Worth Fighting For: A Warrior Fight Club/Big Sky Novella (Kristen Proby Crossover Collection Book 4)

by Laura Kaye

  But her bladder had something to say about that. So Tara closed herself into the bathroom, careful to shut the door as quietly as she could. She did a double-take as she glanced at her reflection in the mirror.

  Her hair was a hand-tousled wreck. Her lips appeared puffy. And her stomach still bore the dried evidence of Jesse’s orgasm.

  Girl, you look well fucked and then some.

  She really, really did. And it was almost like she was looking at a stranger because Tara Hunter had never picked up a man at a bar in her whole life. Nor had sex the first night she’d met someone. Nor had orgasms so strong they left her breathless and boneless.

  I really need to do this sort of thing more often.

  A half-giddy, half-hysterical chuckle bubbled up, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. Hopefully, her sex high would get her through her first day on the new team tomorrow, because at this rate she’d be lucky to get three hours of sleep before her 7:30 AM all-hands meeting.

  Tara cleaned herself up and used the toilet, then waited until the water stopped running inside the bowl before she opened the door.

  Out in the room, Jesse lay sound asleep in the same position. Still freaking gorgeous. But she couldn’t fully appreciate it just then because anxiety was digging its claws into her nervous system, making her second-guess her choice to drink and get so little sleep before her first day back on a diving team. And that made regret drop like a rock into her belly.

  Because Tara needed to leave.

  She gathered her clothes. Redressed. Stepped into her boots.

  Jesse’s phone had spilled from his coat pocket onto the floor by the suite’s door. She grabbed it wondering if she could put her number into his contacts, and was pleased if a little surprised to find that it wasn’t password protected.

  She called her cell from his, then added herself as a contact.

  Name: Tara Hunter

  Mobile: 202-555-2341

  Employer: Rick’s Cafe

  The Casablanca reference made her grin. But then she couldn’t decide if it was stupid and awkward. Clearly she wasn’t cool enough for super-hot one-night stands.

  Rolling her eyes at herself, she placed his phone, still open to her contact profile, in the center of the little dining table so he would see it.

  And then all there was to do was leave.

  Giving Jesse a last look, she wondered how long it would be until she saw him again. If she saw him again. Because there was probably a difference between what people said in the heat of the moment, and what they actually did in the bright light of day and the reality of life.

  And even if there was no next time, Tara wouldn’t regret this. Ever since that cable had tried to separate her head from her shoulders, she’d realized that even the worst life could throw at you was better than not living at all.

  Tara went for the door, wincing at how loudly the handle disengaged. Out in the hall, she did her best to make it close quietly, but as hotel doors were quite possibly one of the loudest things humankind had ever invented—which, when you really thought about it, made no freaking sense—there was only so much she could do.

  She made for the elevator, the feeling that she was somewhere she didn’t belong growing with each step and then, after she pushed the call button, with each second that passed until the elevator doors rolled open. Standing dead center, she told herself not to look over her shoulder, but she did it anyway, her imagination alive with the memory of Jesse pinning her in the corner while whispering sexy promises that he’d definitely kept.

  It only took her ten minutes until she was standing in her own apartment—that was how close they lived to one another. At least temporarily.

  If it wasn’t for the delicious ache between her legs, she might’ve almost been able to believe the night hadn’t happened. Which was why she crawled into bed without getting a shower. She didn’t want to wash Jesse off her skin just yet. She wanted to wake up still smelling of him. Of them together.

  Muttering at the stupidity of getting less than two hours of sleep the night before a new gig, she chugged a glass of water to flush the last of the alcohol from her system and set her alarm for six-fifteen. Then six-twenty. Then six-thirty, negotiating with herself that doing her wet hair in a braid would take less time than blow drying.

  But then, of course, she couldn’t fall asleep.

  Because all she could think of was the flirting and the sex and all the times she’d laughed. And the sex. Plus the orgasms. Which just led her right back to the sex.

  And Jesse.

  She put the pillow over her face and shouted into the stuffing. Which obviously didn’t help with the sleeping.

  The last time she saw the clock, it was 5:25. Which meant her body was all kinds of unhappy when her alarm went off at 6:30.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, she scrubbed her face with her hands.

  It was moments like this that her twelve years in the navy came in handy. Her body was well trained to push through without sleep or food, even in high-stress situations. Of course, that was before the accident had left her with a newfound anxiety and a fear of her work environment that she was still trying to fully overcome.

  Heaving a deep breath, Tara got her butt up and into the shower.

  Not only was today the first day working with a new diving team, she’d be the only woman on that team—which wasn’t entirely unusual. But no way was she giving her fellow divers even one reason to think she wasn’t as qualified and skilled as they were, or that she wouldn’t have their six just like they’d have hers. Which meant she needed to get her head in the game and button her issues up tight.

  Chapter 5

  The headquarters of Commercial Marine Diving and Salvage wasn’t much to look at, but it was part of what was making DC feel more and more like a place Tara could call home.

  She parked her RAV4 in front of the white warehouse located at the marina near the Washington Navy Yard. It’d been about four months since she’d last been to CMDS. In the Mid-Atlantic, the main diving season was March through October, depending on the weather. During the off months, she’d worked as a diving instructor down in Florida for eight weeks, racking out at the townhouse of a friend from the navy who was deployed.

  Instructor work was pure fun and low stress, and it’d been the perfect respite before getting back in the water on what were sure to be some more challenging projects.

  Tara grabbed her duffle and made for the door. It was a lot warmer already this morning, warm enough that the thin snow covering that remained was melting off—which was good because water temps were already going to be freaking cold as it was.

  She was both excited and nervous to see some familiar faces. Last year, she’d moved to DC in February and landed her position with CMDS in June, so she’d only worked half the season. Most of the rest of the team had worked together for years, and it’d taken a while before she’d felt like she really fit in. Now, she knew them and they knew her, and she’d be with them from day one.

  All of which made today feel like the true beginning of her new post-naval career. One where she’d have the same respect and camaraderie that she’d built in the navy with a dozen years of diving experience under her belt—or, rather, under her neoprene dry suit.

  The inside of HQ wasn’t much more impressive than the outside. There was a small reception area with a few folding chairs, a coffee table covered in magazines, a coffee station, and, most importantly, Miss Delores sitting at the front desk.

  “Tara Hunter, welcome back,” Miss Delores said. She was the owner’s wife, the firm’s receptionist, and their logistics specialist—whatever the team needed, she made sure they had it.

  “Hi, Mama D,” Tara replied. The nickname still felt funny on her tongue, but it was what all the men on the team called her, and Tara thought the affection behind it was sweet. Not to mention, it was kinda accurate, too, because the older lady could both go Mama Bear when someone or something messed with the team, and she wasn’t
shy about mothering them when someone was being difficult or stubborn or otherwise hadn’t squared their shit away.

  And since Tara’s own mom had died right after high school, she’d liked Delores right away.

  “How was Florida?” Mama D came around from behind her desk to give Tara a hug. She was a petite lady in her fifties, with a sun tan and freckles that spoke of a lifetime spent out on the water.

  “It was heaven. And fun. More like a vacation than work.”

  Holding her by the arms, Mama D smiled, her gaze running over Tara’s face like she was making sure Tara was okay. “That sounds real good, hon. I’m glad. Well, a few of the boys are already back there. And I brought in some Dunkin’ for y’all so you better go before they eat all the good donuts.”

  Tara laughed. Both at the lady calling her teammates ‘boys’ when most of them were older than Tara, and at the reality that you had to act fast when free food was available around here. “Oh, damn, I better hurry then.”

  With a wave, Tara hiked her duffle higher on her shoulder and pushed through the swinging door that led past some offices to the conference room where they held their all-hands meetings.

  Commercial diving teams varied in size, depending on their members’ credentials and skill sets, and the four men she found already gathered around the donuts probably represented most of the team. “Hey, save some for me,” Tara said, smiling as everyone turned around and called out greetings.

  One by one, she said hello and returned hugs. There was Delores’s husband, Boone Macon, owner of CMDS and their supervisor on all their diving ops. Next to him, there was Jud Taylor, another navy guy who was one of their primary working divers who handled the brunt of the team’s underwater work. Together with herself, Bobby Flannery was one of the standby divers who also doubled as bellman—operator of an underwater bell platform. Finally, Mike Henson was a former Coastie who handled all things tech, equipment, and systems—without whom their underwater work was neither possible nor safe. He’d been a new addition at the end of last diving season, so Tara didn’t know him well.

  “You ready to get wet?” Jud teased. As he always did. Incessantly.

  She smirked as she grabbed a frosted donut. “You sure you want to harass the diver responsible for rescuing your cowboy ass when you get in trouble?”

  “I like to live dangerously,” he said with a wink as he passed her a truce in the form of a perfectly made cup of coffee.

  “You’re forgiven,” she said as she accepted it and took a sip.

  Boone gathered some files and sat with his breakfast at the far end of the conference table. “We’re just waiting on Jefferson and Anderson and then we’ll get started.”

  “I’m here,” George Jefferson said as he walked into the room wearing a big smile. “Now the party can start.” A round of singing—of the theme song from The Jeffersons, naturally—greeted the man who assisted Mike on all things systems but, more importantly, served as their medical tech.

  George shook his head at the lot of them as he dumped his duffle, put his coat around the back of the chair, and waited for them to finish, which didn’t take long since they only seemed to know the first few lines of lyrics. “After all this time, you’d think you people would’ve learned the words to that damn song.” Laughter filled the room, and a new chorus of sarcastic barbs got flung back and forth, the kind that revealed what good friends they all really were.

  This was the kind of community Tara had enjoyed in the navy, and it meant a lot to her to find it here, too. Everyone was still catching up when she took her seat, but then she popped back up to snag a second donut because, after not sleeping, sugar was pretty much life.

  As the others found their own seats, Mama D’s voice echoed from out in the hall. “And here’s where the team meets. Boone and the others will show you around from here,” she said as she stepped into the doorway.

  A tall man with dark hair shook her hand. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Ooh, those good manners aren’t going to last long around here, Tara thought as she sipped at her coffee, eager to meet their newest teammate—and glad to not be the newbie this time.

  And then the man turned around.

  Jesse?

  Jesse!

  Coffee got stuck in Tara’s throat, because of course it did, and then she couldn’t stop coughing.

  Which was when Jesse’s gaze swung from George and Mike, whose hands he’d just been shaking, to her. He blanched.

  “You okay there, T?” Flannery asked.

  “Yeah,” she said around a choking gasp. “Wrong hole.”

  “That’s what she said!” at least three of her asshole teammates guffawed, sending everyone into hysterics. Everyone except for her and Jesse.

  Jesse. Jesse Anderson. Apparently the new working diver on her team.

  Heat roared over Tara’s face, which of course brought more teasing her way, but it was better that everyone thought her embarrassment was over the stupid softball teasing opportunity she’d tossed them than because she’d screwed their new teammate eight hours ago.

  The coughing fit finally passed, but still her heart raced and her face burned and those two freaking donuts turned sour and heavy in her belly. How could this be happening?

  How could this be happening?

  She watched in not a little horror as he made his way around the table, shaking the men’s hands and getting closer to having to say…something…to her. Was he going to make it clear they knew each other? Did she want him to?

  Naturally, her nerdy engineer’s brain began drawing up pro and con lists. On the side of acknowledging their familiarity was that it would be super hella awkward to have to pretend they were strangers, and it would also kinda suck to deny the connection they’d shared, when she felt like it’d been so thoroughly based on honesty and openness. And of all the things they’d talked about, how the heck hadn’t they covered their jobs?

  It was a full-on head-desk moment.

  But on the side of hello, stranger, you must be new around these parts was her gut-deep embarrassment at having slept with a co-worker and the other men maybe figuring that out.

  Next to her now, Jesse was shaking Flannery’s hand, which meant it was her turn to try to act like a normal human being. Whatever that meant in this situation, she didn’t have a single clue. Especially when Jesse was so freaking hot. Like, you’d think her body would be in too great a state of panic to notice that. But nooooo. Of course not. Instead, it was like her blood and her skin were attuned to the man, with her scalp remembering the feel of his hand and her clit remembering the suction of his mouth and her core remembering the satisfying fullness of his cock.

  Oh, Jesus, Tara, don’t think about his cock.

  And naturally that was the moment he moved to stand in front of her. Tara stood to return his handshake. Their gazes collided as their fingers touched, and she thought she saw in his dark eyes the roiling ball of conflicting emotions she felt herself.

  “Hey,” he said. And with just that one word in that familiar deep voice, she felt the memory of his arms around her waist and his chin settle on her head, the way it had last night. “Jesse Anderson. Nice to meet you.”

  The words kinda hit her like a gut punch. Which was ridiculous when she’d just been debating pretending like she didn’t know him either. “Uh, hey, Jesse,” she managed. “Tara Hunter. Welcome to the team.”

  “Welcome to DC.”

  “You really know how to show a guy a good time.”

  “Thanks,” he said, while her brain ran a repeated loop of Oh, baby Jesus, help me.

  He held onto her hand a beat longer than felt natural, so she withdrew. His brows cranked down just the littlest bit, and her mind unhelpfully replayed another conversation from last night.

  “Did it get awkward?”

  “Not yet.”

  Dear God, the awkward achievement had definitely been unlocked now. Like, Defcon-1-level awkward even.

  As Jesse moved to greet B
oone, Tara sank back into her chair and attempted to plaster a neutral expression on her face that she feared probably looked more like Edvard Munch’s The Scream.

  On his way to grab some breakfast and a seat further down the table, Jesse moved behind her chair again, and the ripple of awareness that tingled across her back made her feel like she was a compass and he was True North.

  As Boone started introducing some of the contracts he’d already signed for the season, Tara could barely focus on the words coming out of the man’s mouth.

  And that was the biggest problem of all in this whole goddamned mess.

  Tara did not tolerate distractions at work. Could not.

  Not when she’d nearly died in the water. Not when it’d taken her so many therapy sessions, not to mention the alternate therapy of Warrior Fight Club, to feel confident getting back into the water. And not when she sometimes still struggled with anxiety at the mere prospect of it.

  But Jesse…

  She fought the urge to peer down the table at him.

  Jesse Anderson was definitely a distraction.

  Now Tara just had to figure out what she was going to do about it.

  Chapter 6

  Unfuckingbelievable.

  That was the tenor of Jesse’s thoughts as he spent the morning sitting ten feet away from his one-night stand.

  From Tara.

  The woman he’d hoped to see again.

  The woman who’d snuck out of his hotel room in the middle night without leaving her number.

  The woman who was one of his new freaking teammates. Apparently.

  His gaze drifted from the notes he was taking to Boone at the head of the table, and then traitorously to Tara. She’d done her hair in a thick rope of a braid that hung down her back and was dressed simply in a navy blue sweatshirt and jeans. And he found her every bit as beautiful as he had last night. When he’d fucked her against the wall. Then shattered her with his mouth. Then watched her take every inch of him down her throat.