Page 16 of Inseverable (Carolina Beach)

“Maybe. Maybe not. But you’re assuming I said yes,” I tell him. “At least a few times, by the sounds of it.” It’s what I say, but this time, I’m the one who’s suddenly shy.

“I’m not judging you if you did.”

His thick brows draw in tight. To anyone passing by, he may appear angry. But I catch the trickles of concern in his tone. He thinks he may have insulted me.

“You could have said no,” he adds. “And you probably did for a long time. But pretty girls like you don’t usually stay virgins for long.”

My lips part and I feel myself straighten. “You think I’m pretty?”

His eyes widen as if he can’t believe what he just said?or what I just said?orsomething.

“Trin!”

His stare locks on mine.

“Trin!”

I stand there waiting.

“Trin!”

And still he says nothing.

“Trinity!”

I whip my head around. “What?”

Sean stops short. I didn’t mean to yell. But every girl needs a moment with a cute guy. Can’t he see I’m having mine?

“Found the surfboard we use for rescues,” he says.

I throw my hands out. “That’sawesome?” I realize I’m still yelling and try to calm. “Sorry. That’s good. Good. Uh. Thank . . . you.”

He nods, backing away with his hands out. “PMS. I get it. I’ll try to find you some chocolate.”

I turn my head to say something?anything?to Callahan. But he’s gone, long gone. With a sigh, I watch his brawny form disappear down the beach.

Chapter Six

Callahan

Jed wasn’t messing when he said the start of the season would kick in come June. Bobbie Lee, the owner, hired three cocktail waitresses and another two bartenders to mix in the outside bar. The combined forces should have been enough, but they weren’t. Not with the tourists coming in droves, and the die-hard regulars who never miss a Friday night.

I fill a tray with shots of rum and hand the waitress a bucket of ice stuffed with Coronas. Cindy, Sally?something like that?gives me a wink and a not-so subtle thrust from her chest.

“Thanks, Callahan,” she says, adding yet another wink in case I missed the first.

I ignore her and keep pouring, working fast. The only good thing about the crowd is that my shift is flying. I’m beat, and beat up. Haven’t slept much this week despite all my grueling work-outs and my even longer runs.

A familiar laugh catches my attention out on the deck. Trinity. Of course she’s laughing. That woman probably hasn’t known a bad day in her life by the sounds of it. She glances up and catches my stare. Her smile vanishes when she sees me and she looks away, back to those friends she always skips in with.

I can’t really blame her considering I’d spent the entire week ditching her. Instead of running at seven like I had been, I run at five (I’m up anyway) or wait till sundown on nights I don’t work. I say it’s because I don’t want or need the company she offers. I tell myself she annoys me. And I do my best to convince myself that being alone is the right thing for a man like me. Don’t need friends. Lost too many as is.

It’s what I tell myself constantly. But after last night, I know it’s all bullshit.

Magenta Grove Beach Resort officially closes at seven. What I mean by “officially” is that the lifeguards are no longer on duty and it’s a swim at your own risk deal. I thought I was safe waiting for that moon to rise. But when I reached her post, she was there. My eyes cut to where she and a couple of lifeguards were piling out of that small shack they use as an office.

Near as I could figure, they were finishing up a meeting. Her laughter trailed as I neared so I knew she saw me. This time she didn’t wave. Didn’t smile. Didn’t have anything to say. In a way, I expected her to say or dosomething. What I didn’t expect was that look of hurt I caught as I passed by.

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