Not Quite Broken: A Callaghan Family & Friends Romance

by Abbie Zanders

  “All righty then. Bye-bye!” Phoebe wrapped her arms around the other woman. Given the widening of Tori’s eyes, she hadn’t been expecting the impromptu, overexuberant hug, which led Brian to believe that she and Phoebe weren’t all that close. Everyone who knew Phoebe knew she got loud and affectionate when she had a few in her, hence Kieran’s directive that he remain nearby and on alert during the bachelorette party.

  To her credit, Tori rolled with it, returning the embrace with a slightly awkward pat on Phoebe’s back. Phoebe released her, planted a sloppy kiss on Tori’s cheek, swaying as she turned. Brian watched them go, shaking his head when Josh gave up trying to keep her on a straight path and swept Phoebe into his arms, carrying his tipsy fiancée through the exit to the back lot.

  “Can I get a bottled water or a seltzer or something?”

  Brian turned toward the quiet voice and obliged. Tori eased herself onto the barstool, discreetly wiping her cheek before pulling out her phone and frowning at the screen. A light scent of something clean and fresh tickled his nose, reminding him of mountain mornings and cool lake waters.

  “Problem?” he asked.

  “No, just having a little trouble getting in touch with my ride. I’m sure he’ll show, though.” She sounded doubtful as she pushed a bill across the counter. Brian pushed it right back. “No charge for water.”

  She nodded and sipped her drink. Brian’s eyes were immediately drawn to her mouth. She had full, soft-looking lips, a dark shade of pink that might or might not have been enhanced by lip tint. Not lipstick, though. In fact, she didn’t seem to be wearing much in the way of makeup at all.

  Catching himself, he snapped his eyes back up pronto, thankful that she didn’t seem to have noticed. There were women (like the one earlier) who were suited to the kind of no-strings relationships he was interested in, but his instincts told him Tori wasn’t one of them. Therefore, her pleasant fragrance and fresh face were strictly off-limits.

  He didn’t know her well, just enough to share a friendly nod or polite exchange. He’d seen her working out around BodyWorks over the last couple months, usually early in the morning. It would have been impossible not to notice her—Tori Donovan was a very attractive woman. Dark brown hair, light brown eyes with flecks of green, a curvy body that was toned but still soft-looking.

  They’d never really spoken. She tended to keep her earbuds in and her eyes to herself, completely unaware of the appreciative looks she received. He was guilty of looking, too – he was a guy, after all - but prided himself on being less obvious about it than some of the others.

  He’d overheard one of the guys say she was a physical therapist and had the hands of an angel. Personally, Brian was glad his therapist was a former Marine and fellow vet. At least he didn’t have to worry about sporting wood when Zeke put him through his paces.

  He kept busy, tending to other customers, shooting the shit, cleaning up and restocking. He refilled her water once, but other than that, they didn’t speak. She didn’t seem keen on striking up a conversation with him or anyone else, content to watch the late news on the suspended flat screen and scowl down at her phone occasionally.

  “Hey, Brian, turn that up, will you?” One of the regulars waved toward the mounted television where a “breaking news” banner flashed across the screen. Brian grabbed the remote and increased the volume.

  “...here at the edge of Grim’s Woods, where a group of local teens made the gruesome discovery earlier this evening. Official identification of the victim has not been released, but sources say they believe the remains are that of twenty-six year old Ashley Brunkowski, reported missing last month by concerned neighbors.”

  A picture of the missing woman appeared on the screen, along with a tip line number. Then the camera panned away to where a stretcher was being lifted over the guard rail, the image zooming in on the black body bag strapped onto it.

  “This is the third body in as many months, leading authorities to believe this is the work of the Lonely Hearts Killer. Police are asking anyone with information to come forward and are urging all women to take extra precautions, especially when traveling alone ...”

  Brian glanced over at Tori. Her eyes were on the screen, concern etched on her features. He wondered if she was taking extra precautions, then realized she probably was if she had made advance arrangements for someone to pick her up. Unfortunately, it didn’t look like those arrangements were panning out.

  She certainly seemed to be the cautious sort. While he’d seen her laughing and enjoying herself earlier, she hadn’t gone overboard. She wasn’t nearly as lit as the other women had been. Her eyes were a little brighter than normal, her peachy skin slightly flushed, but otherwise, she seemed steady and clear headed.

  And increasingly annoyed as the night wore on.

  When Brian made last call, she exhaled heavily and sighed.

  “No luck, huh?”

  She shook her head, dropping her eyes as if she was embarrassed. Before he could think better of it, the words were tumbling out. “Hey, his loss.”

  Her eyes snapped up. Brian pressed his lips together, determined not to say anything else. Then her eyes softened and she gifted him with a small smile. “You’re right. It is his loss.”

  She stood and tugged at her top, smoothing it over her hips self-consciously. As before, his eyes latched onto the movement. He wanted to tell her she had nothing to be self-conscious about but decided against it. She might misunderstand and then things would become awkward.

  She looked up at him, those pretty brown and green eyes reaching farther than most. And once again, his brain to mouth filter disengaged and went AWOL. “I can give you a ride.”

  Her eyes widened slightly and for a moment, he thought she would take him up on it, but then she shook her head. “Thanks, but I’ll just call an Uber or something.”

  Equal parts relief and disappointment flooded through him, and yet his mouth seemed determined to continue on its suicide mission. The news report and images of that body bag flashed in his mind’s eye, his protective instincts rushing up to the surface – instincts that had been forged and honed by being the big brother to two younger sisters.

  “It’s almost two in the morning. Do you really want to take your chances with someone you don’t know?”

  Technically, she didn’t really know him, either, but he was a familiar face and a friend of a friend. He figured that was close enough.

  “No, but... I don’t want to put you out.” She worried her bottom lip and pulled at the hem of her shirt. It must have been these small tells of vulnerability that were screwing with his good sense. He’d always been a sucker when it came to women in need of assistance, his white-knight tendencies rearing their ugly heads. His sister, Lacie, said that was one of the reasons he and Kieran got along so well. Apparently the youngest Callaghan was afflicted with the same sense of chivalry as he was.

  “Where do you live?”

  “Butler Street.”

  “Not a problem. It’s on my way.” It wasn’t.

  He waited, unaware he was holding his breath until she nodded. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure. Just give me five minutes to lock-up.”

  Chapter Two

  Tori ignored the tiny flutter that tried to take up residence behind her rib cage. Brian McCain was just being nice. His offer to give her a ride didn’t mean anything.

  The serial nutcase who had been terrorizing the region had everyone on edge. Women were looking over their shoulders and men—particularly the protective types—were stepping up their game.

  She wasn’t complaining. People could call her old-fashioned, but she liked knowing that someone cared enough to make the effort, and having big, strong men keeping watchful eyes made her feel safer.

  Unfortunately, the guy she was seeing (emphasis on was) didn’t seem to care nearly as much. Granted, their relationship was still fairly new. They’d only gone out a few times, so maybe she was expecting too much. />
  You’ve never gone out with Brian McCain and he’s stepping up, her inner voice whispered.

  Yes, well, not all men are created equal. Some are more chivalrous than others.

  Clearly.

  It wasn’t even as if she had asked Cole to be her designated driver. He had been the one to offer when they’d been in the BodyWorks lobby with a group of others discussing the bachelorette party.

  Yes, but that was only after Kieran put him on the spot and gave him the stink eye.

  Still, he could have said no. She wouldn’t have taken it too personally. She certainly would have preferred that to getting stood up.

  It would have made him look bad, though, and Cole is all about looking good.

  True enough.

  “All done. Ready to go?”

  She nodded, silencing her internal conversation and gathering her phone and purse. Brian held the door open for her and she walked through, offering a quiet thank you to let him know she appreciated the courtesy.

  They went into the back lot, where Brian pointed to a Jeep Wrangler. Judging by the mud splattered along the front and sides, he liked off-roading, too.

  “Hope this is okay,” he said almost apologetically as he opened the door for her there, too.

  “Perfect.” She used the running board and the suspended hand grip to lift herself into the passenger seat. “I’ve got one myself.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Yeah?”

  “You seem surprised.”

  “Not a lot of women drive Jeeps.”

  The response tumbled out before she could stop it. “I’m not a lot of women.”

  The drive across town was quiet but not uncomfortable. Tori inhaled the scents of leather, peppermint, and some kind of manly soap. A classic rock station played on the radio, loud enough to be heard but not overly so. She had the same station programmed in her Jeep as well.

  She resisted the urge to look at him, forcing herself to be content with stolen glances and peripheral vision. Brian McCain was a fine-looking man with his somewhat shaggy dark blonde hair and a brown and gold peppered shadow gracing a strong, masculine jaw line. She also knew (from a purely professional perspective) that beneath the blue Jake’s Irish Pub polo and faded Levi’s was a lot of lean, corded muscle.

  It was his eyes, though, that really gave her a case of the tinglies. A light, cerulean blue framed by long, dark brown lashes. When he turned those eyes her way, it set off tiny sparks through her entire body (some spots more so than others). Sometimes, they flashed with such haunting pain that her heart ached for him.

  She didn’t know the whole story; she wasn’t sure anyone did, except maybe a select, privileged few. The little bit she did know was common knowledge among the Pine Ridge community: that he and his unit had been captured on a mission overseas and held as prisoners of war for three years.

  Three years of being tortured and treated like an animal. She couldn’t even imagine the kind of damage that did to one’s psyche. She had seen some of what it had done to his body, though. Brief glimpses here and there when he was working out. Visible scars crisscrossed over his back, as if someone had scored him like a Christmas ham. Divots and gouges along his legs from wounds that hadn’t been treated properly and had festered at some point.

  She had some scars, too, but hers weren’t so easily seen.

  When she thought of him, imagined what he must have endured, she wanted to wrap him in her arms, hold him close, and keep anything bad from ever happening to him again.

  She wouldn’t do that, of course. They barely knew one another, really, and for as chivalrous as he was, he was also a reserved, private kind of guy. He guarded his personal space closely, and, she noticed, avoided physical contact whenever possible. That was something she understood. She was a private person, too.

  In fact, it appeared as though they had a lot in common.

  All too soon Brian turned onto Butler Street and she directed him to her place. It was an older house that had been converted into apartments, one on the first floor and one on the second. The location wasn’t the nicest section of town, but the rent was affordable for someone still paying off the last of her student loans. In another few months she’d be debt-free and she could start looking for a better place – assuming she decided to stick around. She hadn’t made her mind up about that yet. The Pine Ridge / Birch Falls area was beautiful, but other than her job, there was nothing else—no one else—keeping her around.

  He pulled up to the curb, then hopped out and was opening her door before she had a chance to tell him it wasn’t necessary. How often did a guy do that these days? She figured she might as well enjoy it while she could. She thanked him again and he seemed pleased that she had.

  He walked with her to the side of the house, where a set of exterior stairs led to her second-floor entrance. Tori didn’t miss the way his eyes moved as they did, scanning the area, noting every detail. It must have been a military thing. He did that even at the gym when he was working out.

  Then he turned those blue eyes on her, and as usual, her heart skipped a beat. She dropped her gaze, hoping to keep him from seeing the kind of effect he had on her. If he had even an inkling of the things her subconscious had dreamed up involving him, he would be running far and fast in the opposite direction. Maybe she couldn’t be held accountable for those late night fantasies, but she could control what she did when she was awake and alert.

  “Thanks for the ride.”

  “No problem.”

  He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, a slight movement caught by her trained eye. That was the only indication of his discomfort, though his back, hips, and legs must have been screaming after all those hours on his feet.

  So why was he still standing there? Was he waiting for an invitation? The irrational side of her mind started firing off possibilities, grasping at the potential of asking him if he wanted to come up, get off his feet after a long night behind the bar and have a cup of coffee.

  She lifted her head slowly, bracing herself for the power of those eyes. They captured the light from the small, carriage-style porch light spilling down from above, making them appear to glow. They were some powerful eyes. And completely unreadable at that moment.

  “I’ll wait until you’re safely inside,” he said finally, dispelling her silly, romantic notions.

  Tori dropped her head again, digging into her purse for the keys she already held in her hand, hoping he wouldn’t see the heat of embarrassment coloring her cheeks.

  “Right. Thanks.”

  She thought she caught a slight frown from the corner of her eye, but she didn’t dare look again. She moved quickly up the stairs and stabbed the key into the lock. With a quick wave and a glance over the top of his head, she bolted into the apartment and closed the door behind her.

  Breathing heavily, she moved to the window and peeked outside. Brian continued to stare up at the door for several long seconds, then turned and walked back toward his Jeep.

  Tori turned away from the window and leaned against the wall, softly bumping the back of her head against the hard surface several times. “You are an idiot, Victoria Donovan,” she murmured into the silence. “Stop overanalyzing. Not every little thing means something. Brian McCain is just one of those rare guys who believes in treating a woman like a lady. That’s all. Don’t read into it. He’s not interested in you.”

  She thought too much, that was her problem. She couldn’t help it, though. People were rarely completely honest about what they were thinking or feeling. Tori often used subtle cues – a hesitation here, a catch in breath there, a blink held a moment too long – to “read” her clients and adjust things accordingly. Being able to do so was an advantage on the job, especially with strong, silent types like Brian McCain. They were more likely to tough things out rather than admit that something hurt and as a result, hinder their own progress.

  Off the job, sensing subtle shifts in behavior could mean the difference between getting out
of harm’s way in time and not.

  Those habits, once learned, were hard to break.

  Her college roommate, a psychology major, had been very blunt on the subject, telling Tori the reason she didn’t have many friends was because her ability to see beyond the surface made people uncomfortable. Unfortunately, her ability to “read” body language and expressions wasn’t something she could simply turn off. Ignore it, yes. She had become quite good at that... which could explain why she’d found herself alone at the bar without a ride.

  If she had paid attention, she would have made a back-up plan for getting home, or better yet, just driven herself.

  Cole was attractive, there was no doubt about that, but the spark wasn’t there. She wanted more. A connection. Mutual trust and respect. Things that she and Cole did not have, as proven by his no-show.

  As she got ready for bed, she thought about texting him again, but decided against it. There was a reason he hadn’t responded to the half dozen or so she’d already sent from the bar; one more wasn’t going to make a difference. Maybe something had happened that prevented him from doing so, but she doubted it. The more likely scenario was, he had found something better to do, but until she knew for sure, she would ignore her wounded ego and suspend judgment.

  Chapter Three

  After ensuring that Tori made it safely inside her apartment, Brian walked back to his Jeep, a jumble of unlikely questions in his mind. Had that been a rosy flush across her face or just a play of shadows? A flash of feminine interest he’d seen in her pretty eyes or a trick of the light?

  He shook his head and swung himself up into the vehicle, ignoring the stab of pain across his lower back and hips, zinging down into his legs. It was a timely reminder, one that told him he was overanalyzing again, looking for things that weren’t there. No one who had seen beneath the cotton and denim, who knew his story, would truly want him.

  The nameless woman at the bar earlier, she was different. A stranger. She had no knowledge of where he’d been or what had happened. More importantly, she didn’t care. She saw only the outer shell, the false façade, a man who looked as if he could scratch an itch and do it well. She wasn’t wrong. But that was where he drew the line.