Page 9 of Inseverable (Carolina Beach)

As friendly as I can be, I’ll admit I was more than a little intimidated by him. The fact that he’s gorgeous may have had something to do with it, and so might the little tidbit that those hands could bust a skull open with a single squeeze. That doesn’t mean that I won’t try again. He’s not exactly enthralled by my charm, mind you, but right around closing, I did catch him looking at me. His stare didn’t linger . . . yet it was there, totally taking me by surprise.

What surprised me more was he didn’t seem to notice Becca.

I glance at her as she shoves the shorts down her tiny waist and long legs, her large breasts bouncing as she shimmies her hips. Y’all,everyonenotices Becca!

Except maybe Callahan.

It affirms my suspicions that he’s seen, or maybe done, more than his conscience could live with. And it breaks my heart. But his sadness draws me, making me determined to get to know him, and hopefully lift his spirits.

In a way, I’m actually freaked out that I’m attracted to Callahan. It’s something I haven’t felt or wanted in like, forever. And again, while I don’t know him, I can’t suppress my grin every time I think about him.

Those hands—how they passed along the bar in smooth motions—makes me wonder if he’s a gentle lover or one who takes full control. Not that it matters now or maybe ever. Men, especially who look like him, always think “little sis” not “little minx” when they see me coming. It’s not that I think I’m ugly, but no way will I win him over with my looks—not with the supermodel types scattered all over Kiawah. So tonight I’d used what I had, my personality, even though it accidently ended up all over his face with a touch of lime.

I meant to make him laugh when I spoke to him, or at the very least smile. He did neither. Given I’m stubborn, I see his rebuff more like a challenge. And given my insane need to save the world, and leave it a little brighter, I also see him as something more.

“What you smiling about, shug?” Becca asks as she fumbles through the linen closet for a towel.

“Callahan,” I answer truthfully because it’s Becks, and I can.

“Fair enough.” She turns on the water and blasts it until steam starts to cloud the glass doors. “How do you think he’d be in bed?”

I laugh because it’s so like Becks to go there with me. Southern ladies are like that, all proper and polite in public, but not so much in private. “I’m thinking rough and hard,” I admit, remembering the ease with which he carried that keg in from the back room. “What about you?”

“Oh, girl, my guess is that man will ride you like a bronco straight from the gate until a rodeo clown runs in to save you.” She strips out of her bathing suit, revealing a body that’s totally unfair and hops in the shower. “Did you get me something to wear?”

“Yes,” I answer. “But I think you’re better off in one of my daddy’s T-shirts.”

She runs the soap over her melons as I drop away my towel and stare at my strawberries. “For the love of all,” I say, when they appear to be laughing at us.

“Don’t complain,” she insists when she catches me eyeing my so-called rack. “You’ve got plenty. I have too much. It’s a wonder I haven’t bumped into a grade schooler and killed him.”

“Or blinded one during winter,” I agree, pulling my nightshirt over my head.

She cracks up, slipping out of the shower as I head into my parents’ room.

I toss her one of Daddy’s old T-shirts when she joins me. She’s pulls on a pair of the panties I’d brought from my room because not only is she big on top, but tiny on the bottom. Sometimes the scales of sexy totally tilt in someone else’s favor, regardless of the rest of us jumping on the other side.

Becca shifts into bed after me, we roll to face each other just as we’ve done a thousand times over the years. “Can I ask you something without you thinking I’m feeling sorry for myself?” I ask.

She brushes a strand of my wet hair from my face. “You know you can ask me anything.”

I know I can, but it doesn’t make what I have to ask any easier. “Do you think I could get someone like Callahan interested in me? I know he’s different from other guys I’ve dated, but . . . do you think I might stand a chance?”

She analyzes me closely, her eyes searching my face as her hand slips away from my hair. “Trin, you’re smart, you’re beautiful; you can have any man you want.”

I shake my head, but not at the sting her words cause. “We both know that’s not true,” I remind her softly.

A flicker of anger finds its way into her face, and voice. “You’re better off without him,andher.”

I know she’s right, but it’s not just Hunter I’m talking about. After years of too many men calling me their best friend, it’s hard to consider myself the man-killer Becca is trying to make me out to be. Hunter was the first cute guy I liked, who thought I was cute back. The only guy to ever pledge his love for me, only to ultimately betray me. It’s not exactly a stellar record on my end.

“I don’t want to think about them,” I admit truthfully, wanting to leave the past where it belongs. “Let’s get back to Callahan, okay?”

“All right,” she says, softening her tone and her expression.

My short nails skim along the mattress. “Be honest with me,” I tell her. “Can someone like him maybe like someone like me?”

She watches me carefully. “As more than a fuck?” she asks.

---