One in a Million Read online

  “Did it knock any sense into you?” Cole asked.

  “I’ve got more sense in my pinkie finger than you have in your whole body,” Tanner said.

  “You know, she’d be good for you.”

  Tanner stared at him. “How the hell do you figure that?”

  “I hear from Olivia that she’s funny, smart, and won’t put up with any of your shit.”

  “We’re so not having this conversation,” Tanner said, lowering his fingers from his noggin to check if he was bleeding. “Shit.”

  “Come here, you big baby.” Cole cupped Tanner’s face and tilted it down to look at the top of his head. “Okay, so there’s good news and bad news.”

  “Just tell me,” Tanner grated out.

  “The good news is your head’s still attached to your shoulders,” Cole said.

  “And the bad news?” Tanner asked.

  “The hit doesn’t appear to have knocked any sense into you.”

  Tanner gave Cole a shove that didn’t budge him. Cole often came off all casual and easy, but in reality he wasn’t either. He was just as tough as Sam or Tanner himself, and he was also the glue that held them all together. And sometimes, like now, he acted like a chick. Tanner shoved him again and Cole shoved back, and then the men had each other in a headlock.

  “Hug me like you mean it,” Cole said. “And I’ll let go.”

  “I’m going to kick your ass.”

  “Hug me like you love me, bitch.”

  “Uh…I can come back.” This was from Troy, who’d apparently shown up from school as he’d been instructed to do since he was still grounded from everything else. He was standing on the dock, backpack hanging off one shoulder, staring at them. “If you wanna be alone.”

  Cole laughed a little and from his hunched-over position craned his neck to look up at Tanner. “He thinks we’re—”

  “Hey,” Troy said, backing away, lifting up his hands. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “Of course there isn’t,” Tanner said. “But we’re not.”

  “There’s a kid in my class that has two moms,” Troy said.

  “That’s great,” Tanner said, shoving free of Cole. “But it’s not…Cole and I aren’t like that. Not that it wouldn’t be fine if we were.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Cole said, straightening his sweatshirt. “You’re not even close to my type.”

  Tanner gave him another shove and Cole blew him a kiss.

  “Knock it off, you idiot,” Tanner said. He looked at Troy. “He’s kidding.”

  “Oh.” Troy nodded. “That’s good because Tumblr says you’re having a thing with some chick named Callie.”

  “I am not having a thing with Callie,” Tanner said, though he had to admit he wouldn’t mind having a thing with her. Maybe a couple of things. He turned to Cole. “And what the hell do you mean, I’m not your type?”

  Tanner took Troy fishing. He took the boat out to his secret sweet spot and showed the kid how to get one on the line without fail.

  The entire time Troy looked like he was getting a root canal.

  So much for bonding.

  After nearly three hours of silence, Tanner gave up. “Is there a problem?”

  No answer.

  “Hello,” he said.

  Troy pulled out an earbud. Tinny music blared out. Tanner stared at him and then shook his head. Jesus. “Not your thing, fishing?”

  Troy looked relieved. “Fish suck.”

  Okay, so maybe they weren’t two peas in a pod after all.

  That evening they sat at Tanner’s kitchen table and worked on Troy’s chemistry homework due to the D he’d come home with.

  “Chemistry sucks,” Troy said an hour later when he still hadn’t gotten halfway through. “Sucks hard.”

  “Working sucks,” Tanner said. “Fishing sucks. School sucks. Let’s try this—what doesn’t suck?”

  “Here? Nothing,” Troy said sullenly.

  Tanner pushed the books aside. “Come on. I’ve got something we need to do.”

  “What now?”

  Tanner pushed open the door to his spare bedroom, the one he’d given over to the kid. It’d been pretty sparse when Troy had first arrived, just a futon. But Tanner had picked up a bed, a dresser, and a desk.

  “Great,” Troy said, looking at the desk. “A place to do more work. In a white room. It’s like my own private padded cell.”

  Tanner ignored the sarcasm. “You don’t like white? Then pick a color. We’ll paint this weekend.”

  “Dark purple,” Troy said without hesitation.

  Tanner swiveled his head and stared at him. “Dark purple?”

  “Dark purple.”

  Tanner rubbed a hand over the top of his head and winced at the bump there from hitting it earlier. “Look, I get that you’re pissed off at having to be here, that it feels unfair and you want to strike out and all that, but you’re the one who has to live with the color. So I’m going to ask you again. Dark purple? You sure?”

  Troy just stared at him sullenly.

  “Okay,” Tanner muttered, and shook his head. “You’re sure.” He started to leave and then stopped. He remembered after his dad had left, how his mom had picked up two jobs to make ends meet, and he’d felt so helpless and furious all the time. “Listen,” he said. “It will get better here.”

  More nothing and Tanner shook his head. “Fine. Life sucks. Go with that, it’s a great attitude.”

  Troy moved past Tanner and stretched out on the bed. He closed his eyes and for a moment looked so painfully young and so painfully vulnerable.

  “’Night,” Tanner said quietly and turned to go.

  “Um,” Troy said.

  Tanner turned back. “Yeah?”

  Troy hesitated. “Thanks.”

  It was possibly the first time Troy had ever said that word to him, and Tanner felt an ache from deep in his chest. The kind of ache that was either a heart attack in the making or he was having a bona fide, real dad moment. He wanted to press Troy for more but knew that wasn’t the right thing to do.

  As for what was the right thing, he didn’t have a clue. So he nodded and left the kid there on his bed and hit his own, where he dreamed of a green-eyed, strawberry blonde who lit up at the sight of a doughnut and hadn’t a single clue that she was the hottest woman in the room.

  The next morning he sat at the bakery for an hour but she never showed.

  The pretty brunette from the other day was there, though. She came up to his table with a try-me smile. “Is this seat taken?” she asked.

  “No,” he said, and rose. “And this one isn’t either.”

  “But…” She stared at him as he started to walk away. “Don’t you want to finish your breakfast? We could make it a date.”

  “Sorry,” he said genuinely. “But I already have one.”

  Chapter 10

  Callie figured out the way to battle her doughnut demons. She stayed in bed. It wasn’t bad as far as offices went, and the dress code—PJs—really worked for her. She’d gotten up long enough for a teeth-brushing mission and to grab her laptop, and then she’d crawled back into bed and gone straight to work, telling herself that she didn’t need caffeine and sugar to get going.

  Her humiliation did that just fine.

  She worked like a fiend. No one could deny that she knew how to throw a hell of a good party. She just hoped her brides enjoyed it because odds were that the reception would be the highlight of their marriage.

  An hour or two later she decided that this working from home thing was a decent gig. In fact, maybe she wouldn’t ever go into town again.

  That’s when someone knocked on her door.

  She went still, frozen like a deer in the headlights. Then she glanced at the clock. It was ten in the morning. Both Becca and Olivia were at work by now. She hadn’t ordered a pizza for breakfast—though she absolutely would have if anyplace in Lucky Harbor delivered pizzas for breakfast. Hey, maybe she could quit her job and do tha