Page 67 of On The Rocks

“Either me, Donovan, or one of the boys will stick with you,” he went on. “If for any reason things get crazy and we get separated, you make sure you flash your wedding ring at anyone who approaches you and find one of us immediately. Got it?”

“Got it,” I murmured, almost dazed. “Wait! I’m not wearing my wedding ring.”

Something dark flashed behind his eyes. “Why the fuck not?”

I dropped my voice to a whisper. “Because you didn’t want a real marriage, remember? Anyway, you never wear yours either.”

Callum’s hand left my cheek, and he wiggled his fingers in my face, causing my head to rear back slightly at the sight of the band of gold glinting in the lights of the salon.

“The only time I don’t wear it is when I’m doing work in the bar ‘cause I don’t wanna get paint and shit on it,” he told me quietly.

“Oh,” I breathed, my eyes darting between his.

“We’ll call back to the apartment. You go upstairs, get your ring, put it the fuck on, and keep it on.”

My heart bloomed inside my chest. “Okay.”

One eyebrow quirked up questioningly. “What did I tell you before about listening to the shit I say?”

I bit the inside of my lip before replying, “You said not to.”

He jerked a nod. “Why?”

“Cause you’re an idiot?” I suggested, posing it as a question to take the sting out of my words.

“That’s right, Mae, I’m an idiot.” He dropped his forehead to rest on mine. “I was a fucking idiot, not just for saying all that bullshit on our wedding day but also for everything that happened before, and I’m sorry for it. Do you get what I’m saying?”

“Umm,” I replied, not sure that I actually did.

Callum smirked. “You will by the end of the night. Believe me, by then, you’ll be in no fucking doubt.”

Three loud claps cracked through the room. “Come on, lovebirds,” Atlas shouted. “Chop fuckin’ chop. We don’t got all goddamned night.”

Callum lifted his forehead, his eyes locking with mine. “You’re driving me nuts.”

My heart bounced, unsure if it was a good or bad thing. “Really?”

His gaze drifted down to my chest and up again. “Those tits will give me a fucking embolism by the end of the night. I just know it.”

“They will?” I beamed happily, my tone full of hope.

He closed his eyes, shaking his head with a wry smile, and then his hand slipped into mine, and he pulled me toward the door. “We gotta go to the apartment,” he called out. “Maeve forgot something.”

“Yeah,” Atlas said dryly. “Her top. Make her put a fuckin’ sweater on.”

I busted out a giggle.

“Shut your big mouth,” I heard Sophie whisper-shout, but I didn’t care because the vibes Atlas was giving were of the big brother variety, and I liked the warm and fuzzy feelings they evoked.

Callum was a different matter. His vibes were as far removed from big brother as you could get. He liked my boobs—even though it was probably because of my top, but even so, how awesome was that? Callum O’Shea liked the look of my boobs. Me! Nerdy little Maeve Monroe.

Yippee!

He pulled me toward the door, passing Donovan, who announced, “Seeing as I got stood up, I’ll take Tristan as mydate.” He turned toward my friend. “What do you say, Tris. You wanna come to a biker party with me?”

Tristan popped a hip, resting a hand on his waist. “Only if you’re a sure thing.”

I smiled at their playful teasing, and then the door closed, effectively cutting off their conversation. “I hope Tristan does come out,” I said wistfully. “He’s so much fun.”

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