours decorating.

I sipped my coffee and replied to a few emails, waiting until my first interview, scheduled for eight. I’d just sent our general counsel a note when the front door dinged, ten minutes early.

“Prompt. Check.” I swept up a notebook and the stack of résumés I’d printed on Friday, then made my way to the lobby.

Except it wasn’t my interviewee standing beneath the vaulted ceiling and its roughhewn beams. It was Cal.

A rush of heat made my limbs feel like jelly. Just one look and my pulse raced. Why him? Of all the men in the world, why did the spark come with Cal?

His dark sweats didn’t do much to hide the strength of his body. The pants molded to his bulky thighs, and the hoodie wrapped around his broad shoulders. His clothes shouldn’t have been sexy, but I’d stripped him out of a similar pair of sweats before. I knew the prize beneath.

He had a hand to his jaw, rubbing at the dusting of stubble. It stilled when he spotted me.

“What are you doing here?” My voice was as harsh as I’d hoped. He had to leave. The office. The county. Montana.

He planted his hands on his hips as I crossed the lobby. His scowl from the White Oak was fixed firmly in place, and instead of answering my question, he asked one of his own. “That was Kerrigan’s brother, right?”

“Zach.” I nodded. “Yes.”

“Are you two dating?”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “That’s none of your business.”

“Like hell it’s not. I fucked you on Friday.”

“Do you mind?” I huffed. “This is my place of work.” Yes, I was alone. But what if I wasn’t?

“Answer the question, Nellie. Are you with him?”

Lie. Say yes. “No.”

Damn it. Maybe he could teach me how to be a liar one day.

The tension deflated from his frame.

“Happy now? Please go away. I have work to do.” I turned on a heel, but he stopped me cold with the whisper of my name.

“Nellie.”

God, that voice. The magnet flipped. Push and pull.

“Tell me what you hate about me.”

“Excuse me?” I spun around. Was he joking?

“Tell me what you hate about me,” he repeated.

“We don’t have that much time.” I pointed to the clock on the wall. “I have a meeting in ten minutes.”

He growled. “One thing. Tell me one thing.”

“Cal—”

“Just tell me.” There was a desperation in his voice.

“What is wrong with you today?”

“Nellie, please.”

Cal never said please. How many times had I reminded him to use manners? To be polite? Hell, I’d done it just last week at Jane’s when he’d ordered a water. “Why?”

“Does it matter? One thing. What’s one thing you hate about me? This should be an easy question, so just answer me.”

“You’re mean,” I blurted.

Cal didn’t flinch or cringe or jerk. He didn’t even blink. But I knew I’d hurt him. The sting showed in his hazel eyes.

I opened my mouth to apologize because I was raised to say sorry when you were unkind.

But before I could speak, Cal crossed his arms over his chest. “Give me an example.”

“Watch SportsCenter. I’m done with this little game. Go away.”

“Indulge me.”

“I’ve been indulging you.” I tossed a hand toward the door. “I need to get to work.”

“I’m not leaving until you give me an example of a time when I was mean. And it can’t be from high school.”

“Fine.” I mirrored his stance, my legs planted wide and arms crossed. “After the Super Bowl, your last game, there was a kid who came up to you while you were being interviewed. He was there for the Make-A-Wish Foundation.”

Cal swallowed hard, knowing exactly where I was going with this.

“He was in a wheelchair. He had your jersey on and the same hat you’re wearing right now.”

The kid’s cap had covered a head without any hair. Cal had been holding the game ball when the kid had approached. It had been clear to everyone—the reporter, the fans in the stadium and the viewers watching from their homes—that the boy had really wanted that ball. But Cal had kept it securely tucked under his arm.

“You should have given him the ball,” I said.

He dropped his gaze, not saying a word.

“You asked for an example. Now you have one. Want another? I’ve got a hundred postgame interview examples.” He was usually a complete dickhead after a loss.

“No.” He shook his head, shifting his weight between his feet. When he looked up, I expected him to look guilty. But his eyebrows were pulled together, his forehead furrowed. “You watched my games?”

I blinked. Oh. Shit.

“How many?”

“I don’t know.” I flicked my wrist. “Some.” All.

I’d watched every one of Cal’s professional games over the years. I’d watched most in college too whenever they played on TV.

I knew his next question before it came across his lips.

“Why, Nell?”

Why? Because Cal was magic with a football in his hand. He had a raw talent that was utterly beautiful to behold. And when he was playing, I always saw that boy who’d given me my first kiss.

He was in there somewhere. That nice boy who confided in me with his secrets. Maybe it was foolish of me to believe that there was a kind, honest version of Cal buried beneath the layers of arrogance and insolence.

“Why?” he asked again.

There was no way I’d tell him the truth. I opened my mouth, knowing the lie would come easily this time, when the door pushed open behind him and a ding filled the lobby. My first interview.

“Hi.” The brunette smiled as she spotted me.

“Hi. Carrie?”

“That’s me.” She waved, then her gaze darted to Cal. She did a double take. “Oh my God. You’re Cal Stark.”

He straightened. The mask I’d seen countless times snapped firmly into place. The asshole was back.

Carrie bounced more than walked to his side, taking a hand he hadn’t offered. “I heard a rumor that you moved here but I didn’t believe it. I’m Carrie.”

He tugged his hand free.

“It’s so nice to meet you. I’m a huge fan.” She was totally unfazed that he hadn’t spoken a word. She tucked her hair behind an ear. She smoothed the sides of her skirt. She licked her lips.

My molars ground together as I watched her preen. This interview was pointless.

“Carrie,” I snapped.

Her smile faltered at the scowl on my face.

“You can have a seat in the conference room.” I nodded to my left.

“Oh, okay.” Her feet moved, but her face stayed stuck to Cal. She nearly collided with the goddamn wall.

I waited until she was seated before taking a step closer to Cal.

He didn’t speak.

Neither did I.

The walls we’d built as shields were so thick that it was hard to see where mine ended and his began.

Without another word, he turned and shoved out the door.

I watched as he rolled through the parking lot, then I shook my head and joined Carrie in the conference room.

She prattled on and on during her interview while my mind wandered.

Tell me what you hate about me.

Why did he want to know? And why, of all people, would he come to me for an answer?