Page 65 of Inseverable (Carolina Beach)

And that place is with Trinity.

Trin leaves her friends at the table and makes her way to the bar where I’m working, a big grin fixed on her face and a sparkle as bright as sunshine lighting her irises. She’s already had a long day on the beach, and I’m scheduled until closing. That doesn’t hamper her enthusiasm, or the smile spreading along my face. I’ve missed her all day, and I’m glad she’s finally with me.

Neither of us slept much the night before seeing how we couldn’t keep our hands, or mouths, off each other. I know she’s tired despite the bounce to her step? I am, too. But it’s hard being apart, so when we’re together we make it count.

Last night she had friends over at her parents’ place so I stayed there. Tonight, she’ll be at mine.

I lean over the bar and give her a quick kiss, smiling against her lips when she laughs. “What’ll it be, sweet thing?”

She taps her chin and glances at the ceiling like she’s giving it actual thought?like she’s not going to order four pitchers of Bud and enough Hot Damn shots to pass out to her entire crew. “How about a few bottles of Armand de Brignac? Oh! And your best cognac. Nineteen forty-seven was a good year, wasn’t it?”

She throws back her head, laughing when I give her a knowing glance and start pouring the Hot Damn shots.

“Well, now see?” she says. “You dismiss my oh-so classy suggestions and leave me with no choice but to retaliate.”

I tilt the bottle up so I don’t spill and groan. “No, Trin. Not that.”

She pulls a dollar bill from her pocket, wiggling it and her ass as she heads toward the jukebox. I know what she’s going do. But when Blake Shelton’s latest ends andGangnam Stylebegins I know I’ve died and gone to hell.

I might have mentioned that if Trin’s dancing, then so is everyone in the damn place?her crew, the Brewsters, Old Man Perrington, the Rossens?allthe locals?even the tourists she coaxes onto the floor. Hell, even Lindsey joins in, taking her place beside Sean now that she’s sunk her fangs in him.

I catch Jed’s arm before he jumps over the bar. “Donotencourage her,” I warn.

“I can’t help it, Cal,” he tells me, laughing. “Your woman’s too damn cute to resist.”

He leaps over the bar, joining the line of people doing those God-awful moves. I continue to fill the pitchers and mutter a curse. Jed didn’t mean any disrespect against Trin, or what we have. But his words are a reminder of how many men notice my girl. At first glance, they think she’s cute, and she is. But for those whose stares linger, they see what I see, a beautiful young woman with an undeniable sex appeal.

The line dancing continues, the stomps to the floor rough enough to shake the boards beneath my feet. The men closest to her watch her tear it up, unable to look away. Two things stop me from launching over the bar and making a stake on my claim: One, they’re keeping respectable distance. Two, Trin doesn’t even seem to notice them. She’s busy looking at me as she wiggles, and flashes me that grin she doesn’t share with anyone else.

I wink her way and keep working, all the while making sure she stays safe. When the song begins to mercifully end, I see someone I don’t recognize walk in. He’s wearing a jacket, a baseball cap, and sunglasses, and keeping his head low. He doesn’t want to be seen, and carefully makes his way around the group, going unnoticed.

My hackles rise, knowing he’s up to something. I clutch the glass I just filled with scotch and make my way closer to where this guy is now leaning over the jukebox. He’s young, and he appears slightly familiar. But his profile doesn’t offer a decent view of his face, especially with those glasses and that cap. He smiles when he finds something he likes and slips in a dollar.

Trin’s making her way back to me when Toby Keith’s version ofMocking Bird?the duet he sings with his daughter ?starts to play. She grounds to a halt, her eyes wide and frantic as she searches her surroundings. My eyes cut to the stranger, who’s slipped off his jacket, hat, and glasses and is placing them across the bar.

Trin clasps her hands over her mouth and screams when she sees him. She’s . . .excitedthat he’s here. And this guy, instead of waving or saying, “Hi,” is walking over to her, singing out loud to this song.

This idiot is singing tomygirl.

And she’s singing back!

They’re dancing their way to each other, closing the space between them as they fucking serenade each other. This isn’t a pal of Trin’s. Any moron can see he’s something special to her, and that headoresher. Now everyone’s gathered around them, clapping to the beat and hollering in encouragement.

I don’t realize how hard I’m squeezing the glass until it shatters in my hand. Scotch and ice drench my palm and arm. I fling the pieces in the trash, ready to bash this asshole’s face in.

Hale’s hard smack to my chest keeps me from hurtling myself across the bar. “Calm your shit,” he says, laughing. “That’s Landon, her brother.”

My focus cuts from them and back to him. “What?”

“I said that’s her brother.” He peeks through the crowd, his smile widening. “And here come Owen and Silvie Summers.” He claps my shoulder and takes a swig of his beer. “Looks like it’s time to meet the family, Callahan.”

Sure enough, Trin’s losing her mind. She squeals as a middle-aged man with white hair and a round frame shoved into khakis and a polo shirt steps in to dance, shaking his hips like Elvis and holding tight to Trin’s future self.

Silvie Summers is a little heavier than Trin, her long hair tied back in a braid and white instead of dark brown. But her face and that grin are proof enough that’s her momma Trin’s dancing with.

They finish the song, everyone cheering as Trin flings her arms around her family and showers them with kisses. As they calm, she says something that makes them glance in my direction. Owen’s and Landon’s grins fade.

Silvie is the only one who keeps her smile, leaning in to speak against Trin’s ear. “That’s him?” I watch her mouth.

---