Part 17 (1/2)
”Then go on, get out of here. I'm here with the lady.”
He hadn't really expected to feel quite this jealous, when Glen walked up. He hadn't known how the conversation would go, for one thing. But for another, there was certainly something more to it than that. A feeling like he was more possessive towards Morgan than he'd realized.
What had this thing between them become, in the time since he'd last seriously considered it?
Lovers? Sure. But the way that the radio makes it sound, the way the news on the internet talks about it, that's how kids are these days. Twenty-year-olds who think that a hug and a kiss is more intimate than slipping it to a girl.
Maybe these days lovers didn't mean a thing to other people. Maybe he should see it that way, too. Maybe it was just something they did because it was fun and because they could. Because n.o.body was going to stop them.
But that wasn't how he felt. That wasn't how he thought about it, regardless of what he should be thinking and should be feeling.
They were lovers, sure. But did that mean that he was in love with her? And if he was...
”Get on out of here.” Callahan's voice sounds dangerous and carries an edge, even to his own ears.
”I'm not going to do that,” Glen says.
”I don't want to take this outside,” Philip says. He doesn't add that he will if he has to.
”Then don't.”
Philip steals a glance over at Morgan. What does she think of all this? Is she going to be furious with him for pus.h.i.+ng this?
”You ought to go, Mr. Brand.” Her voice should be the one driving reason. The one that makes everything sound copacetic. Instead, she sounds firm. Which, as it happens, he realizes is so very much like her.
She's never been the voice of reason. She's always been right there, fighting, too.
”You owe me, Callahan. Don't you play this s.h.i.+t-”
”Then the deal's off, you pompous a.s.s. Now get on outta here.”
He sputters a minute and stands up. He doesn't walk away, though, which is the real mistake. He should have walked away. Then it would have been a nice, comfortable evening.
They'd have both worked the frustration off somehow. It wasn't as if an attractive guy like Glen was lacking for female attention.
”You son of a b.i.t.c.h, you don't-”
”Shut up.” Glen fumes a second, and in that second Philip drops the napkin off his lap and draws up to his feet. An inch or two shorter, Philip might have seemed a little less intimidating if he didn't have twenty solid pounds of muscle on the man in front of him. ”I'd like you to leave.”
”Philip, don't.” It's almost a surprise. She seems like the kind who likes a good fight. Feisty as all h.e.l.l, and with a little wicked streak running through her. Fight might be just what she wants.
For a minute he debates backing down. And then, without a word, Callahan slips back into the booth. It's not going to be a fight on his account.
He sees the blow coming by an instant, but it's still a surprise when the hit comes and lands right on his chin. Glen's. .h.i.t throws Callahan back a little. He catches himself, sprawled over in the booth, with his elbow before he lifts himself back up straight.
His jaw hurts a little where the punch caught him, left of his chin.
”You finished?”
Glen's fuming above him. The man doesn't like being shown up like that, and he sure as h.e.l.l didn't like getting the no-sell treatment. But Callahan wasn't going to play around. He'd been told to back off, and until he got different instructions, he'd back off.
Glen turns and stalks off. Callahan's jaw hurts, but in the end, he won the fight.
”Y'alright?”
”I'm fine,” she says. ”Are you alright?”
The thought in his head isn't about his jaw hurting. It'll ache a little, for a time. It's not even really about how much better he'll feel when he gets his 'reward' later, the one that women tend to pay out to guys they like who get hit for 'em.
It's the realization that Callahan doesn't mind the idea of her and him being an item one bit.
A year ago, if he'd told himself it would happen-h.e.l.l, six months ago, he'd have thought he was crazy. He'd had his chance once.
That was over now. You don't get to go around the wheel twice.
But even still, here he was. And now that he had realized it, now that he'd tasted that freedom, he wasn't going to let himself f.u.c.k it up now.
He smiles at her. ”You're pretty when you're fl.u.s.tered, you know that?”
She about punches him right there, to even out his jaw. Which might have been a good idea, in the long run.
Chapter Forty-Two.
Whatever is going on, Morgan only knows that she isn't a fan. That, and that whatever was happening seems to have terminated in Philip getting his eggs scrambled.
”Is something wrong?” It seems as if he's noticed that she's a little weirded out. He sets his fork down.
”What was that all about?”
”I don't know. Not all of it.”
”But you know some of it.”
”Sure I do.”
”And?”
”That black horse. The one you saw the boys riding. Need to get it sold. Simple as that.”
”That seems like an awful lot of complication for a sale.”
”Horse is a little older than anyone would like. I made a deal, and he says he'll meet my price, but I owe him a favor. He wants to have dinner with me, fine. I don't like it, but fine.”