Page 61 of Untethered Heart
“Yeah. Guess we both can’t help wanting what we can’t have.”
Chapter thirty
“Your admirer is back,” Cassie, one of the bartenders, says in my ear as she passes behind me.
My head snaps to the end of the bar where Caleb always sits. For the last two weeks, he’s come in for every shift I’ve had.
I know we’re just friends, but I can’t help the way my heart picks up every time I see him sitting over there. Watching as I work with a look on his face that says he’s perfectly content right where he is.
A few times, women have come up to him to flirt. Stunning women. But his eyes never leave mine, and he politely dismisses any conversation they try to strike up.
We’re both trying to give ourselves the space to explore our feelings without crossing lines. I know that’s the smart thing to do. But that doesn’t stop us from flirting. And flirting with Caleb is like a moth to a flame. It’s fireflies dancing in the dark, when your eyes refuse to look anywhere else, because why would you? When something so beautiful is commanding your attention. It’s hypnotic.
Over the last few years, I was scared to put myself out there in a relationship, and that was when I was dating regular guys. I’m not even dating Caleb, but he’s no regular guy. He makes my heart race more than anyone else I’ve been with. To be hurt by him would be catastrophic.
The fact that Legacy Malt’s success is tied so closely to him means I can’t risk anything physical with him again. I know I’d be powerless to resist if I were to entertain anything more than his hand on mine. Although when he held my pinky at Claire’s party the other week, my limbs still liquified.
I can’t help the nagging feeling that I’m missing something before I even have a chance to hold it close. But I’m trying to remember that my brother is affected if this turns into more and then goes drastically wrong. I don’t have a lot of confidence in myself to maintain that distance when he comes in with his shirt sleeves rolled up his toned forearms.
Definitely not when he calls me Siren.
I finish pouring a beer for the guy waiting in front of me, then wipe my hand on the towel that sits over my shoulder as I make my way over to Caleb.
“Hello, Siren.”
Are there heart bubbles floating out of my eyes right now?
“Hi.” I can feel my cheeks heat as the blush takes over. “Too early to lose the tie still?”
He looks down with a smirk at his silver tie, with what looks like rolling waves crafted through the stitching.
“How was your day?” I ask. Over the last few days we’ve fallen into a rhythm of sending good morning messages. Every morning, I wake up and there’s one waiting for me.
“Interesting,” he says.
“Yeah?” I step back to grab the bottle of Johnny Walker he always orders, pouring a drink and placing it before him. “Why’s that?”
He stares into the glass. “Had a luncheon today. Sat next to James Huxley.”
“And that was interesting?”
“He said he chatted to you about Legacy Malt developing a whiskey for High Rollers, the same way you’re doing for Gage.”
“Oh, that would be great!”
I’ve had a few conversations with Mr Huxley about Legacy Malt. Since the night of the contract signing, he’s been checking in with the progress and asking me about Dylan and the tavern.
“He hasn’t spoken to you about this?”
“He’s asked me about the distillery and Jed’s, but he hasn’t said he wanted an exclusive. That would be cool,” I say, but Caleb’s face doesn’t quite match my enthusiasm. “Wouldn’t it?”
He smiles softly. “Of course. It would make sense with Smoke and Barrel being associated with the High Rollers.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “He made it sound like he’d already spoken to you about it, but he was just messing with me. I should have known.”
“I don’t get the animosity between you two.” I lean my arms against the bar top. I don’t want to shout over the noise in the club, but I’m also finding that any time Caleb is near, my body brings itself closer. Like a magnet, I’m drawn in. Unable to fight the pull, and not really interested in trying to resist.
Caleb takes a sip of his whiskey and licks his bottom lip to savour the taste of it.
My eyes follow the path, wanting to trace it with my own tongue and drink in the flavour straight from his lips.
