Chapter 33

Chapter Thirty-Three

The energetic beat of loud Latino music filled the air. The rain had stopped for long enough that Callum and the other groomsmen were barefooted on the wet sand of the beach, smoking celebratory Cuban cigars that Aiden had brought. The bar was an open-aired place, right at the edge of the water.

"Dammit if I don't feel old tonight," Quinn said, sitting beside Callum on a long palm whose trunk had bent perpendicular to the sand before jutting out over the water. He stared at the cigar in his hand. "It's amazing how little appeal these have for me."

Callum chuckled. He'd snuffed out his own cigar against the trunk minutes before. "We are almost thirty. Nearly halfway to the grave. And soon enough you'll have an infant, you poor sod." He kept his voice low, as Quinn's brothers were close enough to hear.

"God, that's terrifying, isn't it?" Quinn leaned back, then fell right off the other side of the trunk.

He must have had too much to drink already.

Throwing his head back with a laugh, Callum held out a hand to help him stand. "No need to be dramatic about it. Unless you want the bartender to cut you off early."

Quinn took Callum's hand and righted himself from the awkward position, then dusted himself off. "Yes, please. I don't want to spend my wedding day hungover. And Mason seems hell-bent on getting all of us sloshed."

"How about this? Every time he asks for a shot, I'll take yours. He'll have fun with that once I can barely stand."

"Brilliant." Quinn set his hands more firmly against the trunk again as he sat. "Oh bugger, I dropped the damn cigar in the sand."

Callum shrugged. "I won't tell Aiden if you don't."

"Have I told you how incredibly useful you can be, Cal? If you weren't screwing my sister-in-law, you'd be my favorite groomsman."

"I heard that," Mason said, plopping down on Quinn's other side. "What did the rest of us do to earn your scorn?"

"Apparently, it's a lethal combination of whisky, cigars, and . . ." Callum looked at Quinn to finish.

"The illegal drugs our brother Logan left in Elle's dress garment bag." Quinn nodded with a flop of his head. "Security nearly stopped Liddy for it."

That was a discreet way to put it.

Mason gawked at Logan, who stood in conversation with Kyle, Aiden, and Jasper.

Jasper, Quinn's former flatmate who would officiate the wedding, was in the middle of a loud, clearly hilarious story. He'd always had a commanding presence and the ability to keep most people laughing, which was why Quinn had probably chosen him for the role. But in the absence of moonlight on the unlit beach, Jasper's dark skin and choice of dark clothing made him hard to see, making him seem like a disembodied voice.

"Logan. Did you really try to get some herb into the country?" Mason hollered at Logan, his hands cupped around his mouth.

Logan gave him a chagrinned look. "Do you have any idea how incredibly boring it is to live at Littleton? What else am I going to do?"

"You're talking with the only other people in the world who know exactly how boring it is to live at Littleton, you dimwit." Quinn stood with a shake of his head.

Aiden snorted. "He has you there, little brother. We all shared your misery as children. Not all of us were given the luxury of constant adventure and jet-setting to paradise like Cal." He puffed on a cigar as he approached them. "Not sure how you ever chose London over this place, I have to admit," he said to Callum. "Even the rain the last few days is far superior to our dreary months at home."

"You know what I find the best way to deal with rain?" Mason set his hands on his knees and stood. "Alcohol. I'm going to get another round for us."

Callum grimaced as Mason went off toward the bar. He'd better drink water if he was going to drink two shots for every one that Mason proposed. A numb buzz already vibrated through him. The things I do for my friends. Drink their shots.

Give up my woman.

He stiffened. His woman? Where had that notion come from?

And yet, the bitter feeling that came with the thought didn't wash away with either shot of whisky that Mason returned with.

He'd just thrown back the second shot when a cheer broke out in the bar. Glancing over his shoulder, he peered into the dimly lit space.

Isla led some of the women and Hunter through the bar, Elle at her side. Elle had a small white veil clipped to her head, along with a white "Bride" sash around her dress.

A few steps behind her was Liddy.

Callum's stomach clutched at the sight of her.

Fuck me, she's sexy.

Maybe it was the alcohol, but he wasn't sure if he'd ever had such a raging sense of lust sweep over him. She wore a tight yellow minidress, her hair swept half up, the rest of it cascading in waves down her back.

Isla had already spotted them out on the beach, and she gave a playful wave, then redirected the group of women toward the bar.

"Do you think they're here to check on us or torment us?" Quinn asked, watching Elle with a grin.

"Torment, absolutely," Mason said, staring at Rebecca.

Kyle made a face. "Anyone else want to go shoot a round of pool?"

Callum's gaze flicked back to Liddy. If she'd seen him, she hadn't bothered to turn and glance his way. She didn't look unhappy either. Maybe the date with Sergio went well. Her smile as she chatted with Isla was carefree. Beautiful.

He gritted his teeth and forced himself to look away.

"Should we say hello?" Mason asked their group.

Quinn was already heading that way.

Callum smiled to himself. Stag night or not, Quinn was unapologetic about his desire to be around his wife.

But if Callum was going to survive the next few days with any grace, he'd have to do a better job of keeping his distance from Liddy. He hadn't told anyone about their breakup yet, but he doubted he could hide how miserable he felt about the whole thing while at Liddy's side.

"I'll shoot some pool," Callum said to Kyle.

They left the others and headed toward the lone pool table in the bar. Unsurprisingly, the cues seemed slightly warped—a likely effect of humidity. He picked the two straightest ones while Kyle racked the balls.

Handing Kyle the cue, Callum sized up Liddy's younger brother. He knew they were close in age. If Liddy hadn't dyed her hair, all the Winnick siblings would look alike. "Sorry about the surfing lesson earlier today, mate." Callum rubbed some chalk on the tip of the cue. "We can try again later in the week if you'd like."

Kyle studied him. "It depends."

Callum drew his lips to a firm line. Great. He knew where this was heading. "On?"

"How much you care about my sister."

Callum leaned his torso toward the table and lined up the cue ball. The ricochet of the break sounded off the sides of the table and he watched as the balls rolled to a stop. "Stripes." He lifted his gaze and met Kyle's eyes. "Well, I ended things this afternoon, so that probably doesn't bode well for our surfing lesson."

To his surprise, Kyle's reaction was unreadable. "Huh. Why exactly?" He moved to the other side of the table.

"Why what?"

"Why did you end things?"

Better to answer truthfully. "Because she deserves better than me."

Kyle laughed sardonically, then bent to line up his shot. "Obviously. But is that what she wants? Or are you just trying to prove how undeserving you are to make yourself feel better? She's had a lifetime of people making decisions for her based on what they think is best for her, you know."

Callum jerked his chin up. "What?"

Kyle shrugged. "Look, Callum, I don't know you. But of course I'm going to assume you don't deserve my sister. She's one of my best friends. And she's a good person. But clearly, she sees something in you." He struck the cue ball, sinking one of the solids into the pocket. "Unless you think she's just not capable of making her own decisions."

Callum's mouth nearly dropped open.

Bollocks.

Say what you want about the Winnick siblings, but they're a force.

Kyle quirked a brow at Callum, then leaned down and sank another ball into the pocket. "By the way, it looks like Liddy has caught someone else's attention." He hit the cue ball, perfectly executing a trick shot that sank two more balls. "I can finish this game in three more shots, by the way."

Callum's head swiveled toward the bar. A dark-haired man had sidled up beside her. Reflexively, Callum's fingers curled tight around the cue.

The sound of another ball sinking into the pocket made him wrest his attention back to Kyle, who still watched him with interest. Then he did a combination shot that sank two more balls.

Callum shook his head and set the cue on the wall rack.

He strode across the bar toward Liddy, ignoring any other thought that tried to push itself into his head. Maybe the alcohol made him reckless, but he didn't care. Liddy wasn't engaging with the man's attempts to get her attention, though she politely smiled, then shifted her body away, closer to Taryn. But Taryn was talking to Elle and not paying attention to Liddy.

Then the man set his hand on the small of her back.

Mine, arsehole.

Callum reached Liddy and stepped between her and the man. Setting a hand on her hip, he caught the faint look of surprise in her wide eyes as he leaned toward her, then dropped a kiss to her lips.

She stiffened against him for a beat, before her warm lips parted against his slightly as she returned the kiss.

Having spent the night in her arms, he knew that she was clearly holding back, but why shouldn't she?

Callum nearly groaned, though. It'd only been—what—eight hours since he'd kissed her. But he'd missed the taste of her mouth. The smell of her body. The feel of her curves under his hands.

God, I want this woman.

I need this woman.

She ended the kiss, then smiled, dragging her lips away toward his ear. "What are you doing?"

Claiming what's mine.

"Helping you," he answered in a low growl.

Being this close to her, it was all he could do to keep his hands off her.

She pulled back, then slipped her hand into his. Tugging him away from the bar, she pulled him toward the beach. He followed without question, not bothering to look back at the man who had been hitting on her.

They hadn't gone far—close to where he and Quinn had been smoking cigars—when Liddy stopped. She turned back toward Callum. "What the hell was that?"

He rubbed his eyes. "I didn't?—"

"Didn't what? Think I could handle myself?" Liddy set her hands on her hips. "Or did you change your mind about us?"

"No—I . . ." Callum gritted his teeth. "Couldn't stand the thought of him hitting on you."

"But you sent me off to go on a date with Sergio." She crossed her arms. "And, before you ask, I didn't go. I'm not going to have sex with you and then go out with another guy four hours later. I know you're used to a different standard of behavior from women, but that's not who I am."

I know. That's why I like you.

Her words brought him a relief he hadn't realized he needed, and he released a breath. "I'm sorry."

She stepped toward him, then slipped her hand into his. "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have left the room without making that clear. I was hurt by what you said about last night meaning nothing—then confused because I know that's what you want. You want it to mean nothing, and I told you I'd be okay with that. And I think we both know that you're right. I'm not okay with it."

She ran her thumb against the palm of his hand, tantalizing him with her touch. "But I also refuse to accept that it meant nothing to you, either. And I'm not going to let you push me away without getting a say in it, Callum. You matter to me. Whatever we are—it's no one else's business. And I don't mind telling Quinn that either."

He stared at her, certain he was hallucinating.

What? She'd apologized . . . to me?

She smiled, then she brushed her lips against his palm with a featherlight kiss. "When was the last time you let a woman actually take care of you, Cal? Was it Sophia? You don't have to do everything alone just because she hurt you. Or maybe it goes even deeper than that. I don't know and you don't have to tell me, but I refuse to be one more person who you shut out because you want to protect yourself. I won't hurt you. I promise."

His heart squeezed painfully in his chest.

Didn't I just tell her the exact opposite last night?

His loathsome words to her rang through his head.

He'd promised to hurt her.

"I don't deserve you," he whispered.

"Why don't you let me decide that?" She kissed the back of his hand, then released it. "We're only here for a few minutes and then Isla is taking us to another bar. But I'd prefer you be in one piece tonight when I get back to our bungalow, so for God's sake, don't get into a fight with anyone tonight. I don't want to kick anyone's ass if they punch you." She stepped past him, her fingertips brushing his hip as she leaned over and nipped at his earlobe. "Because I'm going commando. Kicking might not work out so well."

Oh . . . fuck me.

He groaned out loud, turning to reach for her and grabbing only air as she stepped farther away.

She grinned. "By the way, I found your luggage in the office and put it back where it belongs. See you later, Cal."

As she strode across the sand toward the bar, he had to restrain himself from the temptation of leaving the stag party early and tossing her over his shoulder on the way out the door. Not that she needed any masculine shows of strength.

A strange, strangled hope rose in his chest, and he swallowed hard.

Considering what he'd said and done earlier, she should have given up on him.

The fact that she hadn't put him in unchartered waters.

Because, for the first time, I don't want to be given up on.