“Because you don’t do forever,” I add, remembering all the times he’s warned me of that very fact in the past.
“I’m sorry, Callie. I’ll give you an excellent letter of recommendation. And if you ever need anything, all you have to do is call. In fact, if you decide to relocate to New Orleans, I’ll have your things moved for you.”
“For someone breaking up with me, you’re being very nice.”
“There’s no reason not to be,” he replies and then sighs. “I care about you, Cal. We had a great time together, and you did a good job in my club, but you’re just not my forever girl, and it’s time to move on.”
I nod, swallowing hard.
“Thank you.”
I end the call and stare at my phone for a long few minutes. My dad is dead, and I just lost a job I love and a man that I tried to talk myself into loving all in one fell swoop.
I guess I’m staying after all.
I climb out of the car and stand on the sidewalk, staring at the outside of The Odyssey. If the inside is as bad as the outside, this is going to be one very expensive project.
I open the door, surprised to find it unlocked, and a million memories come washing over me. The floor hasn’t been refinished since I was a kid. The wood is original, but needs to be repaired and resurfaced. My heels click and echo through the dark, empty room. The tables and chairs are the same from my childhood as well, most looking much more wobbly. The windows are wide but dingy, making the space feel even darker.
The bar is huge, spanning one long wall. It was an antique when Dad bought it thirty years ago, and I’m pleased to see that it’s been well taken care of.
Suddenly, the door to the back room swings open and in walks Adam Spencer. He halts when he sees me, his sexy eyes traveling up and down as he takes me in. He sets the case of wine on the bar and hurries to me, lifts me in his arms and turns a circle, making me catch my breath.
“Finally decided to stop by, eh?” he asks as he sets me down.
“I figured I’d see what Dad left me.” I meet his eyes and shrug. “Thank you.”
“For?”
“Taking care of Dad. Taking care of this place.” I pace away, cross my arms, then turn back to him. “For loving me.”
“You’re my best friend,” he replies. “And your dad was good to me. Always has been.”
“He should have left this to you.”
Adam shakes his head, his brown eyes kind and calm and maybe sad. “It belongs to you. And I’m here to help you in any way you need me.”
“You’re a good friend.”
“I’m a kick-ass friend,” he replies. “Just don’t expect me to call you Boss Lady or Your Highness.”
“What about She Who Is Always Right?”
“Not a chance.”
I laugh for the first time in a week and feel my chest loosen, just a bit. “I’m staying.”
“What about Keith?” he asks.
I shake my head, not ready to talk about it, and sigh. “I’m going to overhaul this place. Maybe flip it.”
“Why not keep it? You’ll make a killing.” Adam winks. “With your expertise at fixing stuff up, and my charm, you can’t lose.”
“Maybe. I’ll think about it.”
I run my hand over the smooth wood of the bar and feel the sadness settle in. “Dad’s gone, Adam.”
“I know.” He rubs wide circles over my back.
“I can’t stay upstairs.” My dad lived over the bar in an apartment, and I just don’t have it in me to live there. Too many bad memories.
“You’ll stay with me until you get stuff figured out.”
I cock a brow.
“I have a guest room,” he says defensively.
“I’ll take it.” I sigh and lay my forehead on my arm. “Who would have thought I’d be back here fifteen years after I left?”
“Not me, that’s for sure. But here you are.”
“Here I am.”
Chapter One
~Declan~
I’m performing at The Odyssey for the first time in three months tonight. It’s been closed for renovations, and I admit, I miss it.
Fuck it, I miss her.
And I barely know her.
What that’s all about, I have no idea. I don’t get hung up. There are too many women out there, in all shapes and sizes, to enjoy. I’ve never been the type to think about monogamy.
Not that I’m a prick. I just make sure women know the score before I score.
But I admit, I’m looking forward to seeing the feisty owner of The Odyssey, almost as much as I’m looking forward to seeing what she’s done with the place.
According to her bar manager, and my friend, Adam, the transformation has been incredible.
I carry my guitar through the front door, noticing the new sign and paint job on the outside of the building, and then take a deep breath as my eyes adjust to the dimmer light inside.
Holy fuck, Adam wasn’t kidding.
“Hey!” the man himself calls from behind the bar, tossing me a smile. “I’m glad you’re early. I want to show you around.”
“This is amazing,” I say, meaning every word. The floor has been refinished and polished to a honey blond, gleaming where sunlight streams through. New tables and chairs are sprinkled around the room, and new stools sit in front of the bar, which has also been polished.
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Adam replies with a smile. “Wait until I show you the roof.”
“The roof?” I grin and set my guitar on the stage, then turn and almost swallow my tongue as Callie herself comes down the new staircase on the far side of the room. She’s in her signature killer heels, pink today. Her arms and cleavage are showcased in a simple black tank top and those mile-long legs are mostly bare, thanks to a ripped pair of cut-off denim shorts.
All I have to do is take one look at Callie and know that there’s a God.
And I hope to make her call out his name in thanks in the very near future.
“Declan,” she says.
“Callie,” I reply and feel my lips twitch into a smile as she crosses to the bar and sets a clipboard down. “Nice place you have here.”
Her blue eyes flare in happiness. “Thank you.”
“I was just telling Declan that I’ll take him up and show him the roof,” Adam says just as his phone rings. “Crap. I have to take this. Cal, will you show him?”
“She’ll show me,” I reply, still smiling.
Callie simply shrugs. “As you can see, we have new tables and chairs. I also replaced the stage area. It was so old, I’m surprised you never fell through it before.”
“It held up,” I say and follow her as she leads me toward the stairs. I’m eye-level with her ass, and I’m fucking salivating. “I didn’t know there was anything up here. I figured it was storage or something.”
“It was my dad’s apartment,” she says simply. “I tore it out, made most of it open so it’s now outside seating, and kept some of it covered for the bar."
We walk out to the best rooftop bar I’ve ever seen, and I’m no stranger to bars. She found an antique bar to match the one downstairs, and it’s indeed covered, with maybe half a dozen tables and chairs nearby. But the outdoor space is just plain kick ass.
“Wow,” I breathe and stop, hands on hips, glancing around. Couches are grouped together around gas fireplaces and covered with red, blue and yellow umbrellas to block the hot sun. But my eyes are drawn back to the woman responsible for all of it. I’d thought it was all in my head, that she couldn’t possibly be as beautiful as I thought she was.
But nope. She’s hot.
“This is the best part,” Callie says with a smile that I’ve rarely seen and leads me to the railing to look out over the Quarter. We can see right into Jackson Square. People are bustling about, munching on beignets, wandering through shops. Music from street performers drift up, tickling my ears.
The saxophonist near Café du Monde is damn good.
We lean here, side by side, and take in the Quarter.
“This is the part I missed.” Callie’s voice is soft, softer than I’ve ever heard it.
“What’s that, sugar?” I ask, not looking over at her, but she’s stiffened up, as if she didn’t mean to say that out loud.