One in a Million (21 page)

He had no idea if that was “I can’t believe you’re doing this,” or “please God, don’t do this.” Taking his chances, he sank to a knee.

Callie’s hand dropped from her mouth and she gaped at him.

“Callie,” he said. “You’re the love of my life and my closest friend.”

“Wait a minute,” Cole said. “What am I, chopped liver? Whatever happened to bros before—”

Sam wrapped an arm around Cole’s neck and covered his mouth. “Got him,” he said to Tanner. “Carry on.”

Jesus. Tanner looked at Callie again. “You’re it for me,” he told her. “To the bone. And I want to be it for you. The end of the line.”

Callie’s eyes filled but she was smiling. He was going to take that as a good sign. “You’ve said you never felt particularly special,” he said, “but you’re the most special woman I’ve ever met. You’re smarter than me, far prettier, and frankly, I’m not going to lie—you should really give this some serious thought because you could do better.”

She choked out a laugh.

“Dad! Don’t tell her that. You might make her think.”

Sam snorted.

Cole grinned.

Tanner did his best to ignore the peanut gallery. “No one will ever love you as much as I do,” he told her.

“Nice,” Sam said.

Lucille sniffed.

Callie yanked Tanner up and threw herself at him. “Yes. God, yes!”

“Um, honey,” Lucille said. “He hasn’t actually asked yet.”

“Oh, my God.” Callie tried to pull back, but Tanner wouldn’t let her. No fucking way. He was grinning when he kissed her.

“Callie Sharpe,” he said against her mouth, “marry me.”

She was laughing and crying when she kissed him back, and from behind her she heard her grandma say, “Well, that was more like telling her than asking, but it looks like she’s good with it.”

“I don’t know,” Troy said. “She didn’t really answer, did she?”

“The answer is yes,” Callie said, staring up into Tanner’s warm gaze. “Always yes.”

“Good to know,” Tanner said.

“Don’t forget I’m a minister,” Lucille said. “Got ordained on the Internet. I could marry you! Just think of the wedding you could plan for yourself.”

Horrified, Callie looked at Tanner. “Do you want a big wedding?”

“I want you, babe,” he said. “However that comes. Whatever makes you happy.”

“That’s a good answer,” Sam said to Troy. “You should take notes.”

Callie hadn’t taken her eyes off Tanner. “After all the weddings I’ve planned and all the crazy brides I’ve met,” she said, “I don’t think I want to plan ours. How do you feel about just picking a day and doing it on the beach?”

Tanner grinned and she smacked him on the chest. “You know what I mean!”

He caught her hand and brought her fingers up to his mouth. “Whatever makes you happy.”

“A kiss would make me happy,” she said, and he was quick to oblige.

“But you’ll let me perform the ceremony, right?” Lucille asked over Callie’s shoulder.

Tanner was shaking with laughter when he tore his mouth free of Callie’s and pressed his face into her hair. “This, Callie,” he breathed against her.

“This what?”

“I’ll never get tired of this. With you.”

And with those last few words, she melted into him. “I feel the same,” she said softly. “After a lifetime of not belonging, I found my place, my home, and my heart.”

O
n the first day of spring, Callie heard the front door open and remained still. Tanner might be a morning person but she still was not. Eyes closed, she listened to him move about his house. He murmured something and then came Troy’s muffled response.

The front door closed again.

It was a Saturday morning, which meant Troy was off to work, prepping the boat for the day’s activities.

She didn’t hear Tanner move toward their bedroom down the hall, but that was the Navy SEAL in him. Silent but deadly.

Deadly perfect for her.

She felt the bed depress slightly and knew he’d put a knee on it.

“I know you’re awake, faker,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. Her eyes flashed open to see it dancing across his face.

“And I know you’re sneaky,” she countered, and rolled to her back. “Why are you tiptoeing in here?”

He fisted the blanket covering her and slowly but inexorably tugged it down, revealing first her shoulders and then her nipples, which puckered in the cool air.

He smirked.

“It’s cold,” she said.

“Liar.” He tore the blankets off her entirely, and when she squeaked and tried to grab them back, he grabbed her ankles, slowly spread her legs, and then made himself at home between them.

She squeaked again because he’d been swimming and was icy cold.

Laughing, he buried his face—and his still-wet hair—into the crook of her neck for a moment before lifting his head and grinning down at her. “So.”

Her breath caught at the look of love in his eyes. She’d never tire of seeing it. “So.”

“Today’s the day you become mine,” he told her.

Her heart sighed. “I’ve been yours all along,” she said, and kissed him gently, teasingly, delicately licking his lips with just the tip of her tongue until he growled, tightened his grip, and took over, crushing her mouth to his.

He slid down her body, leading with his mouth. When he found her hot and wet, he groaned his approval. He took her achingly slow and achingly sweet, building her up until she was begging before letting her fly.

Twice.

It took her a moment to come back to herself, and when she did, she found him poised between her legs waiting for her to return to planet Earth. Smiling, she rocked her hips against his. A groan shuddered through him as she teased the both of them. She curled her fingers around the back of his neck as she deepened the kiss until they had to break apart to breathe.

“Look at me,” he commanded, and she managed to fix her eyes on his, watching his face as he slid into her in one smooth, hard thrust. All the air left her body as she rose to meet him. “This is forever,” he said, and began to move.

“Forever,” she gasped, and tried to pull him in even further.

He couldn’t get any closer.

But she needed more, needed it desperately but didn’t know what or why, and she whimpered in frustration.

Still holding her gaze in his, he bent low over her. “I love you, Callie.”

That was it, that had been what she needed. Something deep inside her burst right along with her body. She was pulsing, throbbing, tightening around him, and somehow he filled more of her than he had a moment ago, and not just her body. Her eyes flooded with tears but she didn’t try to hold back. “I love you, Tanner.”

Gaze burning into hers, he paused. “I’ll never get enough of that.”

“I love you,” she said again, a mindless chant now as she was unable to focus on anything but the sheer necessity of his body inside hers.

He sped up but she still met every movement with one of her own, born of a frightening level of passion. She could hear his ragged breathing in her ear, could feel his heart pounding against her chest. And then he cupped her head so that she met his mouth. The kiss was hot and demanding, as if he needed as much of her as she was begging of him. She gave him everything she had, her hands on his body, her heart his for the taking. Planting her feet, she lifted her knees, pulling him into her.

His control seemed to snap, and he pounded into her a final time, taking them both over the edge.

When she could breathe again, her heart felt so full it was heavy.

No, wait.

That was Tanner’s full weight on her, which she welcomed. His hand squeezed her hip and then he rolled to his side, taking her with him.

Tucking her head low, Callie swiped the moisture off her cheeks. She hadn’t meant to shed tears, but somehow her emotions couldn’t be held in, not today. She cuddled closer and his arms tightened.

“Always,” he said into her ear. “Me and you for always.”

He got her, and he always would. “Good,” she managed to say lightly. “Because you’re stuck with me now.”

He laughed low in his throat and lifted her face to kiss her, as always able to erase her doubts with just a single touch of his lips.

He held her until his phone buzzed. He looked at it and let out a breath. “They’re waiting.”

Even a simple wedding wasn’t all that simple in the end. The guys were going to get ready at the warehouse. Callie would go to Becca’s, where Becca and Olivia would be waiting to help her. “I guess this is it,” she said softly. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours. On the beach.”

It took him another twenty minutes to say good-bye, and she was a limp, sated, boneless mass by the time she showered.

Just like every other morning since they’d gotten together last fall. But unlike any other day, she slipped into the simple white sundress she’d so carefully picked out with Becca’s and Olivia’s help.

And when it was time to walk down to the beach to meet Tanner, she got the surprise of her life.

Someone had set up a beautiful arch. And flowers. And tables and food…While she stood there gaping, Becca and Olivia filled in the blanks.

“It was Troy and your grandma,” Becca said. “In cahoots together, they’re unstoppable.”

“They put the word out that after all you’ve done for all your brides, Lucky Harbor needed to step up and do for you,” Olivia said.

The flowers were gorgeous, the food looked amazing. “Where is everyone?” Callie asked.

“Hiding in the warehouse,” Olivia told her. “They didn’t want to intrude if you didn’t want company.”

Callie pulled out her cell and called Tanner.

“I’ve seen it,” he said.

“Where are you?”

“On crowd control here in the warehouse.”

“Let them out,” she said. “Let’s get this party started.”

“You sure you want them all there?”

“The wedding planners should be on-site,” she said, and laughed. “In case something goes wrong.”

“Nothing’s going to go wrong but if it does, we’ll handle it,” Tanner said with such calm that she took a deep breath and realized it was true.

And the same was true for the rest of their lives. She wasn’t naïve enough to think it would be always smooth sailing. Life didn’t work that way. But they were solid, and whatever came, whatever happened, they would handle it, together.

“Turn around,” Tanner said, and she did.

He was standing there in front of her, phone to his ear. Behind him was a crowd of people. He grinned at her and said into the phone, “Gotta go, babe, I’m going to marry the most gorgeous, wonderful, amazing woman I’ve ever met.”

“You sound like a lucky man,” she said softly.

“The luckiest.”

O
h, yeah,” Becca Thorpe murmured with a sigh of pleasure as she wriggled her toes in the wet sand. The sensation was better than splurging on a rare pedicure. Better than finding the perfect dress on sale. Better than…well, she’d say orgasms, but it’d been a while and she couldn’t remember for sure.

“You’re perfect,” she said to the Pacific Ocean, munching on the ranch-flavored popcorn she’d bought from the pier. “So perfect that I’d marry you and have your babies, if I hadn’t just promised myself to this popcorn.”

“Not even going to ask.”

At the sound of the deep male voice behind her, Becca squeaked and whipped around.

She’d thought she was alone on the rocky beach. Alone with her thoughts, her hopes, her fears, and all her worldly possessions stuffed into her car parked in the lot behind her.

But she wasn’t alone at all, because not ten feet away, between her and the pier, stood a man. He wore a rash-guard T-shirt and loose board shorts, both dripping wet and clinging to his very hot bod. He had a surfboard tucked under a biceps, and just looking at him had her pulse doing a little tap dance.

Maybe it was his unruly sun-kissed brown hair, the strands more than a little wild and blowing in his face. Maybe it was the face itself, which was striking for the features carved in granite and a set of mossy-green eyes that held her prisoner. Or maybe it was that he carried himself like he knew he was at the top of the food chain.

She took a few steps back because the wary city girl in her didn’t trust anyone, not even a sexy-looking surfer dude.

The man didn’t seem bothered by her retreat at all. He just gave her a short nod and left her alone.

Becca watched him stride up the pier steps. Or more correctly, she watched his very fine backside and long legs stride up the pier steps, carrying that board like it weighed nothing.

Then he vanished from sight before she turned her attention back to the ocean.

Whitecaps flashed from the last of the day’s sun, and a salty breeze blew over her as the waves crashed onto the shore. Big waves. And Sexy Surfer had just been out in that. Crazy.

Actually,
she
was the crazy one, and she let out a long, purposeful breath, and with it a lot of her tension.

But not all…

She wriggled her toes some more, waiting for the next wave. There were a million things running through her mind, most of them floating like dust motes through an open, sun-filled window, never quite landing. Still, a few managed to hit with surprising emphasis—such as the realization that she’d done it. She’d packed up and left home.

Her destination had been the Pacific Ocean. She’d always wanted to see it, and she could now say with one hundred percent certainty it met her expectations. The knowledge that she’d fulfilled one of her dreams felt good, even if there were worries clouding her mind. The mess she’d left behind, for one. Staying out of the rut she’d just climbed out of, for another. And a life. She wanted—
needed
—a life. Employment would be good, too, since she was fond of eating.

But standing in this little Washington State town she’d yet to explore, she felt those worries recede slightly. She’d get through this; she always did. After all, the name of this place nearly guaranteed it.

Lucky Harbor.

She was determined to find some
good
luck for a change.

A few minutes later, the sun finally gently touched down on the water, sending a chill through the early-July evening. Becca took one last look and turned to head back to her car. Sliding behind the wheel, she pulled out her phone and accessed the ad she’d found on Craigslist.

It worked for Becca on all levels, especially the cheap part. She had the first month’s rent check in her pocket, and she was meeting the landlord at the building. All she had to do was locate it. Her GPS led her from the pier to the other end of the harbor, down a narrow street lined with maybe ten warehouse buildings.

Problem number one.

None of them had numbers indicating its address. After cruising up and down the street three times, she admitted defeat and parked. She called the landlord, but she only had his office phone, and it went right to voice mail.

Problem number two. She was going to have to ask someone for help, which wasn’t exactly her strong suit.

It wasn’t even a suit of hers at all. She hummed a little to herself as she looked around, a nervous tic for sure, but it soothed her. Unfortunately, the only person in sight was a kid on a bike, in homeboy shorts about ten sizes too big and a knit cap, coming straight at her on the narrow sidewalk.

“Watch it, lady!” he yelled.

A city girl through and through, Becca held her ground. “
You
watch it.”

The kid narrowly missed her and kept going.

“Hey, which building is Two-Oh-Three?”

“Dunno, ask Sam!” he called back over his shoulder. “He’ll know, he knows everything.”

Okay, perfect. She cupped her hands around her mouth so he’d hear her. “Where’s Sam?”

The kid didn’t answer, but he did point toward the building off to her right.

It was a warehouse like the others, industrial, old, the siding battered by the elements and the salty air. It was built like an A-frame barn, with both of the huge front and back sliding doors open. The sign posted did give her a moment’s pause.

She bit her lower lip and decided that, after driving all day for days on end, her need to find her place outweighed the threat. Hopefully…

The last of the sunlight slanted through the warehouse, highlighting everything in gold, including the guy using some sort of planer along the wood. The air itself was throbbing with the beat of the loud indie rock blaring from some unseen speakers.

From the outside, the warehouse hadn’t looked like much, but as she stepped into the vast doorway, she realized the inside was a wide-open space with floor-to-rafters windows nearly three stories high. It was lined with ladders and racks of stacked wood planks and tools. Centered in the space was a wood hull, looking like a piece of art.

As did the guy working on it. His shirt was damp and clinging to his every muscle as it bunched and flexed with his movements. It was all so beautiful and intriguing—the boat, the music, the man himself, right down to the corded veins on his forearms—that it was like being at the movies during the montage of scenes that always played to a sound track.

Then she realized she recognized the board shorts, or more accurately the really excellent butt, as she’d only moments before watched it walk away from her.

Sexy Surfer.

Though he couldn’t possibly have heard her over the hum of his power tool and the loud music, he turned to face her. And as she already knew, the view of him from the front was just as heart-stopping as it was from the back.

He didn’t move a single muscle other than one flick of his thumb, which turned off the planer. His other hand went into his pocket and extracted a remote. With another flick, the music stopped.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” he said. “It’s dangerous.”

And just like that, the pretty montage sound track playing in her head came to a screeching halt. “Okay, sorry. I’m just—”

Just nothing, apparently, because he turned back to his work, and with another flick of his thumb the planer came back to life. And then the music.

“—Looking for someone,” she finished. Not that he was listening.

On the wall right next to her, a telephone began ringing, and the bright red light attached to it began blinking in sync, clearly designed just in case the phone couldn’t be heard over the tools. She could hear it, but she doubted he could. One ring, then two. Three. The guy didn’t make a move toward it.

On the fourth ring, the call went to a machine, where a recorded male voice said, “Lucky Harbor Charters. We’re in high gear for the summer season. Coastal tours, deep-sea fishing, scuba, name your pleasure. Leave a message at the tone, or find us at the harbor, north side.”

A click indicated the caller disconnected, but the phone immediately rang again.

Sexy Surfer ignored all of this.

Becca had a hard time doing the same, and she glanced around for someone,
anyone
, but there was no one in sight. Used to having to be resourceful, she let her gaze follow the cord of the planer to an electric outlet in the floor. She walked over to it and pulled it out of the wall.

The planer stopped.

So did her heart when Sexy Surfer turned his head her way. Yep, Sexy Surfer was an apt description for him. Maybe Drop-Dead Sexy. Either way, he took in the fact that she was still there and that she was holding the cord to his planer and a single brow arched. Whether it was displeasure or disbelief was hard to tell. Probably, with that bad ’tude, not many messed with him. But she was exhausted, hungry, out of her element, and a little bit pissed off. Which made her just enough of a loose cannon to forget to be afraid.

“I’m trying to find Sam,” she said, moving closer to him so he could hear her over his music. “Do you know him?”

“Who’s asking?”

Having come from a family of entertainers, most of them innate charmers to boot, Becca knew how to make the most of what she’d been given, so she smiled. “I’m Becca Thorpe, and I’m trying to find Two-Oh-Three Harbor Street. My GPS says I’m on Harbor Street, but the buildings don’t have numbers on them.”

“You’re looking for the building directly to the north.”

She nodded, and then shook her head with a laugh. She could get lost trying to find her way out of a paper bag. “And north would be which way exactly?”

He let the planer slowly slide to the floor by its cord before letting go and heading toward her.

He was six-foot-plus of lean, hard muscle, with a lot of sawdust clinging to him, as rugged and tough as the boat he was working on—though only the man was exuding testosterone, a bunch of it.

Becca didn’t have a lot of great experience with an overabundance of testosterone, so she found herself automatically taking a few steps back from him, until she stood in the doorway.

He slowed but didn’t stop, not until he was crowded in that doorway right along with her, taking up an awful lot of space.

Actually,
all
of the space.

And though she was braced to feel threatened, the opposite happened. She felt…suddenly warm, and her heart began to pound. And not in a terrified way, either.

He took in her reaction, held her gaze for a moment, then pointed to the right. “The front of the building you’re looking for is around the corner,” he said, his voice a little softer now, like maybe he knew she was torn between an unwelcome fear and an equally unwelcome heat.

She really hoped the heat was mutual, because it would be embarrassing to be caught in Lustville by herself. “Around the corner,” she repeated. Did he know he smelled good, like fresh wood and something citrusy, and also heated male? She wondered if she smelled good, too, or if all she was giving off was the scent of confused female and ranch-flavored popcorn.

“What do you need with that place?” he asked.

“I’m the new tenant there. Or one of them anyway.”

His expression was unfathomable. “I take it you haven’t seen it yet.”

“Not in person,” she said. “Why? Is it that bad?”

“Depends on how long you’re staying,” he said. “More than five minutes?”

Oh, boy. “I don’t actually know,” she said. “It’s a month-to-month rental. Lucky Harbor is sort of a pit stop for me at the moment.”

His gaze searched hers. Then he nodded and moved back to his work. He plugged the planer in and flicked it on again.

Guess their conversation was over. She was on her own. And if that thought caused a little pang of loneliness inside her still-hurting heart, she shoved it deep and ignored it, because now wasn’t the time to give in to the magnitude of what she’d done. Leaving the warehouse, she turned right.

To her new place.

To a new beginning.