Page 14 of Calla's Boys

“I’ll be back in a sec,” he tells Calla as he pushes his chair back. I roll my eyes and laugh as I cross my arms over my chest, then start walking away from the table. It amazes me how in control of this arrangement he thinks he is. He bullied Billy out of the top spot, which was rightfully his considering this entire thing was his idea, and has latched onto thetheoryof Calla with his goddamned teeth.

Clyde catches up to me as I step outside of the restaurant doors and into the enormous hotel lobby. “What’s the big deal, Doc?” he snarls, and I drop my arms to my side with a sigh.He pretends so much to be a feral dog when it comes to being away from Calla; maybe it’s finally time for a distemper shot.

“Relax,” I shoot back with an even stare. “Jesse wants to set something up, and while itshouldbe all of us, I’m not above shoving you down a ski hill until you learn to stop acting like she only belongs to you.”

Clyde grunts as he shifts from one foot to the other, his impatience growing by the second, and I’m actually kind of enjoying it. Maybe he’ll implode and finally see reason when it comes to everything.

“He wants to build a snowman,” I finally say after a few more tense moments of watching his neck turn crimson.

“Are you seriously telling me that you pulled me away from breakfast over a snowman?” Clyde asks incredulously.

“Yeah, but not just any kind of snowman.” I pause for a moment to glance around us, then motion for him to watch my hands. “Asnowman.”

He wrinkles his nose for a split second, then bursts into laughter. I smirk at his reaction because it’s nice to see him not feeling so high-strung now over being dragged away from “his” precious Calla Hunt.

“I’m in for this,” he finally says, rubbing his hands together. The devious way he confirms his participation… I know we’re going to have to fight to all do our part, but whatever. It’s never been too difficult to get Clyde out of the way once he comes.

“Jesse wants to get this going in an hour, so we have to finish eating, then figure out a way to get her to stay in the hotel,” I inform him as we start walking back toward the restaurant doors.

“Leave it to me,” he states with a smug smile. “I’m pretty sure I can persuade her to follow me upstairs.”

I roll my eyes at the back of his head as he walks in and heads back toward the table. Clyde’s always been as difficult a friend to have as he’s been a good one. Not to say that he doesn’thave his uses from time to time. I just wish he’d stop thinking that she only seeshim, when she clearly sees us all equally.

Whatever.

It’ll all work out.

Chapter Eleven

Clyde

Fuck, we’ve already lost half an hour,I think irritably as I glance at the fancy clock hanging above the bar area nearby.

I toss a glance in Jesse’s direction as he takes his time finishing up the last of his damn breakfast, wondering what hour he actually meant when he suggested it.

Unless Doc got the info wrong,I think with a grunt as I drop an arm on the table and begin to drum my fingers.

“Is everything okay?” Calla asks in a hushed tone as she leans toward me.

“Huh? Yeah, fine,” I lie with a forced chuckle. “Just waiting for His Majesty there to finish up.”

“Fuck off, Clyde,” he says good-naturedly through a mouthful of food.

I scowl.

How he thinks that planting an idea like building a snowman with Calla, then making me wait was a good idea, I still haven’t figured out.

But now that I have the chance…

“Hey, do you think we can go back upstairs after breakfast? I’m still feeling a little zonked,” I say to Calla with a warm smile.

She arches an eyebrow, but shrugs and nods in agreement. “I guess so. I’m not exactly on Swiss time either yet,” she admits with a sheepish smile.

“Then you should have said something earlier,” Billy pipes up. “Breakfast could have waited.”

I give him a withering stare, and he shrinks down in his seat a little. I get that he’s the one that’s always looking out for her emotionally, but being Mr. Feelings right now has the potential to fuck up our plans for the rest of the morning.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as he picks up his fork and gently starts to tap it against his plate.

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