Hooking Him (How to Catch an Alpha #3)(14)

“Then you can explain exactly what it was after I get you home.”

“Great,” I mumble.

“Wait, her stuff! You’re forgetting her stuff!” the woman yells, rushing toward us while holding on to her hat, with my bag over her shoulder and my towel floating behind her like a flag. Calvin stops for her to catch up, and once she’s standing before us, she hands me my things. “I’m Maxine. Everyone calls me Max. I come here all the time, so I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

“Fuck me,” Calvin grumbles, and I wonder what that’s about but don’t have a chance to ask him before he snaps at her, “This story is not going in the paper, Max.”

Wait . . . what? “Of course it’s going in the paper.” She waves him off. “People like a feel-good story.”

A feel-good story? What does that mean?

“I would love to chat with you, but I gotta go check on my husband,” she says before spinning on her heel and quickly walking away.

“Maxine!” Calvin bellows, but she acts like she doesn’t hear him, and I know it’s an act, because everyone within a mile radius probably heard him shout her name. “Fucking shit.”

“Umm, what just happened?” I ask as he starts to storm toward my place.

“She’s going to write about what took place today,” he tells me on a low growl while tightening his hold.

“Is she an author?”

“No, she’s a reporter for the local paper, the Seaside Post.”

“Oh.” I turn to look behind us and spot Max walking toward the man who took Amy from me to give her CPR, and I wonder if he’s her husband.

“This is a tourist town, babe, but the people here are all locals, which means everyone and their mother is going to know what went down. And all those people are going to want to thank you in person.”

My nose scrunches up, partly because I don’t believe him, but really because I don’t relish the idea of having to deal with that kind of thing. “She doesn’t know my name.”

“Yet.”

“What?”

“She doesn’t know your name yet, but she will know it by the end of the day.”

“How?” I lean back to frown at him.

“First, there aren’t many women in town with your hair. Second, there aren’t any women in town as beautiful as you with your hair.”

Butterflies take flight in my stomach at the compliment. “I’m not sure those are really ways to find out my name.”

“Yeah, then think about the fact that she knows where you live.” He shakes his head, then tips his head to the side. “Can we take the stairs up, or do I need to carry you around front?”

I notice then that we have already reached the warped and worn wooden stairs that lead up to my apartment.

“They’re safe, but I can make it up them alone.” I attempt to wiggle free, but he shakes his head, adjusting the hold he has on me.

“You can think that all you want. I’m still not putting you down.”

“Are you always so stubborn?”

“Yes.”

“Why am I not surprised by that answer?” I sigh in frustration, then squeeze my eyes closed when he starts up the stairs. When he makes it to the top, I let out the breath I was holding and then ignore the disappointment I feel when he sets me on my feet.

“Do you have your key?”

I don’t answer. I dig into my bag, and when I finally grasp the cold metal, I attempt to unlock the door, but my hands are still shaking, making the task seem impossible.

“Let me help.” His warm hand covers mine, and he gently takes the keys and opens the door, then waits for me to enter before he follows me in. I drop my towel and bag to the floor near the door, not wanting to drag sand through the room, and then I walk to the kitchen, pick up a glass, and flip on the faucet. I lean into the counter for support, willing my hand to stop shaking, and then flip off the lever and down the glass in just a few gulps.

“It’s shock.”

“What?” I look at Calvin as he places his hip to the counter a couple of feet away and crosses his arms over his wide chest.

“You passed out from shock. Your body dumped loads of adrenaline into your system to give you the strength you needed to get the girl out of the water, and when that was done, it crashed. It’s normal after a high-stress situation.”

“How long does it take for the shakes to pass?”

“Depends. It can take a couple hours or a day. You’ll likely dream about what happened, too, and that might cause another adrenaline spike and the shakes to return. The good thing is eventually they will go away.”

“That’s good,” I agree, filling the glass once more.

“What you did was brave.”

“I did what anyone else would have,” I say, and he tips his head to the side, seeming to study me more closely.

“Did you know the little girl?” he asks, and my brows drag together, and I shake my head. “Then you’re wrong. Someone could have wanted to save her, but they might not have gone through the lengths you did to do it.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I say, leaning into the counter, not sure if my legs will be able to hold me up much longer.

“The people on the beach said they saw you go into the water and watched you go under, not coming up for what seemed like minutes before going under again and again, then finally appearing with her. Max was right: you saved her.”