Inseverable: A Carolina Beach Novel (7 page)

“Calm down, tiger,” he tells her.

Mr. Perrington―the old man who takes his little blue pill with a shot of Captain Morgan―is waving his cane at another frat boy. I’m guessing the frat boy’s not intimidated by crazy Grandpa, but the lifeguards flanking the old timer are a different story.

I push my way around them, wondering where the hell Trin is and what trouble she’s gotten herself into. I start yelling for her, but her name gets stuck in my throat when I see―oh,
hell
no―her
anchored
to some guy’s back, her little fist punching him for all she’s worth. I barrel toward her, ducking out of the way of another flinging fist.

This guy gunning for me is so wasted, he can barely keep his feet. I snatch him by the collar and fling him onto the beach. He rolls onto his stomach, lifting his sand-covered face, his eyes widening when he sees me stalking forward. I don’t think I take more than four steps before he takes off. But I don’t care about him.

As quick as I can, I’m back to Trin, ripping her off the guy who’s seconds from throwing her off and hurting her. She fights me, not realizing I’m the one who has her. She’s wriggling so badly, I barely manage to kick the guy across the knees when he lunges at us.

He crashes to the ground. But like his friends, he’s had enough. He stumbles to his feet and backs away. Slowly at first, and then faster when he sees a few more locals closing in.

By this point, Trin is spitting mad, screaming and flinging her limbs like the lunatic she is. Me, I’m laughing. Hard. So hard, I can’t catch enough air to tell her it’s me. Apparently, she doesn’t find this situation funny, nor does she like to be laughed at. She lifts her elbow and pegs me hard in the gut.

I fall back onto the sand-pebbled lot, taking her with me. She pushes off my chest with her hands, her face red and furious until she realizes I’m the one lying under her.

“Callahan?” she asks.

“Fuck,” I respond.

She scrambles to her feet and offers me a hand. Cute. But I’ll be damned if I let this little thing haul me off my ass. I rise slowly, broken pieces of shell falling off my back as I stand.

I fix my scowl on her as the crowd thins. “What in the
hell
were you thinking taking on a man twice your size―shit, taking on any man at all?”

Everyone seems to be rushing to the edge of the lot that hugs the main road. But Trin and me only have eyes for each other―well, y’all know what I mean.

She frowns. “He was going to hurt you.”

“
What
?”

She hooks a thumb behind her. “He picked up one of those outside stools and was going to hit you with it. I had to save you.”

“You had to save me,” I repeat slowly.

She rams her fists on her hips and juts out her chin, all insulted-like. “Well, yeah. You’re welcome by the way.”

I don’t remind her that I was the one saving her ass. Or that I had to do it twice. I don’t even point out that she nailed me in the solar plexus as a reward. Instead, I let her have her moment.

“Thanks,” I mutter.

She grins. The gleam in that smile and in those eyes taking her from pretty, straight into beautiful . . . even though I don’t want it to. Damn, with all that dark hair, her toned body, and spray of freckles set in all the right places along her sweet face, why the hell is she wasting her time on me? This girl must be beating men off with a club.

In a way, I can’t blame that frat boy for seeking her company. He was an asshole, and for sure out of his league. But as a man, even one as fucked up as me, I can see why he’d want her.

Even while I think these thoughts, and even though it pisses me off that I do, I maintain my scowl. But there she is, grinning up at me like we’re having a friendly conversation. She steps forward and before I know it she’s stroking my beard again.

“You’re welcome, Batman.”

I close my eyes and choke back a swear. Now here’s a woman who knows how to ruin a moment. 

Chapter Seven

Trinity

I don’t work the next day following the brawl. It’s good in way because I get to sleep in. But it’s bad because I’m not on the beach waiting to see if Callahan will magically show up as I’m prepping for watch. Either way, I don’t sleep in as much as I probably need to, my mind busy wondering where we stand.

Will he show up looking to talk to me? Or at the very least run when he used to so I can join him? I don’t want him avoiding me like he’s been doing, but I won’t pound on his front door either. My stalker tendencies do have their limits, after all.

I rise and stretch, giving up on sleep. After a few failed attempts at a yoga work out, I turn on the TV and flip through the channels.

My phone buzzes just when I find a classic
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
episode on TV―Oh! And it’s that creepy one where everyone loses their voice, too.

I pick up the phone as I settle back into bed only to jerk up when I read Becca’s text.

Call me. Call me NOW.

She picks up on the first ring. “What happened?” I ask her. “Is someone hurt?”

“Nope,” she answers.

“Becks! What’s wrong?”

She clears her throat like people do when they have something important to say. “Guess who ran by when we were setting up?”

“Who?” I ask, rushing to the edge of my bed.

“Hawkeye!”

“Who?”

“Hawkeye!” She pauses. “Isn’t that what you call him?”

Poor girl never could keep her superheroes straight. But I’m too busy grinning to correct her. “Callahan ran by during set up?”

“Girl, not only did he run by, but he looked over by your chair, the office,
and
toward the parking lot.”

“That doesn’t mean anything, does it?”

In all actuality, I know it does, seeing how Callahan keeps his focus ahead so he doesn’t have to engage anyone. But I need Becca to confirm my suspicions—tell me I’m not crazy—or imagining things—insist that there is hope—and convince me Callahan can’t live without me. It’s what best friends do, after all.

“Of course it does! Trin, he was looking for you. He never looked your way all those times you joined him on his run. At least not around us.” She makes a funny noise so I know she’s moving something. “Did he say anything to you after the fight broke up?”

“Only that he had to help clean up.”

“And nothing happened?” she asks. “Nothing?”

I flop back down on the bed. “You know if it did I’d be telling everyone who’d listen.”

“True―Hold on. Sean, could you take this for me . . . Thanks, hon. Trin? You still there?”

“I am.”

“So what are you thinking?” she asks.

I adjust the phone against me. “I don’t know. I’m hoping it’s a good sign. Last night, things sort of changed between us. Callahan didn’t have to come charging when that idiot shoved his tongue in my ear. I could handle myself—and you, and Hale, and everyone were already moving in. But not only did he swoop in and get involved, he was majorly pissed.”

“You’re not kidding. When I looked up to check on you, he was clear across the other end of the bar. I don’t think I had the chance to blink and he was suddenly there, ready to pound that shithead to dust for getting too close to you.”

Becks was right. Callahan had been watching out for me, something I hadn’t been expecting. And that rage he met that guy with? That there was a wolf set to pounce on his prey.

“Did you know he fought his way through the crowd to find you?” she says, pulling me out of the memory of him leaping over the bar.

“What?
No
.”

She laughs. “Hale was trying to rip me off that slutty girl―you know the one wearing those awful orange shorts?—and when he finally did I saw Ninja Turtle go all Transformer looking for you.”

As her best friend, I semi-interpret this to mean Callahan got mad and raced to find me. “And you didn’t tell me this
why
?” I press.

She waits. “I sort of forgot seeing how Hale was giving me the eye. I think my catfight with that tramp got him all hot or something―”

“Becks!”

“Hey. I’m sorry. Hale was . . . well, you know how cute he is—anyway that’s why I’m telling you now!”

I scrunch my eyes closed. “So you think I may have a shot?”

“You may not have lassoed him, but you sure did snag his attention.” She sighs. “Just be careful. If I didn’t think he was dangerous before, that all changed when he grabbed that monster of a man by the throat like he was nothing. Trin, he knows how to fight. . .” Her voice trails. “And judging by how he handled that asshole, he knows how to do a lot more than knock someone on his ass.”

I’m not stupid. And I’m not as naïve as people think. But there’s something about Callahan that tells me there’s a lot more to him than brute strength.

My voice softens. “Callahan wouldn’t hurt me,” I tell her. “I’m sure of it. But even if I’m dead wrong, you know I’d never allow anyone to mistreat me.”

“Trin, I hear what you’re saying, and I am listening,” Becca says quietly. “But there are ways a man can hurt you that have nothing to do with his hands.”

Sunday comes. Two days after the brawl at Your Mother’s. My hair is brushed to a sheen and I’m wearing my best―well, dark blue bikini top and jean shorts that is. I show up an hour earlier than usual to set up, even though I’m off today, too.

I finish prepping, adjust the schedule per requests, clean up the office, and then spend the next twenty minutes twiddling my thumbs. There’re only so many things you can do with that whistle.

Mason does a double-take when he sees me and finds everything done, the muscles along his stocky build bulging from his early morning workout. Unlike Sean, he tends to be more staid. Well, except around me.

“You working today, Trin?” he asks.

“Darlin’,” I reply. “I’m what you might call a responsible team captain. Even when I’m not working, I’m working. My heart and soul are part of this crew and this here beach. If you bleed, I bleed. If you weep, I weep. If you need a snack, I eat one right there with you.”

He looks at me over his sunglasses. “You’re waiting for Callahan, aren’t you?”

Wow. It’s like he has super powers or something.

“Is it that obvious?” I ask.

“It is,” he says, nodding thoughtfully. He straightens. “But it looks like you don’t have to wait much longer, here he comes. “My head whips to the side. “Made you look.”

I’m smacking his arm silly when he motions down the beach. “Oh, wait, Trin. He is here. He’s coming now.”

“Yeah, right. Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice, you suck―” He grabs my shoulders and spins me. I’m ready to whoop his ass when I see a very familiar and gorgeous figure headed my way. “It’s him.” I turn around and smack his arm again. “Did you have to man-handle me in front of my man?”

“Says the crazy woman attacking me.” He turns around and waves. “I’ll see you later, Trin. Sorry you can’t take a joke.”

“Later, Mason, sorry your momma named you after a jar.”

He laughs, despite it not being the first time he’s heard that one. He’s a good guy, that Mason.

So here’s my dilemma: I’m here, but I’m not here. And now that dreamboat of a man I’m here for, but not supposed to be here for, is headed toward me. Is this a good time to remind myself that everything usually makes more sense in my head? Probably not.

I brush off my sandy shorts and walk toward the water’s edge. I keep walking, pretending to dip my feet. As he nears, I offer a small smile, followed by a small wave. Pathetic? Probably. But it’s all I got, folks.

Instead of waving back―or heaven forbid,
smiling
―he surprises me by slowing to a stop next to me.

“Hi,” I say.

“Hi,” he mutters back.

I’m trying not to look at him. Really I am. But considering he’s not wearing a shirt and beads of ocean water are drizzling from his perfect pectorals, down his eight pack abs, to where his black board shorts rest low on his hips, it’s awful hard not to. If it means anything, I’m real proud I’m not wiping drool from my mouth.

He frowns as his eyes scan me from head to toe. “Why are you dressed like that?”

“Oh, cause it’s hot and it’s summer.”

I can tell he’s working not to roll his eyes. “Don’t you have a uniform to wear?”

“I would if I was working, but I’m off today.”

His brows furrow tighter and he angles his chin. “Then why are you here?”

“I’m in charge so sometimes I have to come in on my days off to make sure everything’s okay. It may not look it, but I run a real tight ship.”

His gaze skips to where Sean and Craig are trying to impress the new girls with their chicken arm farts. “You’re right, it doesn’t look it.”

I make a mental note to kill them later and I shrug. “Just boys having fun.”

Without looking at me, he motions ahead with a tilt of his chin. “I’m headed that way if you want to come. Unless you have to keep working on that tight ship of yours.”

By now Sean and Craig are pumping their arms to the tune of
Mary Had a Little Lamb
. “Nah, I’m sure they’ll be fine without me.”

I follow when he pushes off, both of us fall into that nice steady pace we developed. I wait for him to say something. When he doesn’t, I race a head to catch the wave sweeping and kick up water to splash him. He’s come to expect only smooth moves and maturity from me so I can’t exactly let him down.

“Something on your mind?” he asks, ignoring the water trickling along his firm and ogle-worthy abs. His tone sounds annoyed, but the tilt to his lips suggests otherwise.

“That was something the other night wasn’t it?” I say, resuming my pace beside him. “Obnoxious New Yorkers always coming down here causing problems.”

“They weren’t from New York,” he tells me.

“Jersey?”

“Nope.”

“Canada?”

He presses his lips tight. “They were from Texas. I caught sight of their license plate right before they sped off.”

I blow out air. “Well, that explains it. All the crazies are from Texas.”