His Azalea Read online

  Copyright © 2019 by Kelli Callahan

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Contents

  1. Azalea

  2. Mason

  3. Azalea

  4. Mason

  5. Lea

  6. Mason

  7. Lea

  8. Mason

  9. Azalea

  Epilogue

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  About the Author

  Also by Kelli Callahan

  One

  Azalea

  “Thank you for inviting me to your wedding. It was beautiful.” I walked up to the bride and smiled as I leaned in for a hug. “Congratulations!”

  “Thank you so much for coming!” She gave me a quick hug, and I got nudged by another guest who was anxious to pay their respects to the happy couple before I could let go.

  “It was great to see you again, Lea.” The groom gave me a firm handshake.

  I was a little surprised when I got the invitation to Christina’s wedding. She was one of my classmates at the University of Southern California, and I considered her a friend, but we hadn’t hung out much outside of school. She was already engaged to Greyson when I met her, and busy planning the wedding. My only contribution was making a couple of suggestions on arrangements when she ran some ideas by me. I had only met Greyson once before I saw him kiss his bride and it was little more than a brief introduction one day when he stopped by the school to bring Christina a book that she forgot to bring with her.

  Okay, I’ve said hello—I guess I can start looking for an opportunity to make my exit.

  Weddings weren’t really my thing—social events, in general, gave me anxiety. To make matters worse, Greyson was a rather successful sports agent in Los Angeles, so he knew a lot of very famous people. I felt pretty out of place in that crowd. I was surrounded by sports stars, people I recognized from television and movies, along with some people that just looked like they were celebrities—even though I didn’t know their names.

  I was usually the smallest person in the room unless I was in a room full of children, but it was even worse in a room filled people who were naturally larger than life. I tried to walk towards the door, but the crowd was moving in that direction as well, and I got nudged along until I was on my way to the reception hall with no way to get free without going against the flow of traffic.

  I’ll just have one glass of champagne, and then I’ll make a break for the door when things settle down some.

  It wasn’t just one glass of champagne—it was my very first glass of champagne. I took a sip and was surprised by how dry it was in my throat. I had tried wine a couple of times and it was a lot sweeter. I was the first person at the bar, which made me feel a little weird when I turned to look at the crowd. The girl that didn’t drink was the first one to make a dash for the alcohol. I was just about to put my glass down and try to stand near the edge of the crowd so that I wouldn’t be the odd person out when I saw a few more people heading my way. I scooted to the side so that I wouldn’t be in the way.

  The crowd got busy, the happy couple made their way into the reception hall, and then people started searching for their table. I saw my name on one of the cards, but there were several people seated at that table already—people I didn’t know. I decided to just stay put at the bar. That seemed like a better option. I wouldn’t have to talk to anyone if I slowly sipped my champagne and kept to myself. Once a few more people were seated, I could slowly make my way to the door and escape.

  “I’ll take a whiskey—that one right there.” A man walked up beside me and pointed to a bottle.

  British accent—he must be friends with the groom.

  “Yes sir, right away.” The bartender nodded and picked up a glass.

  The man beside me was rather attractive—not that I was brave enough to take a good look. From the corner of my eye, I could see he had dark brown hair that was short and combed towards the back of his head with a beard that was neatly trimmed into a thick stubble. His broad shoulders cast a rather imposing shadow—he was built like a tank. His suit jacket would have been dragging the floor if it was around my shoulders. He turned towards me once the bartender handed him a drink, and I did my best not to make eye contact.

  “Are you friends with the bride or the groom?” His accent was thicker than Greyson’s, and he had a rough edge to his voice when he spoke.

  “The bride.” I turned my head slightly, but immediately looked at the floor when I saw his eyes focused on me. “I’d ask you the same question, but your accent gives it away.”

  “Yeah.” He chuckled. “Greyson’s my brother.”

  “Ah, I didn’t know Greyson had a brother.” I tried to make eye contact again and got lost in his steel-colored stare for a moment.

  “Yeah—and a sister too. She’s around here somewhere.” He scanned the crowd and shrugged.

  “You’ve got a big family.” I took a sip of my champagne. “My parents decided that one was enough.”

  “Mine would have probably decided the same thing if I had been the first one on the scene.” He chuckled under his breath. “I’m Mason, by the way.”

  “Lea.” I gave him a slight nod.

  The boring name I prefer to go by instead of having to explain that my parents named me after Azaleas because my father gave them to my mother on their first date.

  “Nice to meet you. Your glass is empty.” He turned towards the bartender. “She needs a refill.”

  “Oh, no.” I shook my head back and forth. “I’m okay. This was a little dry…”

  “It gets better after a few glasses.” He moved closer to me. “Or you can just switch to whiskey.”

  “That’s a definite no.” I shuddered. “I tried it once—never again.”

  “The best mistakes are the ones you make when you’ve got a little whiskey in ya.” He winked at me and grinned.

  Oh god—is he hitting on me?

  Two

  Mason

  Weddings were supposed to be a good place to meet lonely women—that’s what I had always heard at least. It sounded good to me because I was pretty lonely myself. Lea captured my attention the moment I saw her standing alone at the bar. She had a natural beauty to her—soft looking skin, pale blonde hair, and topaz-blue eyes that shimmered when she wasn’t hiding them from the world by staring at the floor. If she was a little taller, she would have been on a runway in Paris getting paid to look that gorgeous.

  I got the impression that Lea wasn’t a celebrity, just by the way she carried herself. She seemed nervous and reserved, but I had no idea why—she was the prettiest girl in the room. It wasn’t polite to say that out loud about anyone other than the bride on her wedding day, so I decided not to open with it when I introduced myself. I hoped I could take some of that nervousness away with a couple of drinks—then I could figure out if there was a chance that I could lure her back to my hotel room when the wedding festivities were over.

  “I think my biggest mistake today is going to be this second glass of champagne.” Lea lifted the glass to her lips and took a sip. “It’s really not getting any better—I think it’s actually getting worse.”

  “Hmm.” I looked towards the bartender. “What else do you have back there?”

  “What would you like?” He motioned to the selection. “Mr. Foster asked us to bring a little bit of everything.”

  “Have you ever had wine?” I turned my head towards Lea.

&nbs
p; “Yeah, a couple of times.” She nodded. “I don’t think I’m really in the mood for alcohol though. Could I just get a glass of water?”

  “Sure thing.” The bartender picked up a glass and started filling it.

  “You shouldn’t waste the champagne. If I know my brother, it’s probably expensive.” I smirked and took a sip of my whiskey.

  “I’ll hang onto it just in case I’m still here when they call for a toast.” She sat down her glass of champagne and took a sip of water. “There we go—that’s much better.”

  “If you’re still here? Are you planning to leave early?” I narrowed my eyes.

  “I just came for the wedding.” She made eye contact for a moment, then broke it. “I have schoolwork I need to get done this weekend.”

  A college student? If she’s anything like the college students I’m used to, she definitely wants to make a mistake much worse than a glass of champagne today.

  “That doesn’t sound like fun.” I raised an eyebrow. “And here I was hoping you might give me a tour of Los Angeles or something…”

  “Me?” She blinked in surprise. “I don’t even know you.”

  “Exactly.” I nodded and grinned. “Come on. My brother and his new wife are leaving on their honeymoon tonight. The rest of my family is flying out tomorrow—I’m going to be here for a few days. If someone doesn’t give me a tour, I’ll be forced to order pizza the whole time because I don’t even know what places I should try.”

  “Why are you staying longer than the rest of your family?” She ignored my request, but at least she was talking to me.

  “I’m thinking of moving here. My company wants to open an office in Los Angeles, and they’ve asked me to run it.” I lifted my whiskey and took a quick sip.

  I probably shouldn’t say that too loud—I still haven’t told anyone about it.

  “Interesting.” She raised her eyebrows slightly. “What kind of business is it?”

  “Advertising.” I leaned back and put my glass on the bar. “Before you ask—it’s nothing like Mad Men.”

  That’s the first question I always get…

  “I know…” She looked down, but I saw a flash of something in her eyes before she did. “That’s—actually what I’m going to school for.”

  “Really?” I tilted my head slightly. “It sounds like we might have a lot in common then.”

  That’s my in—surely that’ll garner a little interest.

  I had never met a girl so apprehensive and nervous about having a conversation with someone. She didn’t seem disinterested; she just seemed scared. I tried to soften her up some by talking about my career, how I got started, and what she would have to look forward to once she embarked on the same journey. That seemed to work a little bit, but she still looked like she was searching for the first opportunity to flee. When a few more people came over to the bar, I finally started to get it. I wasn’t the one making her nervous—she just didn’t like crowds. She was so introverted that the social anxiety was almost plastered on her face until the people who joined us at the bar got their drinks and left.

  “They’re about to serve dinner.” She put down her glass of water. “I really should be going.”

  “Wait—hold on.” I pulled my wallet out of my back pocket. “Let me give you my card. My cell phone number is on there. Go home and think about it. If you get bored with all of that schoolwork, all you have to do is pick up the phone.”

  “Schoolwork doesn’t bore me.” She stared at my card for a moment but finally took it. “I actually like school.”

  “Hanging out with me will be a lot more fun than doing schoolwork.” I gave her a quick wink. “I promise.”

  “You wouldn’t even know where to take me.” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re the one asking me to show you around.”

  “I don’t need to know where all the hot spots are in order to have fun.” I grinned. “Just think about it—I’d love to see you again before I have to fly home.”

  “I’ll—consider it.” She tucked my card into her purse. “It was nice meeting you—have a good evening.”

  “You too.” I nodded.

  That’s my best play—the ball is in her court now.

  Three

  Azalea

  I made a straight line between the bar and the door as soon as an opportunity presented itself. I was happy that I managed to get out of the reception before they served dinner. At that point, the fact that I wasn’t socializing would have been more awkward than sitting down to talk to strangers.

  I came to terms with my social anxiety at a young age. My parents always said I was shy—but I never felt like it was inherently wrong to prefer solitude. I thrived in that environment. I made adjustments to my life to make sure that I was comfortable, and I was happy with my choices. I didn’t mind spending Friday night with my parents while the other kids were out making teenage mistakes—nor did I feel like it an issue when I spent the weekend holed up in my apartment working on my assignments for the following week.

  When I first arrived at college, I did try to do things differently. I made friends with a few people that I shared some classes with, and I even went to a few parties, but I found them rather boring. A night of drunken debauchery didn’t appeal to me—and the guys that hit on me at those parties were pretty repulsive. I knew what they were after, and I wasn’t going to give it to them. I had more respect for myself than that.

  Okay, I escaped the wedding reception. Now I can go home and focus on my schoolwork for the rest of the weekend.

  It was the perfect weekend to spend in front of my laptop screen. My roommate was visiting her parents, so I had the apartment to myself, which meant there would be some much needed peace and quiet. I changed into my pajamas as soon as I got home and fixed a cup of coffee. I needed it after the champagne because I was starting to feel a little sleepy. I sat down at my desk, opened my laptop, and reached into my purse to get my cell phone. I rarely got a call or a text message, but if it wasn’t on the desk while I worked, I would keep checking it out of habit. When I pulled my cell phone out of my purse, I realized that I had also grabbed the business card—the one that Mason gave me.

  I wonder if I’ll have business cards one day…

  Mason was a very attractive man—there was no denying that. His accent reminded me of Mr. Darcy from the Pride & Prejudice movie I watched a few times in high school. I could have listened to him talk all day if interacting with other people didn’t give me so much anxiety. I told him I would consider his invitation to be his tour guide in Los Angeles, but that was a lie. I had no intention of actually calling him when I took his card. It was the same defense mechanism I usually employed when people invited me places. Granted, I normally wasn’t turning down a date with the hottest guy who had ever asked me out—which sort of seemed foolish in retrospect. It wasn’t like I had anyone beating down my door for a date—or even asking.

  Should I actually consider it?

  Dating had always been a struggle for me. I tried a couple of times in high school, but the two guys I went out with were just as shy as I was. Maybe that was why I agreed to go out with them in the first place. I got the impression that Mason wouldn’t be the kind of guy to sit beside me in a movie theater and awkwardly try to put his arm around me after an hour of working up the courage to do it—nor would he pull it away immediately when I shifted uncomfortably in my seat two seconds later. But—what if Mason was the kind of guy that wanted more? He was an older man than me. I was pretty sure he had a decade of experience on me at least—possibly more. If he was looking for that, then I definitely wasn’t the girl for him. But—maybe I didn’t know what kind of girl I really was. I never really got a chance to find out.

  I stared at his card for several minutes after I put it down on my desk. Deep down, I did want to call him, but there were a lot of complexities between wanting to pick up the phone and actually making the call. I turned my attention to my laptop and tried to focus on my schoolwork. Tha
t was what I was supposed to be doing anyway. I didn’t need to allow myself to get distracted by the hot British guy I met.

  Focus—just focus on this.

  There was no guarantee that Mason would stay in Los Angeles anyway. There was a chance he would get on a plane and never come back after he got a taste of the city. If I was interested in him after the date, then I would just be setting myself up for eventual heartbreak. It made more sense to avoid that situation altogether once I mapped out the possibilities in my head. I was over-analyzing things like I always did. He asked me to be his tour guide—not his girlfriend. He said we would have fun, and that didn’t mean he was looking for more than that. Plus, I had never really had a chance to spend time with someone who was actually doing the job I was hoping to have one day.

  I’m making excuses not to spend time with him while simultaneously trying to convince myself that I should. Maybe I should just take a risk for once in my life…

  Four

  Mason

  I wasn’t sure if Lea would actually call me. She said she would consider it, but I got the impression that she said that to people pretty regularly—even when her mind was already made up. Giving her my business card was my best play and the only one I had when I realized she was going to make a break for the door as soon as she had a chance. I finished my glass of whiskey after she left, got another one, and then went over to the table where I was supposed to sit. I was at the family table with my parents and siblings—along with the guy that my sister was dating who decided that a trip to America as her plus one was a free vacation.