Shaken Not Stirred (Mixology) (20 page)

“Who was the call from?” Macon drove through
the dark night.

“I assume his boss by the way he acted.” I
hoped I was right. Otherwise, we had bigger problems.

“It’s good you left. He needs to see that
you’re not going to put up with that garbage.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t put up with him period.
Maybe he doesn’t have room for me in his life.”

“Normally, I’d tell you to stop being so
melodramatic, but you might be right. You deserve better. You
deserve a guy who worships you for the goddess you are.”

I laughed. “Do you worship the girls you’re
with?”

“Not the ones I spend a night with, but a
girlfriend, sure.”

“When’s the last time you had a girlfriend?
Two years?”

“Something like that.” He turned on the
radio, letting me know that part of the conversation was over.

We didn’t say anything else to each other
until we walked inside.

“I wish Brody was up.” I opened the fridge
looking for a snack.

“Getting spoiled with his cooking?”

“Very.” Brody usually cooked for us a few
nights a week. Those were the meals I looked forward to.

“He’s not that hard to wake up.” Macon got
that mischievous look in his eyes.

“I’m not doing that to him. I’ll make
something.” I bent down to find a pan. One of the few things I made
well were omelets, and I knew we had tons of eggs.

My phone rang, and I didn’t even think about
answering it.

“It’s him.” Macon held up my phone.

“Good for him.”

Macon smiled. “On the positive side, he
finally noticed you were gone.”

“It only took him an hour and a half.”

“Actually, if it had already been more than
an hour when you called me, we’re closer to two hours.”

“Really helpful.”

“I know I am.” Macon smirked.

I’d cracked enough eggs to make two omelets
when I heard the text notification on my phone.

Macon cleared his throat, and I knew he was
about to read the text. “I know you’re mad, but please at least
tell me you’re okay. Did you get a ride home?”

“Tell him I’m home.” I was glad Macon had my
phone. I probably would have typed something far less polite.

Macon laughed, and I changed my mind.

“What did you say?”

“I’m home. Lucky for me, not all the men in
my life keep me waiting more than an hour.”

“You didn’t!” I yanked my phone from his
hand. Macon’s words stared back at me. “Oh no. Come on, Macon. He
already thinks there’s something between us.”

Sure enough, I got another text.
Macon?
You called him to drive you home?

“What happened to him not being worth
it?”

“I still don’t want him getting the wrong
idea.”
Yes. I called my friend when I realized you weren’t
coming back.

Did you listen to my voicemail?

No.

I’m sorry. It was a really important call.
Any chance I can come over there?

No.

Please. I don’t want to go to sleep like
this.

You could have gone to sleep in a very
different state.

I had to take the call, but I’m sorry. How
can I make it better?

You can’t.

Don’t be like this.

You left me waiting for more than an hour.
You could have at least stopped in to check on me.

Macon read the phone display from over my
shoulder. “Check on you? What are you six?”

“You know what I meant.”

It all moved so fast. I finally finished and
you were gone.

I waited as long as I could.

“What the hell?” Brody stormed out of his
room. “What are you two burning?”

I looked back at the stove where my first
omelet was a charred mess. “Do you have bad food sensory or
something, Brody?”

“No. I smelled smoke.” He was already dumping
the remains of my meal down the disposal. “I’m guessing you had a
bad night?”

“Colin took a work call during sex and never
came back,” Macon happily supplied.

I punched his arm.

“He picked up while you were having sex, or
he stopped and then picked it up?” Brody asked.

“Ick. He stopped first.”

“See, it could have been worse.” Macon
laughed.

“I’m guessing that thing I threw out was
supposed to be eggs of some sort.” Brody leaned back against the
counter in a pair of PJ pants. “Want me to make you something?”

“I can’t ask you to cook for me in the middle
of the night.”

“You don’t have to ask. Sorry about your
night.”

“You’re too good to me.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’ll be doing my laundry for
months at this rate.”

“Wait, what? Maddy’s trading laundry services
for favors?” Macon hopped up on the island.

“You two sound awful. Make your female
roommate do the laundry.”

“I’m getting it in exchange for cooking for
you. That’s not playing gender stereotypes.”

“I guess lover boy gave up.” Macon gestured
to my phone.

“I guess so.” I couldn’t help but think he’d
given up pretty easily. I didn’t want to see him, but I expected
him to try harder. It was further proof he wasn’t worth it.

I’d just settled in to my omelet—the far
superior one Brody had made for me—when we heard the knock on the
door.

“I guess he didn’t give up.” Macon nodded
toward the door.

The knocking increased.

“We have to get it before our neighbors
complain.” Brody was always the rational one.

“Fine.” I started to walk to the door.

“Do you want to see him?” Macon asked with
surprising seriousness.

I shook my head.

“Wait in your room.”

I nodded, more than happy to let Macon handle
Colin. The night’s events had upset me more than I would have
expected. I guess it made me feel unimportant. I wanted a guy who
would put me first. Maybe I had unrealistic standards, but I wasn’t
ready to forgive him.

“I need to talk to her.” Colin didn’t bother
with the pleasantries. I listened through my door, but I could
imagine the look of annoyance on his face that Macon was keeping
him from me.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“She doesn’t, or you don’t want her to?”

Oh no. Macon wasn’t going to take this
well.

“Do you really think I’m trying to steal
Maddy? Because if so, you’re delusional. If Maddy and I wanted to
date, we’d be doing it. She’s my best friend, and she deserves
someone who doesn’t jump to conclusions about her, and who
definitely doesn’t treat her like you did tonight.”

Wow. Macon was standing up for me. I was
tempted to leave my room, but that would undermine Macon, and
considering how awesome he was being, that didn’t seem like a great
idea.

“Did she tell you? Do you know what happened?
I didn’t hurt her or anything. It’s okay to let me in.”

“Didn’t hurt her? Maybe not physically…but
man to man here, doing what you did hurts a girl. She’s already got
an ego issue. Way to make it worse.”

I cringed. Did Macon have to go there?

“It was a call from work. I had to take it. I
didn’t mean to hurt her ego. I don’t understand why it would.”

“And here I thought you were smart.”

“What? She thinks I don’t want her? That’s
ridiculous. She knows how I feel about her.”

“Dude, you walked out on her during sex.”
Brody entered the conversation, and I sat down on the floor. It was
only going to get worse.

“She told you too?”

That was it. I couldn’t just sit there. I
pushed open my door. “What are you doing here, Colin?”

“I told you on the phone. I needed to see
you. I can’t go to bed in a fight with you. Especially not over
something as stupid as this.”

“Stupid?” That was all I needed to motivate
me to turn around and head back to my room.

“Maddy, wait!” Colin called, but my roommates
must have stopped him. “Call me when you’re ready to talk,” he
yelled before I heard the front door slam.

I opened my door. “I’m not crazy, am I?”

Brody answered. “Your behavior tonight wasn’t
crazy, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t crazy.”

“Thanks.”

“Want to finish your omelet?” he asked.

“Yeah, I think I will.”

A drink needs to fit your mood. It’s no fun
to drink a flirty, sexy drink when you’re depressed and sitting
around in your sweats. That’s when you need the hard stuff. It’s
kind of like music. I need mellow tunes when I’m down.

I wasn’t quite at the point of drinking
straight liquor by the glass, but I did find myself taking a few
shots with Macon after Colin’s “episode.” That was the only way I
let my roommates refer to it. I was slowly getting over what he
did, but I was too stubborn to admit I missed him. Thankfully, Dale
was away, and I had tons of shifts at work to keep me busy.

“Come on, Maddy, you have to talk to me.”
Colin sat directly across the bar from me. He chose his usual
stool, the one that gave me no escape from those irresistible hazel
eyes.

“No, I don’t.” I turned my back to him,
searching for something to make me appear busy, despite the empty
bar. The thought of asking him to leave flitted through my
head.

“Is it really that big of a deal? It only
happened once.”

“Once was more than enough, but that’s not
the point.”

“Then what is the point?” He slumped slightly
on his stool. “I’ve sent you flowers, come by to see you every
night, even though you won’t talk to me. I’m out of ideas
here.”

“It’s the symbolism. It’s what it represents
about our relationship, and how you feel about me.”

“I’m crazy about you. Stopping short to take
a phone call doesn’t change that.”

“The fact that you could stop says it all.
I’m not a priority for you.” I glanced around the dining room,
relieved that the few customers were out of earshot. Mary was
working, but she was keeping her distance. I appreciated the
effort.

“You’re a high priority for me, one of the
highest. If you’d let me explain, I could show you how serious I am
about us.”

“Being serious is different from making me a
priority.” On the surface they seemed the same, but they weren’t.
Just because you cared for something didn’t mean you would be
willing to put it first.

“Have you ever been to Paris?” Colin used
another one of his random conversation transitions.

“No. The only European city I’ve been to is
London.” I reorganized the liquor bottles by color. It wasn’t the
most efficient organization system, but it served its
purpose—keeping my hands busy so I wouldn’t give in to the urge to
touch Colin.

“Would you want to go?”

I turned to him. “You can’t be inviting me on
a Parisian vacation.”

He smiled slightly, probably bolstered by the
fact that I was looking at him. “Think less vacation and more
three-month excursion.”

The only thing that set in from his words was
that he was going to be in Paris for twelve weeks. “You’re
leaving?”

“No. I’m going on a trip for work. That’s why
I took the call. I knew it was my boss offering it to me. It’s what
I’ve been waiting to hear about. And Maddy, I want you to come with
me.”

“I can’t,” I answered automatically.

“Give me one reason why not.”

“Work, my life.” Talk about putting me on the
spot. “There, that’s two.”

“Max is barely giving you shifts, and Macon
will be here when we come back.”

He said Macon’s name with distaste. Didn’t he
get that Macon was rooting for him? He’d even started on the subtle
hints about returning Colin’s calls.

“I can’t afford it.” The balance on my bank
account went beyond embarrassing. “And don’t even bother offering
to lend me the money.”

“Lend? Not exactly. Pay for my girlfriend’s
travel expenses? Of course. Plus, our apartment will be paid for
anyway.”

“Apartment? We’re not ready to live
together.” I rinsed out some glasses, needing a distraction.

“Before this week you were spending half your
nights with me already. How is this different? Besides, it’s
temporary. It’s not really moving in.”

“Temporary. This isn’t helping your priority
argument.”

He reached his hands across the bar, and I
gave in and let him hold mine. The contact sent an instant wave of
comfort through me. “I’m inviting you to spend three months in the
most romantic city in the world with me.”

“You don’t need me there. I’ll be in the
way.”

“Okay. Now you’re scraping the bottom of the
barrel for excuses. I do need you there. And the only time you’ll
be in my way is when you won’t put away your book or
something.”

“I don’t know.”

“I do. This is good. So good. I’m not going
to let you pass this up.”

I tried to pull my hands away, but he didn’t
release them. “It’s not your decision to make.”

“Maybe not, but I’ll help you make yours, and
it will be the right one.”

“You can be so cocky sometimes it makes me
want to scream.”

“Glad to know I bring out the anger in you,
or some might call that passion.” He squeezed my hands. I was no
longer trying to move them.

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “How did we
even end up dating?”

“You finally gave me a chance.” He rubbed a
finger across my skin.

“I mean, we’re so different.”

“Why? What makes us different?”

“For starters, you know what you want to do
with your life.”

“I’m also four years older than you. You’ll
figure it out.” He released one of my hands, still comfortably
holding the other.

“What if I don’t?”

“Isn’t this backward? Isn’t the bartender
supposed to be the good listener doling out advice?”

I let go of his hand and went back to work on
the senseless organization. “We both know I’m not your typical
bartender.”

“Nothing about you is typical, and that’s one
part of why I can’t get enough of you.”