The Girl With Daisies (Midtown Brotherhood #3) Page 7

  Callen bit his lip. He hoped that was true. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

  Betsy beamed with pride. “This cupid is available anytime.”

  Callen remained in his spot and ate his dinner as he watched the crowd slowly disperse. It took forty-five minutes, but he finally saw Penny emerge from the back room. Her smile was soft. Nervous? She slid into the booth across from him, her fingers intertwined on the table in front of her. “I’m here.”

  Callen leaned up close to her so he could keep their conversation quiet and private. “You came to the game last night.”

  She pressed her lips together. “You did track me down to give me a ticket.”

  “You left, though, before the game was over.”

  She smiled sheepishly down at the table. “Did your friends tell you that?”

  He frowned. “So, it’s true. You left because of them.”

  She looked up, her expression torn. “Yes and no.”

  Callen waited for her to explain, but her gaze caught his, her eyes round. “Why did you bring me that ticket?”

  He straightened in his seat, trying to appear casual and under control. “You were very nice to me the other day, and I was rather ungrateful.”

  “So, it was simply an apology?”

  Yes and no. He wanted to repeat her answer back to her. Yes, the ticket was to apologize, but he always wanted it to mean something more. He wanted it to be a stepping stone.

  “Your friends jumped to the wrong conclusion when they saw me there. I was afraid if I stayed, they would get the wrong idea.” Then she paused, and her gaze darted away. “Maybe I would get the wrong idea.”

  Callen wanted to jump across the table and kiss her. He wanted to wipe away the insecurity that flashed across her face. “The ticket wasn’t just an apology.”

  He reached for her hand, but Betsy yelled from the back. “Hey, Penny. Could you help me just a second?”

  Penny didn’t see his hand stretched across the table toward her as she turned around. Another group of people had come in, and Betsy was drowning by herself. “I need to go help her,” she said offhand. Then she turned all the way back around. “I’ll be back.”

  He nodded. “I’ll wait.”

  Callen rubbed his hand down his face when she left. Betsy was right. He had to make a move. Now or never. Seize the day.

  Don’t fucking puke on her shoes.

  He still had his bag with him, and he pulled it over and searched through the bottom for a pen. He found a black marker he used to label his gear. He grabbed a napkin from the table and scribbled his number on it then folded it up in his hand.

  People kept piling into the place, and Callen feared his chance at talking to Penny wasn’t going to happen. Ten minutes later, she finally ran back out. “I’m so sorry,” she said, frantic. One of her braids had come out of place, and she had a red stain on the neck of her shirt. “I can’t leave her back there by herself with this many people.”

  Callen scooted out of the booth and stood. “It’s okay. Maybe we can continue this conversation some other time.” He handed her the napkin. He slipped it smoothly between her fingers in one easy, seamless motion.

  She took it and unfolded it. She stared down at the number written across it. “Is this your phone number?”

  She sounded shocked. He smiled at her. It was a cocky, flirting grin. Usually, it only came out after a couple shots, but not tonight. He was drunk on Penny. He leaned in closer, placing his hand on her hip so he could whisper in her ear. “Feel free to get the wrong idea.”

  He bit his lip as he slowly backed away. Her lips parted in what he was certain now was shock. He was shocked too. He gave her a wave and disappeared out the door.

  As he walked down the street back to his apartment, he smiled to himself.

  He officially made a move on Penny.

  Chapter Eight

  PENNY’S OFFER

  Penny tapped her fingers along the counter as she impatiently waited for her coffee to finish brewing. It took its sweet time. It mocked her impatience with each slow drip. She couldn’t keep her eyes off the white napkin that sat next to her purse on the tiny galley kitchen table. The sun streamed through the kitchen window, shining a glowing light straight on the napkin. It wouldn’t surprise her if it levitated off the table and glided toward her with a mystical voice calling out, “Call him. Call him.”

  Penny turned her back on the paper. She wanted to call him. Of course she did. The hottest guy on the planet gave her his number with the explicit instruction for her to ‘get the wrong idea.’ She’d been having all kinds of ideas since she watched him walk out of the Bistro door last night. It had been easy to convince herself at the hockey game that Callen’s motives were simply that of a gentleman trying to apologize for his odd behavior. She thought his friends had jumped to the wrong conclusion. She’d left because she didn’t want things to get complicated.

  It was past that now. All the lines were crossed. She’d met them. His friends would recognize her if they passed her on the street. Steam rose out of Penny’s cup, the last drips of her morning pick me up falling down. She glanced over her shoulder at the napkin.

  What if she told him the truth?

  She could call him. Maybe meet up before his practice, and she could lay it all out on the table. The whole dirty truth of it. The past year had been a nightmare without her grandmother. Since her funeral, where her mother showed up late and under the influence of who knew what, Penny had been lost. She thought the move to New York would be her way out. She’d change her name, and everything that was associated with Esa would be lost with it. She didn’t act quick enough, though. Her mother knew she was there.

  She had to complete the task, if not for herself, then for her grandmother. It would be the only way she could escape the past forever, but could she risk exposing them all to the torment her mother would bring if she found her there?

  Her cell buzzed on the table, and she jumped. She thought for a second the napkin really had taken on a life all its own. She eased toward the table, afraid of whose number might be calling her. She wouldn’t answer it if it was her mother again. Luckily, it was only Betsy.

  She picked it up, answering while going to her fridge for creamer. “Hey, Betsy. What’s up?”

  “Hey, sweetie. Are you busy today?”

  Penny laughed. Of course she wasn’t busy. She’d been in the city for a year, and yet her co-worker was her single friend in the world. Her schedule was so clear it was rather depressing. “I don’t have anything planned until we go in to work tonight.”

  “My daughter is getting married this summer, and she suddenly changed her color scheme for her wedding. Now the blue dress I bought won’t go with her red and black scheme. You have to help me. You’re the most stylish person I know.”

  Penny looked back at the napkin. A day out shopping with Betsy would definitely get her mind off calling Callen. Plus, the weather was nice. The wind would be chilly, but she could get away with wearing a dress. It would be nice to go somewhere with Betsy that didn’t involve them wearing clothes fit for a funeral. “Sure, Betsy. I could help you find something.”

  “Oh, thank you. Thank you. I’ll drop by and get you in, say, an hour?”

  Penny glanced at the note. She could probably make it that long with the napkin staring at her. “Yeah, sounds good.”

  She grabbed her coffee and passed by the napkin on her way to the bedroom. What would Callen say if she called him? Would he ask her out?

  She bit her lip, imagining Callen at her door. His raven hair a perfected hot mess with his lip ring pulled between his teeth. Maybe he’d wear that black military jacket he wore to the Bistro sometimes. It gave him that dangerous edge. Where would he take her? What would he talk about? What would she have to lie about to make him not hate her?

  She touched the napkin. Not calling Callen was the right choice. She didn’t want to lie to him. She wasn’t sure if she could. She took a long gulp of her coffee
on her way to her bedroom. She flipped on her radio, turning the volume up enough to hopefully drown out her disappointment. She took a shower and got dressed, making sure to take up the entire hour so she didn’t have any free time to do anything foolish. She had a feeling her fantasy Callen date daydream could convince her to do things against her better judgment if she allowed it to play out.

  Betsy showed up right on time, and they caught the train to take Betsy’s blue dress back to the shop where she’d bought it. The shop was two blocks from the subway station, and Penny enjoyed the walk. The sun slowly started to heat up. She might even get to take off her jacket in a couple hours. Betsy draped her dress over her arm and nudged Penny with her elbow. “So?”

  Penny glanced over at her. “What?”

  Betsy threw her hands out in front her. “Did you call him?”

  Penny looked away, trying not to laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, please. I saw that boy give you his number. Then I saw you stare at it for the next three hours of your shift. I know you called him. Now spill it.”

  Penny eyed Betsy. “I’m starting to think this little shopping trip is less about finding you a dress, and more about you getting your gossip.”

  Betsy feigned shock. “I do need a new dress, thank you very much.”

  “But you don’t need my help. You asked me to tag along so you could interrogate me. I bet you don’t even think I’m stylish.”

  Betsy laughed. “Look at you. You could be a Gap ad. Of course I think you’re stylish.”

  Penny eyed her. “I am so not a Gap ad.”

  Betsy pulled Penny to a stop on the street, her face turning serious. “You didn’t call him?”

  Penny looked around, avoiding the question. Betsy switched her dress over to her other arm. “Why not, Penny?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  Betsy looked down her nose at Penny like a scolding mother. No, scratch that. Her mother had never cared enough to look at her that way. Betsy looked like a scolding grandmother. “You dial the number and let it ring. It’s not that complicated.”

  “And then what?”

  “And then you let that boy ask you on a date so he can stop spending his money at the Bistro for an excuse to see you.”

  “That isn’t why he comes in there.”

  “Look at you. Of course it’s the reason.”

  Penny started to walk again, and Betsy followed her. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. He’s a hockey player. He could get traded or sent down to the minors at any time.”

  “You’re making excuses.”

  Betsy was right. She couldn’t tell her the real reason, though. She couldn’t tell anyone. The longer she kept it to herself, the more closed off from the rest of the world around her she became. “Is that the place?”

  Penny pointed at the sign down the street in an attempt to change the subject. “Yep, that’s the place.” Betsy patted the dress on her arm. “I really did like this dress.”

  “Don’t worry. Your personal stylist will find you a better dress. Something sultry.”

  Betsy shot Penny a skeptical grin. “I fear I’ve passed the age of sultry.”

  “Forty-year-olds can be sultry.”

  Betsy smirked, rolling her eyes. “And now you’re sucking up. I haven’t been forty in fifteen years.”

  “Just wait and see,” Penny said, dragging Betsy the final half a block to the store. “When I’m done with you, Callen Copley might start taking you up on all those inappropriate suggestions of yours.”

  “Well, someone is going to have to take him up on them if you’re not going to.”

  Penny managed to get Betsy in the store and her mind back on the dress and off her dating life. Betsy got her money back for the dress, while Penny searched the aisles looking for something flirty and red for the mother of the bride. Betsy popped around the corner a couple minutes later. “Find anything?”

  Penny held out another piece of fabric that had several thick layers that looked like it could cover a rather large elephant. “I don’t think this store says Betsy Connor. Everything is too plain and boring.”

  “I always shop at this store.”

  Penny put her hand on her hip. “You’re too young for this store. You’re the mother of the bride, not the grandmother.” Penny pulled another dress off the rack and held it up to her. It looked like something from the Mayflower. “Do you honestly see yourself in something like this? With those curves of yours?”

  Betsy placed her hand on her heart. “Curves?”

  “Oh, Betsy. Let’s not pretend you don’t know about all those assets you flash around the restaurant. I’ve seen you work those hips for extra tips.”

  Betsy flashed scarlet. “Well, my good-for-nothing ex will be there to give our daughter away. I guess it couldn’t hurt showing him what he’s missing.”

  Penny grinned. “Now we’re talking. There are a couple bridal stores down the street from the Bistro. I saw a dress in the window the other day that would be perfect.”

  Betsy took a long, calming breath. “I guess it couldn’t hurt to try it on.”

  Penny squealed with excitement and threw the tarp of a dress back on the rack. “Let’s go.”

  Penny gushed about the dress the entire train ride to keep Betsy’s mind on the right topics. Once they made it to the storefront, Penny showcased the dress in the window. Betsy’s eyes widened at the sight of it. “Well, I do say that would catch everyone’s attention.”

  The dress, red and stretchy, would attach to Betsy’s curves like a dying man to his priest.

  Penny grabbed Betsy’s hand. “Come on, let’s go try it on.”

  The Bridal Salon was three stories high. Each level held a different department. The first level was bridal party dresses, and according to the sign at the entrance, the second story held the men’s department, and the top floor was nothing but high-end wedding dresses. A hostess stand stopped everyone on their way into the shop. The girl helped a couple set up a date to pick up their things. Penny pointed past her to the rack of dresses that went down the wall. “Look,” she said, bringing Betsy closer to her so she could see, “there it is.”

  The couple in front them left, and Penny moved up to the hostess stand. The girl smiled politely. “May I help you?”

  “Yes. We’re having a bit of a fashion emergency. My friend’s daughter decided to change her wedding colors at the last moment, and now she needs a new dress for the wedding. We were hoping to get to try on a particular one you had in your window.”

  The girl frowned. “So, you don’t have an appointment?”

  Penny flashed her an apologetic smile. “Sadly, no.”

  The girl hummed as she thumbed through her schedule book. “I have a large wedding party coming in that will take up three of my consultants. I could possibly pull Janie to help you, but she has a bride right now. Would you mind waiting?”

  “Waiting won’t be a problem.”

  The girl started scribbling in her book. “Take a seat over there, and I’ll call you when she’s finished.”

  “Okay.” Penny went with Betsy to the waiting area. She threw Betsy a book. “Start looking through these and see if you see anything else you might like to try on.”

  “You’re not going to stuff me in a dressing room and make me try on a bazillion dresses, are you?”

  Penny grinned. “Of course not. A bazillion is way too many. I think a million will suffice.”

  She reached out to snatch up a magazine for herself when the doorbell dinged again. She glanced up, her hand pausing inches away from the table. She spotted the little red-haired girl first. Two years old, maybe? She bounced through the door on the toes of her black Mary Janes. She giggled as she ran to peer inside a glass case full of tiaras.

  Penny knew that little girl. She’d recognize her anywhere. She was Henrik Rylander’s daughter. A group of women followed her inside, but Penny was already on her feet, dashing toward Betsy. “
Don’t look at them,” she said before turning her back to the group, hiding her face with one of the magazines.

  Betsy glanced around, confused. “What are you doing?”

  “Don’t draw attention to us,” Penny said, whispering between them.

  Betsy continued to flip through her magazine as if Penny wasn’t acting like a crazy person. The group of women, led by Henrik’s wife Leila and the other girl she’d met at the game, Magnolia, checked in with the hostess. There were two other women with them Penny didn’t recognize, but they looked just like Magnolia. Same black hair and full lips. They must be the big wedding party the hostess mentioned.

  Just her luck.

  She waited until the consultant came out and led them away until she finally put her magazine down. Her heart thudded in her chest. “I’m sorry,” she said to Betsy, handing her the magazine. She accidently missed her hand and threw the magazine over Betsy’s shoulder. “I need to go.”

  “Penny, wait—”

  It was too late. Penny was already to the door. She shoved it open, prepared to run for the subway, when something else caught her eye down the street. When the hostess said large wedding party, she must have meant it very literally.

  Half the New York Rangers hockey team walked down the street toward her.

  Henrik. Austin. Samuel. Henrik’s little brother, Drew. And Callen.

  Of course, Callen was with them.

  “Fudge it.” Penny cursed worse things under her breath as the panic consumed her. She didn’t have time to leave, so she turned around and went back to Betsy.

  Betsy stood. “What in the world is going on with you?”

  “Nothing. It’s nothing,” she said quickly. “Just promise me you’ll keep quiet and look invisible for the next five minutes.”

  The doorbell dinged, and Penny’s back snapped straight. She froze in place with her back to the crowd of boys who were surely filing through the door of the bridal salon. She should have known better than to pick a store in their neighborhood. This was exactly her kind of horrendous luck. The more she tried to separate herself from them, the closer she got.