The Bully (Calamity Montana)
The Bully: Chapter 4

“WHY ARE the hot ones always jerks?” Larke asked.

“Great question.” I scoffed, my eyes glued to Cal’s spine as he tried to blend in with the bar. But he was too tall, too broad and too . . . Cal to blend. He stood out like a blob of white bird poop on a car’s otherwise clean windshield.

“For the record, not all the hot ones are jerks.” Lucy held up a finger. “I caught a sweet hottie.”

“I caught a grumpy hottie,” Everly said. “But he’s sweet to me, so that’s all that counts.”

“Okay, fine,” Larke said. “I stand corrected. But most of the hot ones are assholes.”

“Yep.” Melody, another one of Larke’s friends I’d met tonight, clinked her wineglass with Kristen’s.

“Total assholes.” I took another sip of my vodka martini.

It was my second tonight, and I was rocking a lovely buzz. It tempered the guilt that had plagued me since throwing coffee on Cal this morning.

Sure, it had been impulsive. In the moment, it had felt great. Better than great. It had felt like justice. But by the time I’d made it home from the hardware store, I’d had a knot in my stomach.

Cal was staying at the motel, so it wasn’t like he could just toss his shirt in the laundry. There’d been a lot of people standing by and someone might have videoed the exchange to post on social media. He was my sworn enemy, but I didn’t want rumors flying that he was a dick pics fanatic.

Fuck you, guilt. If I wouldn’t have committed to meeting Larke and the girls for drinks, I probably would have gone to the motel with an apology note and offered to wash his shirt.

There was something wrong with me.

I had this exasperating habit of feeling bad for Cal.

“I heard you dumped coffee in Cal’s pants today.” Everly laughed. “I really wish I would have been there to see it.”

“Me too.” Lucy giggled. “I bet the look on his face was priceless.”

My jaw dropped. “I’ve made the gossip mill already?”

“It doesn’t take much,” Larke said.

“Did he really send a dick pic to your mom?” Lucy asked, lowering her voice.

“No.” I shrugged. “It was just the first thought that popped into my head.”

“Brilliant.” Everly raised her glass. “To Nellie. Welcome to Calamity. You’re going to fit right in.”

“Thanks.” I leaned in and joined the cheers.

Kristen finished the last of her chardonnay and sighed. “This has been so fun, but I’d better get going. I’m opening the coffee shop tomorrow, and if I have one more glass of wine, I’ll want two and then I won’t get home until late and be hungover in the morning.”

“I’ll go with you.” Melody stood from her chair, tucking a lock of her dark hair behind an ear. “I need to finish my lesson plan.”

“Ugh. I need to do mine too,” Larke said. They were both teachers at the elementary school. Larke taught fifth grade and Melody third. “Later.”

“Great to meet you, Nellie,” Melody said.

“You too.”

“Come by for coffee tomorrow,” Kristen said. “Friends and family discount.”

“Thank you. I will.” I’d learned tonight that Kristen wasn’t just a barista but the shop’s owner.

So far, girls’ night had been a success. There’d been no awkward silences. No moments of feeling like the odd woman out. No forced smiles or conversation. Maybe making friends wasn’t as hard as I’d made it out to be.

“So where are your husbands?” Larke asked Lucy and Everly as we all shifted closer around the table.

“They’re on daddy duty,” Everly said, checking the time on her phone. “And I’ll warn you that I can’t stay long. Hux is scrambling to finish a commission piece and breastfeeding means I don’t get to stray far from the baby.”

“I’m just glad you came by,” I said.

Lucy put her hand over mine. “We’re glad you’re here.”

We spent the next thirty minutes catching up. I’d gotten to know Lucy and Everly these past couple of years thanks to Kerrigan. During my visits to Calamity, Kerrigan had made it a point to introduce us all.

They were at a different stage in their lives than I was in mine, both married with young kids. Everly’s daughter was a toddler and her son just two months old. Lucy’s baby girl was five months and her son nearly three. Kerrigan had Elias and now a newborn.

Meanwhile, I was married to my career with no relationship prospects. Thirty-three wasn’t old. There was time to meet the right guy. Why rush?

“Want to see pictures?” Lucy unlocked her phone and began swiping through photos. Everly joined in to do the same.

With every picture, my biological clock ticked louder. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. It was so loud by the time they put their phones away, the noise had drowned out the country music playing over the bar’s sound system.

That clock needed to shut the hell up.

I loved kids. I wanted kids. But I wanted what my parents had too. Love. Passion. Friendship.

Maybe I’d replace a nice guy in Calamity. Maybe not. For tonight, I’d simply be grateful for friends. That seemed like enough of a hurdle to leap for one day.

“Do you guys want to order some dinner?” Larke asked, picking up the menu Jane had brought us earlier. “Or a snack? I’m hungry.”

“I wish. But I’d better head home and relieve Hux.” Everly nodded to her breasts. “And some of this pressure.”

Since they’d ridden downtown together, Lucy stood too.

“Come and see me at the gallery.” Everly hugged me goodbye.

“I do need some art for my house.”

“I’m singing with the band here next weekend if you want to come watch,” Lucy said. “It’s usually a fun time.”

I smiled wider. “I’ll be here.”

With one last wave, they headed for the door, casting a glare in Cal’s direction before walking outside.

He was hunched over his space, his fingers clasped around his pint glass, still trying to blend. Every time the waitress pushed through the swinging door that led to the kitchen, Cal perked up, but the food on her tray was never for him.

He’d clearly come for dinner. The bar was packed, but it wasn’t exactly quiet either. I suspected that as soon as he inhaled his meal, he’d retreat to the safety of his motel room.

“This has been so much fun,” I told Larke as we sat back down to finish our drinks. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course. I’m so glad you’re—oh, no.” She ducked her chin, shifting so her back was to the door as a man strode inside.

“What?”

“Oh, it’s this new salesman who works at Dad’s dealership. His name is Peter. I went in last month to take my brother this book I thought he’d like. Zach got busy with a customer, so I was just hanging at the sales desk. Peter started hitting on me and not in the smooth, subtle way. More in the overly aggressive, you know he’s going to be horrible in bed, kind of way.”

I cringed.

“Exactly. He’s asked me out twice since and still hasn’t caught on that I’m very, very not interested.”

“Ah.” I watched as Peter walked to the bar, surveying the room.

Luckily for Larke, she wasn’t the person who caught his attention. No, he had already zeroed in on Cal. Peter took the stool directly beside Cal’s and held out a hand.

Cal only spared him a flat look.

But did Peter get the hint? Nope. He nudged Cal’s elbow with his own, then started talking like they were long-lost friends. His nasal laugh carried across the room and he spoke with his hands flailing.

Cal’s shoulders curled in tighter. He adjusted the brim of his hat, pulling it lower. I’d give this situation three minutes. Either Cal would tell Peter to scram, or he’d give up on his meal and walk.

Poor Cal.

No. Damn it. He’d never earned my pity, so when would I stop giving it freely?

“Can I ask you something?” Larke nodded to the bar. “Kerrigan is torn about Cal. Don’t get me wrong, she’s on your side. She adores you. But she says he’s . . . nice. Especially around Pierce. And she says he’s really good with Elias.”

“He is,” I admitted. Cal was undeniably sweet with Elias. They loved each other. And the same was true with Pierce. “Cal is different around Pierce. He always has been. They are fiercely loyal to one another.”

“Does that bug you?” she asked.

“No. Pierce is a good friend. He’s loyal to me too.” And I’d never ask him to take sides.

Somehow Pierce had managed to maintain friendships with both Cal and me, while respecting the fact that Cal and I couldn’t play nice in the sandbox.

“Well, I’m on your side,” she said. “Even if Cal is insanely gorgeous.”

I stiffened and took another gulp of my martini.

There was no desire or sexual undertone to Larke’s statement. It was simply factual. Cal was insanely gorgeous. She could add that to his Wikipedia page and no one would contest it. Larke hadn’t said it to bother me, yet a twinge crawled beneath my skin, making me shift uncomfortably in my seat.

Freaking Cal.

I wasn’t going to let him ruin my night, so I brushed off the feeling and took another drink.

“I haven’t been on a decent date in a year.” Larke groaned. “I miss sex. Good, toe-curling, can’t-get-enough-of-each-other sex. And my prospects in Calamity are slim. I might die a spinster with my vibrator clutched to my hand.”

I laughed. “I’m giving up on dating, much to my mother’s dismay. The last guy I went out with was a year ago. He was this suave, sexy attorney who took me to flashy restaurants and ordered expensive bottles of wine. I found out after two weeks that he wasn’t an attorney but a suit salesman. He lived on his sister’s couch and he was looking to score my apartment, not me.”

“Asshole.”

“Pretty much.”

Apparently, he’d been scoping out my building, searching for prey. I’d only found out the truth because he’d dated a woman three floors down. After she’d spotted us together, she’d caught me in the elevator to give me a warning. I’d dumped him and thanked her.

Part of me thought she and I would have shared a comradery after dealing with such a creep. But the few times I’d seen her in the building’s on-site gym afterward, she’d barely spared me a glance.

My apartment in Denver had been in the Grays Peak building. The company offices occupied the top floors while the lower levels were residential. Staff members had first pick whenever vacancies came open.

The views of the city were stellar. I’d woken up many mornings to watch the sun rise over the mountains in the distance. The location was close to the best restaurants and boutique shops. The apartments themselves were top-of-the-line.

But I hadn’t known my neighbors. I hadn’t felt part of a community. And those restaurants? I’d usually eaten at them alone.

No, I’d take my little house on my simple street in Calamity. Because after only two weeks, it already felt more like home.

Even if Cal was a temporary thorn in my side.

Peter was still talking to him, blathering on like Cal was actually participating in the conversation.

“Can I ask you something else?” Larke asked, following my gaze. “Have you and Cal ever . . .”

“Oh. Uh . . .” I didn’t even get the chance to lie. My face gave away the truth. Damn it.

“Sorry.” She held up her hands. “That was none of my business. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s fine.” This was part of friendship, right? Confiding in each other? Did that even count as a confession?

“No, that was rude,” she said. “It’s just that earlier, when he looked at you, it was like the rest of the room disappeared. And the two of you seem to—”

“Hate each other,” I finished.

“Yeah. Of course.” She smiled and straightened. “I was thinking about ordering food, but it looks like the kitchen is backed up. I don’t know if I can wait an hour. Maybe we should call it a night?”

“Yeah, I think I’d better head home too. Tomorrow is the first day at the new Grays Peak building, and I have a feeling it will be hectic trying to work and get my office set up.”

“This was so fun.” She stood, pulling me into her arms when I was on my feet. “Call me. I was going to come watch Lucy sing too. Let’s go together.”

Yes, please. The worst part about being single was constantly going places alone.

“I’d love to.” I picked up my purse and dug out my wallet while she did the same, each of us leaving cash on the table for Jane. “I’m going to use the restroom before I walk home.”

“Okay. Bye.”

I waited until Larke walked out the door before crossing the bar, not for the restroom, but Cal’s stool.

Peter was yammering on about cars and how he could give friends a great deal on the newest model Ford half-ton.

Cal’s hands were balled into fists. His jaw was clenched. To steal Larke’s phrase, he was insanely gorgeous, even when he was angry. Fury gave his features an edge. But Cal was never more attractive than when he smiled. And that side of Cal was as rare as his championship rings.

Frustration simmered beneath the bulging muscles of his shoulders. His traps were bunched and pulled close to his ears. Peter was about to get tossed off that damn stool if he didn’t shut up soon.

“Hi.” I slid onto the stool on Cal’s other side.

He glanced over, then slid his beer glass away. “You can throw another drink on me, but it won’t run me out of town.”

“But it would be fun.”

He frowned.

“Why are you here, Stark?”

“Because I was hungry. But if I’d known it was going to take a fucking year to get my food, I would have gone somewhere else.”

“Not the bar. Calamity. Why are you in Calamity?”

“I live here. Thought I’d better get to know my local bartender.”

On cue, Jane appeared with a cheeseburger, fries and a basket of onion rings. “Another beer?”

He shook his head. “Water.”

“Say please, Cal,” I ordered.

The corner of Jane’s lip turned up as she waited.

“Please,” he gritted out.

“Nellie, can I get you anything?” she asked.

“No, thanks.”

Larke had introduced us earlier. When I’d asked Jane if she could make me a martini, she’d informed me that it would be with vodka and it would be dirty. I’d liked her immediately.

Jane filled a glass with ice water for Cal, then brought him a bottle of ketchup before helping a customer at the opposite end of the bar.

Cal tore into his burger, his eyes closing on the first bite. A deep, throaty moan came from his chest. The last time I’d heard that moan it had not been over food.

A pulse bloomed between my legs. I crossed them, shoving forbidden memories aside, and focused on my task at hand.

Cal had to leave. He couldn’t live here. My window of opportunity to convince him of such was short. As soon as he had a home, it would be much harder to run him out of town. So I had to push and push hard.

“Looks like you’ve made a new friend.” I leaned in closer, my shoulder brushing his. The heat from his skin seeped through his thin T-shirt.

He stopped chewing, his gaze dropping to where we touched.

The air around us crackled. The world blurred. The little voice in the back of my mind whispered. More.

I shied away and blinked reality back into focus.

That voice got me in trouble, especially where Cal was concerned.

“Is this really how you want to spend your evenings?” I glanced past him to Peter who was doing his best to eavesdrop. “Have your ear talked off? Have your neighbor tell you how you botched the AFC Championship when you threw that pick six in the third quarter?”

Cal’s nostrils flared as he growled a warning, “Nellie.”

Razzing him about football was always a guaranteed way to make his temper spike.

“You don’t fit in here,” I said.

“Who says?”

“Me.”

“And you’re the expert on Montana?”

I’d known him for nearly twenty years. No, I wasn’t an expert on Montana. But I had figured out Cal a long, long time ago. “There’s no place for you to hide here, Cal. Everyone in town will see your true colors.”

He tensed.

Bullseye.

We both knew I was right. There would be no blending into crowds, no matter how hard he tried. Cal would always stand apart. And though he loved being the center of attention on the football field, he was oddly private in his personal life.

Someone would eventually intrude and piss him off. Then he’d explode. A town this size, people would talk.

Maybe I didn’t have to run him out of town. Maybe he’d do that all on his own.

“You’d be happier in a bigger city. There, you’d fit.”

“Maybe I don’t fit anywhere,” he murmured, toying with a french fry. “You’re being particularly harsh today.”

Now it was my turn to tense.

Harsh had never been my style. That was Cal’s specialty.

I opened my mouth to apologize, but before I could speak, Cal glanced over with his signature smirk.

“Maybe the one who needs to leave town is you, Blondie? Maybe if I make your life miserable enough, you’ll head back to Denver. Isn’t that what you’re trying to do to me? Make me leave?”

My nostrils flared. “So what if I am?”

“Two can play that game. But don’t worry, I’m sure Pierce will still let you be his secretary, even if you lived in Colorado.”

Any guilt vanished. Now all I wanted was to sprinkle arsenic over his onion rings.

“First of all, I’m not a secretary.” I’d given up telling him to stop calling me Blondie ages ago, but the secretary comment always struck a nerve. “Second, you will never run me out of this town.”

It was ironic that we’d both jumped to that conclusion. That instead of trying to replace an amicable peace, our instincts were to drive the other away.

But that was the world of Nellie Rivera and Cal Stark.

We drew battle lines.

We’d been drawing them since we were fourteen.

“I bet you could replace an old house in Denver,” he said. “Something with a lawn that your dad could mow.”

This son of a bitch. There were a few buttons Cal knew were risky to press. The subject of my father was one of them.

“I hate you,” I seethed.

“Then go away.”

I slid off my stool.

Cal chomped another bite of his burger, grinning as he chewed.

If he thought I’d just walk away, if he thought he’d won this round, he was about to be disappointed.

Instead of leaving the stool, I climbed up again, this time on my knees. My fingers went to my lips and I let out an ear-splitting whistle.

Jane, bless her heart, killed the background music.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Cal Stark, the Cal Stark, former NFL quarterback”—I pointed down at him as he gaped up at me—“has been so overwhelmed with the welcome Calamity has given him that he’s covering everyone’s tab tonight. Food. Drinks. Everything.”

A round of cheers broke out. The crowd applauded.

And I clapped right along with them, a sugar-sweet smile on my face as I picked up his beer, draining the glass dry. “Bottoms up!”

The whoops and whistles were deafening as glasses were raised in the air.

This scheme could backfire and endear Cal to the community. But it could also set expectations that every time he came into the bar, he’d cover the bill. If I knew Cal, which I did, this would give him pause each time he stepped into a restaurant. Especially if I was in the room.

His glare was razor-sharp as a rush of people scrambled to the bar, ordering another round of drinks. The waitress was being flagged by nearly every table. Peter clapped a hand on Cal’s shoulder—which Cal instantly brushed off.

The bar was so loud that after I set down Cal’s empty glass, I had to lean in close and speak into his ear. “Spend a little of that money. Let everyone in town know that you’re rich. That’s what you’re good at, right?”

His shoulders slumped. For a split second, he looked miserable.

The room was a riot of rowdy, happy people. And Cal looked hurt.

Hurt by me.

I hopped off the stool, slung my purse over a shoulder and marched out the door. As I stormed the blocks home, I couldn’t tell who I was angry at. Cal? Or myself? That wounded look of his was stuck in my head for the rest of the night.

Damn him. Damn this guilt.

Maintaining my guard was nearly impossible when I felt bad for that man.

I really hated Cal Stark.