"You owe me, Callahan. Don't you play this shit—"
"Then the deal's off, you pompous ass. 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 bitch, 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 hell, 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 hit 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 hell 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—hell, 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 fuck it up now.
He smiles at her. "You're pretty when you're flustered, 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?"