One in a Million

by Jill Shalvis

  “I don’t change diapers.”

  “She’s old but not that old,” Callie said. “Aren’t you too busy for this with school and your work here on the boat?”

  “I’m never too busy to make more cash.”

  “What do you need cash for?” she asked, curious.

  He shrugged, but she could tell he was holding back.

  “A girl?” she asked.

  “Maybe. Maybe just a neighbor.”

  Smartass. She liked that. And him. She was still ribbing him when his dad showed up with Cole and Sam. Each moved in a way that commanded a woman’s attention. That they were all smart and self-made had a lot to do with that, but there was no denying that they were each gorgeous in their own way. And yet Callie’s gaze latched onto Tanner and held.

  Around them the morning was gray, the weather was bordering on stormy. Temps hovered in the forties.

  And yet the guys were in board shorts. In deference to the windchill, they also had on sweatshirts. Tanner’s hood was up and he wore dark sunglasses and some dark stubble.

  GQ does Sports Illustrated.

  As Callie took in the sight of him, her heart kicked hard. Her gaze shifted over his body but stuttered to a halt when it came to his left leg and the scar revealed there from the hem of his board shorts to midshin.

  From the rig fire.

  The sight of it drove home just how lethal and scary his life had been and how close he’d come to not making it back, which would have left a big hole in a lot of lives, including her own.

  Tanner had picked up the provisions for the cruise they were chartering later. He and the guys had walked down the dock to the boat together, but when Tanner saw Callie on the boat looking like she belonged there, laughing with his son, he forgot about Sam and Cole, forgot his job entirely. Just seeing Troy smile at all felt like a gift. Add Callie to the mix and it was a lot to take in.

  They both seemed to catch sight of him at the same time and their amusement died. Callie’s gaze held…affection? A lingering desire? Hell, that might be his imagination, but he’d like to think she was remembering the last time she’d seen him, when she’d had her tongue in his mouth.

  Or maybe that was just him thinking about it.

  A lot.

  All the time.

  Then her gaze drifted south. Way south. Past any good parts to his scarred-up leg, and Tanner didn’t miss the flash of horror and pity.

  And damn if he didn’t wish he’d worn jeans.

  Troy’s expression didn’t hold much but teenage pissiness. Not a surprise. All Tanner had to do was breathe and he irritated the kid.

  He’d told himself that was the way of things. It was the rite of passage for a teenager to resent the hell out of his dad.

  Tanner certainly had, sight unseen.

  Sam and Cole greeted Callie warmly and Tanner met Troy’s gaze. “How’s it going? You get the floors belowdecks too?”

  “Not yet,” Troy said.

  “I distracted him,” Callie said, and smiled at Troy. “Sharp kid. He’s interested in helping me handle Lucille and her antics, if that’s okay with you.”

  “Of course.”

  “That’s nice of you to help,” Cole said to Troy.

  “That’s me,” Troy said with more than a hint of irony. “Nice. A real chip off the old block.”

  Sam barked a quick laugh and reached out and snagged Troy with an arm around the neck, giving him a noogie. “Watch your mouth, kid. Your dad’s dunked me for less.”

  “Dunked?” Troy asked.

  Sam gestured to the water.

  Troy looked over the edge of the boat at the dark, choppy water. “You’d get hypothermia today.”

  “Nah,” Sam said. “He almost always rescues you in time.”

  Troy looked at Tanner. “He’s kidding, right?”

  “Nope,” Cole broke in with a straight face. “You know he was a SEAL, yeah? If he doesn’t get to you in time it’s because he didn’t want to.”

  Troy gulped audibly.

  Cole grinned at Tanner. “We’ll meet you at the hut.”

  And with that, Cole and Sam left the dock.

  Tanner looked at Callie. He would’ve liked to pull her in close and see if she’d melt against him like she had yesterday, but they had a young, impressionable audience watching them with avid curiosity.

  And then there was the fact that Tanner had walked away from what he and Callie had started. Which made him an idiot. “I need to unload these provisions,” he said, and gestured to the bags in his hands.

  “Don’t mind me,” she said. “I was just out for a walk. I’m headed back to do more work.”

  Tanner was standing in the boat’s galley putting things away when he heard the voices.

  “Just neighbors, huh?” Troy said.

  “Yep,” Callie replied, emphasis on the “p” sound.

  “You didn’t look at him like you were just neighbors,” Troy said. “And you stared at his leg.”

  “I hadn’t seen his scar before,” Callie said.

  “He got it in a fire on the oil rigs,” Troy told her. “He nearly died.”

  There was no sullenness in the boy’s voice, Tanner noted. No negativity at all, in fact.

  “I’m glad he’s not still working out there,” Callie said.

  “I’m not sure he can,” Troy said. “You’ve seen him limp.”

  Tanner winced but it was fact. He limped. He probably always would. Realizing he was straining to eavesdrop, he attempted to ignore them and unloaded the bags.

  “His limp isn’t that noticeable,” Callie said. “And the Tanner I know wouldn’t let anything stop him from doing what he wanted to do—” She broke off at the sound of a text coming through. There was a beat of silence and then she snorted.

  “What?” Troy asked.

  “It’s my work, from a bride. She says: My shoes are at least a shade off from my dress—exclamation point, exclamation point, exclamation point. The wedding’s going to be ruined!” Callie sighed. “My poor, overwrought, overly emotional bride.”

  “You’ve got brides texting you?” Troy asked.

  “It’s my job to deal with them,” she said. “I don’t know why I do it.”

  “Why do you?”

  “Well,” she said thoughtfully. “We all do things we don’t necessarily want to do.”

  “Yeah,” Troy said, sounding mopey. “Like mopping a boat. But you’re a grown-up. You get to do whatever you want.”

  Callie laughed. “That’s so not true. There are consequences to everything, you must know that. And responsibilities, which only grow as you get older. We all end up doing things that we don’t always want to.”

  “Like?” Troy asked.

  “Like your dad didn’t necessarily want to be out there on the rigs.”

  “Yeah, he did,” Troy said. “Just like he’d rather be working in South America for the winter on some big diving job instead of here with me.”

  “I think you’re wrong,” Callie responded, her voice far more serious now. “He could’ve taken a job in South America but he’s here because he wants to be. He wants to be with you.”

  Tanner strained to hear Troy’s response, but if the teen said anything more, he didn’t catch it. A few minutes later he made his way above deck and found Troy alone, back at work mopping.

  Callie was halfway up the dock.

  Tanner called out to her and, feeling Troy’s eyes on his back, headed her way. She’d stopped and was watching him.

  Tanner rarely gave his leg much thought other than the fact that it ached like a sonofabitch, but in that moment he’d have paid big bucks to have a normal gait. “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey yourself. Your son’s a great kid.”

  “He’s got his moments.”

  “So you’re okay with me hiring him to babysit Lucille?” she asked.

  “If he wants, sure.”

  “He said he does.” She tilted her head to the side. “You okay?”

&n
bsp; The leg, she meant. “Fine. Are you going to brave the bakery for breakfast?”

  She arched a brow.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Well, first of all, you’re not okay. You’re frowning. You’re frustrated, and your leg is bothering you.”

  “What does that have to do with breakfast?” he asked, baffled.

  “It doesn’t. But I asked if you were okay and you said fine. When you’re clearly not fine,” she pointed out, sounding perturbed.

  He paused. “I know you’re speaking in English but—”

  “Never mind.” With a head shake, she started to walk off.

  He stared after her, wondering when the hell they’d taken a turn into Crazy-Ville. “Callie.”

  “Gotta go.” Halfway down the dock, she turned to him, still walking. “I’m having breakfast with Olivia and Becca. And then I’m getting a new coffeemaker. I’m going to be making my own coffee from now on.”

  Yeah, that didn’t sound like it boded well for him. “How about the doughnuts?”

  “I’m just giving them up.”

  “Cold turkey?”

  “Cold turkey,” she said. “They say that’s how it’s best done.”

  Something was off. They were off—which was his own doing. He opened his mouth to somehow try to fix things but she turned away again and walked off.

  And he let her.

  He walked back to the boat where Troy was leaning on the mop watching him, shaking his head.

  “What?” Tanner asked.

  “She’s into you.”

  “We’re…”

  “Neighbors?” Troy asked, heavy on the dry.

  “Yeah.” Tanner rubbed a hand over his face. “Sort of.”

  Troy snorted. “Did you not see the way she looked at you? Jeez, even I know what that means.”

  Tanner had to shake his head. “You usually avoid talking to me and suddenly you’re all chatty, and this is the conversation you want to have?”

  Troy shrugged. “I like her.”

  “I do too.”

  “But you’re screwing it up.”

  “No, I’m not,” Tanner said. Yes, you are…

  Troy just looked at him. “You know a lot about a lot of stuff,” he finally said. Tanner didn’t have the time to enjoy the compliment before Troy went on. “But I don’t think you have much game.”

  He actually sounded pretty disappointed about this, and Tanner found himself coming to his own defense, ridiculous as it was. “I have plenty of game.”

  Troy didn’t look impressed so Tanner repeated it, like he was fifteen too. “I do.”

  Or he used to anyway. He eyed the dock. The empty dock. Because Callie was long gone. And that’s when he realized it was true.

  He had absolutely no game.

  Chapter 13

  In the good news department, Troy spent the next several afternoons with Callie’s grandma and was earning his pay. The first day when she picked him up from the art gallery to drive him home, he came out to the car, slouched in his seat, and said, “Yeah, she’s crazy. And also she’s dating some guy who’s older than dirt.”

  “Mr. Wykowski,” she said. “He’s nice.”

  “Yeah, he pulled me aside and said he’d double my salary if I sabotage her run for mayor.”

  “What?” Callie squeaked.

  “Don’t worry, I don’t have to do anything illegal. Just go around and take down the posters she puts up, the ones that say ‘Lucille for Mayor of Lucky Harbor and Beyond!’”

  “Oh my God.”

  Troy grinned and for a moment he looked so much like his father that it had taken her breath.

  She missed Tanner. Badly. Silly to miss a guy after three breakfasts and one kiss, but she missed him with an ache that suggested she’d put far too much importance on what had turned out to be just a renewal of her silly crush. “Did my grandma make you tell her all your secrets?” she asked Troy.

  “Every single one,” he said with a sigh.

  “It takes practice to learn to resist her,” Callie told him. “You’ll do better as time goes on.”

  “What’s going on?” Becca asked Callie at breakfast three mornings after she’d met Troy and scared Tanner off but good.

  “Nothing,” she said, and quickly dove into her pancakes.

  Becca and Olivia exchanged a look that Callie chose to ignore. She’d learned that was her best tactic because if she gave an inch, her two new friends took a mile.

  Or two.

  “You sure?” Olivia asked.

  “Mm-hmm,” Callie said, nodding, shoving in another bite of pancakes. She was starving. This was what happened when you closed yourself in your apartment and worked for three straight days without coming up for air.

  “You know we really like you, right?” Becca asked.

  Callie chewed, swallowed, and nodded. “Yep. Sure.”

  “She doesn’t know,” Olivia told Becca.

  Becca sighed. “Okay, Callie, I need you to listen to me. You’ve got all that really great strawberry blond hair with those natural curls that look effortless, and you have the kind of naturally fit body that doesn’t require hours of torture in the gym, and you don’t even need makeup, and women everywhere probably line up to hate you, but I can’t do it. I can’t hate you.”

  “Me either,” Olivia said. “In fact, we kind of want to be you.”

  Becca nodded.

  Callie stared at them both. “Did you both lace your orange juice with liquor?”

  “You get to work from home with your PJs and Shrek slippers,” Olivia said. “I’m so jealous of the slippers. But back to the point.”

  “Yes,” Becca said. “The point. Let’s start with the evidence, shall we?” She set her phone on the table so that both Olivia and Callie could see the screen. “Earlier in the week you managed to spill your coffee, your purse, and your pride all over the bakery floor and get onto Instagram as Lucky Harbor’s cutest but most klutzy bachelorette.”

  “That pic was supposed to be taken down,” Callie said.