Page 73 of Last Resort

“Mr. Sharpe. Hi. We—we were just—”

“Saying things you shouldn’t be saying in front of your boss, let alone guests here who are trying to enjoy their vacation. It’s unprofessional, don’t you think?” I cross my arms over my chest to prevent me from reaching out and wringing both of their necks.

“We weren’t—You misheard—”

“No. I didn’t. I’m well aware of what I heard.”

“I’m sorry, but you know how it is when guys talk,” Dark Hair says, trying to act like because we’re both men, I’ll be fine with him bragging about wanting to fuck Sutton.

Not on his life.

“When guys talk, hmm?” I ask and angle my head to the side to freeze him into wishing he hadn’t just said those words. “Is that what this was? Two guys talking about how they’d like to fuck their superior?” I lift a brow. “Sounds to me like two guys about to get fired.”

“Fuck,” Dark Hair groans like the immature prick I’m certain he is.

“Seriously?” Blond asks.

I look from one to the other and back, remembering how many times Ford and Ledge and I would talk like this—still do at times—but for some reason this time it hits me differently.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but she’s already associated with someone much higher on the pay scale than you. Furthermore, conversations about how exactly you want to tap her—or any other woman for that matter—especially on company time, will result in dismissal. Have I made myself clear?”

I stride out the doors without looking back because I’m proud of myself for showing restraint I don’t believe those two little fuckers deserve.

Talking like that about Sutton. Fucking hell.

It’s like after the other night, I feel this strange sense of protection over her now. I’m not sure why or how or what the hell is wrong with me, but I do.

And I fucking hate it.

I don’t even know who I am right now.

You’re just occupying your time, Callahan.

You were being a decent human standing up for another human because maybe, after all the shit that’s gone on, you feel the need to.

You’re bending, Cal, not begging.

I don’t like any of this. Not one bit.

Not that it’s any of your business, but she’s already associated with someone much higher on the pay scale than you.

Good God.

I wander down a path to the beach and then back toward the villas and then back toward the office, suddenly uncertain about everything when I’m not an uncertain guy. Ever.

My every instinct says to pack my shit up and go. To walk the fuck away and go back to being a nomad like I was for the six months after my father’s passing. There was freedom to it. Simplicity.

And now everything just feels complicated.

“Fuck,” I bark out to no one in particular.

I can’t go.

I have to stay and finish what I set out to do to honor my dad. Who am I if I can’t at least do that for the man who gave me everything?

Fucking emotions.

The ones I feel that are unresolved over my father’s death and the ones that being around Sutton have drummed up.